Finished: 5:45 03.20.12
Significance? Been wanting to see this for years, finally did. Also last movie I'll rent from the library til my next paycheck.
Influences: Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Sixteen Candles, A Wonderful Life
Are you serious?: Yes
Synopsis: Donnie Darko has an imaginary friend named Frank who dresses in a bunny suit. He ponders the meaning of his message of the "end of the world". He sleepwalks away from his house, which leads to him narrowly escaping death when a jet engine falls from a flying plane and crashes into his bedroom. After this event, Donnie begins to become aggressive and lose touch with reality, culminating in positive events (his exposing of a inspirational writer/motivational speaker as the head of a child porn ring) and terrible things (the death of his girlfriend, sister, and mother). These events lead him to returning to the past to die, in a reverse A Wonderful Life situation.
Highs: The movie keeps you guessing throughout the film, making you wonder if he has a point or if he's just crazy. Nice imagery and storytelling. Maggie Gylenhall's character.
Lows: The climax is poorly done, murky, and unnecessarily confusing. Drew Barrymore's character is totally unsympathetic. Movie fell short of its potential.
Views: I don't know what to think of this movie so I'm going to start with what mainly went through my mind. Donnie Darko goes to see a psychiatrist several times throughout the movie. She eventually meets with his parents, and she suggests that his delusions may be due to schizophrenia. This scene initiates a crossroads in the plot of the film. The entire time before this I believed in the reliability of Donnie as a protagonist, but this cast doubt in my eyes. He had been looking into the possibility of time travel, which was a really stupid and unnecessary plot point for this film. Now with this suggestion that he may just be insane, I thought the movie had the potential to be something awesome; suggesting the unreliability of the narrator and enhancing the over all story quality of the film. I decided that if they stayed with the concept of Darko going back in time for whatever reason, then the movie would really not be nearly as good. Turns out, they went for a "meh" kind of conclusion. Deciding that his life caused damage to many of his friends and loved ones largely due to his own doing, he decides to go back in time to end his life at the point where the engine crashes into his room.
Unfortunately, the progression of the scene is very poorly done. Shortly before his time travel, he looks into a sunset and says "I'll be home soon". Then he flashes back to his bedroom, laughing, and the movie reveals he is back at the fateful night. What? How did he get back there? It doesn't explain, and you are just supposed to go along with it. The movie does not do a good job of indicating the protagonist's existence as the fault for all these crimes, either, opting for the audience to piece the actions together at the end of the film. My initial feelings about the film were even worse than they are now before I noticed this. Maybe the actions were spelled out obviously, and I'm just a moron and didn't catch the point during my viewing. I think the director/writers wanted to put more faith into their audiences to interpret this critical point; unfortunately, this isn't really a type of movie or message that needs to be interpreted. It should be spelled out to further explain the motivation of Darko's decision and increase the emotional impact of the film. Instead, it's a mess.
There are also points that really don't make sense. Why and how does Donnie bury an axe into a bronze statue? He's not a supernatural being, so how did he do this? They even make a point to mention the incredulity of sinking an AX INTO A BRONZE DOG STATUE LIKE IT WAS A PIECE OF WOOD, yet this action serves absolutely no point in the story. What was really the point of Drew Barrymore's character? Was she just an arrogant teacher that Darko liked that he consequentially got fired? What really was the point of his sleepwalking after his escaping his death at the hands of the jet engine? He did it one more time, then it never was addressed again. What was the point of the repeated insertions of the 1988 presidential election outside of establishing the time of the film (and then, what was the point of repeating it?)?
I did enjoy the style and direction of the film. It had elements of the Brat Pack films from the 80's, mostly directed by John Hughes. I think that's the main reason the movie was based in the 80's.
"Smart" movies like this--culty, unconventional "smart" films--and Fight Club, American Beauty, and several others never rank in my favorite films. They are perfect examples of "form over function" films: ones that focus too much on a unique concept and the style of its portrayal to the detriment of its plot quality. They try too hard and add "clever" innovations that wind up leaving them open for criticism and a shaky product.
It was fun though, as the movie piqued my interest in the conclusion of the plot; even if this conclusion came up fairly short. That is why I'll give it an above average rating.
Rating: 3.25 out of 5.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Fast Five (Film)
Viewed: March 11, finished about 10:00.
Genre: Action
Why did I watch this: It was supposed to be the Rock's best movie.
Was it?: If it was, I never want to watch another movie starring the Rock ever again.
Synopsis: I don't remember. People steal a car and take the chip from it. Vin Diesel's character breaks out of jail with the help of his double agent cop (???) friend. The Rock is tasked to hunt them down. Vin Diesel and Double Agent Cop Friend (DACF) assemble a task of boring actors and Ludacris. Ludacris knows a lot about circuits, whatever that means. Not computer programming, software engineering, electrical engineering, or computers/hardware, just circuits. The Rock decides to help out. They steal a safe by dragging it along with their cars. Get away. Apparently going to use the stolen money for their own selfish reasons.
Highs: The car chase scene with the vault. The jokes I made while watching it. "THIS IS BRA SEEEL"
Lows: Literally everything else. Ludacris knowing about circuits.
Views: A long time ago I watched a movie called A History of Violence, and I thought it was awesome. Somewhere around that same time, I first seriously watched Die Hard: a great action thriller that kept my interest and ranks in or near my top 10 favorite movies of all time. I do not watch a lot of action movies, but I can appreciate one when it feel the desire to watch one. After watching two "Pictures of the Year" in a row, I was ready for something a little less involved and picked this up. It actually lost my interest in ten minutes, and several times I turned on my computer to look at other things throughout the film.
I initially watched this for the Rock, but that turned out to be a bad idea. I have yet to see any of his kids' films, where I'm sure this is not an issue, but the Rock seems to only flourish as an actor when he's about to kick someone's ass. If he's not about to do that, he rushes through his lines and sounds emotionless. My favorite exchange of his that highlights this fact is an exchange with one of his informants.
Informant: "Well I have good news and bad news"
Rock: "Wellyouknowilikemydessertfirst"
I: "Good news"
R: "Oknowgivemetheveggies"
I: "Bad news"
I realize that barely illustrates my point, but if you watch the movie look out for those lines, and you'll understand.
I've never seen a "Fast and the Furious" movie before this one, but I heard this was the best one in the series. They are supposed to be cut throat race car action films, right? This movie was maybe 40% action and 60% talking. All they did was set up their plot and talk. Gun scene, talk, racing scene, talk, 20 minutes discussing and introducing the characters, talk, gadget scene with a remote control car, talk, race around with your car, talk "THES EES BRRA SEEEL", talk, yank the safe out with two cars and race around the city, climax, talk some more, credits.
And of that talking, 80% of the talking was the most over-masculated, nut-flexing gibberish in films. One scene has Vin Diesel and another guy yelling at each other, and then the other guy punches the wall and yells. Another scene has Vin Diesel talking about gathering his crew, and he's doing it while staring out at the mountains and trying to sound like a bad ass the entire time. Another scene, where the Rock and Diesel first meet and Rock wants to take him in, Diesel says something to the equivalent of "what you going to do, tough guy? You going to take me in? Well, guess what? This isn't American anymore, padre! THEES EES BRRAA SEEEL!" at which point a bunch of gangsters point there guns at The Rock. This scene is ridiculous for two points. First of all, The Rock is a cop, and he's not there by himself; he has his whole squad with him, including a few Brazilian cops. If the gangsters were to actually blast The Rock, they would have a fiasco the size of the Titanic on their hands, not to mention Vin Diesel and his crew. Secondly, is Brazil really that much of a rogue country, with outlaws ruling the streets? And does it take pride in it? I don't know, but you would think they were in a lawless land of thugs and criminals the entire time you watched the film. I've seen City of God, I know of the crime in Brazil, but are the cops really so ineffective that if they see a crime occur right in front of them they are powerless to stop it? It makes me wonder.
I could get into the physics of two cars carrying around a heavy safe, but it's not worth it. I'd be extremely pedantic if I tried to pull off anything like that with a brainless film like this.
I'm not saying it's a terrible movie, but it isn't exactly something I'd watch again. It was just boring and appeared to appeal to a different demographic than the one I belong. If you like this genre, which I thought I did, go for it. Just too much talking for my action movie taste.
Rating: 1.75 out of 5 stars
Genre: Action
Why did I watch this: It was supposed to be the Rock's best movie.
Was it?: If it was, I never want to watch another movie starring the Rock ever again.
Synopsis: I don't remember. People steal a car and take the chip from it. Vin Diesel's character breaks out of jail with the help of his double agent cop (???) friend. The Rock is tasked to hunt them down. Vin Diesel and Double Agent Cop Friend (DACF) assemble a task of boring actors and Ludacris. Ludacris knows a lot about circuits, whatever that means. Not computer programming, software engineering, electrical engineering, or computers/hardware, just circuits. The Rock decides to help out. They steal a safe by dragging it along with their cars. Get away. Apparently going to use the stolen money for their own selfish reasons.
Highs: The car chase scene with the vault. The jokes I made while watching it. "THIS IS BRA SEEEL"
Lows: Literally everything else. Ludacris knowing about circuits.
Views: A long time ago I watched a movie called A History of Violence, and I thought it was awesome. Somewhere around that same time, I first seriously watched Die Hard: a great action thriller that kept my interest and ranks in or near my top 10 favorite movies of all time. I do not watch a lot of action movies, but I can appreciate one when it feel the desire to watch one. After watching two "Pictures of the Year" in a row, I was ready for something a little less involved and picked this up. It actually lost my interest in ten minutes, and several times I turned on my computer to look at other things throughout the film.
I initially watched this for the Rock, but that turned out to be a bad idea. I have yet to see any of his kids' films, where I'm sure this is not an issue, but the Rock seems to only flourish as an actor when he's about to kick someone's ass. If he's not about to do that, he rushes through his lines and sounds emotionless. My favorite exchange of his that highlights this fact is an exchange with one of his informants.
