CALIFORNIA DEMOCRATIC PRIMARY 2008

THE LINES OF THE NATION

California Presidential Primary 2008

I'll begin at the place where it ended.

I covered the 2008 California presidential primary from a unique vantage point, interviewing voters at three separate polling places in Los Angeles and speaking with dozens of people from a variety of backgrounds moments after they'd cast their vote. I was gathering my notes at a diner in Burbank that specializes in Creole and Cajun cooking. Its New Orleans theme made me think back to Hurricane Katrina.

That terrible act of nature and its devastation still reverberates in the national subconscious. Its effect exposed lines of disunity in this great land of "E Pluribus Unum"; black/white and rich/poor. They are lines that have been cut bloody and deep into our nation's soul over countless decades. They are not the only lines that separate us.

What I saw on Election Day 2008 during the California primary made it clear to me that the identity matrix of American life had become even more muddled, if no less stark.

The campaigns of Obama and Clinton both tout the unifying aspect of their historic candidacies. The Obama candidacy, we are told, represents the notion of going beyond the American racial divide that has been painful, hateful and intractable. We are told that he represents something "post-racial"-- a new way of looking at and beyond ourselves. Electing Hillary Clinton, it is said, will break the "glass ceiling" of sexism that has existed for centuries in both overt and subtle forms in this country and around the world.

I believe that Americans wish to embrace both kinds of historical changes. I believe in the genuineness and openness of the American spirit. Yet, I also believe that are elements working beneath this embrace of inclusion that are uncomfortable for people to admit or accept.

For all the talk of "unity" and for all the pretty words that people voting said with respect to going past divides, looking beyond their own DNA, they were still hunkering down into old demographic lines and choosing, by and large, as much based on who they are as what they said.

ELECTION DAY

I had started out early on Tuesday afternoon. The hour of choice was at hand. A sense of transition and transcendence was clear, and everyone with whom I spoke felt it. Whatever happened, this year, this time, they believed something would be different. Whether that would be true remained to be seen, but there was no doubt that the birth pains of political change were resounding in the womb of the republic.

No one voting seemed to be going indifferently through the motions. They were excited. They were energized. I had never seen anything like it.

It was less like a political primary than an athletic contest-- a prizefight or baseball playoffs. People weren't picking a candidate, they were choosing a champion, a person who would represent their personal hopes and beliefs against an unknown adversary in the big political championship in November.

I wanted to interview a wide variety of the Los Angeles demographic in order to make a range of voices heard, so I visited polling locations in Valley Village, Sherman Oaks and Los Feliz. Each location had a different neighborhood feel and, within each, people of different backgrounds would be represented.

It should be noted that what follows is really only about the Democratic primary. It is about the choice between Obama and Clinton. Though I spoke to numerous people, I only met one Republican voter. Clearly, in Los Angeles, the "Red-breasted GOP" was as rare a sighting as a California Condor at a shooting range.

THREE LOCATIONS

Sherman Oaks is one of the more affluent areas of Los Angeles and, judging by the cars they drove and how they were dressed, most people I met fit that profile. There was a steady stream of voters going in and out of the polling place. They were mostly white and the majority were women. This gender pattern would hold true throughout the day at each location.

A house in Sherman Oaks.

The voting took place at the Sherman Oaks Women's Club on Kester Ave, a somewhat small '60s-style meeting place tucked off a corner near a freeway. The area was bucolic, despite its proximity to traffic, like a sparsely traveled side street passed over by suburban sprawl. The verdant surroundings, bright sunlight and cookie-cutter building from the days of the Brady Bunch made me feel as if I were off to a PTA meeting.

The Valley Village area.

At the Chandler Convalescent Hospital in Valley Village on Laurel Canyon Boulevard the scene was different. It was not nearly as active as the Sherman Oaks location and most of the people that I met were Latino or working class. Inside the convalescent facility, the elderly sat listlessly in wheelchairs outside a mostly empty room where voting was held. Their eyes were blank. I tried to imagine the vibrancy and life that had once been there and wondered if they were aware at all about today's primary and the historical changes at hand.

