And In the End... Life In the ER Went On

Last night we bade good-bye to one of television's most enduring dramas, ER.

My first experience with ER was a bit hazy, but I do remember I was in high school at the time and planned ahead of time to hog our cable-less TV set in the kitchen and wait for the pilot to come on. My decision to watch a TV show that I knew nothing about, save for its pedigreed executive producers (Crichton and Spielberg), owed much to Sherry Stringfield.




I loved her back in the days, and I still do now. She was my favorite character in NYPD Blue (secondaries be damned), and was mad at the writers for slowly writing her out of the show. (Of course, I expected it when David Caruso left the show.) But when I found out that she was going to be in another show – ER – it made me feel better to know that I wouldn't have to miss her all that much. And so in the mid-90s, I watched what would be known as one of the highest-rated drama series in TV history.

Looking back on it, I cannot really put my finger on why I loved ER. Save for Sherry, I knew no one else on that show. My only other favorite character out of the series was Anthony Edward's Mark Greene. I didn't like George, Juliana, Noah, even Eriq. They all had character flaws that grated on me (and George, in particular, annoyed me to no end – until this very day!). I only loved two out of six actors, and yet I found myself in a weekly habit of staying up until 10PM on Thursday nights just to watch this wonderful show.

I think it was the fact that it was so different at the time. Unlike shows of this decade, ER opened every episode with a full cast intro. It had a hip, fantastic score. That score was what initially made it different from the rest. It mirrored the spirit of the show – its kinetic frenzy and breakthroughs. And the direction was pretty much unlike any other. Steadycam shots and "oners" (one-take acts) – it broke through the traditions of the TV medium. Every actor was utilized – from the EMTs to the nurses, to the docs themselves. There were no walk-ons or standbys. Everyone in the shot had something to do. And if you had visited a real-life ER at some point in your life (and with a doctor sister, I had lots of times), you knew that it was a very realistic scenario that played out really well in front of the camera. It was a successful mix of execution and emotion.

And unlike other shows that followed, ER continued to provoke emotions of its viewers through nuance and subtleties, instead of relying on gore and viscera. The urgency of hands flying in the ER, of people yelling over each other, blood suddenly appearing on scrubs or surgical gloves, or even gushing out of nowhere, of doctors' eyes flashing back and forth to each other while trying to save a life. The emergency procedure was the core of the medical drama. There was no mystery to be solved. ER situations are cut and dried and test a doctor's will and skill. There was no Housian mystery or GA lead-in to some complicated surgery. ER was like a one-two punch that left you reeling and awash in emotions. And then they hook you in some more with some nice character-driven drama.

Benton mentoring Carter. Susan adopting her niece. The Ross and Hathaway relationship. Mark's constant demons and attempts at leadership and love. It was typical drama, but set in the all-too familiar life-and-death hum of the ER, or in the backdrop of a gritty Chicago. The setting accentuated the drama. It was one of very few TV shows that allowed the setting to dictate the story. It was, I think, one of the reasons for its longevity, despite a continuing exodus of characters. It did not depend on one doctor, but on a location. And that location shaped the people's characters and motives. It is the ER itself that carried much of the drama and made for solid TV.

I am sorry to say that my decision to stop watching ER coincided with Susan's first departure to Arizona. I loved her character, and was rooting hard for Mark to stop her from leaving. And then she left. So I, too, left.

And I do say that it was something I regretted, seeing as how there have been some more amazing moments on the show since then. But Susan was the reason I watched the show in the first place, so it wasn't the same for me when she wasn't around anymore. I do tune in a couple of times and I see different faces each time, different ER chiefs-slash-antagonists in the mold of Kerry Weaver (still my favorite anti-hero). I knew about Benton's family issues, Carter's slow descent from idealism, Carol's reunion with Doug, and then there was Mark Greene. There was a time during the show's 15-season run when I was prepared to watch ER again, but when I found out that they were killing off Edwards' character, I couldn't get myself to watch. And so Season 3 was my last full ER season.

But like all those who felt the impact of ER in their lives, we came back to say good-bye to the show. And it was so nice of the show to give us fans, those who stayed and those who left, the chance to be nostalgic and to look forward to an ER future. There were no more character deaths. County General did not close down. Old faces mingled with the new, and past fans like me were shown how far the show had come, and how much there is to look forward to (Rachel! The Joshua Carter Center!). There was a wonderful nod to continuity with John Wells' script that paid tribute to the first season. Doctors playing hoops, Carter asking Rachel if "she's in", Morris being awakened at the beginning. And while there was a general air of expectation of sadness and closure, there was very little to feel sad about with the continuous energy within the ER. The morality tale will continue to play out, and relationships will continue to be tested.

