Jersey Boys Top 5's: 5 Moments That Make My Heart Soar

Incredibly, after a nearly four-year run, Jersey Boys Australia will take its final bow in about six weeks. One of the world's most successful musicals in decades has certainly been a hit Down Under, as it has around the world. And for me, this will mark the third time I will be saying "Bye Bye, Baby" to the show. Will this time be for good? Who knows.

      Facing another closing night has inspired me to look back and examine my time with this show. And because I think you might find it interesting, I've decided to share some of these thoughts with you. Specifically, my goal is to put into words exactly what it's like to be an actor playing this iconic person in this famous band in this amazing show, six nights a week. 

      This will be the first post in what I hope will be a series of retrospective musings on playing Frankie Valli in the hit show Jersey Boys.

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     Today's subject: The Top 5 Moments That Make My Heart Soar.

      Although I'm coming up on my 700th performance as Frankie Valli in Jersey Boys, there are still moments in every single show that give me a thrill - you know, when you get that little shiver down your spine, or maybe that little tingle behind your ears when you smile really big? Me, my arms come alive with goosebumps.

      Every so often, a new moment will surprise me, but here are the five events that do it to me, every single show. Guaranteed.

     1. Singing "Walk Like A Man".

      As a piece of theatre, Jersey Boys is constructed extremely well. The shows opens with a bang, and then it zips along at breakneck speed, drawing you into the world of 1950s New Jersey. You meet all these interesting characters, and are captivated by the story... but you've yet to hear any of their big hits! Just when the anticipation in the crowd can't possibly get any higher - BAM! - you get hit with "Sherry", "Big Girls Don't Cry" and "Walk Like A Man", the Big Three, back to back to back. 

      Singing "Walk Like A Man" is like skiing down a Black Diamond run. It's like bungee jumping off a suspension bridge. It's like mountain-biking down a rugged hillside. You grab on tight, say a prayer, and give 'er. It's full-out fun, and it's over before you know it.

     The Big Three requires me to sing the highest notes in my show as loudly and for as long as I possibly can. And, it's frickin' hard, people! The range is pretty ridiculous, and screaming out and holding soprano F's for eight counts is not easy. Repeatedly transitioning between my chest voice and falsetto is also extremely difficult. And then there's the choreography on top of the singing... my heart pounds, the lungs ache for air, but I still need to hold that last note - a high D - for a full 12 counts. The volume increases, the notes rise, "Like A Man...!" the bass thumps "Ba-da-da-Dum!" and the audience goes crazy.

      Sure, it feels great to hear the crowd roar and applaud. But beyond that, it's an awesome feeling because when I get to the end, I know I've survived the challenge. At that point, with the crowd cheering, when the physical exertion combines with the excellence of execution, and I'm left with the after-glow of a good adrenaline rush. ... BOOM! Goosebumps.

     2. Singing "Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You".

      Again, you have to give major credit to director Des McAnuff and writers Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice for constructing such an incredible show. The buildup in Act 2 to this song is exquisitely written. We see Tommy and Nick leave the group. Bob and Frankie try to figure out how to keep the band going while still making enough money to pay off the Mobsters. The we see Bob leave the group. We watch Frankie strain under the pressure of this burden. His relationships with his ex-wife, daughter, and girlfriend all fray like the end of a rope. When Frankie hits rock bottom, we then see the glimmer of hope for Frankie in Bob's dedication and friendship. Bob pushes hard to get a song that nobody believes in played on the radio. Frankie gets one last chance, to sing this song with everything on the line. And then, in a tight spotlight, a single mic rises out of the pit. Thrillingly, it all comes down to this one moment.

      I get to step into the light and sing this hauntingly beautiful song. No, not just sing. My vocal chords may form the words and pitches, but I squeeze out my heart and soul, I wring out all my hopes and dreams onto the sound. I sing it to my wife, I sing it to my kids, to the life-force; I sing it to my muse, my inspiration, my joy of music, of singing, of creating and expressing; I sing it for my two grandfathers and my parents whose musical genes have thankfully been passed down into my every cell. And when I hold the last note of the penultimate phrase, "And let me love you baby, let me love you..." and sit in that silence for just a second, it's like ecstasy... It feels like 2000 people are just holding their breath... and finally, with all my remaining strength, I offer up my best "You're just too good to be true...!" holding that last note as long and strong as I can ... when the band, my voice and finally the crowd all swell at the same time ... BOOM! Goosebumps. 

      Every single night the applause at this moment feels unbelievably amazing, and that smile that I break into is absolutely genuine. I touch my heart out of deep appreciation for having been given this gift by the audience (and the casting directors!) and wave thank you to them for sharing it with me. I'm a lucky guy. Seriously lucky.

