I didn’t read comic books as a child. Chalk it up as a number of things that I didn’t really do that seem to be a bit out of the norm. I didn’t go to many movies, or watch TV, play video games, listen to music… My idle recreational pursuits we limited to petty acts of violence, burning, breaking, blowing up and killing just about whatever I could get my hands on. I balanced this latent sociopathy with a heavy diet of the written word. Given that I grew up in that now archaic age before the profusion of cell phones to any 10 year old with opposable thumbs, that Dark Age before the glorious wings of the internet lifted us all up into shared illumination this meant that I read actual books. For those of you unfamiliar with the media a book is a collection of paper covered with words on each side and bound together at one end. This bound end is called the spine, as it is usually hardened by the glue or the stitching that is holding the paper together. The individual pieces of paper are called pages and are protected by a thicker piece of paper, sometimes a piece of leather, which is called a cover. The height of popular book making as an art form was reached toward the end of the 1800’s where the stitched spine was covered leather with the title embossed in gold leaf, and the front and back covers a piece of marbleized wood with leather again protecting the corners and all the pages were trimmed in gold leaf. You can see some of these marvelous books if you watch period pieces like Pride and Prejudice. Or you can Google it. Since then we have economized our books into paltry things that are printed on cheap paper and bound together with whichever glue is cheapest at the moment, scarcely worth reading let alone keeping in a prominent position in your house. All the better, though, as it creates more room for your DVD collection.
As I was saying, I did not read comic books as a child. While my peers were enjoying the wonders of Superman, Spawn, the X-Men and the like I was burning through every western ever written, Hopalong Cassidy, the Sackets, Zane Grey, Max Brand… You name it, I read it. Middle school saw the introduction of Tolkien and the marvelous world of all things scientific and fantastic. Intermittent sprinklings of historical texts popped up and then it was everything Shakespeare which led into the romantic poets and so on. I disdained comics as juvenile. The point of reading was the writing, not some goofy pictures of scantily clad women who were serving as much as anything else to ease the sexual tension of pre-adolescence, post-adolescence, and all those beautiful years in between.
A series of interactions, none of which had to do with the scantily clad women, opened my eyes to the value of comics as a legitimate genre of literature. The first of these was a graphic novel by Craig Thompson called Blankets. I am not being a nerdy elitist, well I guess I am, but not about calling it a graphic novel instead of a comic. There is a difference. The same way that there is a difference between Saturday morning cartoons and Toy Story. So when reading this graphic novel I was struck by the depth of the story, the occasionally florid prose and the constantly florid drawings. I went out and bought his next book, which was a graphic diary of his trip to Morocco. I was hooked. I started reading all sorts of comics and graphic novels and quickly discerned that the ratio of quality to drivel in the genre was much the same as in literature in general. For every Tolkien you have to suffer through Harry Potter, Twilight, Dragonlance, and the rest. For every Robert Bolano you have to put up with Grisham, Clancy, King, and on down the list.
Just as I was beginning to despair I ran into two authors who saved comics for me. The First was Neil Gaiman, in the Sandman series. The stories of the God of Dreams, and his travails conveyed so much of the power of dreaming, of hope, of stories that it carried me away, bringing me into their world in a way that only literature had ever been able to. The second was Frank Miller, but not the Miller of 300, and Sin City. His graphic novel The Dark Knight Returns was a landmark of emotional commitment for me. If you have ever idly wondered what happens when Batman fights Superman, one of the possible answers is put forth here. Better is the question of why would they fight. After this I more frequently came across the quality work, the Alan Moore, Brian Bendis, and I realized why they had managed to cross the line from sheer pulp to literature.
I know that comics are becoming trendy and cool in pop culture. I mean, there was an entire plot arc of the now defunct OC given over to the creation of a graphic novel. I would caution you against letting that color your opinion of the genre. As one who regularly dismisses things for no reason other than that they are popular, I understand the desire completely. But you would be missing out on one of the most creative and versatile means of literature our society as come up with.
Joseph Campbell has a theory that every hero’s story is the same story, that it goes through the same path, the same challenges, to the same end. Each new hero is but his particular society’s understanding of a different face of this same hero. Comics have been the face of that hero through the development of America’s modernity. We don’t have a predominant religion, mythology, no meta-narrative that we carry with us. We are too broad, too diverse for any common story. So we have born a thousand smaller stories, our own American mythology. For those of you who have never deigned lift a comic, here is a list of the cream of the crop. Most of them are available in a single collected form, but you can get them in the original single issues if you prefer, but please. Read the comic. Don’t let a movie maker steal your right to enjoy your own mythos.
- Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. For reasons listed above, and the fact that one of the true modern instantiations of the ancient hallowed vocation of the storyteller expresses himself best in this media.
- Alan Moore’s Watchmen. Moore does the best job of anyone in the business of letting the superheroes be human, have doubts and conflictions. Before going to see the movie, read this epic retake on the classic American superhero.
- Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns. For the reasons above, and because Miller’s vision of Batman is the foundation for the rebuilding of the Batman movie series. And because, seriously, Batman fights Superman.
- The Death of Superman. For all the obvious reasons. Because people would stalk the writers threatening to kill them if they didn’t bring him back. Because The death of the hero is the most central fulcrum of the plot of the hero. Because it isn’t just a clever name.
Now I am not saying that any of these make it into the Canon, the sacred collection of texts that are an imperative read for their quality and importance. Tolkien alone of the fantasy genre has made it in, over the frequent and vehement objections of the literati. Eventually the art form might produce a work that will be granted admittance to that hallowed hall, but for now, it is at least in the yard. If not knocking at the door.