It was wonderful to see everyone back, including Doug and Carol three weeks earlier. Back then, I was not a fan of these two. But seeing them again, and seeing how happy they still are, it brought me a sense of closure for these two. I got teary-eyed when, after answering a phone call in the early morning about the kidney donation they helped procure for Dr. Carter's eventual transplant, Carole turned to Doug in bed to say that they saved "some doctor". And again, it was so moving in the way that everyone continued to be connected in some part to each other. It was no grand "I Love You!" or song in the rain. It was a life saved. As was usual.

I love it when the show basks in the quieter moments. I still remember Susan's last day in the ER in Season 3. How they had this wonderful farewell party planned in advance, with streamers and balloons and cake and party hats, but then they got deluged with emergencies and everybody scattered about. And Susan just went around the ER lovingly gazing at the spirit and energy in there. And she then walked out of the hospital and just left. I was sort of torn up the first time I saw it. Aside from screaming out at Mark to go after her, I thought it wasn't the kind of farewell I would have wanted for my favorite character. But looking back, I loved how quiet, subtle moments like that just made me feel a sense of love for the show. The fact that two of the most iconic scenes of the show made it on to the credits for as long as it did – Carter's exhausted sigh in a dark corner outside the ER, and Benton's "booyah!" gesture in the hallway – is a testament to the power of a tender moment.

In the end, as always, life goes on in the ER. It was a fitting end to an important place in a community, and an important show in the history of television. No one left. Everything and everyone was right where we left them. I held my breath when the camera zoomed out and focused on a full building shot of County General as the El train whizzed past. I love that that was the final bookend image to this great series. That ER was part of something bigger, and that its relevance in the greater scheme of things was never questioned.

Maybe in the following days, or even weeks, we will come across people, articles, blogs, etc, all praising the finale. ER has achieved an amazing degree of popularity, with viewership peaking at around 35 million in Season 2. And that was just in the US, and didn't count people like me who were from the other half of the globe. With such viewership, I won't be surprised if everyone you met had watched it at some point in their lives, not counting syndicated episodes. The show deserved its successes then and even now. It was an unprecedented kind of success for a scripted drama, and it will never happen again.

I'd like to say “thank you” to a show that made me feel like a grown up while watching it. I was young, and my parents constantly supervised my TV viewing habits at the time, and yet they never vetted ER. For that I was thankful. ER was the first "real" TV show I watched, with content mature and intelligent enough for me to learn from. It had an air of edginess and accomplishment about it, and I felt I was "cool" while watching it. I never did understand the power of the Clooney, but I found myself being invested in the show's characters. My older sisters look back on St. Elsewhere as THE television medical drama. But I will always fondly remember ER. Thank you, Mr. Crichton, for writing a pilot that was both so poignant and powerful that it hooked me (and millions others) along with it. And thank you, Mr. Spielberg, for giving the show a sense of dignity and respect it deserves. And thank you, Mr. Wells, for being behind it all for the full 15 seasons. And thank you to all the cast of characters and guest stars and crew on the show. Television was forever changed by the likes of you.

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Good-bye, Conan

Oh, Conan.

You made me laugh and cry last night. And kudos to you for a wonderful final good-bye, and for a shout-out to David Letterman. You and Dave are my favorite nighttime companions. What would late night be without you?

Thank you so much, sir. New York misses you already. Good-bye and good luck.

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John Stockton

It is All-Star Weekend in the NBA, and with it came speculation about the next batch of Hall of Famers. John Stockton, one of the best point guards in the NBA, was among those eligible. And I am hoping he does get in. Here's my own little tribute to this amazing player. I wrote this a few days after his retirement ceremony with the Utah Jazz. It still resonates as strongly as it did when I first wrote it.

John Stockton was the very first basketball point guard I adored. And I still do.

I was a huge Celtics fan, and I am a Larry Bird worshipper above all else. But when it came to point guards, John was pretty much above everyone else. I grew up on the kind of basketball that was pure, intense, and full of grace. That was in the 80s, when the usual teams that met during the playoffs were Bird’s Celtics, Magic’s Lakers, Isaiah’s Pistons, and Ralph's Rockets. I fell in love with the NBA during that era, an era that will never be replicated. It is as irreplaceable as Stockton himself.