Informant: "Well I have good news and bad news"
Rock: "Wellyouknowilikemydessertfirst"
I: "Good news"
R: "Oknowgivemetheveggies"
I: "Bad news"
I realize that barely illustrates my point, but if you watch the movie look out for those lines, and you'll understand.
I've never seen a "Fast and the Furious" movie before this one, but I heard this was the best one in the series. They are supposed to be cut throat race car action films, right? This movie was maybe 40% action and 60% talking. All they did was set up their plot and talk. Gun scene, talk, racing scene, talk, 20 minutes discussing and introducing the characters, talk, gadget scene with a remote control car, talk, race around with your car, talk "THES EES BRRA SEEEL", talk, yank the safe out with two cars and race around the city, climax, talk some more, credits.
And of that talking, 80% of the talking was the most over-masculated, nut-flexing gibberish in films. One scene has Vin Diesel and another guy yelling at each other, and then the other guy punches the wall and yells. Another scene has Vin Diesel talking about gathering his crew, and he's doing it while staring out at the mountains and trying to sound like a bad ass the entire time. Another scene, where the Rock and Diesel first meet and Rock wants to take him in, Diesel says something to the equivalent of "what you going to do, tough guy? You going to take me in? Well, guess what? This isn't American anymore, padre! THEES EES BRRAA SEEEL!" at which point a bunch of gangsters point there guns at The Rock. This scene is ridiculous for two points. First of all, The Rock is a cop, and he's not there by himself; he has his whole squad with him, including a few Brazilian cops. If the gangsters were to actually blast The Rock, they would have a fiasco the size of the Titanic on their hands, not to mention Vin Diesel and his crew. Secondly, is Brazil really that much of a rogue country, with outlaws ruling the streets? And does it take pride in it? I don't know, but you would think they were in a lawless land of thugs and criminals the entire time you watched the film. I've seen City of God, I know of the crime in Brazil, but are the cops really so ineffective that if they see a crime occur right in front of them they are powerless to stop it? It makes me wonder.
I could get into the physics of two cars carrying around a heavy safe, but it's not worth it. I'd be extremely pedantic if I tried to pull off anything like that with a brainless film like this.
I'm not saying it's a terrible movie, but it isn't exactly something I'd watch again. It was just boring and appeared to appeal to a different demographic than the one I belong. If you like this genre, which I thought I did, go for it. Just too much talking for my action movie taste.
Rating: 1.75 out of 5 stars
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Peyton and Me, pt. 3
Perhaps I should not say I had a loss of interest in the Colts after the Super Bowl defeat, maybe it was more of a loss of motivation in rooting for them. This progression maybe fueled by a parallel in that the Colts never seemed to recover from that loss as well—mostly seen in the following season of play. The 2010 season would mimic that which I had seen several times before. I barely recall the season, outside of Peyton and the Colts struggling in the second half of the season. The only real key memory I even have of the season was the three game losing streak they suffered at the hands of the Eagles, Chargers, and Cowboys. The poor performance made me think back to how spoiled I was by their play in the “good old days”, when I would get mad if Peyton didn’t throw more than two touchdowns and beat the team by over two scores. The Colts snapped the losing streak on a Thursday night game against the Titans, a game which I kept up with at a school sanctioned graduate student Christmas party that was particularly awkward event—complete with trivial small talk and fake laughs to unfunny jokes. The fried cheese sticks were pretty good, if I recall. Nevertheless, I looked at the Colts victory in that game and shrugged my shoulders. First off, they barely pulled the victory off, only winning by two points, and I figured it was only a matter of time before Peyton would get things back to the way they should be.
That feeling, one of complete apathy to the Colts fortunes, would never occur in the past. In the old days, if the Colts had a three game losing streak that wasn’t due to late season complacency, I would have had an aneurysm freaking out about the potential of the team. Finishing the season 10-6—the worst record the Colts had finished a season with since I started following them, the Colts won their division only through sheer luck and incompetence of their division rivals. More importantly, the Colts would meet the Jets in their first game of the playoffs, a rematch of a playoff game from the previous season. For the first time ever, I expected the Colts to lose a playoff game. 3G, recently graduated from college and now living in Chicago—although we were not dating any longer, came to my place to watch the game. Sure enough, the Colts lost. She was heartbroken; but I nonchalantly accepted the loss, telling her that “the Colts were terrible this year”. Little did I know that game would be the last time I saw Peyton in a Colts uniform.
The rest of the postseason went without much ado. I watched the NFC championship game with 3G in Chicago and afterwards never saw her again. I watched the Super Bowl, which hosted the Steelers and Packers, with a group of people. In a complete contrast from the previous season, I watched the game with an almost bored demeanor.
Most of the offseason went without much news until word started going around that Peyton had a neck surgery that may hinder his playing time. As the days went by, the news continued to snowball. People began speculating that Peyton would miss the preseason, which evolved into Peyton probably missing the first few games. While sports media would not and could not on principle admit to it, I knew Peyton would miss the season just by these few words. Sure enough, I was right. He missed the entire preseason and finally snapped his consecutive games started streak by missing the first game of the season. Expectedly, that game was a loss. As weeks and games went on without Peyton, what would not be said became increasingly evident. Peyton was going to miss the season.
This realization came as a shock to me originally, as I had to get used to the idea of not having my favorite player to root for, but I saw this as a possible opportunity. This season would serve as a proving ground to show how important Peyton was to the success of the Colts. In a betraying fashion, I secretly rooted against the Colts so they could improve their draft status. I also made the prediction that the Colts would win no more than 3 games, a bold statement when most of the people I discussed football with figured the Colts to win at the very least five games. I overestimated the season—as the Colts would finish the season 2-14, obviously miss the playoffs, lock up the first pick of the draft.
The consequences of the season were more devastating than I thought they would be. The Colts fired most of their coaching staff and Bill Polian, the general manager who originally drafted Peyton. I interpreted the change in staff as rebuilding, and it would only be a matter of time before they made a decision on Peyton. Soon after firing their coaching staff, they announced what would ultimately prove Peyton’s fate: they planned on drafting Andrew Luck, the starlet quarterback coming out of Stanford, with their pick.
And then, the Colts announced they would release Peyton. Press conference on Wednesday, they said. I watched it, making sure to be around a television at noon on March 7th. The owner of the team, Jim Irsay, and Peyton came out and met gave short tear filled speeches. It was over, and shortly after Peyton started investigating new teams to join.
I decided to write this during the conference. Although it’s hard to admit, Peyton and the Colts have been a nontrivial part of my life for the past six and a half years. Every year, I would sit there and look forward to a new season. Most of the time, outside of that first season, I looked at games with pessimism yet unbridled confidence. The one season where my confidence in the team reached fantastic wound up sucking out my fervor for the team. Looking back on it, it only makes sense that Peyton would leave soon after.
I started working on this thinking that my descriptions of my experiences with the Peyton Manning led Colts would be chance to reminisce with the good memories I have of the team. Now that I have examined most of the major ones, I see that there were just as many, if not more, times where I acted poorly due to the petty nature of my fandomship of Manning and the Colts. I staunchly and without fail defended Manning as a near deity, getting into many arguments and being insufferable about something that was so unimportant in life. Being a fan of a team is superficially benign; but if one gets too invested into something, he can and will begin to suffer for it. Peyton joining a new team is a new beginning, not only for him, but also for me as well. I can use his transition as symbol for a chance to change myself. Nothing is permanent, and things can be changed, refurbished, and set with time.
That feeling, one of complete apathy to the Colts fortunes, would never occur in the past. In the old days, if the Colts had a three game losing streak that wasn’t due to late season complacency, I would have had an aneurysm freaking out about the potential of the team. Finishing the season 10-6—the worst record the Colts had finished a season with since I started following them, the Colts won their division only through sheer luck and incompetence of their division rivals. More importantly, the Colts would meet the Jets in their first game of the playoffs, a rematch of a playoff game from the previous season. For the first time ever, I expected the Colts to lose a playoff game. 3G, recently graduated from college and now living in Chicago—although we were not dating any longer, came to my place to watch the game. Sure enough, the Colts lost. She was heartbroken; but I nonchalantly accepted the loss, telling her that “the Colts were terrible this year”. Little did I know that game would be the last time I saw Peyton in a Colts uniform.
The rest of the postseason went without much ado. I watched the NFC championship game with 3G in Chicago and afterwards never saw her again. I watched the Super Bowl, which hosted the Steelers and Packers, with a group of people. In a complete contrast from the previous season, I watched the game with an almost bored demeanor.
Most of the offseason went without much news until word started going around that Peyton had a neck surgery that may hinder his playing time. As the days went by, the news continued to snowball. People began speculating that Peyton would miss the preseason, which evolved into Peyton probably missing the first few games. While sports media would not and could not on principle admit to it, I knew Peyton would miss the season just by these few words. Sure enough, I was right. He missed the entire preseason and finally snapped his consecutive games started streak by missing the first game of the season. Expectedly, that game was a loss. As weeks and games went on without Peyton, what would not be said became increasingly evident. Peyton was going to miss the season.
This realization came as a shock to me originally, as I had to get used to the idea of not having my favorite player to root for, but I saw this as a possible opportunity. This season would serve as a proving ground to show how important Peyton was to the success of the Colts. In a betraying fashion, I secretly rooted against the Colts so they could improve their draft status. I also made the prediction that the Colts would win no more than 3 games, a bold statement when most of the people I discussed football with figured the Colts to win at the very least five games. I overestimated the season—as the Colts would finish the season 2-14, obviously miss the playoffs, lock up the first pick of the draft.
The consequences of the season were more devastating than I thought they would be. The Colts fired most of their coaching staff and Bill Polian, the general manager who originally drafted Peyton. I interpreted the change in staff as rebuilding, and it would only be a matter of time before they made a decision on Peyton. Soon after firing their coaching staff, they announced what would ultimately prove Peyton’s fate: they planned on drafting Andrew Luck, the starlet quarterback coming out of Stanford, with their pick.
And then, the Colts announced they would release Peyton. Press conference on Wednesday, they said. I watched it, making sure to be around a television at noon on March 7th. The owner of the team, Jim Irsay, and Peyton came out and met gave short tear filled speeches. It was over, and shortly after Peyton started investigating new teams to join.