     3. Singing "Working My Way Back To You".

      With new wind in my sails from singing "Can't Take..." and a feeling that I can conquer anything, we launch right into this song. From Day 1 of rehearsing this number all the way back in November, 2008 (!) the choreography has always felt incredible. Now, if you know me at all, you'll realize that this last statement is a complete shocker. That I should feel incredible the first time rehearsing any choreography is a huge surprise. But seriously, Sergio Trujillo, take a bow for your outstanding work. And Danny Austin, take one too, for teaching it to me. Standing there as I do, on a 45-degree angle with my legs strong and wide, heels popping and twisting, snapping along to the sick groove in the band, I feel like the Heavyweight champion of the world. (OK, more like the Lightweight champion... but you get the idea.)

     The whole song is a thrill for me. After grooving upstage, I get to come down and sing a couple lines directly to a lovely lady in the first couple rows. I get to strut my way across to downstage centre. I get to wail some crazy high notes. And then I get to prowl downstage like a freaking tiger, flanked on both sides by two talented band-mates. We're Rock Stars, man!

      The movements perfectly match how I feel, how I imagine Frankie would feel in that moment. They match the way the song sounds, they suit the lyrics, and importantly, they let me wail out the notes over top. And singing this song is not easy, either, especially after having sung 20 other songs already. Most of this song's long, high phrases need to be belted in full chest voice. On one particular two-bar phrase, I need to rise out of my chest-voice, slip into falsetto, and slam back into chest again. Then, to top it all off, I have to hit the highest belted note in my show - a B-flat. Switching between the registers and still sounding great is a huge challenge. But, I love that challenge, and rising to it here in this moment is a thrill. When I finish the song with "I Let it get away....!" and I hold that last note, right arm rising to the rafters ... BOOM! Goosebumps.

     4. Singing "Who Loves You".

      This is the final song in the show, and as such, it marks the end of an incredibly emotional journey, both for the audience and for me. It's also the end of two and a half hours of hard work. So, when you combine the two together, I'm spent. As exhausted as I may be, it's absolutely thrilling to sing this song. It's high and hard to sing, sure, but seeing each of the guys come down to join me at the mic fills me with energy. The Four Seasons family is back together for one last hit song. It's magic.

      I get more energized when the rest of the cast run onstage, take their places, and join in with their incredible voices. I remember feeling pure elation the first time I saw this moment as an audience member. And while singing this song, I can see the elation in the eyes of the people sitting in the first couple rows. The song builds to its climax, we grab our mics and come right down on the lip of the stage. The four of us share a meaningful final look and acknowledge all we've been through. We're survivors. And, like that famous song goes, we did it our way. 

      Then, finally, we sing one last crazy highnote-filled chord, we hit our final pose, the band nails their thrilling button. The lights snap to black... the crowd goes absolutely nuts... and in that moment... BOOM! Goosebumps.

     5. Running onstage for the Bows, and singing the reprise of "December '63".

      Again, the crowd goes nuts seeing the four of us run out of the wings and downstage for our bow. Even though it seems impossible, the audience is louder at this point than they've been all show. Technically at this point, the show is over, so we can loosen up a little bit. In a small way, I start to shed a tiny bit of Frankie's skin and fully enjoy the experience. The choreography is so fun to do, the song is great fun to sing, and watching the crowd sing, dance and clap along is a real treat.

      And that's when it hits me. To be involved in a show this successful is such a thrill. It is also extremely rare. Seriously. In fifteen years in the business, in 25 years of going to the theatre, I have almost never seen this type of reaction from the crowd at the end of the show. And to know that in some small way, my own hard work, dedication and talent have helped to create the magic that is the catalyst for this reaction... well, I almost can't describe how awesome that feels. And that feeling, well... you guessed it. Goosebumps.

“The Audience”

Helen Mirren, a renowned British actor of stage and screen, has recently been in the news. But this time, it’s for her actions while performing outside of the theatre.

This past weekend in London, the great Dame was onstage, starring in the aptly titled The Audience. When the performance and her nerves were sufficiently rattled by a loud drumming troupe on the street in front of the theatre, she left the stage to confront them.

It created one heck of a story. Dressed in her period costume as Queen Elizabeth II, Mirren used a vulgarity-laced diatribe to bring an end to the drumming, and then calmly returned to the stage to finish her performance.

http://www.thestar.com/entertainment/stage/2013/05/06/helen_mirren_storms_out_of_theatre_dressed_as_queen_to_rebuke_noisy_drummers.html

 

Audience interruptions in the theatre are nothing new, as Richard Ouzounian has recapped here in the Toronto Star. Cell phones ringing, coins being tossed onstage, and rowdy behavior seem to be part of the normal theatrical experience now.

http://www.thestar.com/entertainment/stage/2013/05/07/canadian_actors_known_to_pull_a_helen_mirren.html?utm_medium=twitter&utm_source=twitterfeed

This story has piqued my interest, but not because I’m a fan of salacious celebrity-driven viral videos. Far from it. As a stage actor for more than fifteen years, I can certainly understand Mirren’s actions. Many of my colleagues and I have contemplated doing exactly the same thing.

