Written by the guy who scored the first hit of the year — Allezblancs, who scores 16 points and leads the game!

* * *

It is every cricketer's dream to score a century at Lord's, the "Home of Cricket," owned and run by the Marylebone Cricket Club in London. Christopher Martin-Jenkins fell one run short of achieving that dream when he scored 99 on the hallowed turf for his school, Marlborough, against Rugby.

After coming down from Cambridge and playing a few games for the Surrey second XI, it became clear that CMJ, as he was generally known in cricket, was not going to become a professional cricketer.

Instead, he joined the BBC in 1970 and within two years had become part of the commentary team on Test Match Special. TMS provides radio commentary on all of England's matches at home and abroad, and the commentators have to be equally skilled at describing the play and chatting interestingly about cricket during often lengthy rain delays.

CMJ was appointed Cricket Correspondent of the BBC in 1973. His career as a cricket commentator lasted forty years, ending only when he was diagnosed with cancer in January 2012. During that time, he also had spells as Cricket Correspondent of the Daily Telegraph and The Times, and as editor of The Cricketer magazine.

He was notoriously disorganised and unpunctual but, somehow, he always turned up at the last moment and got the job done. On one occasion, he even went to the wrong ground, installing himself in the commentary box at Lord's before noticing that there was nobody else there and realising that he should have been at The Oval.

CMJ was always reluctant to embrace modern technology. While writing his great work, 1980's The Complete Who's Who of Test Cricketers, he managed to lose 250 pages of manuscript while in New Zealand, and he had to write them all again in longhand.

Undoubtedly, his greatest honour was to be nominated as President of the Marylebone Cricket Club, a prestigious post rarely awarded to those who have not played first-class cricket, and in which office he served from October 2010 to September 2011.

Christopher Martin-Jenkins was survived by his wife, Judith, and two sons — the younger of whom, Robin, did become a professional cricketer, playing 16 seasons for Sussex.

— Allezblancs

Patti Page was on the soundtrack of my childhood. And for just one song. They've been dead forever, but I can still hear my parents singing How Much Is That Doggie in the Window (The One with the Waggly Tail).

Upon further research (or any research) I see that it was recorded and released in 1953 and was an immediate #1 hit. The only problem with the above story is that I was born that year, so when and how was I hearing this and remembering my parents singing it? Did they actually own a copy of the record? Did it come back as a hit again years later? Was it in a movie I might have seen as a little kid? Do any of you give a shit? They were probably still playing it on the Make Believe Ballroom.

Of note, Bob Merrill, who wrote this novelty song, went on to write a whole bunch of wonderful songs for Broadway shows like Funny Girl and Carnival. So he was also on the soundtrack of my childhood. Still is.

Brad and Garrett get the duet on this one. 8 points each.

I don't think he was for sale, by the way.

— Amelia

Brad is the TV guy, as evidenced below. Although I do love my doormen.

* * *

Buffalo-born Ned Wertimer played dozens, maybe hundreds, of character roles in a solid career that spanned more than half a century, but pretty much all he's being remembered for is his turn as Ralph the Doorman on The Jeffersons, an incredibly popular, long-lived sitcom of the '70s and '80s. The reasons for its popularity and longevity have long eluded me, but America took The Jeffersons to its largely uncritical heart for eleven seasons anyway, and so Ned kept working steady. I don't know what doormen are supposed to do, except maybe hold doors open for people and talk to Eyewitness News when one of the tenants gets murdered, but Ned no doubt did a good job portraying Ralph doing those things, and so that's why we're honoring him here today.

It fell to B&T's Characters to hold the door of life open for Ned, and he stepped on through and moved on up, winning eternal syndication rights for himself and ten points for B&T — five for the hit and five for the solo, B&T's first piece of the 2013 pie.

— Brad

I like this! People writing their own hits. In this case, Morris the Cat does a nice one and gets 13 points for second place.

* * *

When your life's work is being a politician, and the things you're most remembered for are your scandals and the way you used to carry around a cardboard cutout of your much more well-known opponent, I'm not sure that says a lot about what you actually accomplished in your career in public service.

Such might be the case with Andrew O'Rourke, a Westchester County executive for fifteen years, a judge and an author. He had the double whammy of having both lung cancer and Parkinson's disease.

In 1986, Republican O'Rourke ran for governor of New York against Democrat Mario Cuomo, a very popular incumbent at the time. When Cuomo refused to debate, O'Rourke resorted to comedy — or at least what he thought was comedy — toting around a cardboard cutout of Cuomo wherever the campaign took him. Were the voters amused? Not really. Cuomo cruised to re-election, getting 65 percent of the vote; O'Rourke got 32 percent. In sports terms, it was a laugher.

O'Rourke also was known for awarding construction contracts and handing out government jobs to those connected with many of his colleagues and family members. He never seemed to think that conducting business in such a way was wrong.

Maybe, all in all, he should have stuck to writing. O'Rourke authored two adventure novels, The Red Banner Mutiny and Hawkwood. Those efforts, apparently, were comedy- and scandal-free.