I decided to write this during the conference. Although it’s hard to admit, Peyton and the Colts have been a nontrivial part of my life for the past six and a half years. Every year, I would sit there and look forward to a new season. Most of the time, outside of that first season, I looked at games with pessimism yet unbridled confidence. The one season where my confidence in the team reached fantastic wound up sucking out my fervor for the team. Looking back on it, it only makes sense that Peyton would leave soon after.
I started working on this thinking that my descriptions of my experiences with the Peyton Manning led Colts would be chance to reminisce with the good memories I have of the team. Now that I have examined most of the major ones, I see that there were just as many, if not more, times where I acted poorly due to the petty nature of my fandomship of Manning and the Colts. I staunchly and without fail defended Manning as a near deity, getting into many arguments and being insufferable about something that was so unimportant in life. Being a fan of a team is superficially benign; but if one gets too invested into something, he can and will begin to suffer for it. Peyton joining a new team is a new beginning, not only for him, but also for me as well. I can use his transition as symbol for a chance to change myself. Nothing is permanent, and things can be changed, refurbished, and set with time.
Peyton and Me, pt. 2
Around this time, with the trash talking I would do in the following weeks and my antics at the party during the Colts/Ravens game, my friends began to catch on about how much of a rabid Colts fan I actually was. One of my friends, who I’ll call BDub, would root against the Colts just to upset me. After they won the AFC Championship and were considered the easy favorites to win, BDub went agains the Colts to root for the Bears. For two weeks straight he was the biggest Bears fan, indulging any chance he had to voice his support.
The sportscasters and the general public had it right, for once. Outside of an opening kickoff touchdown by the Bears (an event that, knowing how good and bad the Bears return team and Colts kicking team were—respectively, I called before the game; a feat that my roommate at the time even noticed I got right), the Colts took the lead and kept it for the entire game. After the crushing defeat of last year, my team finally won it. Manning also won the Super Bowl MVP, another honor for him.
The Colts would not win the Super Bowl again with Manning, but in the end that is alright with me. As I mentioned earlier, I was struggling with a break up and trying to find my identity after that relationship. The Colts’ championship was a small victory for me as I would move on with life.
I’ll always remember that birthday as being the “Super Bowl” birthday. I received a t-shirt with the front page of the Indianapolis Star the day after the victory, a magazine chronicling the Super Bowl season, an DVD doing the same, and a sweater commemorating the championship. By the end of it all, I was nearly Colts’d out.
I actually did have a period for a few months before the 2007 season where I thought about moving to another team. In all honesty, I had grown tired of the Colts. After winning the Super Bowl, I honestly had no idea where they would go from there. The pursuit was complete, where do you go from there? That feeling would evaporate at the beginning of the next season.
Since the Colts won the championship, they were tasked with hosting the season opener against the upstart Saints. Throughout the history of my time with football, nobody cared about the Saints because they were terrible. In the previous season, the Saints started winning; and everyone in Mississippi seemed to jump on their bandwagon. I wore my Manning jersey on campus the day of the game, and I was jeered several times throughout the day. I was invited to a get together that night at BDub’s place, which was going to be attended mostly by Saints fans. I go in with my characteristic arrogant attitude, which would prove costly at first. The Colts faltered on their first drive, and I had the entire group yelling at me in good natured ribbing. I actually had to go outside and take a breather, to prepare myself in the chance of a Colts loss. The wheels would quickly come off the Saints effort, however, and the Colts would take over and win the game decidedly—in a fashion with which even I was content. Most of the Saints fans in the room quit paying attention to the game after it was a lost cause, but I kept with it and left with my head held unnaturally high.
Not much else happened that season, the year the Patriots had an undefeated regular season. The Colts performed about as well as they usually did, finishing the season 13-3. On the day of the seemingly annual Colts-Patriots game, I became overly confident that the Colts would snap the Patriots winning streak, to the point where I was rooting for the wide receiver on the Patriots who happened to also be on my fantasy team (this was the first year I played fantasy football, and the year I was most excited about it) to score a touchdown against my Colts. Considering the Colts would lose by less than a touchdown, I regretted that decision. The following week, Peyton would throw six interceptions in a game against the Chargers that I would also watch with my friends. I became so livid at the game that I just quit paying attention to it, throwing it away along with the season.
Unlike the last time I had given up on the Colts’ Super Bowl chances the previous season, I would be proven right this time. The Colts easily made the playoffs and got the opportunity to play the Chargers again. Before the game took place and in the spirit of the previous season’s Super Bowl, BDub and I got into an argument about the Colts chances; in a funny twist, the argument got so heated that he told his girlfriend at the time to “shut up” when she tried to intervene. I wore the sweatshirt that I got for my birthday to the apartment where I was going to watch the game. All of my friends watching the game with me were rooting for the Chargers, mostly to make me angry. The game was a nail-biter, as both teams would exchange the lead multiple times. Unfortunately, the Colts would come up short and—much to my chagrin—my friends celebrated. I left the apartment in a much deserved huff, knowing that my dreams of a repeat were shattered.
The Super Bowl that season would be between the New York Giants (Eli and my brother’s teams) and the aforementioned undefeated Patriots. I had two tests the following day, so I only watched about a quarter of the game at a friend’s place. I made sure to wear my Colts sweater again that day in memoria of the previous season. The Giants would win the game in historic fashion (helmet catch, look it up if you want), and I was happy for my brother and the fall of my heated rivals.
The 2008 season was even less memorable than the 2007 season. During the summer, I got the opportunity to complete a chemical engineering research internship at Purdue University—an hour and a half from Indianapolis. On my way there, I visited Indianapolis and saw the RCA Dome before it was taken down in favor of Lucas Oil Stadium. My (new) girlfriend at the time also bought me a Colts shirt.
For the first time in my experience, the Colts would lose their season opener. This loss was even more embarrassing, as it occurred against the Bears—the team they won the Super Bowl against—and at the christening of their new stadium. The Colts would start the season 3-4, and the struggles would cool my fervor that season. Peyton would turn around the season and take the Colts from 3-4 to 12-4, leading the Colts to another playoff berth with the first game against the Chargers.
Although the regular season would end in a 9 game winning streak, I was skeptical about the Colts’ playoff chances—especially if the game was against the Chargers. The game would be played while I was at my family’s home in DC, in the middle of my parents burgeoning obsession with the Office. Instead of watching a game that would stress me out, I decided to follow my family and watch several episodes of the TV show. After I figured the game to be over, we quit watching the show and put the television on the station the game would be showed. The game was in overtime, and the Chargers appeared to be driving for the winning score. I immediately asked if we could just watch another episode of the Office, we did so, and—after finishing the episode—noticed that the Colts had lost to the Chargers for the second consecutive time. Unlike other years, I was not so upset at this turn in fortune. I had become used to losing in the playoffs, so it was just another season for me. That would change next season.
I graduated in May of 2009 from Mississippi State, and my post-college plans involved staying at home for the summer and then going to Notre Dame for graduate school. My summer was mostly uneventful, but I anticipated my new life at Notre Dame and being in the home state of the Colts. I also started dating a new girl (the third so far in the time span of this essay), who was eager to learn about football from me. The season started as most of them typically did, with the Colts going on a fantastic winning streak. In addition to the Colts winning streak, the Saints—the team that had given me grief two seasons ago—were building a streak of their own. Seeing my facebook feed flood with statuses involving “GO SAINTS” and “WHO DAT!” fueled the rivalry between Saints fans and me. My girlfiend, who I will nickname 3G, was still at Mississippi State; and, with the constant exposure to Saints pandemonium in school and my passion for Peyton’s Colts, she became swept up in NFL football (impressive, considering she only had a vague notion of football through her time at State).
Eventually, the Saints would lose their first game of the season after going 13-0 and lose the remaining games—finishing the season 13-3. Since the Colts did not lose their first game until the following week (and finishing the season 14-2), I felt that I had bragging rights and publicized this opinion to several of my Saints cheering fans. Little did I know this would come back to haunt me.
One of the most important games during the Colts season was the 4th and 2 game against, again, the Patriots. As usual, the game was highly anticipated, as both teams were leading their divisions and contenders for the Super Bowl. The game was played in Indianapolis, but the Patriots quickly took a comfortable lead and held it for most of the game. By midway in the fourth quarter, the Patriots still held a 34-21 lead. The Colts would score a touchdown with two and half minutes to play, making it 34-28 and a one score game. While I had checked the game throughout the night, I had mostly given up on it and only watched it out of morbid curiosity. After that touchdown, the game took my entire attention; and I alerted my girlfriend about the situation online. The ensuing Patriots drive stumbled out of the gate, leading to a 4th and 2 situation on the Patriots’ 28 yard line. Instead of pinning the Colts deep in their own territory, the Patriots elected to go for it to keep the ball away from Peyton’s offense. The attempt failed, and the Colts took the field with plenty of time to take the lead and win the game with a passing touchdown. At some point, I had even put on my Manning jersey just to root for the team. The ending of that game may have been the most exciting football experience I had ever had, even if it was just me by myself in my apartment chatting online with my girlfriend. This was also the game that completely immersed her in the football pandemonium.
As the weeks passed, my confidence increased. In a complete mirror of the 2006 season, I was completely confident of my team’s chances to win the Super Bowl. They captured the first seed in the AFC side of the playoffs. For the first game in the postseason, the Colts faced the Baltimore Ravens again—who struggled to make it to the playoffs and were expected to be an easy victory for the Colts. Predictions came true, and 3G—who had come to see me for the weekend—and I watched an easy victory to which I barely paid attention. Much to my delight, the next day the Patriots would lost to the Jets to set up a favorable Colts matchup for the AFC Championship. I wish I had an amazing story to tell about this game, but I don’t. I don’t remember the AFC Championship at all. I’m not sure if I watched it with a group of friends, by myself, or with 3G. The game was a total blur. Obviously, the Colts won; or I would have remembered the pain.