Los Feliz.

The final location was in Los Feliz, the polling location where I voted. It was Fire Station #35 on Hillhurst Ave., an unpretentious building on a somewhat pretentious block. Los Feliz is a trendy neighborhood and I expected the voters to skew young, which they did. There was a greater variety of voters of different ethnic backgrounds than at the other locations. Here, too, the majority of voters were female.

THE VOTERS -- THEIR CHOICES

Contrasting Symbols

People were surprisingly eager to talk about whom they voted for and why. I was amazed at how open most people were and how willing they were to go into detail about what motivated them to cast their ballot.

Obama and Clinton supporters expressed their preferences in different ways. The Obama supporters were more euphoric or ecstatic about their candidate. There was an idealism about what they liked, and their support for him was always spoken of in terms "hope," "change," and "newness." They talked more about the possibilities he represented as a person, rather than his positions as a candidate. The Clinton supporters were almost angrily defiant about their support for her. Though they emphasized her background and experience and the stances she had made on various issues, they did this in such a way that it felt as if they had something to prove. And to some, she too, was the candidate of "change."

If the Obama supporters were more buoyant in their support of their candidate, they were far less charitable to his opponent than Clinton supporters were to hers. Many were downright disdainful of Clinton. A strong "Stop Clinton" or "Anti-Hillary" component existed for many. Clinton supporters, by contrast, often offered that they would support Obama if Clinton were not the nominee. I found only one Obama supporter who said the same about Clinton.

The most poignant and positive examples from each side were expressed by two women at different locations.

I spoke to a young African-American woman in her early 20s in Los Feliz. She was on crutches and had paid for a cab to come to the polling place. I felt almost guilty for stopping her as she made her way back to her ride. The beauty of her words captured the spirit of ecstatic conviction that many supporters have for Obama's message. She repeated the word "hope" over and over. "Hope, hope, hope," she said and continued, "Even if things get botched, with Obama there will still be hope." It was this sense that Obama could make a difference, not just politically, but socially and culturally, that resonated so deeply with many of his supporters. In these uncertain times, he appears as a light of hope to many.

To some who support Clinton, she represents the same kind of possibility and engenders the same kind of faith. A woman I spoke to at the Laurel Canyon polling place conveyed this sort of idealism. She was in her 30s, white, dressed in jogging suit. She wore dark glasses and her blonde hair was pulled back. She told me that she had never voted before. When I asked her why, she said that she had felt "disenfranchised" as a woman because of the scarcity of viable female candidates for major offices. She said that a woman running for president made her "want to vote." She felt that Clinton's policies would be, "Beneficial to women, children, mothers, and especially single mothers." Her voice trembled as she spoke. Her passion and faith were clear.

This contrasting passion of both supporters was clearest during an encounter at the Los Feliz location.

I was speaking to a young African-American man who was almost serene as he talked about Obama's messages of hope and change. Out of nowhere, a woman ran up to me. She was in her 30s, her dark hair cascading around her face, and she was insistent on stating her support for Clinton to someone, anyone. She probably assumed I was a reporter and wanted to make sure that, whomever I was, her opinion would be on the record.

She was fiery about her standard-bearer. She told me that she was supporting Clinton because Clinton "had incredible experience, traveled to dozens of countries and is passionate about the issues." Then, quickly, she disappeared into the night.

Later, a woman in her 30s, Latina, stated that she had voted for Clinton because she wanted to see "a strong woman get elected." Shortly after she walked away, two other women, both Latina, one in her 40s, the other in her 20s, told me that they had both voted for Clinton because "She represents change."