Sometimes the distractions in the theatre are simply too much. Not only do they affect the actors, but the entire audience is affected, focus is lost, and nobody wins. I’ve personally been performing onstage while a slow-moving Motorcycle parade has noisily gone by, when fireworks displays have exploded nearby, and when torrential storms have pounded the walls and ceiling of the theatre.

But, the show must go on, right?

I don’t know about that. If everything has gone bad, why not stop the performance for a few moments? It would give everybody a chance to reset, calm down and re-focus on the task at hand – namely, providing the audience with an entertaining and enlightening story, told to the best of our abilities.

Numerous shows have been stopped due to the sudden illness of an actor, due to a technical glitch in the production, or due to power outages and fire alarms. In such instances, a pause in the action takes place, and then things pick up where they left off, with minimal disruption.

But when it comes to bad audience behavior - how much is too much?

Broadway superstar Patty LuPone famously stopped a performance of Gypsy because an audience member was taking pictures after an announcement was made forbidding it. LuPone was famously quoted as saying “We’ve lost our public manners. Who do you think you are? Get ‘em out!”. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WruzPfJ9Rys

Hugh Jackman, a veteran of stage and screen, recently stopped a show after a ringing cell phone interrupted his performance. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7PCW5hi9Wc Of course, these events were both recorded on another audience member’s cellphone.

I can definitely see Jackman and LuPone’s point. While 99% of audience members are wonderfully polite and supportive in my experience, I’ve been onstage for dozens of cell phones ringing – sadly, it seems that this has become an almost weekly occurrence. Particularly annoying is when the phone continues to ring because the owner won’t answer it, for fear of not wanting to admit that they are the offending party. So it just rings and rings, annoying everyone more and more.

Sometimes the patron will go the extra step to answer the phone and actually begin a conversation, instead of quickly grabbing it and powering it off. This reminds me of a story an actor friend told me, where during a performance at the Royal George Theatre at Canada’s Shaw Festival, a woman loudly answered her ringing phone with this admittedly funny commentary: “Hello?... Yeah I’m still here… Not very good… Uh Huh, I’ll call you later…“ Talk about taking everyone out of the performance.

In their defense, I think audience members don’t realize just how present they actually are. I think sometimes when the lights go down, the audience forgets that they are not on their couch at home or at a movie theatre separated from the action. They’ve never been onstage to see and hear for themselves.

But, isn’t it common sense to know that Theatres are built to have great sightlines and acoustics? And it goes both ways – trust me, the actors can see and hear you as well as you can see and hear us. That is a big part of what makes going to see a play so exciting – we’re all together in one big living room, interacting back and forth. There’s energy there. It’s alive.

As frustrating as cell phones in the theatre are, a more egregious distraction is when an audience member talks back. An instance from one of my recent performances of Jersey Boys comes to mind. Near the end of Act 2, during a particularly dramatic scene where I am alone downstage talking directly to the audience, an onstage (prop) telephone rings, signaling to me that my daughter is calling. I continue finishing my monologue as I walk over to the phone. An audience member decided that this would be the ideal time to try out a little stand-up routine.

This woman interrupted my speech by shouting “Hello? Hello?!?!” a few times. I continued with my actions, trying to ignore her exclamations. Despite the audible hushing from other audience members, this woman continued her quest for attention, loudly giving a running commentary while I became ever-more distracted trying to carry on. I couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying because I was, you know, talking myself. You know, acting. (How rude of me.)

In this scene, my character and the audience find out together that my estranged daughter has died from a horrible drug-overdose. I am alone onstage, there is no one speaking to me on the phone. There are pauses, to give the reality that I’m listening to the news being relayed to me by the phoning party. It is the final chapter of the story, and I need to create the reality of this very delicate moment fully and realistically for the 2000 people watching. It’s extremely difficult.

In a poignant silence, she chimed in again. “Uh-oh… Bad news, huh?!?!” At this moment, I came as close to I’ve ever come to stopping the show. I was so angry! I decided, however, to try to press on and technically finish the beats in hopes that she will just stop the nonsense. The crowd hissed at her, and after a few more comments no doubt defending her behavior, she thankfully did stop.

But the damage was done. At the time, I felt robbed. It took all my strength of mind to continue through the next scene, sing the song Fallen Angel to the memory of my daughter, and carry on to the end of the show. I know I wasn’t giving my best performance, and it was eating at me. I felt horrible that the audience was robbed of a fully engrossing, possibly cathartic moment. Should I have stopped the show to berate her behavior?

In hindsight, I think I did the right thing. Despite how I felt in the moment, the audience still got a fantastic show, that minute or two not-withstanding. The damage, as I saw it, was relatively minor. If I had stopped the show however, it may have taken quite a while to re-compose ourselves, and the pause in the action may have taken the audience too far out of the experience.

