BEST PRO ATHLETE 2003 | Brandon Webb | People & Places | Phoenix
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Six months ago, nobody in Phoenix -- make that nobody in Major League Baseball -- knew the first thing about Brandon Webb.

And while Phoenix has yet to realize what a rare gem he is, the rest of the country has jumped on the B-train. Brandon Webb is one of the country's few legitimate rookie pitching phenoms, and he couldn't have arrived at a better time for the Arizona Diamondbacks.

With Randy Johnson and Curt Schilling nearing the end of their careers, Webb has given D-Backs fans a new beginning. He is the future, the national poster boy of the emerging Baby-Backs.

The 2.45 ERA as of mid-August. Sixteen quality starts out of 18. Arguably the most wicked sinker in all of baseball. This from a low-round draft choice who just happened to do what thousands of others fail to do: refine spectacularly a raw and wild talent.

Now the D-Backs and their fans have the best of all worlds: a genial, fan-friendly star whose stay should be measured in decades, not months. Thanks, Brandon, for making the future look bright for baseball in the Valley.

Readers' Choice: Luis Gonzalez

The last time someone took us on a car-dinner date, we were 15, and it involved window service at a roller skating waitress-service hamburger shop. Well, these days, we're substantially older, and our tastes are substantially ritzier. The only vehicle vittles we'll be munching on are the ones in the opulent package offered by Cuisine Limousine. The evening starts with settling into a state-of-the-art luxury stretch from Jackson Limousines (provider of vehicles for such big shots as Colin Powell, Bill Gates, Michael Jordan, Billy Joel and Bill Cosby). Then, we're driven to a private spot atop Camelback Mountain, where a table is set for us with fresh exotic flowers, china, silver, crystal and votive candles. Our dinner is catered by Vincent's on Camelback, and includes our choice from a lengthy lists of appetizers, entrees, desserts, and wine or champagne. After our romantic dinner, our private limousine whisks us away to another tunnel of love, the gondola boat ride on the lake at the Hyatt Regency at Gainey Ranch in Scottsdale. The 4- to 12-hour package costs $495, but that does include gratuity, and just get a gander at some of these eats. Our favorite menu: lobster with leeks, cucumbers and lemon dressing, plus monkfish with apples and tomatoes in a calvados cream; or potato waffle with smoked salmon and cream of chives à la Daniel, plus rack of lamb with mustard and garlic. So long, soggy French fries dripping on the dashboard!

Contrary to popular belief, downtown Phoenix isn't the only place to see what up-and-coming Valley creative types are up to. In fact, right in the midst of Scottsdale's prestigious gallery row lies Art One, a cutting-edge art space showcasing the work of talented student artists from area colleges and universities, as well as local artists just beginning to make names for themselves. While its location might leave you scratching your head at first, it actually makes perfect sense: When Art One's artists graduate to the next level in their careers, they only need to cross the street to get to some of the Southwest's most established art dealers. This gallery is also remarkably accessible, not only to unknown artists, but to patrons as well. Prices hover in the two- to three-digit range.

Since it opened less than a year ago, Perihelion has brought the Phoenix art scene to a whole new level. Sure, we already had plenty of spaces for experimental work, and Scottsdale long ago covered the bases on upscale art establishments. But when Perihelion owners Amy Young and Doug Grant came back to the Valley after living in New York City, they brought along an aesthetic that defines some of the hippest galleries in the country, and oozes off the pages of Robert Williams' Juxtapoz magazine: lowbrow art. With a tongue-in-cheek take on pop culture, and an often dark edge to boot, it's got street cred. The gallery also offers Phoenix's best selection of weird reads, with occult titles and plenty of underground art books.

We rarely answer the costly call of movie snacks, but at Madstone, we make concessions. Boasting biscotti, imported chocolate and an espresso bar, this theater of seduction offers the substantial (turkey and Brie on sourdough) and the sweet (fresh-baked carrot cake, brownies and lemon bars from a nearby bakery). Now that we've feasted on Madstone's soft, hot pretzels, mere Milk Duds will never do. Stuffed with marinara sauce and sprinkled with Parmesan, the pizza pretzel is perfect with a bottle of New Belgium Sunshine Wheat or even a glass of Pinot Grigio. And while snackers can shake up their popcorn with special seasonings -- chocolate-marshmallow, white Cheddar or Parmesan-garlic -- we feel no need. This corn is bathed in real butter, a rare find in the cinematic sector.

