On Watsky and Willie Mays
The fog is thick, yet San Francisco refuses to obscure itself completely.
Welcome to another thing in your inbox!
It takes a true narcissist to start an email about themselves in the midst of a global pandemic, but we’ve made our choices, so let’s roll with it.
I write for a lot of different spots, which is less a brag and more the reality of being a freelance journalist today. Things are very bad right now. That’s why I’m hoping this newsletter will allow more people to know when I write stuff, which in turn will get the publications who pay my rent some new readers too.
In return for my promise to always keep this newsletter free — if I ever decide to monetize in some form down the road, this part will remain on the house, you have my word — I’m asking that you consider subscribing to local news outlets if you don’t already do so.
As the San Francisco Chronicle ran two of my stories in the past week (big shout-out to my editors Mariecar Mendoza and Mozes Zarate), allow me to drop a link to their subscription page right here.
Okay, enough preamble. Here’s what I wrote this week.
TALKING BASEBALL
I still can’t believe the San Francisco Chronicle asked me to write a profile on the paper’s own veteran baseball scribe, John Shea, who has a new book, 24, co-authored with San Francisco Giants legend Willie Mays.
Willie Mays isn’t merely my favorite baseball player — he’s one of my favorite humans.
In speaking with Shea, who spent fifteen years working with Mays on this project, we almost immediately reverted to the banter of two school kids gushing over a ballpark hero. That’s the allure of Willie, a man whose grace on the diamond is matched only by his charm and wisdom off the field.
Willie also dealt with all kinds of heinous shit playing below the Mason-Dixon line with the Birmingham Black Barons. Even though I wasn’t able to speak with the Say Hey Kid for my story (he’s currently sheltering-in-place at his home in Atherton), I’m still extremely proud of how this one turned out!
(I also think the print design was especially impressive.)
FEELING THE FLOW
The other piece I wrote for Datebook was a recap of rapper George Watsky’s successful attempt to break the Guinness World Record by freestyle rapping for 33 hours straight. He started at 10 a.m. on Wednesday, May 6 and didn’t stop (minus two sanctioned breaks) until 7:30 p.m on Thursday, May 7.
I had my doubts the dude would make it when he was already reaching for bars about Zoolander villain Mugatu mere hours into his effort, but he absolutely crushed it. It was surreal to check in on Watsky throughout his quest. At one point, I went to bed, got up, and reloaded my stream.
There he was, still in a San Francisco Giants jersey, still spitting.
A day after breaking the record, I called Watsky to talk about the batshit crazy thing he’d just accomplished. He explained how his team stitched together a 34-hour sequence of beats through Ableton and surprised me by confessing that he feared his epilepsy condition might lead him to suffer an on-air seizure.
I’d also like to spotlight the fact that Watsky did this thing to raise over $140,000 for his bandmates and crewmembers, with the rest going to the musician non-profit Sweet Relief. He’s not keeping a penny — in fact, he put $10,000 of his own into a fund for fans who bought tickets to his (now) postponed 2020 tour and are still unable to get refunds.
Whether you spin him or not, it’s hard not to like a guy who has this to say:
“There’s a lot that I would like to unload upon you in terms of my frustration about certain corporations that are very important partners of mine. The situation is complicated further by the fact that, for some of these companies, maybe they’re facing bankruptcy or they don’t know how to pay their massive payrolls with all of their revenue gone. On the other hand, when I see companies dragging their feet and not offering a refund option, when we’ve been begging them to do so, it’s not money in our pocket.
We don’t know who to call or how to get an answer. Weeks and weeks pass. Things start to come out in the press and we don’t see any action on the other end, and it’s absolutely infuriating, to be honest. That was one of the big reasons for doing this. I felt a huge burden on my back from the fact that I feel personally responsible because we took people’s money and we haven’t given them what they paid for, which was the show.”
As to the pressing question of how Watsky was able pee during his 33-hour freestyle, let me keep you in the dark no longer: he taped a mic to his shirt and flowed as he flowed.
WAIT, WHAT ABOUT THE WEED?
As I’ve mentioned, the majority of my work is focused on the cannabis industry. A lot of that work is quite serious in nature — and I’ll be sharing much more of it in future installments — but I also like to have a little fun every now and then too.
With that in mind, here’s a bit of advice I published over at Bloom & Oil.
Basically, a woman recently gave Saturday Night Live cast member Pete Davidson a large quantity of marijuana that he did not request or appreciate. I found it to be, in a word, dumb. My response?
You Really Don’t Need to Bring Pete Davidson Weed Right Now
PAST DEADLINE (Fresh Looks at Old Stories)
The thing about interviewing funny people is that they are and you’re not.
A lesson that can only be learned through mild humiliation, I now know that when it comes to talking to comics, they’re really not looking for a Mel Brooks to their Carl Reiner.
Thus, when the opportunity arose to speak with Nick Kroll and John Mulaney ahead of a show they were doing at the Herbst Theater back in 2016, I knew I was in for a delightfully brutal encounter.
I basically begged their publicist to let me interview Kroll and Mulaney as their fictitious Oh, Hello counterparts, George St. Geegland and Gil Faizon. (Lest you think me fully insane, the show they were doing in town was part of an Oh, Hello tour they were taking to various cities.)
“Are you sure?” she asked me at one point for a third consecutive time.
I was sure. The conversation that followed will likely stand as the most fun I’ve ever had in an interview. George and Gil (old New Yorkers with a penchant for pranking people with an excess of tuna fish) began our call by berating me — and it only got better from there.
That I cannot share with you a certain coda offered by one Gil Faizon with regards to sleeping through a notable American tragedy — Kroll asked that I not include it and I must respectfully honor those wishes — the pair did graciously allow me to leave the rest of the vulgar, hilarious things they said in.
I will also forever be indebted to my onetime San Francisco Weekly editor, Peter Lawrence Kane, who allowed me to proceed with this feature despite founded concerns that literally no one but me would ever read it.
From February 24, 2016: “Grumpier Old Men: Gil Faizon and George St. Geegland”
UNCLE MOE’S FAMILY FEEDBAG (Stuff I Like)
I missed the live version presented by the Tenderloin Museum last month but Gay San Francisco is an incredible vintage documentary that is available to stream at your leisure (for free). Hardly a bad thing, but head’s up: there are a lot of genitals on display in this film.
I’m still coming to terms with the loss of Fountains of Wayne member / songwriter / all-around musical superhuman Adam Schlesinger but this incredible retrospective detailing the late artist’s talent and capacity for collaboration from Rolling Stone’s Simon Vozick-Levinson is a must-read for major fans and newcomers alike.
Sasha Geffen, a former editor of mine at Consequence of Sound, has a fantastic new book called Glitter Up the Dark: How Pop Music Broke the Binary. Buy a copy!
“Rolling Stoned” is free but local news is not. If you enjoy what you’re reading, please consider subscribing to the outlets that support my work. You can also follow me on Twitter at @zackruskin if you so desire.