A young man that I spoke to at the Sherman Oaks location was clear and eloquent about what drew him to Obama. He was in his early 20s, white, and he was sitting next to a car covered with Obama signs. His demeanor made it seem as if he were protecting a shrine. When I approached him, he told me that it was important that young people were "excited" by Obama and that this excitement was a component of his choice. He said he liked the fact that Obama was "younger" and "post-racial." "He represents change, not only for America, but for America's image to the world," he told me. He felt that an Obama presidency would alter positively how both friend and foe viewed the U.S. He was "change, something different," he said earnestly.

When talk turned to Clinton, his tone altered. I could see in his face that he could barely hide his distaste for her. The Manichaean duality of fervor for Obama and dislike of Clinton among Obama supporters was almost always evident.

He said she was too "polished and politicized" and that "McCain would represent more of a change than Hillary would." He called her the "establishment candidate" in comparison to the senator from Arizona. It was a pretty astounding statement given the historic nature of a woman running for the highest office in the land which, till now, has been the exclusive domain of men. It was also odd given the fact that McCain has been on the national political scene even longer than Clinton.

At the Los Feliz location, a young man in his 20s, originally from Canada, didn't mince words about his feelings towards Clinton and why he chose Obama. He said that he "liked Obama's message," but he was voting for him mainly because he wanted to "stop Hillary."

Most Clinton partisans, by contrast, expressed support for Obama as well. At the Sherman Oaks location, one woman, a Clinton supporter, said that she liked both candidates and that choosing between the two was like "Sophie's Choice." At the same location, another woman told me that she hoped that the two candidates would combine forces in November. She said that the combination of the two of them would make "a powerful ticket" in the general election.

EPILOGUE

By the time I had finished interviewing people, it had gotten dark and there was a bit of a chill in the air. It felt like November already.

What I took away from all this was that something deeper than competing political philosophies is at play. For all intents and purposes, the positions of the two candidates on the issues are mostly the same. Moreover, in terms of history, either a black or a woman president would break barriers, were that the chief concern.

What really separated supporters were the categories of race and gender. The manner in which they manifested themselves were subtle but salient. I doubt that any of the people with whom I spoke would agree with that-- and they certainly wouldn't admit to it-- but when the pattern plays out obviously before one's eyes (and is borne out in exit polls throughout the nation), it's hard to come to any other conclusion about what, at least in part, affected a voter's choice.

It cannot be overlooked that the bulk of Clinton's support was female. Women, particularly white women, supported Clinton strongly, as did most Latinos. Men, with the exception of Latino males, were entirely for Obama, as were African-Americans.

The men who supported Obama consistently stated that they considered Clinton to be the past, the establishment, or polarizing. They never overtly made gender an issue, but when lines break in such a way, it's hard to ignore whether that was a component for them or not. To call a woman running for president the "past" is, quite simply, astounding, irrespective of what her surname is. It seemed too easy an out for them. Certainly the Clintons had had their time in the '90s, but to brush off so easily the historic component of gender in Hillary Clinton's candidacy was telling.

The women supporting Clinton gave the impression that they felt that Clinton's qualities and abilities were being overlooked or overshadowed because of her gender and were angry because of it. For them, her femaleness as well as her background, were both important and motivating.

Race was rarely mentioned, and only in terms of being past the notion of it. This was also astounding and, in my honest opinion, either disingenuous or willfully obfuscating. Over the past decade we've witnessed a stark racial divide over everything from Barry Bonds to Don Imus, from to Jena 6 to hip-hop. The Internet, television, talk radio and newspapers have been ablaze with opinion about the depth and nature of racism in the country. Over the past few months, it has seemed that there is always someone being accused of racism on one side or playing "the race card" on the other. To say that, suddenly, on January 4, 2008, the date of the Iowa Caucuses, everyone woke up "post-racial" seems a bit of a stretch.

More likely, politics makes strange bedfellows, and I would suspect that some of this "post-racialism" is an ideology of convenience in the service of political positioning or gender.