National Virility Week!! [subtitle: Valentine's Day is Stupid]
This is not a rant about the meaningless commerciality of Valentine’s Day. It is not a belittling of the ridiculous historical farce that tries to pull this holiday out of the depths of pagan eroticism to a more sanctified Christian celebration. This is not even me complaining about being poor and having to spend money on something in which I don’t even believe, in order to preserve something else, peace of mind, the relationship itself, in which I also probably don’t believe. This IS an incarnation of mourning, mourning for a time where all the chutzpah has gone out of men. We live lives of increasingly quieter desperation. Valentine’s Day is an embodiment of t hat.
First, most of the meaning of whatever someone does on Valentine’s is negated by the accompanying sense of expectation, or obligation. In fact, if I just stop at Circle K and get you a little stuffed bear and a little box of chocolates there is going to be a fair amount of resentment because I am a cheap valentine who just took the easy way out. Now, if I were to do the exact same thing in the middle of May? I’m adorable and you are walking around with that ‘I can’t believe how sweet he is’ smile on your face for the next 13 hours. This is an example of how the expectations of the day diminish anything that happens then.
Second, everything that we are told to do for Valentine’s is lame. Commercials try to sell us on the idea of buying pretty, useless frivolous things. Well, except for those of you who are buying her that Lexus for a valentine. You guys keep up the good work. For the rest of us, let’s try to imagine what the great men of history would have given their valentines, and by great men I simply mean men who were great at being men. Would Achilles have ever given a girl flowers? He would have shown his devotion to a girl by bringing her heads of slaughtered kings. The value of a gift is in partly in the difficulty of obtaining it. That’s why knights would give their tournament trophies to their lady, or slay dragons in her honor. This is a theme that is as old humanity, risking life and limb to kill something to proclaim your love. Could you imagine Wyatt Earp giving his girl chocolates? He would just look at her over his glorious mustache and she would be thankful that he was alive and with her for one more day. That was enough. Maybe the problem is that we are not men enough to be a valentine all by ourselves.
Third, well, there is no third but you are supposed to do sequences of at least three’s. This problem with Valentine’s day is symptomatic of our societal distaste for danger. This is not a time for great men. This is a time for wearing your seat belt. Waiting for a little white walkman to tell you that you can cross the street. Not carrying guns, telling little boys not to fight in the school yard. Cops carrying mace and batons instead of firearms. We drink light beer and get manicures.
I contrast this with my grandfather. He is a Native American rancher who looks the part so exquisitely that when we would be sitting at a restaurant kids would whisper and steal glances, then when he stood up and put on his cowboy hat you could hear them, “Look! I told you he was a real cowboy!” He was shot by his own sister. He raised 3 great kids, and my uncle Dan. At 65 he was still breaking his own horses, running a ranch, and I would not have put money on my ability to take him in a fight. This was a man.
So this is my proposal: I declare the last week of February to be National Virility Week. Virility is commonly understood to have heavy connotations of sexual prowess, but the heart of the word is just the adjectival form of the Latin word for man – vir. It is all things manful. After giving ourselves a few weeks to recover from the height of emasculation that is Valentine’s Day, we need to spend a week rediscovering what it means to be a man. Every day of National Virility Week take specific focused action on asserting yourself as a man. Start small. I am not saying that you should go wrestle a mountain lion and wear it’s pelt home as a trophy, but if you do you are the immediate spokesperson for the holiday and I will forfeit all proceeds to you. Go hunt something. Sleep outdoors. Be chivalrous. Shave with a straight razor. Drink whiskey straight. Grow a mustache. Risk something. If you run out of ideas, watch a Steve McQueen movie. Google Burt Reynolds.
For one week come join me as we celebrate a time in which we no longer live: the time for great men, great risk, great audacity. Live bold! National Virility Week!!
Labels: Society
The idea behind a holiday is one of celebration, gathering together with loved ones and getting to know strangers while pouring back a few dozen of your favorite tasty beverages in homage to a religious idea, commemorating a social progression, or honoring a governmental position or ideal that you neither fully understand or agree with. This theme of celebration spans across cultures and continents taking different forms and gathering different traditions along the way. Everyone on the planet has their own special days. The average culture has 23 national holidays, the Israeli calendar, to take one, has over 40, and there are over 80 international holidays. The United States has 10. The challenge with the US is that there are so many different cultures that each little subculture has their own high holy days, and you don’t want to preferentially show favor to any of them. Christmas is sketchy enough. But I have a suggestion for two holidays that are so utterly American in nature that they might even piss the rest of the world, which seems to be what we are all about anyway. The Super Bowl and the first two days of March Madness. Don’t these fit any kind of definition for a holiday that you could want? The gathering, the drinking the raw celebration… The Super Bowl is the most watched event on the planet, and there are hundreds of studies showing how during the first two days of the Madness work place productivity drops to nearly sub human levels. An entire genre of programming has been devoted to coming up with ways to let you follow the Madness covertly from your office. Just make it a holiday. Give us the Monday (today) off, and half of a week in March. Call it a spring break.
With that said, today I will be doing a running diary of my experience watching the Bowl, evaluating the commercials, and generally just saying whatever comes to mind. Here we go:
330- tuning in to the pregame show, just in time to see Tiki Barber interviewing Larry Fitzgerald. Logging first reference to Fitz Sr. being a sports writer, and anticipating at least 43 more over the next five hours. I do love the irony of Tiki interviewing Fitz Jr. Could we start a tradition of Tiki interviewing players in their first Super Bowl and Dan Marino doing the postgame with the winning quarterback?