The irony of it all was that I had to get a second glimpse of him before I was convinced of his greatness. I was originally drawn to that other high-profile Jazzman, Karl Malone. Malone was an easy player to admire. He was competitive, fiery, and often delivered (he wasn’t called The Mailman for nothing!). But I had to take a good long look at his teammate who often handed him the ball, who made it easier for him to shoot, and who set up plays for him perfectly.

John was the epitome of the point guard. He was a master of basic passing, eschewing flash for directness. As a matter of fact, of all the years I have watched John play (and mind you, I don’t regularly watch the NBA since we didn't have cable back then), I have only seen him do a behind-the-back pass TWICE. The rest, he did it by sheer mastery of ball-handling, accuracy, sharp eyesight, and instinct. Michael Jordan needed to dunk a ball to achieve greatness. John only needed to pass the ball to become legend.

I felt that no other point guard I knew came close to John. Save, probably for Magic. But the difference was that John had more charisma. Plus his personality and character was ultimately at a level Magic could not reach. At the moment, I am hard-pressed to name a guard that could fill John's shoes. Hardworking playmakers abound the NBA, but no one comes close to John's spirit and fire. Iverson is too cocky. Kidd is lackadaisacal at times. I have a crush on Jason Williams, but that's as far as I could go. Hamilton is so-so. Bibby is too inconsistent. Fisher is a Laker. Nash has zero likability. And don't get me started on Payton, that greedy schmuck. Edited to add: Rajon Rondo is fantastic, but even he couldn't fit into John's shoes.

That time when John made the game-winning triple during the NBA finals with the Bulls, he jumped so high and with so much joy that I jumped with him. He had this verve about him that was infectious. I can only aspire to so much enthusiasm. I realized then that I loved what he did. What he has done. In the past years, I was content to simply watch back and marvel at what he could do. It was only during that instance, after that buzzer-beating game-winner, that I felt his passion channel right through me. You truly felt his happiness. It was hard not to love him after that.

I also loved the fact that he never succumbed to the money. I read how Pat Riley offered John millions to play for the Heat back then. But John refused. It is through him and Malone that I’ve learned to love the Jazz, despite the fact that I was more a fan of the Eastern Conference teams (LA destroyed the West for me). He was humble, steadfast, and ferociously loyal and well-grounded. A far cry from the glitzy affairs and scandals that rock the NBA nowadays. His was a life that anyone would love to have. And he had a career that many envied. It was not about the money. It was simply about basketball. (Karl would emphasize that as well, when he moved to LA with a huge pay cut just so he could win a championship, a prize that continues to elude him to this day.)

The players loved him. Even Sir Charles, for all his bluster and gruff, could only put John on a pedestal higher than his. I got misty-eyed while watching a press conference after the Olympics in Athens, when Iverson, bemoaning the US' difficulty in winning games and commending their opponents' play, said "That's the game the way Karl Malone and John Stockton play it. It's good for kids to see how the game is supposed to be played." Hearing it from Iverson, the guy with flash and the controversy following him everywhere, who seemed to give himself more credit than anybody else (save, probably, for Tracy MacGrady), astounded me. Iverson embodied basketball selfishness. But he conceded that Stockton (and Malone) possessed the kind of skills that can only win basketball games. Hearing that from someone as young as he was just made my heart beat proudly. How true. How affirming.

Such was John’s greatness that he never did get tagged with a moniker. What else can you call a basketball player whose abilities defy description? (Edited to add: Instead, you get all these places named after him!) Nothing seemed right for him. What did sound right, in all his years of playing, was when courtside announcers, in describing a play, would say over and over again, “Stockton and Malone!” “Stockton to Malone!”... I miss hearing that.

To say that Stockton never won an NBA championship should not mean that his career lacked the greatness it deserves. HE WAS AS GREAT AS ALL THOSE WHO HAD WON RINGS. He had the awards and statistics to back him up. He was a legend. And I can never thank him enough for giving himself to the game as he had. I shed tears when Malone, obviously upset about John’s retirement announcement, said immediately after "there will never be anyone like him. I guarantee you that."


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In another beautiful basketball story: Today, NBA Commissioner David Stern announced that they will be giving the Finals MVP trophy a name, similar to the Lombardi and the Heismann. They're naming it after that venerable Celtic great, Bill Russell.