Like it or not, these are the times we live in. Not a show goes by without me being distracted by the bluish glow of cellphone screens in a dark theatre, illuminating the torsos of the offending audience members. On opening night here in Perth, an audience member in the front row actually filmed the entire Big 3 - she just calmly took out her phone and recorded it – I know, because her ‘flash’ was shining directly in my eyes for much of the time.

I think it comes down to this: We live in a technological world. Everyone coming to the theatre can afford a smartphone, which they use to constantly stay connected. They are conditioned to take in fast-paced action. They are used to three-minute video clips being passed around the internet. They are used to celebrity-based garbage in magazines and reality TV nonsense at home. Yet, in spite of this, a large percentage of us still seem to have hung on to our public manners.

The fact that people still spend the big bucks to see live Theatre in this day and age is remarkable. There are so many entertainment options today, most of which are much cheaper than coming to the theatre. To stop a show and shun them might push them away from the theatre forever, and then where will we be?

This is just another obstacle for actors and musicians to realistically tell their story. But as hard as it is, I think the best way to deal with an offensive audience behavior is not to pull a Helen Mirren and call them out on their crap. Rather, I think we should just ignore it... like the patron who refuses to answer their ringing cellphone. Eventually the noise will stop and we can all carry on.

Have you any thoughts to share?

Check this out -http://thinkprogress.org/alyssa/2013/05/16/2020341/national-reviews-kevin-williamson-is-wrong-on-cell-phone-tossing-but-right-on-theater-regulation/?mobile=nc

An Australian Superbowl

An Australian Superbowl

The most-watched televised event in America has now come and gone. Taking part in the Superbowl festivities in Australia has been an interesting experience, to say the least.

Working in Melbourne (I'm playing Frankie Valli in Jersey Boys Australia here until March 24) and craving a bit of North American culture – such as it is – I spent the better part of a week rallying the troops to join me for a Superbowl party. At first only a few friends were keen, and a tiny gathering at my place looked imminent. But as game day approached and others started getting interested, it was clear that we’d be best served by moving the party to a nearby drinking establishment. Watching the big game on a big screen, with big sound and a big crowd would be the attraction – even if we couldn’t enjoy the American commercials.

Australians love sports. Athletics are a huge part of their culture, indeed their identity. This should be a shock to no one. Aussies routinely do well in the Summer Olympics and are known world-wide for their Rugby and Cricket playing public. But it appears that American sports are on the upswing here, too. Surprisingly, many of my colleagues know the names of players and teams in the NFL, NBA and MLB, if not so much the NHL. I didn’t think I’d be having daily discussions about the Toronto Raptors here in Melbourne, but I do.

But the Superbowl is no footy game – this is AMERICAN football, and game time is 10am on a Monday. How much of a real interest would there be here? Well, it turns out, quite a lot.

A week before the game, I called three downtown sports bars and each was completely booked out, with entrance fees and standing room only available. I felt fortunate to find a fourth that had room for our group of 12. Aside from us theatre practitioners who have the day off, the bar soon filled up with an interesting crowd. Some walked in wearing NFL jerseys, some in shirts and ties. Some called in sick, some booked the day off specifically to watch the game, and some appeared, well, to put it politely, unlikely to have a job whatsoever.

Oh, Australians love beer, too. And as game time approached, even though it was not yet 11am, buckets of Bud became the standard centerpiece on our tables. Um, I’m pretty sure the “it’s 5 O’clock somewhere” thing started here in Australia.

 But for the locals, this outing wasn’t purely an excuse to drink. During the breaks in the action, I was often asked about specific rules, position names and player, as they wanting a better understanding of American football. The three forms of Aussie Rules football were referenced as a comparison, with more than a couple half-tongue-in-cheek comments about how real men don’t need to wear helmets and pads. There’s always that part of the Aussies, too. Makes me smile.

Most of the bar patrons were surprisingly fans of the San Francisco 49ers. Maybe it’s because flights from Australia to North America usually land in Los Angeles, meaning Aussies feel comfortable with California. Maybe it’s because the 49ers are perennial winners and are 6-0 in Superbowls. Personally, I was rooting for the Ravens, who I figured to win in a very close game. (Aren’t I smart?!?!?)

Aside from the outcome of the game, some patrons were equally interested in the innumerable betting options, even tracking via their phones how the odds changed throughout the game. One friend bet (wisely) on Boldin scoring the 1^st touchdown of the game, at 10-1 odds. Another bloke bet $5 (unwisely) that Beyonce would trip during her halftime show. This particular guy was also completely loaded by Halftime, but … whatever. It takes all kinds, you know?

(Editor’s note: We interrupt this sports and culture piece to bring you an Arts review.)

Speaking of Beyonce, I was stoked that three of my favorite female vocalists would do their thing on this year’s broadcast. In the Pregame ceremony, Jennifer Hudson was unbelievable, effortlessly wailing overtop of those sweet children from Sandy Hook, CT during America the Beautiful. Beautiful it was.