340 – Am I the only one who wonders what Matt Millen is doing offering any sort of opinion on organizations and coaches who manage to make it to the Super Bowl? Detroit, can you hear me?
345 – Taking advantage of the low standards for pregame commercials to stock up on supplies: water, V8, almonds and a banana. No, I am not envisioning mini chimis, chicken strips, sliders and fountains of beer. This is totally what a Super bowl experience should be.
350 – Wondering why no one calls out Big Ben for just not being that good of a quarterback. He throws interceptions as often as he throws touchdowns, and for all the talk about him being hard to tackle and moving well in the pocket, he was sacked 51 times this year, which is 5th worst in the league, in company with such illustrious company as the Chiefs, the 49ers and the Lions.
355 – Need to call my bookie immediately. Matt Millen just picked the Cardinals.
400 – Text from my friend who is a Baptist pastor: What’s the difference between a Steeler and a Catholic schoolboy? Nothing. They both get screwed by Cardinals. Yup, slamming both the Steelers and the entire Roman Catholic Church.
405 – Text from one of the few people I know who actually owned a Cardinals shirt before three weeks ago: Son of a b (yes, he did just use the first letter. I love evangelicals) Let’s hope that was Super Bowl winning linebacker Matt Millen making the pick, not talent evaluating guru Matt Millen
410 – I cannot get enough of Matt Millen. He said that the reason that the Cards are here is because Denny ‘They Are Who We Thought They Were’ Green had the courage to draft Fitz with the third pick. Is he just trying to justify taking a receiver with his first pick three years in a row? Matt, you’ve already been fired for killing a franchise. There is no redemption.
411 – Lebron James would be a phenomenon in football. Other athletes who would be devastating on the gridiron: Cristiano Ronaldo, Gretzky, D-Wade, Andre the Giant, and the Williams sisters.
415 – Kurt Warner is named NFL’s Man of the Year, strengthening the God and puppies argument, despite the vicious rumor that he plans to renege on the agreement, which I am convinced was started by a coalition of cat loving Steelers fans hoping to convince God to punish Warner for his infidelity.
417 – Text from Como at Harold’s Cave Creek Corral, home of Steeler Nation in Phoenix: 3800 people here, so much black and gold I feel a tear coming on.
420 – The close up of Fitz reminds me. This is my theory on Larry Fitzgerald’s super human ability: Are you familiar with Ronaldinho? Brazilian soccer phenom? He defies the laws of physics. You can go to a frame by frame close up of his signature move and in one frame his foot is on one side of the ball and in the next frame it is on the other side. Beyond that, he looks like an alien. Well, he is. As it happens he had an extraterrestrial sister who married a sports reporter in Minneapolis and gave birth to a half human son who now inhabits the #11 for Arizona.
425 – First round of Super Bowl commercials very underwhelming. Hoping that they are just pacing themselves.
426 – The NFC has won 11 straight Super Bowl coin tosses, which make the odds of their winning this one exactly same as the odds of Jaime Lee Curtis running on stage and tearing her shirt off during the half time show. They won. I can’t wait for half time.
429 – Andrea Kramer just got completely shown up by Alex Flanagan on the Cardinals sideline. Not only is high definition much kinder to Flanagan’s still young skin than to Kramer’s oddly disconcerting bug eyes, but the F. Scott Fitzgerald inspired Warner story is more compelling than the Steelers doctors injecting Hines Ward with the blood of a sacrificial steel worker.
433 – Apparently the Cardinals didn’t get the memo that Ward got the new blood. Isn’t that same blood doping technique used to cheat in bike racing?
438 – Big Ben runs over a defensive linesman and gets dragged into the end zone by his center, prompting Wisenhunt’s ill advised challenge flag.
440 – The second round of commercials are much better. Any defenestrating automatically improves a commercial series. What is the official term for a commercial block? When we get back the challenge is overturned! The good challenge by the Cardinals brings relief to everyone at the idea that we could have had Andy Ried here. Andy would have probably over looked this challenge opportunity while waiting to throw the flag when Boldin catches a pass in the stands. 3-0 the Burgh.
446 – The first big hit of the game is laid on Breston, the other 1,000 yard receiver. The second is when James Farrior knocks out Polamalu’s contact.
450 – John Madden, thank you for letting us know that swagger, 1) is not actually an institution of higher learning, and 2) that it is pronounced shwagga. The future ghetto youths of America thank you.
453 – Early commercial count : 3 movie previews, 2 Bud Light, 3 cars, and 2 NBC shows that don’t know the difference between one and two dimensions.
454 – Nate Washington is wide open in the end zone and Dominique Rodgers-Cromartie shows up out of nowhere to nearly pick the ball. Looked like an easy touchdown, and probably was closer to being a turnover. That kid is quick. My money says he gets at least one today.
456 – Ben does exactly what everyone says he does and avoids 3 sacks by running around cluelessly and being huge, then finds the tight end for a first down, prompting a series of ‘I told you so’ texts from my Steeler faithful. The Steelers are moving with ease, eating clock like candy on Christmas, and making my projection very shaky.
503 – The Potato Head commercial is cute, but the guy making out with a monkey in a mechanic’s suit is more than a little disturbing. Coming back to the game, Ben R. has already had a better day than his last Super Bowl, which was the worst performance ever by a winning QB. And Madden has said that if he were choosing to do something he would choose Hines Ward. Thanks for that.