At the press conference, Bill was overcome and almost was at a loss for words. He had just lost his wife, to whom Stern had entrusted the news to and asked her to keep it secret from Bill. She must have been extremely proud - to have died knowing some beautiful news about her husband. And Bill... said the most beautiful thing at that press conference. He thanked his teammates. He emphasized that basketball was a team sport, and thanked his teammates.

That honor could never have happened to a better man and player. Congratulations to Bill Russell. All Celtics fans are immensely proud of you.

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Happy Birthday to Me!!!

This has been a long time coming, but I wanted to write about my experience in the Comic Con in New York last weekend, as well as a surprise Broadway treat. I thought I could celebrate my birthday early, and treated myself to a weekend pass. It was my very first time to attend a Comic Con, and I was had a blast.

My first impression was that there were too many danged people in the place. To get an idea on the size of the crowd – I had to fall in line to get inside the exhibition area and it took me one hour to make it to the entrance. But the best part about being in a line in a Comic Con? The outrageously dressed people. Lots of anime characters, and the usual Star Wars and Star Trek people, although there were plenty of obscure characters. Well, obscure to me, of course. But I think the highlight of my day was probably standing next to a guy dressed as RORSCHACH in line. My gosh, Rorschach!! My favorite character in Watchmen. Complete with fedora, trench coat, and marked stocking on his head. It was very cool, but also kind of creepy, so I couldn’t bring myself to ask if I could take his picture.

Another consequence of having to wait almost an hour just to get in the main exhibition was almost missing out on the Warner Bros. panel, which everyone calls the Watchmen panel. Because I was late, the line for the panel got so long it already reached the food court area and I had to run to make it. As soon as I got to the end of the line, this Comic Con staffer plops a chair behind the very last guy and yells out "This is officially the end of the line!" I had to beg him, since I was only one person and I was content to just stand at the back. And his announcement didn’t even deter people from lining up behind me. He looked at me must have pitied me because he whispered “Just follow me” and so he let me (and the rest of the line) follow them inside anyway. It turns out that the theater was large enough, so there were still seats, but all the good ones were taken so I took a seat pretty far back. But I had a fantastic view of the theater screens, which was important since I was there for the advance screenings anyway.

So for Watchmen, Dave Gibbons - who was the artist on the novel - presented us with the FIRST 18 MINUTES OF THE MOVIE. 18! Actually the guy in front of me turned to his friend and said "Did he just say EIGHTY?" Hah, we wish. And it was way way way cool! The best part for me was the opening credits set to Dylan. It was really very faithful to the novel - frame by frame, with a few liberties here and there, which was to be expected. Loudest applause went to Rorschach when he first appeared - which made me proud, but I was hoping to see Patrick Wilson. Well, technically he appeared, but it wasn't much. Anyway, there was also a bonus scene afterwards. And I think everyone just about died when they figured out what scene it was. It was one of the scenes of Rorschach in jail – certainly a very wonderful surprise for the fans. And it was shot verbatim! Jackie Earle Haley was simply the best. I’m guessing he might do a Heath and get nominated in the awards season next year for being a comic character. He really was very memorable in the short scene we saw him in.

After the Watchmen session, it was time for the Friday the 13th session. A lot of people left, although a lot still stayed. Mostly because they were waiting for Terminator Salvation (me included), but most of the ladies I’m sure stayed because Jared Padalecki was part of the panel. He's cute - floppy hair is cute. Although I’m sure everyone was biding time until the Terminator Salvation session.

So when McG came out it was to a round of excited applause. He tried to justify making another Terminator movie to James Cameron (since this time around it was all about the war against Skynet). He was really so excited to show us some scenes from the movie, being pretty adorkable the whole time. He even tried calling Christian Bale on his cellphone but his wife answered instead, haha. Anyway, he showed us about 9 minutes of reel - a very rough copy. Very nice. And very rough – all green screen, wire work, and digital storyboards all there. But there were the finished stuff, too, like the explosions. As for the story... hmm, I wasn’t expecting two other guys in the story. I was expecting a John Connor-centric story. Anyway, I took off after that since that was the last of the Warner Bros panel, and also because I wanted to see the main floor.