Unfortunately, Alicia Keys disappointed in her rendition of the National Anthem. I give her credit for playing the piano while singing, but why does she choose to sing every song a tone too high? Her upper notes always sound on the brink – because of this, some are thrilling, but most make me afraid that her larynx might pop out of her neck. Alicia, just drop the key a bit and sing your heart out. You know? We’ll still love you. (Note in the picture below how Alicia is reaching for a note juuuuust out of reach…)

In the 15-minute Halftime show, Beyonce did her thang, and did it very well, proving that she’s still the Superbowl Champ of female Pop Stars. Great looks, great voice, great moves, good songs, interesting production - she’s the total package, amiright?

 As for the game itself, I found it totally engaging. In the 1^st half, the newest elite quarterback Joe Flacco skillfully led the Ravens on offence, and as they are wont to do on defence, they forced San Francisco into some turnovers. The Ravens raced out to a big 21-6 Halftime lead, leaving many fans in our bar stunned. Their surprise turned to pure shock on the opening play of the 2^nd half, as the Ravens ran the kickoff all the way back for a 108-yard touchdown, which tied an all-time NFL record for the longest kickoff return. At 28-6, it was looking like a blowout.

Then came another shock – the power went out at the Superdome. A Superbowl-first 34-minute Power-Outage delay while annoying, was not a distraction and was tolerated well by everyone. More time for beer and wings, amiright?!?!? I mused half-jokingly that the power outage was due to Beyonce’s energetic Halftime show. All stunning to look at, but holy crap – a whole lot of power (and dough!) went into those extras. For example, did you see that massive video screen that rose out of the stage?

 Did you see that reflective LCD floor?

How about those numerous burst of fire?

 Hey Superdome, “If you like it then you shoulda put a backup generator on it…“ (I know – it doesn’t scan very well, but I still like it.)

But I digress. Um, yeah. Back to the Macho stuff. 

When play resumed, the 2^nd half went according to the pregame script, as the 49ers came roaring back, led by their heavily tattooed Quarterback Colin Kaepernick. Most fans in our bar leapt to their feet every time the exciting Kaepernick took off for a running play, and yelled in amazement as he drilled one of his fastballs into the arms of a waiting teammate.

 He is a thrilling athlete to watch, but in his first Superbowl, Kaepernick made a few costly mistakes. The interception he threw in the 1^st half was an awful and costly throw, but equally glaring was his decision to call a timeout in the 3^rd Quarter down 28-6, on a 1^st and 10 near midfield. Even if he was confused at the play call, taking the snap and running a basic play – heck, even taking a knee – would have been much more preferable to losing a timeout. 

 

While his 4^th quarter 20-yard TD run was thrilling to watch, once again he was unable to deal with the pressure of the moment. On the next play, the potential game-tying 2-point conversion attempt, he was unable to read the Ravens blitz and quickly threw the ball away, keeping the Ravens ahead 31-29, a lead which they would not give up. And sure enough, down five points and with no timeouts left, Kaepernick could only watch as the Ravens ran out the clock, preventing the 49ers from getting one last good chance to win the game.

I’m not blaming Kaepernick for the loss – indeed, if a couple passes had not slipped through his receiver’s fingers, or a couple non-penalty calls were made in their favour, he may well have been the Superbowl MVP. But this is Sports – and what makes it so endlessly compelling for me. On any given day, anything can and will happen, and usually things don’t end up happening the way the experts predict. In the end, the Ravens played well enough to win, and although they buckled in the 2^nd half, they would not break, holding on to record the upset victory, 34-31. It was a very exciting and interesting game, and a good time was had by all. Even Joe Flacco went home happy, too.

The Aussie mates are good blokes. They love hanging out together, the love just about any sporting endeavor, they love to drink a few pints, they love to place a bet, and are genuinely interested in learning more of the finer points of American sports. They will even down some good ol’ American chicken wings and bottles of Budweiser every once in a while. My next job is to convert them all to Blue Jays fans, which shouldn’t be too hard. With the new and improved Jays line up and Spring Training just around the corner, I don’t think it will be a problem.

Ah, there’s nothing like heading home the bar in the early afternoon on wobbly legs, after hours of good times. Such is life in Melbourne, Australia.

My Argument With the Cricket Gods

My Argument with the Cricket Gods 

As a Canadian, it’s not surprising that don’t know much about the sport of Cricket. However, I’d hazard a guess that I know more about this legendary sport than 95% of Canadians. I’ve actually played nearly a dozen games myself – legit, competitive games. Granted, the games were mostly against other actors, but, hey, we practiced every week and competed hard. I even won Man of the Match in one of the games, he said, patting himself on the back…

But I find myself here in Australia again, and therefore, I’m inundated with Cricket – think Hockey Night in Canada, 12 months a year instead of just six. It’s everywhere, on TV, in the news, even on the Beach. And Aussies are as passionate about this sport as we are about our beloved pucks on ice. Hell, this year, we had a ‘Secret Santa’ at work and my surprise gift was a Cricket set, complete with bat, balls and even a wicket and bales. We even use it indoors before the show, in our dressing room corridor – yes, Hallway Cricket is apparently a thing.