505 – The new Jack Black movie, ‘The Year One’ and the new Will Ferrell movie ‘Land of the Lost’ both look like they aren’t actual movies, but rather like both of those guys just made spoof trailers. And Russell makes it 10-0 Steelers. Not looking good for the boys in red.
510 – 6 preview, 5Bud Light, 4 cars, and 4 NBC commercials. And from Como: 3800 dislocated shoulders from Terrible Towel waving. Towel shoulder is the new tennis elbow.
516 – Through the first 19 minutes of the game the Cardinals have not even thrown the ball to either Fitz or Boldin. Daring move. Take your 2 best players out of the game.
520 – Guess it was part of the plan. Boldin for 45 yards sets up the first Arizona score. 10-7
523 – Four commercials into the series and we finally get told that G is a Gatorade commercial. And cars.com takes the early lead for commercial of the day.
526 – DRC comes close to getting another pick. He is now 1.5 inches away from having two interceptions on the day. Why would you even throw at him?
528 – The fat cat tries to help me type. It is less helpful than he might imagine. The Cards manage to get their first stop of the day leading to a HUGE 39 punt return by Breaston!! You can almost feel the momentum shifting. Which is immediately killed by a chop block penalty. Momentum back to normal.
533 – First sack of the day leads to 3rd and 22.
539 – Great punt coverage keeps the Cardinals’ spirits high. Ball batted up and INTERCEPTED!! This is the defense that has twice as many takeaways in the playoffs as the legendary Steelers D, giving Warner the ball on the 33. If the Cards can just manage to get two of these bounces to bounce together then they might start to roll.
544 – But that won’t happen as Warner throws it away after another break. I have been informed that the collection of commercials during the break is called a cluster. This cluster brought our totals to 8 previews, 6 Bud, 6 NBC, and 6 cars.
547 – 29 minutes without even throwing the ball at him comes to an end as Fitz catches the ball for a 1st at the 13.
550 – NFL Defensive player of the year, James Harrison with the T.A.Int!!! Picked at the goal line Harrison takes it 100 yards for a touchdown as time expired, making it the longest play in Super Bowl history, stealing any momentum the Cardinals were building and giving Pittsburgh a 17-7 lead! This is the kind of thing that you knew had to happen, the Steelers had to score points with their defense. John Madden thinks that regardless of whether he got into the end zone you should give Harrison the score because of how good of a play it was. Thanks, John.
555 - The replay is politely inconclusive, the score stands. That magnitude of that play cannot be overstated. A 14 point swing, right as they go into the locker room. Harrison is huge.
Halftime. I’m taking a break to make dinner, walk about and be sociable, use the facilities, and play with the animals.
630 – And we are back. Quick throw to Boldin and he leaves the field with a limp shoulder after a hit by Ryan Clark, who leads the league in Hits that Left a Player to be Carted Off.
635 – Warner gets hit by Farrior losing the ball to none other than the Defensive POY Harrison. The Challenge flag is down. Does Wisenhunt go 2 for 2?
640 – He does and the Cards punt. This commercial cluster brings the count to 13 previews, 11 Bud, 9 NBC, and 8 for cars.
643 – New stat just in: Warner has thrown to Cuba Gooding Jr. as often as he has to Larry Fitzgerald Jr.
646 – From Como: Cuba is easily the most famous Cardinal. And a late hit give the Steelers a 1st.
650 – Is Mike Tomlin the baddest coach on the planet? Can you think of a coach you would rather not get in a fight with? Don’t you get the impression that he hangs out with Samuel L. Jackson on the weekends? And Parker breaks it to the outside and you can hear the nails going into the coffin…
653 - Terrible call! Adrian Wilson gets flagged for unnecessary roughness, because he tripped and fell into the holder. He clearly has his head down and just stumbles into the guy. What a ridiculous call. The Cards are having a hard enough time holding themselves together without the referees donning the black and gold. They manage to make the stop, again, and here is another go at the kick. 20-7 Steelers.
657 – Transformers 2 preview followed by the new nominee for commercial of the day from careerbuilders.com. And we have a favorite for cluster of the day. Highlighted by the punching the koala in the face. Can’t wait for that to show up on YouTube. In the cluster following the kick, Coke enters the fray with a fun forest commercial, joined with a slightly awkward Conan ad.
703 – Kurt Warner has 7 kids. He’s not a man, he’s a machine. Third quarter ends.
707 – Hah. Jack got hit by a bus. I’ll allow it. Strong work Jack in the Box.
711 – Stupid allotment of local commercial shots. Current score board: 15 previews, 12 Bud, 11 NBC, and 11 cars.
715 – After chasing all afternoon, the Cards finally get to Ben, and this is a critical possession. Nothing on the punt return, and if the Cardinals don’t put points on the board here, ball game. Coke is stepping up their game with a play on the classic Mean Joe Green commercial.
719 – 20 minutes after his first catch Fitz gets thrown to again, and makes the catch. Picking up the pace, the Cardinals look like they might believe they are still in the game. A big one to Arrington and they hit Fitz again. Great high catch, and nifty move after. He catches the next pass, too, and they are on the 5.
725 – Fitzgerald grabs the fade for the touchdown, giving him 4 for 31 on the drive, which was entirely through the air. In the next cluster Hulu joins the now completely website dominated contest for the commercial of the day. Opening a new category for non internet entities. Coke is favored for their body of work. 20-14, still Pittsburgh.