Some would like to pretend that the categories of race and gender no longer exist. That if we ignore them, then the attendant discrimination that has followed throughout this nation's history will just go away. Yet those categories do exist and they will continue to exist, no matter what we might wish. For the bigotry associated with them to disappear, covering our eyes to our differences may not be the best answer as blindness has never been known to cure most maladies.

The two candidacies are clearly symbolic. Symbols are valuable and symbols inspire, but how we manifest their meaning in our lives is more important. We can refer to Obama as "post-racial," but if we only apply that term to a brilliant, eloquent and telegenic presidential candidate and forget to apply that to the man or woman of color we meet on the street or in an elevator, the "Everyday Joe" or "Everyday Jane," we won't have achieved much from his candidacy. Voting for him should not be considered absolution from guilt or a "Get Out Of Bigotry Free" pass.

Similarly, when we find that some pay more than subtle attention to gender while making choices, while others pretend that it does not matter, there is bound to be an imbalance of representation and an inaccuracy in our outlook and sensibilities on the issue. If women play "gender neutral" while men play "gender specific," it's going to be a long time before we see extensive representation in the highest offices in the land.

For some, sexism feels more "innocuous" than racism. It's the old "men are from Mars, women are from Venus" canard. Yet, we have to be honest about how politics and economics-- everything from abortion to crime to poverty-- are looked at very differently by many men and women. When there isn't balanced representation, a balance of voices are not heard on the issues. Some may think of our country as being at the forefront of equality of the sexes, but a recent study by the World Economic Forum ranks the U.S. 31st in terms of gender equity-- and 69th in terms of political representation for women. These are not numbers of which we can be proud.

People are still voting based on their particular demographic allegiances. What's different about this election is that the demographic alliances are different.

It is a sad fact about human beings that our rivals inspire us to act, at times, more often than our allies. Anyone who reads blog postings on various political sites on the Internet can see an example of that. It was no different in earlier eras. The Confederacy was defined as much by not being Northerners as it was by being Southern. During the Cold War, the favorite slogan was "Better Dead Than Red," not "Capitalism is Freedom." On a (somewhat) lighter level, there's an old saying that the New Englander's two favorite teams are the Red Sox and anyone who plays the Yankees-- but not in that order-- a sure case of being driven by what you hate more than by what you love. It's not cynicism, it's history.

But to be human is to hope and to believe that the arrow of history can move upward, forward. I see this hope in younger voters, voters under 30. I see it in their enthusiasm and idealism. For those under 30, some of those particular identities appear to be less restrictive. Many young people seem more open to ally themselves with those of different backgrounds. They seem more ready to accept differences, note them and move past them. I saw that during election day-- not completely or fully, but often enough to let one feel optimistic.

There is a lot of voting left to be done. Perhaps these exclusionary patterns, which were evidenced not only in California, but throughout the nation, will break down. It remains to be seen. Yet if we wish to live up to our motto of "From many come one," then we need to give careful thought to why and how we choose and to how our brother and sister citizens have chosen as well.

I know this, at any rate: "A house divided against itself cannot stand." If we are to make this country stronger and better, we must continue to search deeply within our minds and souls as we pull the lever, press the button or dip the pen in a voting booth this election day, we must not turn a blind eye to reality, no matter how unpleasant.

WOMEN'S BOXING: HOLM VS. LARACUENTE

HOLLY HOLM VS. BELINDA LARACUENTE

Styles make fights. That's what I've heard anyway. I can't remember who told it to me, but it always seems to hold true. It was certainly borne out once again in the clash between Holly Holm and Belinda Laracuente at the Pechanga Resort and Casino Thursday night. Let me tell you, it was one hell of a fight. You should have been there. Holm was the counter-puncher, and Laracuente was the dancer in this one. Each played pugilistic siren and tried to draw the other into the rocks for the kill.

This time, however, the counter-puncher won. It was Holm's night.