— Morris the Cat

Grim McGraw is my new favorite person since he wrote this wonderful update.

* * *

Could it work today? A white middle-aged millionaire raising two adopted black kids? Maybe. I didn't watch it the first time around, and probably wouldn't watch it now either. But millions did, from 1978-1986. Diff'rent Strokes was a network sitcom smash, back before cable TV mucked everything up. Though it was the kids (mostly Gary Coleman) that made it a hit, the guiding light of the show was Conrad Bain's character, Phillip Drummond. Who would have believed at the time that he'd outlive two of the three young actors he starred with? Reading his obit, I'd completely forgotten that before that show Conrad had co-starred on Maude for six years.

In real life, Conrad had a twin brother named Bonar. Conrad may not be a great name, but it beats the shit outta what bro had to put up with. He was also the father of three children — two boys and a girl. Sound familiar? And, as it should be, they all survive him.

— Grim McGraw

Morris the Cat wrote the update, so she has every right to put herself in it. Thanks, MTC.

* * *

One of his major clients was said to have been Morris the Cat. How apropos for me. You have to wonder if Daniel Edelman was "the world's most finicky" public relations guy.

The man who handled the p.r. for what would become my AO Deadpool entry's namesake has gone to that giant litter box in the sky. Edelman, founder of the world's largest independent public relations company, died January 15 of congestive heart failure in Chicago. He was 92.

According to Ad Age, Edelman "didn't invent the publicity stunt but cultivated all sorts of new possibilities for it at the dawn of the TV age ... he was a pioneer of integrating public relations into marketing campaigns to sell products." His innovations included using celebrities to pitch products on tours. He used Vincent Price, for example, to sell the California wine industry's wares. Must have been some scary wine.

Aside from said aforementioned Cat, other top clients were Toni Twins hair care and the Butterball Turkey, for which he developed the turkey "Talk-Line" to help all those frazzled cooks around Thanksgiving time. His firm, Daniel J. Edelman Inc., which he founded in 1952, now has more than 60 offices internationally with some 4,400 employees. It has represented other well-known companies such as Walmart, Starbucks, Burger King, Pfizer, Sara Lee, KFC, HP, General Electric, Abbott Laboratories, Samsung, Royal Dutch Shell, Kraft, Johnson & Johnson, Unilever, Microsoft and Apple. Many tried to buy Dan out as he got close to retirement, but he kept Edelman in the family; his son Richard Edelman runs things now.

One story that circulated on Dan Edelman's passing was how he'd once impressed Steve Jobs to gain the lucrative Apple account — with a nifty presentation that lasted all of about five minutes. Nice, fast work.

But one big question remains: Who's going to feed the finicky cat now? Morris the C, who represented the 9Lives cat food brand, said in one of the commercials: "Personally, I don't believe felines are a fad. We're here to stay." Well, just purr-fect.

— Morris the Cat

Schenley-san.

* * *

Okay, so Nagisa Oshima dies, and Amelia figures that, because of my love for Japanese film, I am the most qualified to write an insightful and thoughtful, yet provocative, update. What the hell is wrong with this broad? My idea of a Jap flick is Bridge on the River Kwai, or Midway, or The Magnificent Fucking Seven.

I mean, there's his movie Diary of a Shinjuku Thief, which unites a number of Oshima's thematic concerns within a dense, collage-style presentation. Featuring a title which alludes to Jean Genet's The Thief's Journal, the film explores the links between sexual and political radicalism, specifically examining the day-to-day life of a would-be radical whose sexual desires take the form of kleptomania. (Alright, alright, I stole most of that last paragraph from Wikipedia. I don't know anything about this guy. It sounds like he was into strange porno without pubic hair.)

I do know that Philip, who probably never watched The Magnificent Seven, gets a solo with the death of Nagisa Oshima, and that the hit is worth 10 points. Five for the hit and five bonus points.

— Bill Schenley

Dear Wendy:

Thanks so much!

— Yours, the AO Deadpool Staff

* * *

I'm stealing two lines written by Carolyn Hax, advice columnist for the Washington Post, from her tribute to Abigail Van Buren:

... [A] life of advice is to walk the finest of lines, between knowing and guessing; entertainment and empathy; compassion and criticism; between trying to help and presuming to; between being a public resource and a punch line. ... Nearly 50 years' worth of 10-year-olds used one or both of these columns [Ann Landers and Dear Abby] to decode the cryptic world of adults.

That, to me, sums up Dear Abby's columns: easy to read and comprehend, often humorous, and rarely offensive (except her support for gays; that ticked off the usual suspects). Its producer, Pauline Phillips, followed her own advice: "The less you talk, the more you're listened to." She wrote at home, never used a computer and, when an advice-seeker's problem needed more than a flip quip, she would call the seeker to discuss the problem.

Ninety-five million readers read her advice. No data on how many followed it.

— WCGREEN

It was worth the wait for Bill's trenchant update on Musial. And Headless Horseman, a solid rookie, gets a Hall of Fame Daily Double with Earl Weaver for an extra 10 points. How cool is that?