730 – Dockett breaks through for his second sack of the quarter, and the Cardinals second of the day. Steelers punt and this is setting up for Warner to go out as the greatest hero ever. Did that Pepsi commercial just imply that drinking Pepsi will kill you?
735 – A rare penalty on the Steelers brings the Cardinals to midfield, where they bewilderingly decide to run before a 23 yard strike to Breaston. The subsequent holding penalty, 3rd of the night on Mike Gandy trying to block Harrison, puts the Cards over 100 penalty yards for the day, more than they had in the rest of the post season combined.
738 – Camera guy waits until now to show us that Warner’s daughter is ridiculously good looking? And the hero moment will have to wait as Warner misses the throw and the Cards punt and down it inside the 2!! Flag - James Harrison has just lost all of my respect for punching a Cardinal player while he was on his knees. The lost respect will probably be made up for by the increase in fear, as he hit the guy so hard that he flipped almost all the way over onto his shoulders.
743 – After narrowly escaping a safety Ben hits Holmes for a 24 yard completion, but there is a holding flag in the end zone! Safety! Cards get the ball at the 36, and the tension is mounting.
747 – Fitzgerald!! Splits the field right down the middle for a 64 yard touchdown! Warner goes to 344 yards, most allowed by the Steelers all year, Fitz has 100 yards and two touchdowns against them, the defense has a chance to seal the largest comeback in Super Bowl history!! They might have scored too quickly, though. Over two minutes left in the game.
751 – Ben avoids another sack and gets the ball to Holmes. If the Steelers are going to pull this out, it is going to be on his arm. If he does it, I will take back everything I ever said about him being a mediocre game manager disguised as an NFL quarterback. GoDaddy.com wins the award for most sexually appealing commercials.
756 – Only downside to the recent turn of events is that the onus being on the Steelers means more of Andrea Kramer, Holmes gets loose and the defender falls down! Steeler ball inside the 10 with 49 seconds left!
759 – Holmes drops the first TD and catches the fade in the left corner of the end zone. The only question is whether the right foot hits the turf… Madden says there isn’t any doubt. The officials concur. I disagree. I think the right foot just hit his other foot. The right heel is clearly higher than the left, the one that is on the ground. Replay camera angles seem like they are designed by a director whose sole ambition is to amplify ambiguity. The PAT makes it 4 points. 27-23 Steelers.
804 – 77 yards, 29 seconds. This is where God, the puppies, the karma, this is where that all comes in to play. Is there enough? Is it enough to overcome the Millen pick? Fitz catches again for 21. 45 yards left, 15 seconds, no time outs.
809 – It isn’t. There is no power on Earth that can subdue this Steelers defense. Warner is sacked while trying to throw the ball, the call is a fumble and that is the game. From Como: Sixburgh. 27-23, Steelers. Madden: the gap between winning and losing is the biggest gap on earth. Thanks, John.
As this was my first go at a diary style blog, a few thoughts. Yes, the people I watched the game with were annoyed that I was doing this, asking if anyone even read my crap, anyway. Which I don’t know, so if you do happen to be a regular reader, feel free to join the conversation by leaving comments… Movie previews ended up being the most common commercial, .coms took one, two and three for best in show – careerbuilder.com winning for punching a koala, cars.com takes second, and Hulu third, for confirming the long suspected notion that Alec Baldwin is in fact an alien. GoDaddy.com gets honorable mention for two suggestive commercials that sent every male age 15-35 straight to their website. And Coke wins the award for best commercial not advertising for an online company. Pepsi gets the dunce cap for the MacGyver rip off that seemed to indicate that if Mac drank Pepsi he would have been blown to bits… I owe Ben an apology. He is a man, and a more than adequate NFL quarterback. That last drive was a whole mountain of clutch buried in an avalanche of composure… This game was truly a matter of inches. I cannot for the life of me understand how they can have so many cameras and not get one conclusive replay shot of either Holmes or Harrison’s touchdowns. They clearly need some sort of ground eye view camera to tell whether Harrison’s knee or Holmes right foot touched the ground. If those two calls based on terrible camera angles are wrong, then the final score is 23-13, Cardinals. Which is pretty dang close to what this guy predicted. Because what if's matter.
I had an epiphany recently. This was not one of the Thomas Edison kind of epiphanies where you spend hour after hour in the lab slavishly stealing the ideas of other people, but more the Archimedes kind where all of the relevant facts are rolling around in your head, pinging off old phone numbers and cheat codes (Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, Start) until that moment when the pieces all fall together into a clear singular vision and you jump out of the bath and take of down the street naked as the day is long yelling " EUREKA!!" at the at the top of your lungs. The epiphany I had was this: I am fat.
Now, I am not orca fat. I could probably even pass for in moderate shape if you passed me in the street and were walking too fast to get a good look. I was practicing a fine act of self-deception, squeezing myself into the same clothes I wore a decade ago, hiding my fat face in a beard, sucking in my gut all day long and pretending that was where it was supposed to be. Slowly the hints began to creep into my awareness. People would be talking about finding a place to eat and say, "Ask that guy, he looks like he knows how to eat". My Wii Fit character looked like he swallowed a beach ball. My roommate started trying to force feed me vegetables. We were playing a game where you compare people to an animal and I got a hippopotamus. A girl that I coached started calling me Santa. One day all of these added up and I was forced to deal with the realization that I was overweight, grossly so.