I do, however, remember the opposing game. The Bret Favre lead Vikings lost to the Saints after another overtime interception that would cost Favre’s team the game. So there it was, I’d finally have my Colts and Peyton play the Saints that I despised so much in the Super Bowl. In much the same way I felt about the previous Super Bowl in which the Colts participated, I was confident my team would prove the victors. This lead me to post several facebook statuses talking trash about the Saints, and the day before the game I changed my profile picture to a one with the Colts logo captioned with the phrase “Dat’s Who!” (a play on the “Who Dat?” chant that is a favorite among Saints fans). Then came the game.
I went to a Super Bowl party hosted by a fellow ND grad student, one that was attended by several people I did not know. The rooting interests of the attendees were fairly one sided, either people really did not care about the teams playing or they rooted for the Colts. One guy wanted the Saints to win, but he was more interested in rooting against the Colts than the Saints’ first championship.
The game started as expected, as the Colts took the lead and held on to it for the entirety of the first half. Still confident in my team at halftime, I had to take note that the Saints had trimmed the lead shortly before the end of the second quarter: the score being 10-6 after the Saints had kicked two field goals in the second quarter. The halftime show was exceptionally dreadful. Most of the partygoers immediately dismissed the performance as a bunch of old guys singing songs nobody cared about; but, since it was the Who, and I liked the Who, I was looking forward to it. Regardless, the sequence was dull: they played the songs everyone knows and seemed bored and unenthusiastic the entire time. I even remarked to a couple that was watching with me how bad it was, “and I was even a Who fan”.
The game took a turn for the worse at the start of the second half, as the Saints kicked an onside kick to achieve possession at the start of play. While my skepticism was beginning to brew at the end of the first half, the annoying halftime show had settled it down; now it was back in full force. I tried to play it cool, but I am sure my sudden pensive and quiet mood was a direct contrast to the jovial and cocky mood I had displayed in the first half. The Saints would score on the ensuing drive, taking the lead at 13-10.
To add to my chagrin, around this time a disgustingly overweight girl showed up to the party. She was from Minnesota and a lifetime Vikings fan. For some reason, she decided to root for the Saints after they had defeated her team two weeks prior. She was one of the fans I can’t stand: the type that says “woo” and “get ‘em” after every single play that results favorably for her team. Two events probably made me “that guy” at the party. The first came after the Saints took the lead for the first time in the game; as people remarked at the change in fortune and the crowd got quiet, I said in a matter-of-fact tone that “Katrina was coming back”. People laughed in that “whoa, I can’t believe he just said that” tone, but I rebutted with saying “I’m from the South, I can say that”. The other one was the Vikings fan. I couldn’t take it. She was too much. After about seven “woo”s when the Saints would gain 3-4 yards on a play, I turned around to her and said “if it weren’t for this team, the Vikings would be in this game, why are you rooting so hard for this team? That’s stupid” or something of that nature. She just looked at me and bleated like a cow. Whatever.
The Colts would take the lead again, and the score would be 17-16 at the end of the third quarter. Sadly, the Saints would take the final lead change off a touchdown and successful two point conversion, making the score 24-17—a touchdown’s difference. As the Colts prepared for their responding drive, I went into full fan mode. My memory is foggy, but I’m pretty sure I stood up and marched around the room claiming that “here comes Hurricane Peyton!”. My New Orleans-hurricane reference wasn’t as clever as the first time, but I did not know that at the time. The drive started out alright, but quickly ended as Peyton would throw an interception returned for a touchdown—effectively sealing the game for the Saints. The final score would be 31-17.
As a Colts fan, this was probably my lowest point. I remember sitting and watching the remainder of the game in stunned silence. I was stoic about my depression, but nothing would shake it—not even a very attractive and very drunk girl hitting on me would console me. When the game ended, I got a bunch of texts from several of my friends exclaiming victory and rubbing my defeat in my face. After I left the party I called my brother and expressed my sorrow. I told him that losing the Super Bowl was the first feeling a football fan can have, Peyton wasn’t the greatest quarterback of all time, and I couldn’t even have Brett Favre to fall back on anymore (which would prove untrue, as he’d return for another exceptionally lackluster season the next). I came back to my apartment and found my facebook page vandalized. One of my friends posted the same post, something about the score I think, over twenty times. In response, I took one of my profile pictures and MS Painted black X’s on my eyes to advertise my defeat.
I was unable to check any sports media for over a week. The combination of my team losing and the painting of the Saints’ as a feel good story by the media, being a perennial bottom dweller for so long and coming back from uncertainty after Katrina, was way too much for me. This may sound extraordinarily ridiculous, but this was a time of great introspection for me as well. I began to realize the possible falseness of a myth I had relied on for several years, that Peyton may not be the greatest quarterback of all time. To add further insult to injury, the game was finished on a complete blunder by Manning—the interception returned for a touchdown at the end of the game. There was no one else to place the blame.
In addition, I questioned why sports were such a phenomenon. Seeing all these people from Mississippi gloat over a team to which they had no real connection—in respect to location, relation, or anything—made me think. For most people, sports are just fun and games; but why should we care whether the teams win or lose? What do we, as fans, really have to gain from winning a championship? Nothing. The journey is quite obviously worth more than the destination; but, why do people such as myself invest so much emotional weight on things that mean nothing in life in general? I can only assume that it is used as an escape for people who are entrenched in the normalcy of their lives. While desk jobs and family life can only bring so much satisfaction, it has a ceiling. Every Sunday, people tune in for a journey in chance and strategy; a chance to relish in victory or bemoan in defeat. While this realization was romantic in a sense, it was also a bit fantastic and pathetic,--in a sense. Upon further self introspection, I’ve realized that I’ve never really been the same since thinking those thoughts. If I were set to task in finding a starting point for my decline of interest in sports, I would probably have to point to the Colts’ loss against the Saints.
The sportscasters and the general public had it right, for once. Outside of an opening kickoff touchdown by the Bears (an event that, knowing how good and bad the Bears return team and Colts kicking team were—respectively, I called before the game; a feat that my roommate at the time even noticed I got right), the Colts took the lead and kept it for the entire game. After the crushing defeat of last year, my team finally won it. Manning also won the Super Bowl MVP, another honor for him.
The Colts would not win the Super Bowl again with Manning, but in the end that is alright with me. As I mentioned earlier, I was struggling with a break up and trying to find my identity after that relationship. The Colts’ championship was a small victory for me as I would move on with life.
I’ll always remember that birthday as being the “Super Bowl” birthday. I received a t-shirt with the front page of the Indianapolis Star the day after the victory, a magazine chronicling the Super Bowl season, an DVD doing the same, and a sweater commemorating the championship. By the end of it all, I was nearly Colts’d out.
I actually did have a period for a few months before the 2007 season where I thought about moving to another team. In all honesty, I had grown tired of the Colts. After winning the Super Bowl, I honestly had no idea where they would go from there. The pursuit was complete, where do you go from there? That feeling would evaporate at the beginning of the next season.
Since the Colts won the championship, they were tasked with hosting the season opener against the upstart Saints. Throughout the history of my time with football, nobody cared about the Saints because they were terrible. In the previous season, the Saints started winning; and everyone in Mississippi seemed to jump on their bandwagon. I wore my Manning jersey on campus the day of the game, and I was jeered several times throughout the day. I was invited to a get together that night at BDub’s place, which was going to be attended mostly by Saints fans. I go in with my characteristic arrogant attitude, which would prove costly at first. The Colts faltered on their first drive, and I had the entire group yelling at me in good natured ribbing. I actually had to go outside and take a breather, to prepare myself in the chance of a Colts loss. The wheels would quickly come off the Saints effort, however, and the Colts would take over and win the game decidedly—in a fashion with which even I was content. Most of the Saints fans in the room quit paying attention to the game after it was a lost cause, but I kept with it and left with my head held unnaturally high.
Not much else happened that season, the year the Patriots had an undefeated regular season. The Colts performed about as well as they usually did, finishing the season 13-3. On the day of the seemingly annual Colts-Patriots game, I became overly confident that the Colts would snap the Patriots winning streak, to the point where I was rooting for the wide receiver on the Patriots who happened to also be on my fantasy team (this was the first year I played fantasy football, and the year I was most excited about it) to score a touchdown against my Colts. Considering the Colts would lose by less than a touchdown, I regretted that decision. The following week, Peyton would throw six interceptions in a game against the Chargers that I would also watch with my friends. I became so livid at the game that I just quit paying attention to it, throwing it away along with the season.
Unlike the last time I had given up on the Colts’ Super Bowl chances the previous season, I would be proven right this time. The Colts easily made the playoffs and got the opportunity to play the Chargers again. Before the game took place and in the spirit of the previous season’s Super Bowl, BDub and I got into an argument about the Colts chances; in a funny twist, the argument got so heated that he told his girlfriend at the time to “shut up” when she tried to intervene. I wore the sweatshirt that I got for my birthday to the apartment where I was going to watch the game. All of my friends watching the game with me were rooting for the Chargers, mostly to make me angry. The game was a nail-biter, as both teams would exchange the lead multiple times. Unfortunately, the Colts would come up short and—much to my chagrin—my friends celebrated. I left the apartment in a much deserved huff, knowing that my dreams of a repeat were shattered.
The Super Bowl that season would be between the New York Giants (Eli and my brother’s teams) and the aforementioned undefeated Patriots. I had two tests the following day, so I only watched about a quarter of the game at a friend’s place. I made sure to wear my Colts sweater again that day in memoria of the previous season. The Giants would win the game in historic fashion (helmet catch, look it up if you want), and I was happy for my brother and the fall of my heated rivals.
The 2008 season was even less memorable than the 2007 season. During the summer, I got the opportunity to complete a chemical engineering research internship at Purdue University—an hour and a half from Indianapolis. On my way there, I visited Indianapolis and saw the RCA Dome before it was taken down in favor of Lucas Oil Stadium. My (new) girlfriend at the time also bought me a Colts shirt.
For the first time in my experience, the Colts would lose their season opener. This loss was even more embarrassing, as it occurred against the Bears—the team they won the Super Bowl against—and at the christening of their new stadium. The Colts would start the season 3-4, and the struggles would cool my fervor that season. Peyton would turn around the season and take the Colts from 3-4 to 12-4, leading the Colts to another playoff berth with the first game against the Chargers.