* * *

If you were going to teach your son or daughter how to hit a baseball, you might show them video of Joe DiMaggio or Ted Williams hitting a ball. If you were going to show them how not to hit a baseball, then you would show Stan Musial film. Practically everything he did in the batter's box, as he was preparing to hit, was wrong. And he did it wrong 3,630 times.

When I was a boy, just about every kid loved to imitate Musial's batting stance, and I was no different — except my father forbade me from curling up with a bat and trying to uncoil at a ball. About three years ago, I reconnected with my best pal when I was in single digits. We were laughing about growing up together when he reminded me of the time I was pretending to be Stan Musial and I hit a ball past our friend Paul Hensel. Jerry yelled at him, "What are you doing?" and Paul yelled back, "Watching out for [Bill's] dad."

I met Stan Musial twice in my life, once when I was 10 years old, and again when I was 33. Both times he stole a ballpoint pen from me. He was one of the nicest guys anyone could meet. Still, when I read that he had Alzheimer's disease, I put him on my deadpool list.

What the hell, even if he found out, he'd forget.

So, as he was rounding third base and heading for home, a dozen Deadpoolers got two points each for throwing out a forgetful old man at the plate.

— Bill Schenley

Thank you, Matt Fucking Hubbard. Headless Horseman, a new player vying for Rookie of the Year (more on that later) and Walking Dead Dude get the duet, for 8 fucking points each.

* * *

Earl Weaver had a mind like a jeweled watch and a mouth like an open sewer in a city in the throes of dysentery. He was way ahead of the crowd on what statistics in baseball were important, and at the back of the class as far as Sister Mary Stigmata was concerned.

His best nickname was Earl Fucking Weaver. Umpires hated him almost as much as opposing managers did.

Earl Fucking Weaver became a manager when the first wave of born-again ballplayers were gracing the clubhouses. Some of them did not appreciate some of his "saltier expressions," which is to say "every other sentence out of his goddamned mouth."

Earnest and pious ballplayer: "Skip, don't you want me to walk in the way of the Lord?"

Earl Fucking Weaver: "I want you to walk with the bases fucking loaded."

Earl Weaver is dead. Everyone on the list of Greatest Living Baseball Managers, move up one place in line.

FUCKING NOW, YOU ASSHOLES!

— Matthew Fucking Hubbard

Love it when they get the hit and write the update. Thank you, Gerard Tierney — and congratulations on your hit worth 34 points, because it was part of a Daily Double with Michael Winner.

* * *

Typical of the tributes to Inez McCormack, following her death from cancer, was one from Hillary Clinton, who called her a "dear friend" who "promoted peace and reconciliation in her beloved Northern Ireland and around the world."

Inez's activism may have taken her around the world, but it fell solely to the media of the United Kingdom and Ireland to fill me in on her life and times — although in 2011 a leading American news weekly (which no longer publishes) hailed her as one of the "150 Women Who Shake the World." (She was named along with Clinton and Meryl Streep, who played her on stage — well, in a "special reading" — in New York on Martin Luther King Day in 2008, which this year happened to fall on the day she died.)

A social worker by training, Inez was the first the first fulltime female official of the National Union of Public Employees, and eventually became the first woman president of the Irish Congress of Trade Unions (Ireland's version of the AFL-CIO) from 1999 to 2001.

And, yes, I realize Northern Ireland is not part of Ireland per se, but since the 1998 Good Friday Agreement, which McCormack had a hand in negotiating, it sort of is.

The Independent, in the first paragraph of Inez's obituary, referenced her role as a pioneering female trade union leader:

"Often the sole woman on boards and committees, she once remarked drily, 'There is no fun in being the first woman on anything.'"

She could have been talking about the AO Deadpool. She was the second hit (and first woman) of the day, which was no fun for anyone except your defending champion, who seems to have shaken a slump dating to last summer.

— Gerard Tierney

Matt Hubbard wrote this interesting update. I will add that being a foodie pretty much killed Winner after he ate a bad oyster. DDT, Ed V, Gerard Tierney, Mo, Philip and WEP got the 8 points.

* * *

Michael Winner was a director. Michael Winner was British. Michael Winner was Jewish. Michael Winner was a tasteless scumbag.

The first three statements are verifiable facts. I stand by the fourth statement just as readily as I stand by the first three.

Helen Mirren says Winner treated her like a piece of meat when she auditioned for him in the 1960s. I have no reason to doubt her word. Truth to tell, I have always thought Helen Mirren was nothing but fine, fine, fine to this very day, but I hope if I met her I could say this without being offensive.

He wrote Michael Winner's Hymie Joke Book in 2012. Seriously, that's the title of the book. Written last year. I have pretty much the same opinion of Jews who use "Hymie" regularly as I do of African-Americans who use the n-word regularly. Neither opinion is good.

Winner was also a food critic. That's three strikes.

I write the close without fear of contradiction:

Michael Winner was a tasteless British Jewish scumbag. He's dead, which means he can't write any more books or direct any more movies.

That's a blessing on us all.

— Matthew Hubbard