This did not translate into anything resembling immediate action. I don't do immediate action. One time I slept on my couch for 4 months because my room was too dirty to put together my bed. I will live with something being miserable and broken forever rather than man up and fix the problem. See my relationship history. Fortunately for me, a surprisingly high number of soccer coaches in the club that I work for decided that they were tired of being slovenly pigs while screaming at kids daily to run for hours. That is the providence of football coaches. Acknowledging that we lack the discipline to correct this on our own accord we decided to bring the strength of our competitiveness into the equation and make a Coaches Biggest Loser Challenge. We each pitched in $30 and the winner (loser) takes all, because with gambling, everybody wins. The competition is judged on three categories: weight, body mass index, and body fat percentage. The coach who loses the most of the three combined is the winner. The competition began a week ago and runs for a little over 2 months. My opening numbers are 210.4 pounds, 30 BMI, and 27% body fat. This made me the consensus front runner, as the fattest coach and also the youngest. Sad, I know.
This is my plan. For those of you who don't know I work with the women's soccer team at Pima Community College, and teach a class on advanced soccer. As a result I have a good relationship with the whole athletics faculty, who I have convinced to work on my behalf in this endeavor. The fitness instructor has made me the special project for his team of interns, who will function as my team of personal trainers and nutritionists. They are being evaluated on how fit they can make me. At first I was a bit convicted about whether or not this was a violation of the spirit of the competition, but then I realized that the people with money were getting gym memberships, hiring personal trainers, loading up on supplements like Hydroxycut, and whatnot. Well I don't have money, but it should be open game with the things I do have at my disposal, like the team, and you, our beloved readership.
I realize that %90 of the people I know are in much better shape than I am, and not in need of an intervention on these lines, but I invite you to join the competition. Post your numbers in the comments section on a weekly basis and I will put together a data base of how we are all doing, and the winner will get to dictate to which charity I give the prize money. If I do not win our contest then I will put up $150 of my own money to give to the charity of the Left Coast Biased winner's choice. If you happen to be in grand shape, then there are other ways that you can join the fun. Have any weight loss tricks? Work out plans? Post them in the comments. Want to contribute in a more material way? If you want to donate money to the prize fund, or order me supplements, or have a line on some Anavar or Primobolan (steroids), or anything along those lines you can send them to the following address:
Left Coast Biased
c/o Ryan Ringdahl
3448 E 2nd St
Tucson AZ, 85716
Come on guys. Join the fun. It's for charity.
So I was thinking: A few years back some creative soul in da Burgh wrote a song about the Steelers. This was pre 2005, so for those of you not paying attention the Steelers only had 4 super bowl rings at this point. All of them won by Chuck Knoll. Anyway there was a line in the song that said "This is the year we'll get that one for the thumb"
Then it happened.
In my lifetime I have only known two people to man the helm for the Steelers. Knoll and Cowher. Now there is a third, and he has the Steelers in a position to do what the other previous incarnations have failed to do: Win a superbowl in their head coach's second season. I will give you a moment to let that sink in.
And whats more, this year's team might be the most impressive defensive presence ever assembled by man or God. Sorry Big guy, I know you command angels...but this Steelers D is maybe just that good.I remember texting with ryan during the regular season and he said something underwhelming to the effect of: Man this defense is really good. But do you think they are as good as the Ravens? I responded with statistics and then the announcers somehow knew we were having this discussion and lended their statistical analysis. Then something happened.
They got better. Yeah. They did. The Steelers Defense went from being one of the best, to being statistically the best in every measurable category (except 1 i think where they were 2nd) Everyone knows that you can't run on the Steelers, so you should just beat them with the pass. Guess what these guys did? Oh just went 14 straight games without allowing an opposing offense to gain more than 300 yards. I will give you a moment to let that sink it. That streak dated back to the previous season. And that means you stop the run and the pass. What makes this Steelers D different from previous versions? They actually can stop the pass. Like when they stopped TO, and both of the Moss's. In the same season.
To quote one of my favorite movies: "Who are those guys?"
So yeah, maybe the Cards have a great receiving duo. Maybe the best since Rice played. But let me hit you with something: Fitzgerald had all his touchdowns in the first half. The eagles kept him reeeeaaaal quiet in the 2nd half. Oh, that and Boldin was too busy yelling at his O-Coordinator to realize there was a football game being played and he wasn't a part of it. So how do the Steelers stop Fitz and Boldin?
1. Pressure the QB. I don't care if he does have God on his side, Warner will piss his pant when he watches Woodley come from his front side and then gets train-wrecked by Harrison from his blindside. I can spell concussion, but after a few of those hits Warner won't be able to.
2. Double Up on Fitzgerald. But if you do that, will it make a difference? Yes. Now I have been heard to utter: That guy will catch any ball thrown in the building. Larry Fitzgerald was noted by Coach Tomlin as being the best receiver in the world. Of those still actively playing football, that is a true statement. Rice is still alive remember. Anyway, back to the point. The Steelers have some good cover corners. But won't that leave Boldin open, you say. No it won't. I just found this statistic today of which I was previously unaware: 70% of the earth's surface is covered by water. The other 30% is covered by Troy Polamalu.
I am not sure I have much else to say after that. Except that if anyone wants to join me I will be at Harold's in CaveCreek. I will be the one in black and gold face paint waving a terrible towel ans screaming at the top of my lungs. Oh wait...the entire Steeler's nation will be too. And yes...we travel well.