Although the regular season would end in a 9 game winning streak, I was skeptical about the Colts’ playoff chances—especially if the game was against the Chargers. The game would be played while I was at my family’s home in DC, in the middle of my parents burgeoning obsession with the Office. Instead of watching a game that would stress me out, I decided to follow my family and watch several episodes of the TV show. After I figured the game to be over, we quit watching the show and put the television on the station the game would be showed. The game was in overtime, and the Chargers appeared to be driving for the winning score. I immediately asked if we could just watch another episode of the Office, we did so, and—after finishing the episode—noticed that the Colts had lost to the Chargers for the second consecutive time. Unlike other years, I was not so upset at this turn in fortune. I had become used to losing in the playoffs, so it was just another season for me. That would change next season.
I graduated in May of 2009 from Mississippi State, and my post-college plans involved staying at home for the summer and then going to Notre Dame for graduate school. My summer was mostly uneventful, but I anticipated my new life at Notre Dame and being in the home state of the Colts. I also started dating a new girl (the third so far in the time span of this essay), who was eager to learn about football from me. The season started as most of them typically did, with the Colts going on a fantastic winning streak. In addition to the Colts winning streak, the Saints—the team that had given me grief two seasons ago—were building a streak of their own. Seeing my facebook feed flood with statuses involving “GO SAINTS” and “WHO DAT!” fueled the rivalry between Saints fans and me. My girlfiend, who I will nickname 3G, was still at Mississippi State; and, with the constant exposure to Saints pandemonium in school and my passion for Peyton’s Colts, she became swept up in NFL football (impressive, considering she only had a vague notion of football through her time at State).
Eventually, the Saints would lose their first game of the season after going 13-0 and lose the remaining games—finishing the season 13-3. Since the Colts did not lose their first game until the following week (and finishing the season 14-2), I felt that I had bragging rights and publicized this opinion to several of my Saints cheering fans. Little did I know this would come back to haunt me.
One of the most important games during the Colts season was the 4th and 2 game against, again, the Patriots. As usual, the game was highly anticipated, as both teams were leading their divisions and contenders for the Super Bowl. The game was played in Indianapolis, but the Patriots quickly took a comfortable lead and held it for most of the game. By midway in the fourth quarter, the Patriots still held a 34-21 lead. The Colts would score a touchdown with two and half minutes to play, making it 34-28 and a one score game. While I had checked the game throughout the night, I had mostly given up on it and only watched it out of morbid curiosity. After that touchdown, the game took my entire attention; and I alerted my girlfriend about the situation online. The ensuing Patriots drive stumbled out of the gate, leading to a 4th and 2 situation on the Patriots’ 28 yard line. Instead of pinning the Colts deep in their own territory, the Patriots elected to go for it to keep the ball away from Peyton’s offense. The attempt failed, and the Colts took the field with plenty of time to take the lead and win the game with a passing touchdown. At some point, I had even put on my Manning jersey just to root for the team. The ending of that game may have been the most exciting football experience I had ever had, even if it was just me by myself in my apartment chatting online with my girlfriend. This was also the game that completely immersed her in the football pandemonium.
As the weeks passed, my confidence increased. In a complete mirror of the 2006 season, I was completely confident of my team’s chances to win the Super Bowl. They captured the first seed in the AFC side of the playoffs. For the first game in the postseason, the Colts faced the Baltimore Ravens again—who struggled to make it to the playoffs and were expected to be an easy victory for the Colts. Predictions came true, and 3G—who had come to see me for the weekend—and I watched an easy victory to which I barely paid attention. Much to my delight, the next day the Patriots would lost to the Jets to set up a favorable Colts matchup for the AFC Championship. I wish I had an amazing story to tell about this game, but I don’t. I don’t remember the AFC Championship at all. I’m not sure if I watched it with a group of friends, by myself, or with 3G. The game was a total blur. Obviously, the Colts won; or I would have remembered the pain.
I do, however, remember the opposing game. The Bret Favre lead Vikings lost to the Saints after another overtime interception that would cost Favre’s team the game. So there it was, I’d finally have my Colts and Peyton play the Saints that I despised so much in the Super Bowl. In much the same way I felt about the previous Super Bowl in which the Colts participated, I was confident my team would prove the victors. This lead me to post several facebook statuses talking trash about the Saints, and the day before the game I changed my profile picture to a one with the Colts logo captioned with the phrase “Dat’s Who!” (a play on the “Who Dat?” chant that is a favorite among Saints fans). Then came the game.
I went to a Super Bowl party hosted by a fellow ND grad student, one that was attended by several people I did not know. The rooting interests of the attendees were fairly one sided, either people really did not care about the teams playing or they rooted for the Colts. One guy wanted the Saints to win, but he was more interested in rooting against the Colts than the Saints’ first championship.
The game started as expected, as the Colts took the lead and held on to it for the entirety of the first half. Still confident in my team at halftime, I had to take note that the Saints had trimmed the lead shortly before the end of the second quarter: the score being 10-6 after the Saints had kicked two field goals in the second quarter. The halftime show was exceptionally dreadful. Most of the partygoers immediately dismissed the performance as a bunch of old guys singing songs nobody cared about; but, since it was the Who, and I liked the Who, I was looking forward to it. Regardless, the sequence was dull: they played the songs everyone knows and seemed bored and unenthusiastic the entire time. I even remarked to a couple that was watching with me how bad it was, “and I was even a Who fan”.
The game took a turn for the worse at the start of the second half, as the Saints kicked an onside kick to achieve possession at the start of play. While my skepticism was beginning to brew at the end of the first half, the annoying halftime show had settled it down; now it was back in full force. I tried to play it cool, but I am sure my sudden pensive and quiet mood was a direct contrast to the jovial and cocky mood I had displayed in the first half. The Saints would score on the ensuing drive, taking the lead at 13-10.
To add to my chagrin, around this time a disgustingly overweight girl showed up to the party. She was from Minnesota and a lifetime Vikings fan. For some reason, she decided to root for the Saints after they had defeated her team two weeks prior. She was one of the fans I can’t stand: the type that says “woo” and “get ‘em” after every single play that results favorably for her team. Two events probably made me “that guy” at the party. The first came after the Saints took the lead for the first time in the game; as people remarked at the change in fortune and the crowd got quiet, I said in a matter-of-fact tone that “Katrina was coming back”. People laughed in that “whoa, I can’t believe he just said that” tone, but I rebutted with saying “I’m from the South, I can say that”. The other one was the Vikings fan. I couldn’t take it. She was too much. After about seven “woo”s when the Saints would gain 3-4 yards on a play, I turned around to her and said “if it weren’t for this team, the Vikings would be in this game, why are you rooting so hard for this team? That’s stupid” or something of that nature. She just looked at me and bleated like a cow. Whatever.
The Colts would take the lead again, and the score would be 17-16 at the end of the third quarter. Sadly, the Saints would take the final lead change off a touchdown and successful two point conversion, making the score 24-17—a touchdown’s difference. As the Colts prepared for their responding drive, I went into full fan mode. My memory is foggy, but I’m pretty sure I stood up and marched around the room claiming that “here comes Hurricane Peyton!”. My New Orleans-hurricane reference wasn’t as clever as the first time, but I did not know that at the time. The drive started out alright, but quickly ended as Peyton would throw an interception returned for a touchdown—effectively sealing the game for the Saints. The final score would be 31-17.
As a Colts fan, this was probably my lowest point. I remember sitting and watching the remainder of the game in stunned silence. I was stoic about my depression, but nothing would shake it—not even a very attractive and very drunk girl hitting on me would console me. When the game ended, I got a bunch of texts from several of my friends exclaiming victory and rubbing my defeat in my face. After I left the party I called my brother and expressed my sorrow. I told him that losing the Super Bowl was the first feeling a football fan can have, Peyton wasn’t the greatest quarterback of all time, and I couldn’t even have Brett Favre to fall back on anymore (which would prove untrue, as he’d return for another exceptionally lackluster season the next). I came back to my apartment and found my facebook page vandalized. One of my friends posted the same post, something about the score I think, over twenty times. In response, I took one of my profile pictures and MS Painted black X’s on my eyes to advertise my defeat.
I was unable to check any sports media for over a week. The combination of my team losing and the painting of the Saints’ as a feel good story by the media, being a perennial bottom dweller for so long and coming back from uncertainty after Katrina, was way too much for me. This may sound extraordinarily ridiculous, but this was a time of great introspection for me as well. I began to realize the possible falseness of a myth I had relied on for several years, that Peyton may not be the greatest quarterback of all time. To add further insult to injury, the game was finished on a complete blunder by Manning—the interception returned for a touchdown at the end of the game. There was no one else to place the blame.
In addition, I questioned why sports were such a phenomenon. Seeing all these people from Mississippi gloat over a team to which they had no real connection—in respect to location, relation, or anything—made me think. For most people, sports are just fun and games; but why should we care whether the teams win or lose? What do we, as fans, really have to gain from winning a championship? Nothing. The journey is quite obviously worth more than the destination; but, why do people such as myself invest so much emotional weight on things that mean nothing in life in general? I can only assume that it is used as an escape for people who are entrenched in the normalcy of their lives. While desk jobs and family life can only bring so much satisfaction, it has a ceiling. Every Sunday, people tune in for a journey in chance and strategy; a chance to relish in victory or bemoan in defeat. While this realization was romantic in a sense, it was also a bit fantastic and pathetic,--in a sense. Upon further self introspection, I’ve realized that I’ve never really been the same since thinking those thoughts. If I were set to task in finding a starting point for my decline of interest in sports, I would probably have to point to the Colts’ loss against the Saints.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Peyton and Me, pt. 1
This year has brought much change to me, in many forms. Not all of these changes have been good; and not all of them have been bad, either. Of all these changes, one of the ones that is probably most obvious on a social level is my dramatic decrease of interest in sports. I used to be crazy about them, from basketball to baseball—although football was always my favorite. I would check ESPN and Yahoo sports more often than I would my facebook. I was always the first one to get the news about certain teams and players. I was known as the “sports guy” to the other students in my major, and I even tried to start a worldwide facebook group in memory of Redskins safety Sean Taylor after he passed (the group topped out at 21 members, unfortunately).