As expected, LOTS of comics. I had a list my brother gave me for him to buy, so I kept that in mind while keeping my jaw in check as I browsed the aisles. I wasn't familiar with so much of the content there, but it was fascinating to see, nevertheless. There was a huge gaming section in one part of the floor. There's also a section on comic traders and golden/silver age comics. There was an autograph section, an Artists Alley, even booths dedicated to independent artists who want to show publishers/agents their art (and maybe get a job in comics). The biggest booths are reserved for Marvel and DC (of course). There were TV crews roaming the venue, getting interviews from the more interestingly-dressed people. While there were a lot of them, there were too many Storm Troopers there (their uniforms in varying degrees of wear and tear), a Boba Fett, and three Chewbaccas. Very tall, too. And they even had the whole Wookiee noises emanating from them, as well. Then while waiting for the shuttle to Grand Central, I had my first celebrity sighting of the day – Chace Crawford from Gossip Girl being ushered in for one of the panels. I could have stayed till evening and wait for the Astroboy panel, especially, but I was pretty tired and wanted to go home. But I really enjoyed myself. The whole experience was great!

Then on Sunday I went back again for the Chuck panel, my favorite TV show on Monday nights (until House changed their schedule to Monday, too, which sucks). The Chuck panel was actually the primary reason I went to the Comic Con in the first place, so I was really excited for this one. I had no problem giving up the Joss Whedon and Fringe panels to see Chuck. And I wasn’t disappointed. They showed a teaser for the second half of the season - very nice. Josh Schwartz was there, as was the female lead, Yvonne Strahovski. Very funny panel, loved it very much. When that was over, I went back upstairs for another last run through of the main floor. And then I left to go to Broadway.

For my birthday , my sisters treated me to a Broadway show – a ticket to the final show of Equus. While waiting in line, probably the biggest highlight of the day was seeing John Slattery also in line! I saw him with his wife, and the girl next to me said, "Mad Men!" out loud and we both looked at each other and grinned. He's so handsome - but also quite old. He really is. Makeup really does wonders for him. But he's a gorgeous older fella, and well-dressed.

Equus was just great - a bit sad, but that's to be expected since the main character is psychologically disturbed. Very dramatic. And the cast was excellent. Daniel Radcliffe was really impressive for his age and acting experience. His wasn’t very a very sympathetic character, and yet Dan was able to provoke me into feeling very disturbed and oddly sorry for him at the end. The main crime was quite dramatic, and was directed very nicely by Thea Sharrock. And of course, there was the main character of Martin Dysart himself. This was my second time to watch Richard Griffiths on stage, and he's just great. Of course, you can tell his health was pretty poor. He coughed three or four times while onstage (sometimes in the middle of his lines), but he's still fantastic.

Then they had a very long curtain call, where someone even threw a plush horse from the balcony on to the stage (and Dan was hilarious when he had to jump back in surprise). Afterwards Dan made everyone sit down first, and he and Richard gave a speech (well, Richard quoted Frost's Road Less Travelled). Very nice, and the female castmembers were teary-eyed in the background. Then Peter Schaffer, the playwright, came out and that was great, too, although he’s seemed to old and weak to even walk. Then when the cast left the stage and before the lights came on, there was a mad dash to the actors' entrance, mostly by the young females in the audience, to snag an autograph-seeking position outside the theater. I couldn't get close, but it would have been in vain since Dan just went through the line once, then straight into a waiting car. And then Richard didn't even stop to sign anything. But funny thing was, since Peter Schaffer was a slow walker, he got mobbed as soon as he left the theater. I kind of felt sorry for him, but also jealous that people got his autograph. But he was an easy catch anyway since he was going in the opposite direction (obviously, he wasn't attending the cast party). It was already past 7PM by then, and I had to go back to the train station to go home.

So there goes my birthday. It was a week early, but it was a fantastic day for me. Utterly fantastic. A happy birthday to me!!!

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¡Viva España!

Quite possibly the best Aussie Open match I have watched so far. It ranks up there with the other epic five-setters of all the Grand Slams. Rafael Nadal finally made it to the Australian Open Final, but at the expense of an equally deserving Fernando Verdasco. So deserving, that in fact, Rafa announced later that "He deserves this win, too. I want to congratulate him for everything."

Truer words have never been spoken.