I want to love this game, I really do. I love the gentlemanly Sportsmanship, I love the tea break, I love that they don’t wear gloves in the field. I love the throwing, the running, the hitting. But, there are so many oddities and quirks in this game, some of which I find lovable, others less so. One of the biggest things keeping me from loving Cricket: it seems the goal is not necessarily to score more runs than your opponent, but rather, to not get out. Put another way, it places those two offensive strategies as equally desirable.

Case in point – late last year, the third Test match of a series between Australia and South Africa was being played in Adelaide, Australia. I happened to be there, doing an eight-week run of Jersey Boys at a theatre just a short walk from the Cricket ground. That particular Test match went to a 5th and final day, and, falling on a Monday (the traditionally dark day for theatres) a bunch of us rocked up to the beautiful Adelaide Oval to catch the action. Australia had built a huge lead on Day 4 – so huge that they decided to stop scoring runs and give up their offensive innings, so they would have enough time left (a day and a half) to get the South Africans out and secure their big win.


However, the rules dictate that as long as all your batsmen don’t get out, the Test match is called a Draw – regardless of how many runs you are trailing by. South Africa knew what they had to do, and, do it they did. I sat there along with 10,000 others for eight hours – that’s eight freaking hours, people – watching the South Africans block ball after ball, chip one here and one there for a single run, and make virtually no attempt to make up the difference in the score. Sure, I give them credit for not getting stumped or caught out, but seriously? C’mon, Cricket Gods – this is ridiculous.

Ever see a boxer with his hands covering his face getting pummeled in the corner win the match on points? Of course not. Ever seen a gymnast or figure skater attempting zero jumps or spins, and win the competition just because they stayed on their feet? Of course not. I can’t think of any other sport where it’s encouraged to not try your hardest. This bothers me, you know?

Cricket is an old sport, and has some interesting quirks owing to the fact that it has been around for over 400 years. The game was declared the National Sport of England in the early 1700s. By the mid 1800s Cricket was being played all over the world, including the 1st North American Test match in 1844 between Canada and the US.

Because Sports has to adapt with the times, Cricket has taken a good long look at its epic history, and realized that it’s dated. Who the heck can follow a five-day long game these days? And so, although the Cricket Gods have kept the old-fashioned Test Match game intact, they have developed different (shorter) ways to play the game, in an attempt to increase its popularity with world-wide sports fans, who, thanks to technology, the internet, twitter and the like, now have endless entertainment options and the attention spans of gnats. But the changes didn't go far enough.




The 5-day long Test matches are still considered to be the best test of cricket. But since the 1960s, there are ODI’s – 50-over maximum One-day matches, guaranteed to have a result. And more recently, in the last decade they have introduced an even shorter version of the game – the 20-20 Cricket match. Each side gets only 20 Overs to score as many runs as possible, and there is always a winner, no matter what. This type of cricket takes about 3 hours to play, putting it on par with what MLB puts out there as a product.

Three different forms of the same sport. That in itself is interesting. But I am still disheartened – no, annoyed - by the fact that teams are happy to play a match for five full days when there’s a good possibility of it ending in a Draw (a Tie!), regardless of how many runs were scored. Huh?

There’s only one way to play Baseball. Granted, Baseball stadia are of differing size, although the important distances between the pitching rubber and home plate, and between the bases are always the same. And if it’s tied after 9-innings, you play sudden-death extra innings. There are no ties. In football, The NFL, CFL and College/University games all have slightly different rules, but each game is the same length and has an outcome. Ties are extremely rare and considered merely annoying at best.

Except for the size of the rink being larger internationally, hockey all over the world is the same. Although there used to be many ties in a season, Shoot-outs were instituted a few years ago to ensure each NHL game has an outcome. Regardless of what you think of using the equivalent of a home-run hitting contest to decide which hockey team is better, never again will we see those annoying tie NHL games, replete with teams literally not trying to win in order to preserve the precious 1-point for the tie.

Tennis is interesting in that each tournament varies the playing surface and the length of match – they play on grass, clay, and hardcourt. Some tournaments employ a best of three sets while others employ a best of five sets format. But each match is scored the same way, and I guarantee you that the player who doesn’t hit the ball back over the net will lose. Ever heard of a tie in Tennis?