I drove down through the desert from Salton Sea to Pechanga. It was the first time I'd been there. It felt like a mini-Vegas. The atmosphere was electric. The crowd was juiced. There were at least 2,000 people in the audience. Fox Sports was covering the fight and TV cameras were all over the place. There were plenty of print journalists as well, and a row of photographers surrounded one side of the ring.

The undercard had brought out strong reactions from the people at the venue. Many felt the decisions of the judges were not correct. That would not be the case with this fight. Holm won and the crowd was in accord.

Laracuente was the first to be announced and she came in with charisma to spare. The crowd cheered. Michael Jackson's "Don't Stop Till You Get Enough" blared over the speakers as Laracuente and her entourage entered the ring. She was wearing a white fedora and sported a million-dollar smile that lit up the crowd. A row of people were behind her. When she entered the ring she was beaming and bouncing. If she was tight, she sure as hell didn't show it. She seemed as relaxed as a tourist on a cruise ship.

Holm was announced next. There were no frills for this woman. The Rolling Stone's "Satisfaction" rang out over the sound system. I heard her name and the next thing I knew, she was in the ring, appearing out of nowhere like some kind of genie. Though they cheered for Laracuente, they roared for Holm. And let me tell you something, Holm looked flat-out fit. She was ripped. With her braids and baby face, she looked like Gabrielle, but was built like Xena. She paced the ring like a caged cat. She seemed tighter than Laracuente, no smiles, just the pounding of her gloves against each other.

It was fight time now. The crowd was ready.

Laracuente set the pace in the beginning of round one. She tried to pressure Holm, but Holm's strategy for the fight was clearly to counterpunch. Laracuente would move in, but Holm would deflect and try to land combinations of her own. The crowd was behind Holm early on, chanting, "Hol-ly, Hol-ly." After some tentative moments, Holm got Laracuente in the corner and landed some hard shots. Later she pounded Laracuente on the ropes with blows that you could feel in the press row. She could hit so hard it could hurt your feelings.

In the early rounds, Holm threw punishing blows, but Laracuente withstood the onslaught and tried to play head games with Holm, smiling after every punishing exchange. Holm got Laracuente on the ropes plenty of times, pounding her body like a butcher tenderizing meat, but if the shots were having effect, Laracuente didn't let on inside the ring. At the end of round two, however, when Laracuente returned to her corner, she already started to look a little pained from the punishment. She was already starting to breathe heavily and shaking her head at her corner people.

By round three, Holm was expending a lot of energy, landing far more blows and pressing the action. She didn't seem the least bit winded though. Her physique wasn't just for show. Laracuente continued showing a brave face. Holm would make high-pitched grunts when she punched, kind of like Maria Sharapova serving, and Laracuente would mock her, mimicking the grunts, even after she got hammered. Holm was nonplussed and kept right on banging. She kept up her pace throughout the early rounds and started to build up points.

In the middle rounds, Holm looked particularly strong, getting the best of most exchanges. Holm would cover up, letting Laracuente throw combinations, block most of the blows, then return several shots of her own which got through. At one point, Holm landed a body shot you could hear all the way to San Diego. Laracuente was getting worn down, but she continued to taunt Holm with feinting and making faces. Laracuente's face was starting to swell under the eyes as Holm's punishment began to take its toll.

Holm moved well throughout the middle part of fight, counterpunching and landing hard. Laracuente tried to press the fight at times, but got nowhere. Holm's defenses were too strong.

By the later rounds, Holm had built a big lead and Laracuente needed to do something drastic. Holm had brutalized her with shots to the face and body, while covering up well on Laracuente's attacks. Laracuente needed to go for broke.

In round nine, Laracuente tried get Holm out of her game psychologically. She began swinging her arms bolo fashion, dropping her gloves, taunting, doing anything she could do to draw Holm in. But Holm wasn't biting. Holm continued to cover up and counter, trying to force Laracuente to take the bait instead. She got in several good exchanges in the round, backing Laracuente into the ropes or in a corner and landing hammer shots to her body and face.