I woke up early to catch the third set and watch Fernando and Rafa see-saw their way through the match. It was a fantastic display of tennis. They were compatriots and friends, and yet there was an element of competition. There was no dillydallying with the towel-offs or the slow lead-up to service. Every point had a quick pace to it, and safe play was never an option with these players. They rallied long and hard, produced intelligent shot-making, and volleyed with a purpose. There was no trash-talking or pomposity or preening. Though saddled with injury and stress, the two plodded on and gave the performance of their lives. Even in the fifth set, they never leveled off, nor did they ask for timeouts. They were competitive and inspired and motivated for all of five hours and could seemingly taste a slot in the finals.

In the end, it was that rare Verdasco double-fault that finally clinched it for Rafa. And true to form and friendship, he clambered over the net and gave his opponent a well-deserved embrace.

I was actually rooting for Fernando to win. I have this soft spot for the tournament strugglers, and this was his first Grand Slam semifinal ever. But Rafa was not to be denied. Although the tempo was seemingly set by Verdasco, Nadal stuck with him and never backed down. I was never a Nadal fan, but he just got my admiration for his on-court performance and behavior. You could tell he wanted this. During changeovers, I found his frustration very evident, verging on the disheartened. He clearly wanted to get this over with but couldn't seem to find the answers.

Verdasco likewise was a solid competitor throughout. But alas, he fell short. I felt for him when he double-faulted that one last time. And Rafa did, too, as he hugged him and kept his spirits up as Saturday morning crept in. I love that he did that. It was so nice to see such a friendly spirit of competition pervading throughout the match. And Fernando, bless his heart, admitted that he felt guilty for stretching Rafa to the extremes that night, but that he will be rooting for him come Sunday. "He's a big friend. I wish him the best of luck."

Me, too, Fernando. Congratulations to you both.

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Aww, Jeff...

From another mind-blowing episode of Lost, I saw a rather heartbreaking episode of Top Chef.

Last night saw my favorite contestant, Jeff, eliminated. While that in itself made me sad, what made me sadder still was the fact that Jeff seemed very upset about it.



Jeff was my favorite not just because he's a nice-looking guy (yes, I'm shallow that way), but because he immediately distinguished himself as a skilled chef with a distinct cuisine. Not only was he technically proficient, but he was a risk-taker. Week after week, he created complex and seemingly flavorful dishes (the latter I cannot guarantee, but I will take the judges' word for it). As a chef, he was the only one who went for the challenge instead of going for simplicity (coughLeahcough). Granted he sometimes fell short of great execution (having been in the bottom a couple of times), but I felt his desire to impress was, of course, impressive.

As a contestant, he amused me with his time management, as he constantly zipped by sinks and burners and stations looking a tad panicky. But I think he really is like that, and with the way his mind works – with the complexity of his dishes – his body needed to catch up. Hence the constant movement in the kitchen. And the irony was that he does have an organized mind, as evidenced by the Craft and Foo Fighters challenges. He impressed me as a leader and that meant that he ran an exceptional kitchen.

The sad thing was that his steadfast refusal to do a simple dish would be his downfall. It didn't help that Colicchio constantly misunderstood him. As a competition, I did expect creativity and risk-taking to be rewarded more often than not. But it seemed that Jeff fell short of the mark.

As he goes off into the Miami sunset (or into the banalities of the sequester house), I will always remember him as that exceptional chef who earned the respect of his fellow contestants. He did not talk badly about others or their dishes. He was a fantastic team player. He was sociable and personable and handled himself well in front of the camera. He was not a douchebag (like Stefan was). He did not get into a distracting flirtation (Leah and Hosea). He was self-aware of his zealous over-thinking (I love that it has become a joke among the chefs). And despite his obvious talents, he was neither misguided nor arrogant, like some contestants were. He was firm but nice when he was being tested (with Stefan, Radhika, and Jamie). He was refreshingly drama-free, and was simply the opposite of what reality TV show contestants are. I loved his dry humor, his hilarious "magic trick", and his unassuming demeanor.

Nice qualities like these are what made his elimination painful to watch. I literally put a hand over my heart as he gave a final, sad interview. He thought he could make it to the end, and I thought so, too. And while he doesn't seem like he needed the money, I could tell it would help him a lot. While I'm sure his Miami restaurant is a fantastic opportunity for him, I can tell that a chef of his caliber would want to be independent and open up his own. Because that is what creativity does to you. And I wish he had won just so I can see what he can do with a $100,000. However, I love that he has a future, and that he's got his profile out there and people (like me) will be encouraged to see him and what his restaurant has to offer.