As the years have gone by, unfortunately, my interest in sports has decayed to a point where it is almost non-existent. I cannot pin point the exact reason why. I suppose the decline started with my boredom and frustration with fantasy sports; and it may have also had to do with the fact that many of the friends I was most passionate in discussing sports topics with have pretty much resigned themselves to my past. The deaths of Declan Sullivan and Lizzy Seeburg, along with some other controversial actions by coach Brian Kelly—along with the general entitled attitude Notre Dame fans and students have, catalyzed my falling out of love with Notre Dame athletics to the point that I began publically rooting against the teams. Most of my friends know that I am the eternal skeptic when it comes to Mississippi State athletics, as well, especially after the disappointment of the 2011 football season. I cannot tell you how college basketball in general is going, not even my teams. This is even sadder considering March Madness is approaching. The NBA lockout, LeBron James’ betrayal to his team in Cleveland, and the broader “have and have not” culture in the NBA has made me not pay any attention to the NBA this year on principle. Hockey is another sport to which I barely pay attention; although, I have tried to improve upon this in the past few weeks, to no avail. My interest in baseball faltered after Manny Ramirez was busted for steroids, and it has never recovered.
The only sport that I am currently putting effort into keeping up with is NASCAR. Unfortunately, prolonging my interest is taxing; and I haven’t looked at any news about it since the Phoenix race last Sunday. Even at its best, I suppose that will only be a passing interest when a race is on; although I would like to try to go to a race this year, if I can make it to one.
So, yeah. My only real sports interest is occasionally looking at the football subforum I belong to and talking to my brother about them once in a blue moon. Do I suffer from my lack of interest in sports? Not really. The only problem I notice due to this change is that my brother and I seem to have less things to talk about. Once every three days or so, he will message me about a basketball or hockey topic—to which I just shrug my shoulders and send him a noncommittal or half-interested reply. I once sent him a message dealing with NASCAR, but he did not reply; and, knowing his lack of interest, I decided not to send him another message about it.
The reason I bring up the subject of my loss of interest in sports is to contrast it with something that has been steadfast: my admiration of Peyton Manning and the Indianapolis Colts. For more than half of my life, I have supported the Colts and rooted for Peyton. I have been there for the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Now that he’s left the team with whom he started his professional career, I feel it’s just another puzzle piece in the change in my life. Dramatic sounding? Sure. To anyone who doesn’t know me, that may even sound crazy. However, Peyton and the Colts have almost been a bedrock for me in some of my most turbulent years; and, after reading this, I hope you will understand why.
I first learned of Peyton Manning during his time at Tennessee. As starting quarterback, he would lead the Volunteers to both regional and national prominence; although he would never capture a national title on the college level. When I would brag to my mom about how a Southern team was doing so well nationally (a big deal at the time, while most of my friends and family rooted for the regional teams, I would always focus on the bigger picture. So when a regional team was making moves on the national level, I was surprised by this clash of two worlds), she would take note that it was Peyton Manning who was leading the way. She mentioned to me that she knew he would go on to great things because she remembered how much of a fan she was for Archie Manning (Peyton’s father) back in the day. This was the first time I really knew of Peyton Manning as an entity outside of a guy with a helmet on the field.
During his senior season, it became apparent to me—even as a 5th grader—as it did to my mom that he would go on to greater things. I predicted that he would not only be considered for the Heisman, but also would probably be the first pick of the 98 NFL draft. While he would only be runner up to Michigan cornerback Charles Woodson for the Heisman, my suspicions would prove to be correct about Manning’s being picked number one in the draft. The day after, I recall telling a couple of my classmates that, although the Colts finished the previous season a dismal 3-13, in a few years the Colts would be great; and Peyton would lead the way. This was a big thing for me to say, as at the time I was jumping from team to team—focusing on who was winning more. I wanted to be right, naturally, so I started rooting for the Colts that day forward—even if I knew that there would be some bumpy roads ahead.
While I wish I could say that I followed the Colts extensively from that day on, I would be lying if I did. In fact, for the most part I lost interest in football for close to 7 or 8 years. Two things spurred the return of my interest in football, and they both happened coincidentally at close times. The first occurred late in the summer of 2005, shortly before I started college. I walked into the local Blockbuster and noticed a life-size cut-out of Peyton Manning sitting next to one of the aisles. As silly as it sounds, the cut-out reminded me of football and how much I was excited about his drafting status. I became curious about Peyton’s career, and I decided I should follow the Colts and the upcoming season with more attention than I had paid it in the past few years. The second event that really catalyzed my interest in football was moving into college with my freshman year roommate. Like me, he had also recently taken an interest in football (attending school at an SEC university helped motivate him). In addition to playing Madden 06 and attending MS State football games, he would keep the television on ESPN often and took particular interest in the NFL season. Through osmosis and the sentiment spurred from viewing that cut-out, I did the same and focused on the Colts.
What also helped my burgeoning interest in football was the luck that I started following the team seriously during one of their best seasons. If memory succeeds me, I first started keeping up with the NFL that season during its week. One thing that I do not need to struggle to remember is that the Colts were undefeated at the inception of my interest. Granted--as most football fans and sports fans in general know--a 3-0 start is good, but nothing to write home about. The Colts would go on to win game after game, 4-0, 5-0, and on. I started to look forward to Sundays and Mondays with anticipation. Considering that these games were at the start of the week, I would use a Colts win as a symbol that my week started off on a good note. I also started knocking off the other undefeated opponents when they lost, and priding the Colts even further.
Soon, the Colts were the only undefeated team left standing that season, and my fandomship of the team and Peyton became full blown. At the time, I was going to my hometown in Vicksburg (about a three hour trip) nearly every weekend—both to take care of my ailing grandmother and to see my girlfriend at the time. As the Colts continued to gain momentum, the local broadcasting company would televise Colts games every week. For early games (usually noon in the Central time zone), I had an established routine on how I would watch the games. I’d watch the first two hours of the game while I packed, then at two I would leave and catch the remaining highlights when I got back to my dorm that night. If the game was a later game, I would rush to my place as soon as possible so I could catch the latter part of the game. This was every weekend, and seeing the Colts win each week was almost something I counted on.
The first major victory I watched was the game versus the Patriots that season. Although my football interest was still in its rookie season, I had become well aware of the hype surrounding this matchup. At this point, the Patriots had the Colts number practically every time they met; however, this season both teams were headed in opposite directions—the Colts being the early favorites for the championship, and the Patriots struggling as a team with a few losses. I bought into the hype and counted down the days until the game—telling my girlfriend, family members, and close friends about my excitement. My hype was not disappointed, as the Colts kept control of the game the entire time. My eternal skepticism showed, though, as I waited until the very end before instigating any form of gloating.
As anyone who wants to check the Colts season online will tell you, the 2005 season also lead to my first few disappointments. The winning streak would only go for 13 games. I remember the first loss, at home against the Chargers. I had decided to watch the game with my girlfriend at the time; and, while I was disappointed in the loss, I took solace in the fact that the Chargers were not going to be a playoff team. My seriousness in following the Colts continued, as I even skipped the once in a lifetime opportunity to attend a Redskins/Giants game that Christmas holiday so I could watch the Colts play the Seahawks on television (another loss, but Peyton only played the first couple of drives, and a questionable decision by myself as I later think about it). My first real crushing disappointment would come a couple of weeks later, during the first playoffs of my fandomship.
The playoffs started well, as my home team Redskins upset the Buccaneers and the Steelers defeated the Bengals—setting up the first matchup for the first Colts game. The Patriots would go on to lose to the Broncos the day before the Steelers/Colts matchup, further enhancing my excitement. I planned to watch the Steelers beatdown the next day with my girlfriend. I put on my newly acquired Manning jersey and hat and got excited…to watch the Steelers take complete control of the first half. I won’t lie, I went ballistic. I could not believe this was happening, the Steelers were terrible; how could they be beating my Colts? The fact the Colts could lose in their first game was mind numbing to me. The team regrouped and came back to make the game competitive in the second half, and I bought into their effort; but it was not enough. Then, a near miracle happened. The Colts were down by a field goal in the closing seconds of the game, the Steelers had possession and were close to the end zone to put the final touches on the game. Jerome Bettis, a running back known for his superb ball handling skills, was set to run it through the middle and hopefully score the touchdown. At this point, I was crushed with the realization of defeat—lying on the couch with my face toward the cushions; so I could not face the defeat. I hear the crowd start cheering wildly and quickly look towards the screen. Sure enough, a defensive lineman (I fail to recall who it was, it might have been Robert Mathis or Dwight Freeney) had struck the ball with his helmet and knocked it out of Bettis’ grip. Nick Harper recovered the fumble and returned the ball about twenty yards before Ben Roethlisberger shoe-stringed tackled him. I was ecstatic, the Colts had the ball with plenty of time to take the lead or at least force it to overtime. Alas, it was not meant to be. Peyton and the offense put the ball in field goal range, and Mike Vanderjagt shanked it wide right. I collapsed in sheer disappointment on my girlfriend’s floor. Abruptly, my first season with the Colts was over.
That summer would lead to the departure of several of the players I enjoyed watching, namely Edgerin James. I knew that I would unshakingly support my Colts, but I was not as confident in a championship as I had been the former season. I told my brother that I was just hoping for a playoff berth. Even more interestingly, I soon learned that the Colts would be playing the Giants in the opening game of the 2006 season. This was just great, my brother—coincidentally—was a Giants fan; since Eli (Peyton’s brother, for those not in the know) was on the team. As the game approached, my brother started talking smack to me over the internet. I took the high road for once in my life and told him we would see how it unfolds on the field, mostly because I was not as confident in my team’s chances. My anxiety on how the game would approach made me not even watch it; although, that may have also been due to that year being the hardest I have ever worked on my studies in college, and I may have wanted to finish up my homework instead of wasting my time watching a game.