Round ten would be do-or-die for Laracuente.

Behind on points, Laracuente finally let it all hang out, and it helped-- somewhat. She put the pressure heavily on Holm, but for most of the round, Holm got the better of the exchanges. By the end of the round, however, Laracuente landed some blows that seemed to surprise Holm. The pressure had had some effect. Holm answered the blows, but they had gotten her attention. It might have been Laracuente's best round.

The bell sounded. The fight had gone the distance and would be handed to the judges. The scores were 97-93, 99-91 and 98-92, all for Holm. Unlike the earlier fights, the crowd was in accord and roared their approval. I agreed with their decision as well.

If there's one thing that I learned about Holm in this fight, it's that she can hit like a freight train. The other thing I learned is that Laracuente can take a licking and keep on ticking. In the end, generally, the latter doesn't count for as much when it comes to winning fights. Holm was the victor on points and deserved to be. She was the better fighter and showed great defensive skills as well as great power.

The one thing I'd be interested to see is how Holm will handle pressure from a tougher, stronger fighter. Laracuente was able to pierce Holm's formidable defenses, ever so briefly, at the end of round ten. How will Holm hold up and take a punch against a bigger woman? That remains to be seen. That's the main question, in my opinion, about this superstar in the making. Holm is definitely in the upper echelon of female boxing, but whether she gets crowned the best of the bunch will depend a lot on how she handles the heat.

With the fight ended and the title belt still safely in her hand, Holm did her trademark back flip for the crowd. Maybe she is Xena after all.

A VIEW OF SUPER BOWL XLII FROM SYREN SEA

I called back home from Syren Sea to New York before the game. Like always, my life was hemmed in from every direction and I wouldn't be able to relax-- not that I could relax with my hometown team playing. I had a dog in this fight and I was bound to be on edge. Moreover, its opponent hailed from that city which is the darling of the biased American sports media: Boston. No city is as overrepresented by underwhelming sports scribes as that myopic hamlet on a bay. You knew the Giants wouldn't catch a break from any of the talking heads.

I could only picture the blatherers who work for the Four-lettered Beast of the Sports Apocalypse (also known as ESPN) frothing at the mouth over their Beantown heroes. [And if you wanna give me any malarkey about a New York bias in the sports media, all I have to say to you is hope on over to www.yahoo.com or www.espn.com and open your eyes. If there's a bias for the City That Never Sleeps, it's a bias against it, pal.]

I knew Cristo had come watch the game with me. I heard his spirit whisper in my ear, "Papa, I'm already here." I smiled and felt all would be well on this night.

2007 Had been an awful year for me. I had known more pain than I ever thought I could endure. I had needed redemption. I had needed a restoration a faith. For me, sports, New York sports, has always been the great salve for my heart and soul in these matters. Say what you will, think what you will. Sports achievement is not about dominion for me, it's about absolution.

The game day began for me as all important championship sports game days begin for me-- talking with my family. My family is my heart and such moments are special and spiritual for me and sharing them with them is one of the joys of my life. I called my four siblings first (in birth order, always, as I am the youngest), brother, sister, brother, sister. Then I called my parents.

Then I pray. A lot. I'm surprised my rosary beads haven't been worn to nubs.

The New York Giants were underdogs. The Patriots came in undefeated, 18-0. The Giants were being written off, dismissed, pushed to the side on the Patriots' way to sports history. The Pats had already beaten the Giants in the last game of the season. That and their perfect record were enough for the journalistic magi of the sports world to practically say the game should just have been handed over to Boston, er, New England. I had a feeling the Giants could pull something off, that things would go well, but I was still nervous, worried. When it comes to sports, I never take anything for granted. I just wait, hope and watch.

