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The second weekend in February includes a trifecta of celebratory occasions. First is the Mardi Gras parade in Soulard on Saturday, the 13th. It’s always boisterously festive without pushing the envelope quite as far as its counterparts in New Orleans or Rio de Janeiro. Next is Valentine’s Day on Sunday, the 14th. This romantic holiday, nominally honoring a Roman saint who was martyred in the Third Century and of whose life very little else is known, is actually traceable to the Lupercalia, a Roman festival characterized by behavior that would even be out of bounds in Rio or New Orleans. Sunday also marks the start of the Chinese Year of the Tiger, a good time to enjoy Peking Duck, a traditional New Year’s dish that goes well with most styles of Schlafly Beer.
Although tigers are indigenous to Asia (the formal name of the species is Panthera tigris), they are also quite prominent in western culture. For example, one of the most famous stanzas in English poetry is William Blake’s
Tyger tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
Also memorable is T. S. Eliot’s Growltiger, “The Terror of the Thames” who roars around the stage in the musical Cats. (Anticipating the inevitable comments from some alert readers (ARs), I want to state for the record that I’m well aware that Growltiger was actually a Bravo Cat and not a genuine Panthera tigris.)
Many current American idioms involving tigers can be traced to faro, a popular casino game in the 19th century in which the shoe from which cards were dealt was known as “the tiger.” This association with gambling inspired the name “blind tiger” for illegal gambling halls. By 1890 the term was also applied to establishments where illegal liquor was sold.
My rationale for this mini-disquisition on tigers is to remind ARs and others that the word has significance and meaning far beyond the antics of a notoriously priapic golfer. Note, for example, that Tiger Beer from Singapore has no connection with this golfer. It is therefore not among the products for which endorsement agreements have been rescinded, because no such agreement ever existed in the first place. On the other hand, one of the products for which endorsement agreements have been rescinded is Tag Heuer watches, one of which is currently on my left wrist. It was a Valentine’s Day gift from my wife, who said in 2005 that she hoped it would help me emulate the eponymous golfer. She recently changed her mind.
Ironically, this particular watch gave me an indirect connection to another world class athlete. Last summer I took it to be serviced by a jeweler in Downtown St. Louis named Mike Mroz. In the course of our conversation I learned that his son Brandon Mroz was one of the best figure skaters in the world. As this edition of The Growler is going to press, Brandon is taking part in the Olympic trials in Spokane, Washington. I, along with other fans in St. Louis, will be following the trials with greater interest than usual and cheering for Brandon to make the team that will represent the USA at the Winter Olympic Games in Vancouver. Coincidentally, the figure skating competition begins with the Chinese New Year, giving us one thing more to celebrate.
If Brandon Mroz makes the Olympic team, he will be the second Olympian from St. Louis with whom I have a parental connection. The first was Lori Chalupny, the daughter of Ken Chalupny, whom we hired to paint some rooms in our house after my wife found my work sloppily inadequate. Lori, who plays for the St. Louis Athletica, was a member of the women’s Olympic soccer team that won a gold medal in Beijing in 2008. She received international attention when she scored the go-ahead goal against Japan in the semi-final game.
I can easily cheer for both Brandon Mroz and Lori Chalupny enthusiastically and without reservation. That is not the case, however, with Randy Wells, another fine athlete whom I know through one of his parents. I have been following Randy’s career ever since he was at Belleville East High School and his mother, Gail Wells, was my secretary at my former law firm. I applauded and rejoiced in his success at every level until last summer.
What happened that would now prevent me from supporting Randy unequivocally? Easy. He’s a now very good pitcher for the Chicago Cubs, a team for which I had nurtured deep antipathy for decades before Randy was born. I truly have mixed emotions concerning his impressive achievements. On the one hand, it’s been marvelous to share in his mother’s justifiable pride. On the other hand, it’s nearly impossible to shed the prejudice that I, as a Cardinals fan, have cultivated against the ignoble Cubs since childhood.
There was another great athlete from the Metro-East area about whom I feel no ambivalence whatsoever. I’m referring to King Buck, a Labrador Retriever from Nilo Farms, on the outskirts of Alton. Like me, he was born in 1948 (the Chinese Year of the Rat). By the time I was in kindergarten he had won two consecutive National Retriever Field Trial Club Championships. This was a record that would not be equaled for 40 years.
King Buck won his first championship in 1952 in Stuttgart, Arkansas. He accompanied his proud owner, John Olin, back to the Riceland Hotel to celebrate his victory. Mr. Olin poured champagne into the silver bowl awarded for the championship and passed it around to be shared by his joyous guests. He then filled the bowl with water for his dog. After the champion had quenched his thirst, champagne was once again poured into the bowl, which was recirculated. One of those in attendance refused to drink from the same bowl as a dog. Mr. Olin angrily banished him from the premises.
In 1959 a portrait of King Buck by the acclaimed artist Maynard Reece was used for the federal duck stamp. This was the first time ever that a dog appeared on a United States stamp of any kind; the only time a species other than waterfowl appeared on the federal duck stamp; and the only time a dead duck was ever portrayed on the stamp.
Like a lot of famous human athletes, King Buck sired lots of offspring. He, however, was royally compensated for doing so and wasn’t ordered by courts to pay millions of dollars in child support. I’d like to think that somewhere in the world, perhaps not far from Alton, Illinois, someone is celebrating Chinese New Year with Schlafly Beer and a Peking Duck that was retrieved by one of King Buck’s descendants.
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