But that’s not the only unique element that sets Cricket apart. Even the balls are different, depending on the style of game being played. A White ball is used in the shorter 20-20 cricket and 1-day ODIs, while a Red ball is used for the longer Test cricket matches. Although they are said to be identically made, the White balls tend to ‘swing’ (curve) more and deteriorate faster than their red counterparts. Having held and thrown both, I can definitely say that they do not feel or react the same. Just picture the Jays using a different ball at the Rogers Centre, and the league being OK with that.



Another strange element to Cricket – but this one I strongly favour, however - leaves Baseball in the dust. Curiously, the 400 year-old sport of Cricket has embraced technology. Every single close play is reviewable. They review whether or not a bowled ball nicks the bat. They review whether a runner crosses the crease line before the bales are hit. They review whether a batted ball touches the boundary for four runs or goes over it for six. And, yes, I love this. It’s 2013 people; I believe that since we have the technology at our fingertips, it should be utilized to determine the fairest result. Baseball has got to get on with it.

Want another quirk – this one of the annoying variety? This past Monday night I had the pleasure of attending my first 20-20 match live, this time at the hallowed MCG – Melbourne’s Cricket Ground (pictured below). Sri Lanka batted first, pounding out 161 runs during their 20 overs. Australia was batting in the 10th over when suddenly the skies opened up, causing a rain delay. It rained for no more than 10 minutes, during which time the ‘pitch’ (where the balls are bowled and the batsmen run) was covered by a tarp. Once the rain stopped, the tarp was removed, and yet it took almost 30 more minutes before the game re-commenced. Annoying, to be sure, but not nearly as confounding as what came next.

Instead of Australia finishing their last 10 overs trying to chase down Sri Lanka’s total of 161, the Gods of Cricket decreed that the game was being shortened to 15 Overs, and magically, the Sri Lankan total was shrunk down to 122. (This was not their total after 15 overs, by the way). “Um, sorry buddy, all those 4s and 6s you hit in the last few overs – we’re taking them back - they never happened. You understand, right? It’s Cricket.”

Apparently, back in the 1990s two English statisticians named Duckworth and Lewis devised the aptly titled Duckworth-Lewis method of creating a totally bogus, non-real way of rescoring a match – and the Cricket Gods thought it was a great idea. It’s routinely criticized because it produces results that are often “counter-intuitive” but, that’s being a bit polite - they often make no logical sense. Imagine if you will the final round of the 2013 Masters is being played. Tiger birdies three of the last four holes to move to -6 for the tournament just before a thunderstorm passes through. Mickelson is sitting at -1 on the 8th hole at the time. When the rain stops, the Golf Gods say – “Tiger, we’ve decided that Phil only has to play 4 more holes, and if he gets to -3, he wins the tournament. Oh, and we’re taking back those birdies, and readjusting your score. Hope that’s ok. Oh, and you’ll make less money too.”

It seems so strange to me that a sport that has embraced video replay technology - to ensure the fairest results - can allow major international matches to be decided by what amounts to a ‘reality’ seemingly devised by a child’s imaginary playtime.

It turned out that, with this new (completely made-up) total to chase, Australia had no choice but to go for it. (This being a 20-20 game, there was no way to block their way to a Draw.) They suddenly started trying really hard to score runs, and what do you know? They actually scored 59 runs in their last five overs, doubling their rate from their 1st 10 overs, and only needed a Four on their last ball to win. They didn’t get it. But their increased effort and risk-taking created an incredibly entertaining finish to what was a strange night at the Cricket. Exciting, yes, but not real. Gives a new meaning to Fantasy sports, doesn’t it?

Why did it take 40 minutes to get the game restarted? Why did they change the length and score of the game? Why don’t they finish the games, regardless of how long they go into the night? If it gets too late, why don’t they reschedule them for the next available day? What about the player’s statistics? So many questions for the Cricket Gods. So many reasons to stay on the fence about Cricket. I want to love it, but… I guess I’m just not that religious.Yet.

My 2nd Aussie Open Experience

And rock up I did.

Indeed, Day 4 of the Australian Open promised many interesting matches and storylines, more than enough to convince me to come back and pick up a Ground Pass for the afternoon. Between my evening performance and my publicity photo shoot with my Jersey Boys mates with the Head Coach and former soccer star of the Melbourne Heart FC John Aloisi, I had several hours to kill. When the photo shoot wrapped up at AAMI stadium around 12:30pm, I literally crossed the street and walked the few minutes down Swan Street to Melbourne Park. (Disappointingly, I did not need to walk on Batman Avenue this time.)

(AAMI stadium would be just off the upper right corner of this map.)

The main purpose of my visit was to see the 2nd round match of Richmond Hill, Ontario’s Milos Raonic. Having risen from seemingly out of nowhere in 2010, and out of the Top-100 as recently as 2011, Milos’s hard work and natural talent have carried him to become the 13th seed here. And he would need to prove his worth today, facing off against Czech Lucas Rosol, whose claim to fame was knocking off Rafial Nadal at last year’s Wimbledon. So, clearly, Rosol is no push-over.