I figured for the Giants to win, the game would come down to how many three-and-outs they could get from the Pats. The idea being that the Pats offense was so strong, the Giants would have to hold them without a first down at least one series each quarter to have a chance to stop an offense that was the highest scoring in NFL history. I didn't think the Giants could stop their offense cold since they'd already dropped 38 points on them the last time they played. I did think the D could hold them in the 20s, and if they did that they'd have a chance. To do all of the above, though, the Giants would need pressure on Brady and they'd have to hope to get that pressure from their four-man rush. Even though the defensive coordinator liked to throw blitz packages, I just figured that Brady would be too adept at reading them and find a mismatch with his receivers. No, the D-line would have to do the job.

On the offensive side of the ball, the Giants would need a perfect game from Eli Manning.

Manning had been spectacular the last few games and I had hope. Throughout his first few years with the Giants, Eli had been, charitably, a disappointment. But something had happened on the road to Damascus or the Meadowlands the last game of the season. He'd found the light and was suddenly playing like Phil Simms had quantum leaped into his body.

We'd need the offense to be safe, not spectacular, and efficient. We couldn't really afford any turnovers. In the red zone, we'd need to convert TD's, not field goals. I didn't expect us to get many chances against the Pats D, so when we had them, we'd have to convert.

I avoided watching all the pre-game junk. The Super Bowl has become silly to me over the past few years. It's too much spectacle and not enough sport. I waited for the game to start before I turned the TV on.

And I don't give a crap about the commercials.

The first quarter started with a titanic drive by the Giants. They ate up most of the clock, keeping the Pats offense off the field. Though the only got a field goal out of it (like I worried about above), I was happy about how they looked and the time they used.

The Pats answered back with a TD, but for some reason I wasn't worried. The Giants looked good-- and, more importantly, they looked confident.

The second quarter both teams held serve. Most important for me was the fact that the Giants D was looking nasty. They were hammering the heart out of Brady, knocking him around like a Boston piñata. This was the kind of pressure they had to have and were getting. And they were getting a lot of it from the D line. The Pats offensive lineman were playing toreador to New York bulls and Brady was looking like a big red cape.

We went into half-time down 7-3. Not bad.

Don't ask me about the half-time show. I didn't watch. I like Tom Petty, but I had a bit more on my mind this year. Last year, Prince was great. I watched because it was just a game to me then. This year it was personal.

The second half started and I came back. Things were going okay, till Belichick (I won't say anything about that morose freak right now because it's not worth the words) challenged a non-call on a punt after the Giants had stopped the Pats on three-and-out. Three-and-outs were so important to me, that I worried this could be a big game-changer. But the Giants held them even after the Pats won the challenge, which was even bigger.

Then the fourth quarter came.

The first three quarters were a good, slow defensive struggle. The last quarter was amazing clutch football. The Giants drew first blood. Manning flipped a pass to Boss for 45 yards, then gave the Giants the lead 10-7 a few plays later on a seeing-eye shot to David Tyree-- a combination that would prove historic in the fourth quarter. Immediately, I got a call from home. Everybody was happy, but I don't like to cheer or celebrate until I know it's over. I don't ever like to tempt the sports gods. Besides, I knew Brady had another drive in him.

And he did. Brady hit Moss with just under three minutes left to give the Pats the lead, 14-10. I was oddly calm. Maybe it was because I had expected that shot and maybe it was because that shot came with more than enough time for the Giants to march back and leave little room for another Pats volley. I had this feeling New England had left too much time on the clock and that the stars had aligned New York's way this night.

Manning was heroic. He led an amazing drive as time ran down. He was calm and collected and moved the ball well. Then and Tyree made a two-part play for the ages.

On third and five with the ball on the his own 44, Manning worked out of the shotgun. The New England rush was fierce and frantic. It looked like Manning was being grabbed by 40 guys. His jersey was getting whipped like it was in a washer.

I held my breath and hoped he'd wouldn't be called in the grasp. Then, suddenly, somehow, Manning channeled his inner Chris Angel and pulled out a little street magic. He worked his way out of a New England straightjacket and launched a prayer of a pass downfield.