People could argue that he needs to learn simplicity and nuance and to keep his head focused. That may be true of some instances, but Jeff's success in large part has been due to his creativity and his social successes. Let's hope he never stifles that. One of these days I will afford a trip to Miami and see what surprise his restaurant has in store for their guests. Knowing what kind of a chef he's shown to be, it will be quite an experience.

For more information on Jeff, click here.

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The Other Castro (why I'm reserving judgement on Michael Castro)

Well, since it's a given that I am a huge Jason Castro fan, I believe it was inevitable that I would write about the American Idol auditions last night in Kansas City, MO. Only I wouldn't be writing solely about Jason this time. Last night, his younger brother, Michael, auditioned and claimed a spot in Hollywood.

I have sort of mixed feelings about this. I watched the show last night, and came to a myriad of conclusions. So I decided to sleep on it and write about it the next day.

I woke up to a still-ongoing debate in my head about Michael and thought of heading over to TelevisionWithoutPity, my American Idol constant. I've read the weecap (Jacob was, as always, on fire) and perused the forums, and I think I'm ready to figure this all out on paper.


I like Michael Castro. I do. But, as with all things that come secondly to us, comparisons are inevitable, and he will probably never reach Jason Castro-levels of likeability to me. I find it hard to say that, because I don’t feel like saying something bad about someone else's family member, especially if that family member is one I have been so over the moon about in so many ways even up to now.

So this is the Michael I have heard so often about. The brother Jason talks about who's better at singing than him. The brother he watches AI with, and talks about auditioning with. (I will skip over what was said in the episode, because I know they love to be funny, those Castros.) I've been told that he's a different kind of card. He is not Jason, and I will keep that in mind – despite the unavoidable comparisons that will be made. That being said, what is it with these Castros and the hair and the interview frights?? Anyway…

He sang Gavin deGraw, who I love so much. In that audition, he defied people's preconceptions about him –with a style bordering on the punk side, a wider vocal range, and better projection. In an instant, he showed people how he is different from his brother – our Jason with the dreads and the organic dress-ups and the laid-back attitude and the sweet sentimental voice. Vocal-wise, he certainly is a lot different than his older brother. In addition, Michael is younger and could even possibly be more relevant to the pop-seeking hitmakers in the industry (you can actually see Kara DioGuardi's mind working, as if she is trying to match Michael with a song she just wrote). Best of all, Michael seemed like the kind of person who could be molded to fit the hit of the day. He can be Gavin, he can be Miley Cyrus' brother, he can be Billie Joe Armstrong – heck, he can probably kick the asses of all three Jonas Brothers combined. And this is probably the reason why Simon Cowell has yet to figure Michael out. Because Michael sounds like possibly any generic pop act in the sun, with a few extras on him.

Now, this is not a bad thing. But neither is this a good thing. And more importantly, while he has a great voice and a pleasant enough personality, I think Simon nailed it on the head when he said "I never know with you Castros if you're in it or not". The reality is he seems like the kind of younger sibling who wants to try everything under the sun. His ballsiness, his "chutzpah" as Kara called it, seems to stem from his youthful exuberance. To paraphrase Michael, "if Jason can do it, I can".

My problem with him is that he doesn't seem to be in it for the long haul. Unlike his brother, who we all knew auditioned for the chance to make music. (And, as we all knew, came out disillusioned yet – God bless him – continues to plod on.) I WANT SO BADLY TO BE PROVEN WRONG ON THIS. I have yet to find out what he has under his belt – if he struggled with his music just like his brother, if he sang in public just for the love of it, if he really is serious. He shouldn't be doing this just to prove he can, he should be doing this because he believes he should. As far as I can know, he has sung covers (available on the Internet), and he has a mySpace page. But who doesn't these days? He's selling posters of himself on brother Jason's website – a demo would be much better, though, like David Cook and Brooke White have done. Has he hit the club scene? Tried to get his music out? Because a mySpace page doesn't really count. Because if you are serious and you have the chops, you will do more than just go online. You will try to go EVERYWHERE (which is what Jason did).

If Michael does prove to be serious about the music, then I will happily throw my hat in the ring alongside him and cheer him on. Otherwise, his brother's earnestness will never be a match for him, and he will always have doubters in his corner.

That being said, I was definitely glad that Michael auditioned that day, or I would have forgotten how much I missed Jason so bad. I read somewhere that he will be coming out with material very soon. And I am so excited. Seriously. His fans will love him more for it for sticking it out in spite of the craziness in the industry. I cannot wait.

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