Lucky 13’s.

When I arrived at the rather remote Court 13 just before 13:00 local time, Raonic had a slight 4-3 lead, on serve in the 1st set. Even though he is young and without great fanfare, I was somewhat surprised that the Open would schedule the 13th seed to play so far away from the main courts here. (Though from the photo above, you can see how just how close the tennis facility is to Melbourne’s downtown core.)

I was, however, happy to see an estimated 250 fans watching, many of whom were proudly Canadian, held flags, donned shirts or the increasingly ubiquitous Blue Jays hats (I had mine on). At 6’5” and just 22 years old, Raonic’s natural gifts have been amplified by a new extensive training regimen, and upon first sight today, he looked stronger overall, thicker through the upper body, and possessed perhaps a bit more poise than usual in those rare moments when he struggled.

The two men held serve for the next few games, although Rosol struggled more on his serving games. A typical Raonic serving game was at 4-4 when an Ace of his cracked the ballgirl in the back, eliciting a sympathetic groan from the crowd. Undeterred, he followed that one with two more Aces. Raonic did seem uneasy at times, perhaps frustrated with not having broken Rosol yet in the match. Ahead 6-5, Raonic let out a “So Bad!” critique of an easy topspin forehand attempt that went well long.

If this match was close in the early going, from the 1st set tie-break on, it was all Raonic. He cruised through the tiebreak 7-2, and then broke Rosol in the 1st game of the 2nd set, setting the tone for what was to come. In the 39C heat, Raonic fired 18 Aces, 18 winners against only 6 unforced errors, losing only 1 service game and coasted easily to a straight set victory 7-6, 6-2, 6-3.

Raonic kept his cool during under this umbrella sponsored by everyone’s family car company, Kia. Every sit-down, he had a towel wrapped around his neck and shoulders that appeared to hold three ice-packs, taped into place. He also drank copious amounts of water and an orange-coloured sports drink.

His biggest weapon is obviously his serving game. Unfortunately, there was no radar gun out on Court 13 to track the pace, but regardless, Rosol didn’t have much of an answer for it. Throughout the 2nd and 3rd Sets, Raonic showed incredible poise, even when coming back from down 0-30. Serving at 3-2 in the 3rd set, he fell behind Rosol 0-30, only to follow up with four straight incredible 1st serves – three un-returnable and one Ace. Aside from the serve, his groundstrokes looked strong too, especially up 4-3 in the 3rd when his three consecutive slice backhands won him the point to go up 30-0, and eventually break Rosol at Love. A few minutes later he would break again to end the match.

With Raonic’s match concluded, I wandered over to watch a few minutes of several different matches ongoing at Melbourne Park. None of them terribly caught my interest until I found one of the best stories so far in the Aussie Open. The formerly-retired, 42-year-old Japanese Energizer bunny Kimiko Date-Krumm became the oldest woman to win a singles match at this tournament by winning her first round match. I found her squaring off against Israeli Shahar Peer at the start of the 2nd Set.

Once ranked as high as 4th in the world, the diminutive Date-Krumm had retired from tennis for 10 years, only to come back with a vengeance. A former semi-finalist here (albeit back in 1996!), Date turned pro in 1989 when her opponent was literally still in diapers. After a grueling battle of wills in the 39C heat, Date-Krumm gave Peer a spanking and sent her to her room, 6-2, 7-5. She continues her dream run in the 3rd round against 53rd ranked Serbian Bojana Jovanovski. I hope she wins that one, too, just to see that winning smile again.

The crowd was especially colourful during the match. Barely a word of English was heard, as repetitive chants in Hebrew were shouted by Peer’s admirers, hoping to help her get back in the match. Then, the ever-polite and plentiful Japanese supporters would applaud and hold their flags aloft, beaming their support to Date. And then there was the Japanese press and photographers, out in full force. This reminded me just how international the tennis world is. This is a pretty incredible experience to take in.

The other top stories of the day featured Australian men. Bernard Tomic toughed out a tight victory over Daniel Brands and has himself a hot date with Roger Federer in the 3rd round. The winner of that match may end up facing our homeboy Milos Raonic if he can win his 3rd round match against 27th seeded German Philipp Kohlschreiber. And local hero 20-year old James Duckworth broke his 1st round Aussie Open record for the longest match, this time losing in five sets, 4 hours and 52 minutes out in the 39C afternoon sun. The sold-out crowd on Show Court 2 was firmly on his side, and their chanting could be heard all over Melbourne Park. He has certainly earned their respect this week, by playing his way into the tournament as a wildcard, and then gutting out 10 sets and over nine hours of tennis in grueling conditions.

All in all, it was a great afternoon. Who knows, maybe I’ll be back again on Monday… Raonic vs Federer on Centre Court at Rod Laver Arena? Yes, please – and Monday is my day off, so if it’s a night game, I’ll be there, with my Blue Jays hat on.