How he pulled it off, I'll never know, but part-one of "The Play" was complete.

Now for part two. David Tyree, who had been in cold storage for most of the season, was in coverage down the middle of the field. Tyree leaped into the air above the defenders, grabbed the ball and held it against his helmet, at one point, with one hand, while he fell.

Careening down to the ground, he held the pigskin like it was his only child and managed to reel in a 33-yard catch. New York now had the ball at the New England 24.

"The Play" was complete.

At that point, there was no question it was the Giants' night.

Then with 35 seconds left, Manning hit Plaxico Burress (the man who guaranteed a Super Bowl victory for the Giants) with a beautiful looping 25-yard touchdown pass into the corner of the end zone. 17-14 Giants.

Burress had held up his end of the guarantee. Now the Giants D had to make sure it would be made good.

And they did.

The Pats started on their own 26 with 29 seconds left. Brady would not be able to return serve and save the day. He started off with an incomplete pass on his first play. On the next, the Giants defensive lineman Jay Alford hammered a hole in his chest, sacking him for a ten yard loss. There were only ten seconds left now. One last chance. Brady let fly a long pass to Moss which fell harmlessly incomplete.

It was over. The Giants had won.

I screamed into the night. "Cristo!" I yelled. I heard his laughter. This one was enjoyed by a whole city-- and probably a nation-- but I reveled in it for myself, my family and Cristo. 2008 had begun with an answer to my prayers and for my heart. A dragon and its hoards had been improbably slain. Faith was alive.

GLAMOUR AND GRAVITAS: DEMOCRATIC DEBATE, LOS ANGELES, '08

I drove in from Syren Sea to Hollywood, to the Kodak Theatre, where the Democratic Presidential debate was being held. I did not have a ticket, but I wanted to be part of the experience of what has become the most exciting example of democracy in action that I have seen in my lifetime. The Democratic party offers two candidates who break the old patterns of leadership and offer America something new.

Young and old were in the streets by the thousands supporting their candidates, protesting the war, dancing to music being played. Celebrities whisked by: Stevie Wonder, Quentin Tarantino. The neon lights glimmered and the spotlights shone. Everyone was as excited by the debate as they would have been for a rock concert or a prizefight.

And indeed one had the sense of anticipation of a heavyweight fight, with two strong champions and grand venue and a star-studded crowd. The radio announcers even treat the opening as such, describing the two candidates dress as they step onto the stage, almost as if they are ready to take their corners before entering the ring.

The candidates conducted themselves with the highest level of statesmanship and governmental understanding. They were strong and they were cordial. They played to their strengths: Hillary the close-in slugger, working hard shots of knowledge and experience, Obama the boxer, bobbing and weaving his vision and inspiration. They never landed a knockout blow on the other-- really it was the Republicans who got decked in this one. What people saw was that the democrats had two champion professional fighters ready to duke it out with Republican lightweights still celebrating their Golden Gloves victories.

But beyond the mastery displayed by Hillary and Barack in the glittering Hollywood square circle of the Kodak Theatre, it was the Sweet Science called "Democracy" that was most impressive in its display outside the theater. Average Americans of all ages and races, both women and men, exercised their blessed birthright as citizens of this great republic and showed what has always made us a shining example of freedom and equality to the world. (Even in this era, when some have sought to tarnish the luster of that shine with creeping crypto-fascism.) These citizens showed not just enthusiasm, not just excitement, but flat-out joy in their participation in the democratic dialogue. Really it was a coming home party for the great American ideals of grassroots involvement and expression of political ideals and beliefs. People seemed to be saying, "We still have the power. We still determine the direction of this land. `We the People,' not the corporate despots or the media manipulators, but average Janes and Joes who make their voices heard and their votes count."

For all the glamour and spectacle inside, for all the celebrity both on the stage and in the audience, the real stars of this debate were the anonymous citizens who raised their voices all along the streets of Hollywood.