Two weeks ago I was ready. I had analyzed the teams, contrasted personnel strengths, evaluated various statistical trends. I knew that the Cardinals were going to kill the Eagles. Maybe I wasn't expecting them to take their foot off the gas and stop running the ball, letting the Eagles back in the game, but my prediction for half time was 28-12. Here is a recap of the salient points from my pregame chat with my boy Webster:
1- God and Puppies: Kurt Warner is currently the Shining Light of Christianity in professional sports. Not of the "I want to thank God for this win before I go beat my girlfriend and shoot myself in the leg" variety, but rather the actual believing, regularly attending church, really loving people, and hoping to make a difference in his community and the world in a positive way variety. He is everything you would want a Christian athlete to be, regardless about how you feel about Christians, or athletes. The timing is going to work out perfectly for Kurt to pass this mantle on to Tim Tebow, but for know it still rests gloriously on his shoulders. In addition to this, Kurt, well, his wife, promised his children that if he won the Superbowl they would get a puppy!! Sound familiar? If Obama has taught us nothing else, know this- with out hugely compelling reason you should never buck God and puppies.
2- Nobody believed in them (karmic balance): It is a widely known fact that sports team draw tremendous motivation from being told that they can't or won't be able to accomplish something. Movies are made, the Rocky theme song is played, tears are wept. Underdog stories are compelling. Now, I mean real underdogs, not the 12 seed in March that literally everyone and their monkey is calling to upset the 5 seed. To really be an underdog, the idea of you winning anything, from a coin flip to a playoff game has to be laughable. As in makes people laugh. The only way that you earn that level of contempt in the sports world is to produce such a consistent supply of failure that it isn't even a snub anymore when you are picked to finish last in your division. It just makes sense. So many things have to go wrong over the years for this to happen, what with the leagues all focusing on parity and salary caps, and whatnot. Your coach blows up on national television screaming "They are who we thought they were!!". Your defensive captain goes off to fight in a war. You draft Jake Plummer. What this leads to is what I am going to call a colossal karmic debt. Has any team in the NFL accrued more karmic debt than the Arizona Cardinals? Seriously? Even the Lions don't come close. The karmic pendulum has swung so very far to one side with these guys that the back swing has come, inevitable and heavy.
3- The Quarterback: Neither team has a running game to speak of, as Brian Westbrook has been operating under the impression that the Eagles didn't make the playoffs and is currently vacationing in Maui and his doppelganger can't run. Donovan McNabb is crazy. That isn't to say that he isn't a good quarterback, and capable of changing a game, but did you see him run over to the Giants sideline and use their phone? He is equally likely to throw 3 touchdowns, 3 interceptions, or both. It's a three way coin toss. On top of that the Cardinals defense is leading everybody with 12 takeaways in the postseason, twice as many as the vaunted Steelers defense. Donovan McNabb, I would like you to meet Dominique Rodgers-Cromartie. Whereas Warner is living the dream right now. He plays in a dome and gets to just sit back and bomb balls up to the best receiving duo on the planet. The mediocre running game doesn't really hurt him because he is at heart an arena league quarterback who just wants to play seven aside anyway.
4- The Dome: This somehow consistently escapes the notice of the rest of the country, but the Cardinals might play in the nicest stadium in the league. the grass is flat and even, the dome opens to allow a breeze and sunlight, and the seats go almost straight up sitting the entire crowd of 90,000 pretty much directly on the field. For this game, they are closing the dome. They want to trap the sound in make, create a hostile environment. Add two more factors, A) you are dealing with a state that is starved for success. A single glimpse from the Diamondbacks is all that they have had to relieve the tension of being teased by the Suns for the last two decades, and B) the ticket operator were asking for drivers licenses at time of purchase and hanging up on every one with an out of state license. They sold out in 6 minutes. On top of all of that there are the Arizona classic Sonoran hotdog vendors pushing carts around the stadium. Do you think that with all that delicious Mexican aroma in the air Andy Ried will be thinking about football at all? My bet is that he starts calling out Mexican foods half way through the first quarter, screaming "Caramello!", "Asada burrito!", and "Pollo chimi!" at McNabb who only stands there looking confused and a little hungry.
In any case, that game was clear and easy for me. The presence of Steelers defense and a coach who is capable of going more than 15 minutes without craving a Steak and Shake complicates things. I do think that points 1-3 still stand. Big Ben is not quite so prone to implosion as Donovan, but his top end is not nearly as high, despite what the cultists from the 'Burgh may tell you. Over all, he is just a little less exciting. He won't win the game for you, but he probably won't lose it, either. The crowd won't be as much of a factor in this game, given the open stadium and divided crowd, but that might benefit the Cardinals, too, as Steelers fans are notorious for travelling well. In the end I think that the game will come down to the Steelers defense, and Anquan Boldin. The Steelers defense will have to put points on the board. Their odds of doing that are directly related to how Anquan Boldin is feeling, both in his leg and in his head. If he wants to play, and is healthy, then the Steelers are going to have to find a way to do what no one else has been able to do: stop the best recieving tandem since Rice and Taylor.
I don't think they can do it. There is too much on the other side. God, Puppies, the Karmic Balance, the triptych force that is Warner, Boldin, and Fitzgerald. My call: Cardinals 24 - Steelers 13. But there is always the chance that the Steelers win by 30.