Readers' Choice: Harkins Theatres

Our barker hates to park it. His energy is endless, he absolutely adores other dogs, and on weekends, when we want to take a nap, he wants to run, run, run with his buddies. So it's been a godsend for us both that the City of Scottsdale recently wised up and deemed Horizon Park a permanent Off-Leash Bark Park. Since bestowing the honors, the city has installed drinking water, and maintains a lovely fenced lawn with shade trees, benches and tables, lighting, a rest room and phones. We can let our doggy do his thing (so many butts to sniff, legs to lift) from sunrise until 10:30 p.m. Does he love it? We know he does, finally coming back to us with wagging tail, shiny bright eyes, panting tongue hanging crazily out the side of his mouth, and that sure sign of doggy-delight delirium -- his head covered in spit from the attentions of his new furry friends. We love it, too. Because when we get home, our little Cujo wants to crash just as much as we do.

BEST PLACE TO GET YOUR DOG A DRIVER'S LICENSE

Fetch Doggie Store

Having a dog is like having a kid. We need to drive him to the vet, to the doggy park, to the groomer, and on trips out of town (he likes vacations to the forest and the beach). We have to drive to the pet store for kibble and toys. It gets time-consuming. So Fetch Doggie Store has come up with a great solution -- official driver's licenses for Fido. The application reassures us that there's no written test, though there is a warning that "some pets should not drive" (we're thinking our hamster; it's hard for his little feet to reach the pedals). All we do is e-mail or snail mail a photo of our pet, and the company sends back a realistic-looking laminated ID, designed for our state (Arizona in this case). It lists our furry friend's birthdate, sex, height, weight, hair color, eye color and class (K9). There's the people-size wallet version, a smaller one that clips to his collar like an ID tag, a key chain, and even one that fits into a tiny wallet for Rover to carry around his neck. Now, when we tell our pup to fetch, he grabs the car keys, and comes back with anything he can fit in the trunk of his shiny new convertible automobile.

"I've been fired from every job I've had and I'll be fired from this one too," Phoenix's best in-your-face television reporter says with obvious pride.

Eschewing cell phones, pagers, and, most incredibly, computers, Watkiss relies instead on his quick wit and the timely thrust of his microphone into the faces of often reluctant newsmakers.

Watkiss, with the strong support of news producer Dennis O'Neil, consistently delivers solid reporting on an amazing array of topics ranging from murders (the O.J. Simpson case) to personalities (Liz Taylor) to the sexual abuse of underage girls at the hands of Mormon fundamentalists. Watkiss doesn't mind going solo on stories, carrying his personal $5,000 video camera and doubling up as reporter and videographer in a pinch.

A Stanford grad who studied anthropology before earning his master's in journalism from Columbia University, Watkiss developed a thick skin working eight years as a general assignment reporter for A Current Affair.

Maybe that's why Watkiss is impervious to the insults, jostling and nasty comments frequently tossed his way as he cuts through the crap and delivers red meat to viewers craving some real news.

Readers' Choice for Best TV Newscaster: Kent Dana

Thanks to a local league of punks, all the news punks need to know is advertised on a Web site. And it's got so much information, we have to wonder how its creators even find time to punk (yes, it's a verb, too). There's punk mail, as in a chat room. There are punk classifieds and punk radio favorite recommendations. There's news and gossip on hot featured bands, show reviews, venues, punk-approved 'zines, even information on recording studios, and punk stores. Who'd a thunk?

You're looking for a gas mask and a taxidermied chipmunk and a ceramic candleholder shaped like a nun. Wal-Mart has failed you; even Osco doesn't carry black candles. What to do? Race for Black Hearts, where it's Halloween every day.

Open at the crack of noon Friday through Monday, this bizarre boutique is your one-stop shop for death-centric items, edge weapons, and forensic anthropology. Owner Vyle Raven-Greyv has crammed her 2,200-square-foot store with gas masks, lingerie, and original Wiccan art prints and statuary. Where else can you find an embalming table full of gravestone soap, a wall full of spiritual icons, and enough quasi-military fetish gear to outfit a kinky platoon? Nowhere but this Bazaar Noir, we assure you.

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