Sure enough, the Colts won the game; and my brother had to concede defeat. While I was content in victory, my bad feelings about the season would lead me to become a very critical fan. If Peyton’s numbers weren’t impressive—even in a victory—I would shake my head in shame. This drove my friends and family up a wall; it was as if I could never be happy. The Colts would go on to win only the first nine games that season, initially losing to the upstart Cowboys. I went into the playoffs that season with not even a quarter of the confidence I had the previous season, although the Colts would finish the season at a respectable 12-4. Along with that record, however, was the worst rush defense in the league. That defense would be primarily responsible for the 44-17 evisceration the Colts received at the hand of the Jaguars and Maurice Jones Drew. That game in particular left me fuming and ready to throw that season into the trash.
An interesting story about that season came with the Jets game early on. My girlfriend was in college at this point, but I was still making bi-weekly trips to visit my grandmother. My routine for watching early day Colts games was still intact. The night before the game, I had a dream of Peyton scoring a rushing touchdown. Peyton Manning is considered one of the most immobile quarterbacks in the league, so this idea was silly. Sure enough, however, one of the touchdowns that put the Colts ahead of the Jets was a quarterback sneak into the endzone, or a Peyton Manning rushing touchdown. I smirked at the coincidence of my dream and this occurrence.
Another point to note about this season is that Peyton received a hit during the game against the Washington Redskins that would initiate the lingering neck pain injury he would suffer through the rest of his career with the Colts. My mom even called me about it, as I was—again—not watching the game due to homework. I don’t recall the exact details of the conversation, but she knew I would appreciate the news that Peyton might be hurt. I did, even though he would come back in the game after sitting out a drive and win the game.
The 2006 postseason was a memory I’ll keep with me for the rest of my life. Sadly, not all of my association is positive. I had broken up with my girlfriend (the same one from earlier) shortly before the start of the season, and—although we dated for well over a year—she was already seeing another guy. The end of my first serious relationship was crushing to me, and I was unfortunately viewing the Colts playoff chances in as much of a negative fashion.
The first game came against the Chiefs. It was an early day game the day I was scheduled to come back to Mississippi from the D.C. area, where my immediate family resided at the time. The Chiefs had one of the best rushing attacks in the league, so many analysts were calling the Chiefs to win the game—even if they were the underdogs. Regardless of my ill feelings toward the matchup, I wore my Manning jersey to the airport. I was able to catch the first play of the game on an airport television before boarding my flight. Larry Johnson, the Chiefs running back, was stuffed at the line by the Colts defensive line. While it wasn’t much, the play gave me a good feeling as I boarded the plane. I did another play from the game, but I heard from my family after the flight that the Colts won the game decidedly.
The next week’s game was against the Baltimore Ravens, one of the strongest defenses in the league. The game was scheduled to be played before the Saints/Eagles game, one that carried more interest to my peers. I went to a friend’s house to watch both games, although I had nearly zero interest in the Saints game afterwards. The Colts won a slugfest that resulted in only field goals, but it was good enough for me. I watched the Saints game with several of my friends and made a total fool of myself, saying one of the most iconic and offensive things I’ve ever said in public which I will not repeat here (but you can ask me or any of my friends about it if you are curious, they know what I’m talking about, it involves “roughing the passer”).
The next game would be against the Patriots in the AFC championship. No parties for this one, although I made sure to finish all of my homework and other duties so I could sit down and watch the game. The Patriots would take a commanding lead early on and hold on to it for most of the game. I remember at halftime I was really upset, calling my mom for one of my typical rants. She told me not to give up hope, and my brother added that the Colts had been a “comeback team” all season (a thought that had never crossed my mind, surprisingly). I watched the game in a defeated mood; but, in one of the more spectacular moments in NFL history, the Colts would come back to win the game. I still have the memories of Joseph Addai’s lead-taking touchdown and the Marlon Jackson interception that sealed the game visualized in my mind. I finished watching the game ecstatic, my Colts were going to the Super Bowl!
As the years have gone by, unfortunately, my interest in sports has decayed to a point where it is almost non-existent. I cannot pin point the exact reason why. I suppose the decline started with my boredom and frustration with fantasy sports; and it may have also had to do with the fact that many of the friends I was most passionate in discussing sports topics with have pretty much resigned themselves to my past. The deaths of Declan Sullivan and Lizzy Seeburg, along with some other controversial actions by coach Brian Kelly—along with the general entitled attitude Notre Dame fans and students have, catalyzed my falling out of love with Notre Dame athletics to the point that I began publically rooting against the teams. Most of my friends know that I am the eternal skeptic when it comes to Mississippi State athletics, as well, especially after the disappointment of the 2011 football season. I cannot tell you how college basketball in general is going, not even my teams. This is even sadder considering March Madness is approaching. The NBA lockout, LeBron James’ betrayal to his team in Cleveland, and the broader “have and have not” culture in the NBA has made me not pay any attention to the NBA this year on principle. Hockey is another sport to which I barely pay attention; although, I have tried to improve upon this in the past few weeks, to no avail. My interest in baseball faltered after Manny Ramirez was busted for steroids, and it has never recovered.
The only sport that I am currently putting effort into keeping up with is NASCAR. Unfortunately, prolonging my interest is taxing; and I haven’t looked at any news about it since the Phoenix race last Sunday. Even at its best, I suppose that will only be a passing interest when a race is on; although I would like to try to go to a race this year, if I can make it to one.
So, yeah. My only real sports interest is occasionally looking at the football subforum I belong to and talking to my brother about them once in a blue moon. Do I suffer from my lack of interest in sports? Not really. The only problem I notice due to this change is that my brother and I seem to have less things to talk about. Once every three days or so, he will message me about a basketball or hockey topic—to which I just shrug my shoulders and send him a noncommittal or half-interested reply. I once sent him a message dealing with NASCAR, but he did not reply; and, knowing his lack of interest, I decided not to send him another message about it.
The reason I bring up the subject of my loss of interest in sports is to contrast it with something that has been steadfast: my admiration of Peyton Manning and the Indianapolis Colts. For more than half of my life, I have supported the Colts and rooted for Peyton. I have been there for the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Now that he’s left the team with whom he started his professional career, I feel it’s just another puzzle piece in the change in my life. Dramatic sounding? Sure. To anyone who doesn’t know me, that may even sound crazy. However, Peyton and the Colts have almost been a bedrock for me in some of my most turbulent years; and, after reading this, I hope you will understand why.
I first learned of Peyton Manning during his time at Tennessee. As starting quarterback, he would lead the Volunteers to both regional and national prominence; although he would never capture a national title on the college level. When I would brag to my mom about how a Southern team was doing so well nationally (a big deal at the time, while most of my friends and family rooted for the regional teams, I would always focus on the bigger picture. So when a regional team was making moves on the national level, I was surprised by this clash of two worlds), she would take note that it was Peyton Manning who was leading the way. She mentioned to me that she knew he would go on to great things because she remembered how much of a fan she was for Archie Manning (Peyton’s father) back in the day. This was the first time I really knew of Peyton Manning as an entity outside of a guy with a helmet on the field.
During his senior season, it became apparent to me—even as a 5th grader—as it did to my mom that he would go on to greater things. I predicted that he would not only be considered for the Heisman, but also would probably be the first pick of the 98 NFL draft. While he would only be runner up to Michigan cornerback Charles Woodson for the Heisman, my suspicions would prove to be correct about Manning’s being picked number one in the draft. The day after, I recall telling a couple of my classmates that, although the Colts finished the previous season a dismal 3-13, in a few years the Colts would be great; and Peyton would lead the way. This was a big thing for me to say, as at the time I was jumping from team to team—focusing on who was winning more. I wanted to be right, naturally, so I started rooting for the Colts that day forward—even if I knew that there would be some bumpy roads ahead.
While I wish I could say that I followed the Colts extensively from that day on, I would be lying if I did. In fact, for the most part I lost interest in football for close to 7 or 8 years. Two things spurred the return of my interest in football, and they both happened coincidentally at close times. The first occurred late in the summer of 2005, shortly before I started college. I walked into the local Blockbuster and noticed a life-size cut-out of Peyton Manning sitting next to one of the aisles. As silly as it sounds, the cut-out reminded me of football and how much I was excited about his drafting status. I became curious about Peyton’s career, and I decided I should follow the Colts and the upcoming season with more attention than I had paid it in the past few years. The second event that really catalyzed my interest in football was moving into college with my freshman year roommate. Like me, he had also recently taken an interest in football (attending school at an SEC university helped motivate him). In addition to playing Madden 06 and attending MS State football games, he would keep the television on ESPN often and took particular interest in the NFL season. Through osmosis and the sentiment spurred from viewing that cut-out, I did the same and focused on the Colts.
What also helped my burgeoning interest in football was the luck that I started following the team seriously during one of their best seasons. If memory succeeds me, I first started keeping up with the NFL that season during its week. One thing that I do not need to struggle to remember is that the Colts were undefeated at the inception of my interest. Granted--as most football fans and sports fans in general know--a 3-0 start is good, but nothing to write home about. The Colts would go on to win game after game, 4-0, 5-0, and on. I started to look forward to Sundays and Mondays with anticipation. Considering that these games were at the start of the week, I would use a Colts win as a symbol that my week started off on a good note. I also started knocking off the other undefeated opponents when they lost, and priding the Colts even further.
Soon, the Colts were the only undefeated team left standing that season, and my fandomship of the team and Peyton became full blown. At the time, I was going to my hometown in Vicksburg (about a three hour trip) nearly every weekend—both to take care of my ailing grandmother and to see my girlfriend at the time. As the Colts continued to gain momentum, the local broadcasting company would televise Colts games every week. For early games (usually noon in the Central time zone), I had an established routine on how I would watch the games. I’d watch the first two hours of the game while I packed, then at two I would leave and catch the remaining highlights when I got back to my dorm that night. If the game was a later game, I would rush to my place as soon as possible so I could catch the latter part of the game. This was every weekend, and seeing the Colts win each week was almost something I counted on.