Chances are very good that you do not know me. You may have met me, possibly even know who I am, where I went to school, what I do for a living, but knowing about a person is not the same as knowing a person. Let's take Michael Jordan as an example of what I mean. I could tell you an inordinate amount of facts about Michael Jordan: where he went to school, what size shoe he wears, what his career scoring average is, where his mother lives, where his kids go to school, how he was feeling on April 20th, 1986, and so much more. I am not alone in this, literally thousands of people could tell you these things and more, but we don't know Michael Jordan. He would not stop and talk to me if we passed each other on the street, he doesn't even know my name. Insert your own particular celebrity fascination for a clearer picture. This is the age in which we live. The Information Age. Relating has been replaced with communicating. Instead of stopping by my neighbor's house to say hello, see how he is doing, put my feet up on his coffee table and share stories of the holiday over a tin of popcorn and a tasty beverage I will just shoot him a text: how was the trip? To which he will respond: great.
Text message. Email. Facebook. Myspace, if anyone is still using that who isn't 12 or a spamdroid. Twitter. All of these are born out of a need to get more done in less time, and all of these are robbing us of the depth and reality of our relationships. Information is passed along so quickly and with so little effort that the business of getting to know someone has become burdensome and tedious. It has gotten to the point that we don't even recognize the difference in our relationships anymore, as though a black and white lens has been dropped over our emotional eyes and we no longer can even recognize the depth and vibrancy of colors. We are losing the ability to sit and enjoy time with people. It is easier to 'hang out' with someone by texting them than to go for a walk and spend time in actual physical proximity.
I miss my friends. I miss my brother. I realized this Christmas that I don't know all that much about my brother. I got home from Christmas vacation and people were asking me questions for which I had no answer. Has he been arrested? Has he had a girlfriend? Does he drink? Has he smoked? Has he ever been in a fight? What tv shows does he watch? I don't know any of those answers, and a million more I am sure. But I am also sure that I know him as well as any person on this planet. I know him because we shared experiences together, shared joys and pains. Even if the pain was mostly his. There is a knowing of someone that is deeper than facts and details, that is built on emotions together, and that is the knowledge that we are slowly losing, as surely as global warming is stealing our ice caps.
My personal solution for this is stories. We need more stories, and better stories, stories that bring you into the moment and invite you into the emotions. Ancient societies recognized the power of stories. Certain Greek cultures would evaluate your entire life based on how good the story would be. Good story? Good life. So I will share some stories with you, even if they would be better shared in a dingy 24 hour dinner, competing with the accordion in the next room for acoustic dominance over a plate of over done tater tots and more or less fresh coffee. Baby steps. Here's hoping this story, which would be completely impossible in a world where 10 year olds have cell phones, helps you get to know who I am a little better.
So, the first girlfriend. Here's how it went down. I was in fifth grade. And let me be clear, I was a pretty dang cute fifth grader, a little behind the style curve, but dang cute. I am the one with the killer blue sweater, the other one is the aforementioned brother. This might be a little before fifth grade, but I'm sure you get the impression. Personally, I think I might have peaked, aesthetically, right about the time this story takes place. My boy Webster thinks it was freshman year, but given that he didn't even meet me until junior year of high school, how could he really know? I'm going to keep my money in elementary.
Let me back up. I went to a private school through elementary and middle school. Not exactly a social powerhouse, so when I fell in love in second grade I didn't really know what to do about it. In all honesty it was probably just a proximity crush on the cutest girl in our class of twelve, but it's all the same when you're eight. In any case, I didn't even realize that there were steps to be taken in response. You just liked a girl, and then maybe you would kick a ball at her at recess, or make fun of her freckles. Then in fourth grade a friend that I had gone to preschool with transferred back from the realm of wisdom and lore that was public school. He explained all manner of wonders to me, including girls and curse words. To the former I was a sponge and the latter I pretended I already knew.
If you liked girls, you asked them to be your girlfriend.
Changed my whole perspective on stuff. How do you do it? You just ask them. Just ask. Amazing. Naturally I lacked any form of courage, and went the infamous route of 'the note'. Yeah, like the song. Little boxes- yes and no, check one. I must have given her that note twenty times in fourth grade alone, and more in fifth. No. Always no. Sometimes circled, sometimes underlined. Once with an asterisk, which I thought was a little excessive. Then one day: yes. Yes. I was the happiest little fat kid in Sierra Vista.
No, I wasn't a fat fifth grader, it's an expression of speech. Picture a a round little kid on a hot day, holding an ice cream cone that is almost dripping over his hand. His cheeks squeezed around his little smile, maybe a single drop of sweat crawling down his brow. I was that kind of happy.
I was a great boyfriend. I would sit next to her at lunch, try to hold her hand, I even picked her flowers on the way to school, though they got a bit beat up by the wind while I was peddling my Schwin. Seriously, I had a Schwin, a red one. I didn't really know what else to do with the whole girlfriend thing; I hadn't been introduced to the magic of the makeout, yet (thank you church camp) but I felt like I was making a pretty good go of it for a first timer.
Then the world fell out from under my feet. The same alleged friend who had opened wide the world of youthful angst approached me at recess when I was on the way to swing with my little lady and broke it to me gentle like, "Look, Ryan, I've been going out with @#&*# for the last three months. She was just pretending to be your girlfriend 'cause I told her to."
"Yeah, I know...."
"I was just playing along"
Everyone knew. They laughed, sometimes out loud, sometimes silently. I cried, sometimes out loud, sometimes silently to myself. I didn't talk to anyone for the next two weeks. Ruined my whole fifth grade year. Then I moved to Illinois and there was that whole "Mexican poncho- is it a shirt or a jacket?" debacle. Let's just say that middle school was rough.
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