The first major victory I watched was the game versus the Patriots that season. Although my football interest was still in its rookie season, I had become well aware of the hype surrounding this matchup. At this point, the Patriots had the Colts number practically every time they met; however, this season both teams were headed in opposite directions—the Colts being the early favorites for the championship, and the Patriots struggling as a team with a few losses. I bought into the hype and counted down the days until the game—telling my girlfriend, family members, and close friends about my excitement. My hype was not disappointed, as the Colts kept control of the game the entire time. My eternal skepticism showed, though, as I waited until the very end before instigating any form of gloating.
As anyone who wants to check the Colts season online will tell you, the 2005 season also lead to my first few disappointments. The winning streak would only go for 13 games. I remember the first loss, at home against the Chargers. I had decided to watch the game with my girlfriend at the time; and, while I was disappointed in the loss, I took solace in the fact that the Chargers were not going to be a playoff team. My seriousness in following the Colts continued, as I even skipped the once in a lifetime opportunity to attend a Redskins/Giants game that Christmas holiday so I could watch the Colts play the Seahawks on television (another loss, but Peyton only played the first couple of drives, and a questionable decision by myself as I later think about it). My first real crushing disappointment would come a couple of weeks later, during the first playoffs of my fandomship.
The playoffs started well, as my home team Redskins upset the Buccaneers and the Steelers defeated the Bengals—setting up the first matchup for the first Colts game. The Patriots would go on to lose to the Broncos the day before the Steelers/Colts matchup, further enhancing my excitement. I planned to watch the Steelers beatdown the next day with my girlfriend. I put on my newly acquired Manning jersey and hat and got excited…to watch the Steelers take complete control of the first half. I won’t lie, I went ballistic. I could not believe this was happening, the Steelers were terrible; how could they be beating my Colts? The fact the Colts could lose in their first game was mind numbing to me. The team regrouped and came back to make the game competitive in the second half, and I bought into their effort; but it was not enough. Then, a near miracle happened. The Colts were down by a field goal in the closing seconds of the game, the Steelers had possession and were close to the end zone to put the final touches on the game. Jerome Bettis, a running back known for his superb ball handling skills, was set to run it through the middle and hopefully score the touchdown. At this point, I was crushed with the realization of defeat—lying on the couch with my face toward the cushions; so I could not face the defeat. I hear the crowd start cheering wildly and quickly look towards the screen. Sure enough, a defensive lineman (I fail to recall who it was, it might have been Robert Mathis or Dwight Freeney) had struck the ball with his helmet and knocked it out of Bettis’ grip. Nick Harper recovered the fumble and returned the ball about twenty yards before Ben Roethlisberger shoe-stringed tackled him. I was ecstatic, the Colts had the ball with plenty of time to take the lead or at least force it to overtime. Alas, it was not meant to be. Peyton and the offense put the ball in field goal range, and Mike Vanderjagt shanked it wide right. I collapsed in sheer disappointment on my girlfriend’s floor. Abruptly, my first season with the Colts was over.
That summer would lead to the departure of several of the players I enjoyed watching, namely Edgerin James. I knew that I would unshakingly support my Colts, but I was not as confident in a championship as I had been the former season. I told my brother that I was just hoping for a playoff berth. Even more interestingly, I soon learned that the Colts would be playing the Giants in the opening game of the 2006 season. This was just great, my brother—coincidentally—was a Giants fan; since Eli (Peyton’s brother, for those not in the know) was on the team. As the game approached, my brother started talking smack to me over the internet. I took the high road for once in my life and told him we would see how it unfolds on the field, mostly because I was not as confident in my team’s chances. My anxiety on how the game would approach made me not even watch it; although, that may have also been due to that year being the hardest I have ever worked on my studies in college, and I may have wanted to finish up my homework instead of wasting my time watching a game.
Sure enough, the Colts won the game; and my brother had to concede defeat. While I was content in victory, my bad feelings about the season would lead me to become a very critical fan. If Peyton’s numbers weren’t impressive—even in a victory—I would shake my head in shame. This drove my friends and family up a wall; it was as if I could never be happy. The Colts would go on to win only the first nine games that season, initially losing to the upstart Cowboys. I went into the playoffs that season with not even a quarter of the confidence I had the previous season, although the Colts would finish the season at a respectable 12-4. Along with that record, however, was the worst rush defense in the league. That defense would be primarily responsible for the 44-17 evisceration the Colts received at the hand of the Jaguars and Maurice Jones Drew. That game in particular left me fuming and ready to throw that season into the trash.
An interesting story about that season came with the Jets game early on. My girlfriend was in college at this point, but I was still making bi-weekly trips to visit my grandmother. My routine for watching early day Colts games was still intact. The night before the game, I had a dream of Peyton scoring a rushing touchdown. Peyton Manning is considered one of the most immobile quarterbacks in the league, so this idea was silly. Sure enough, however, one of the touchdowns that put the Colts ahead of the Jets was a quarterback sneak into the endzone, or a Peyton Manning rushing touchdown. I smirked at the coincidence of my dream and this occurrence.
Another point to note about this season is that Peyton received a hit during the game against the Washington Redskins that would initiate the lingering neck pain injury he would suffer through the rest of his career with the Colts. My mom even called me about it, as I was—again—not watching the game due to homework. I don’t recall the exact details of the conversation, but she knew I would appreciate the news that Peyton might be hurt. I did, even though he would come back in the game after sitting out a drive and win the game.
The 2006 postseason was a memory I’ll keep with me for the rest of my life. Sadly, not all of my association is positive. I had broken up with my girlfriend (the same one from earlier) shortly before the start of the season, and—although we dated for well over a year—she was already seeing another guy. The end of my first serious relationship was crushing to me, and I was unfortunately viewing the Colts playoff chances in as much of a negative fashion.
The first game came against the Chiefs. It was an early day game the day I was scheduled to come back to Mississippi from the D.C. area, where my immediate family resided at the time. The Chiefs had one of the best rushing attacks in the league, so many analysts were calling the Chiefs to win the game—even if they were the underdogs. Regardless of my ill feelings toward the matchup, I wore my Manning jersey to the airport. I was able to catch the first play of the game on an airport television before boarding my flight. Larry Johnson, the Chiefs running back, was stuffed at the line by the Colts defensive line. While it wasn’t much, the play gave me a good feeling as I boarded the plane. I did another play from the game, but I heard from my family after the flight that the Colts won the game decidedly.
The next week’s game was against the Baltimore Ravens, one of the strongest defenses in the league. The game was scheduled to be played before the Saints/Eagles game, one that carried more interest to my peers. I went to a friend’s house to watch both games, although I had nearly zero interest in the Saints game afterwards. The Colts won a slugfest that resulted in only field goals, but it was good enough for me. I watched the Saints game with several of my friends and made a total fool of myself, saying one of the most iconic and offensive things I’ve ever said in public which I will not repeat here (but you can ask me or any of my friends about it if you are curious, they know what I’m talking about, it involves “roughing the passer”).
The next game would be against the Patriots in the AFC championship. No parties for this one, although I made sure to finish all of my homework and other duties so I could sit down and watch the game. The Patriots would take a commanding lead early on and hold on to it for most of the game. I remember at halftime I was really upset, calling my mom for one of my typical rants. She told me not to give up hope, and my brother added that the Colts had been a “comeback team” all season (a thought that had never crossed my mind, surprisingly). I watched the game in a defeated mood; but, in one of the more spectacular moments in NFL history, the Colts would come back to win the game. I still have the memories of Joseph Addai’s lead-taking touchdown and the Marlon Jackson interception that sealed the game visualized in my mind. I finished watching the game ecstatic, my Colts were going to the Super Bowl!
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Tales from the Crypt: Dig that Cat..He's Real Gone!
Viewed: Like two weeks ago.
Season/Episode: 01/03
Appeared in: Haunt of Fear #21
Did I read the issue?: Yes
Changes from the comic to the TV episode: Added a love interest, emphasized less on the deaths, removed a crucial foreshadowing element from the comic.
Synopsis: Carnival side show act tells the story of his fortune while suffocating from being buried alive. A doctor had found him while he was a homeless bum and offered him cash to be a part of an experiment. The experiment, a success, was to add the gland that gives cats nine lives to a human--effectively giving the human nine lives. Doctor proves that the man now has multiple lives, as the man comes back to life after being shot to death by the doctor; and together they start taking advantage of this peculiarity by becoming a carnival side-show. Both become very successful, but said success drives the protagonist to kill the doctor so he can keep the profits to himself. As the man finishes telling his tale, he realizes that he has never factored in the fact that the cat dying to give up its gland was one of the deaths. Terror overcomes the protagonist as he realizes he will soon die.
Highs: Acting is not too bad. Robert Wuhl does a really good job. Comical direction is unique, adds to the "carnival" feel of the episode, and makes this a light hearted--yet gruesome--episode.
Lows: Writing for the episode surprisingly ignores a key point in the comic, removing an element of foreshadowing. Still slightly boring.
Views: As I continue to watch this Tales from the Crypt, I confirm to myself that this never really was a very good show. That being said, this episode has been my favorite so far; and I don't have much to say about it. The writers go out of their way to imagine creative deaths for the protagonist to undertake and provide a bit of social satire: people love violence, and would not think twice about having the opportunity to kill a man or watch him die if the consequences were removed. Why not profit from people's macabre love of violence?
Still, the episode drags and comes across as boring. Maybe when (and if) I watch an episode inspired by a comic I have not read before I will enjoy it more for what it's worth. Until then, I do have one point of complaint, however. In the comic, when the protagonist sacrifices one of his lives by killing himself and the doctor in a car wreck, the doctor gives the protagonist a knowing--and evil--smile. For the rest of the story, the cat-man ponders the meaning of that smile; and the reason for it dawns on him right before he realizes his doom. I have no real understanding why they removed that from the television version of this story, as it would have added an element of suspense.
Not a bad episode, but still nothing to get excited about.
Rating: 2.75 out of 5 stars.
Season/Episode: 01/03
Appeared in: Haunt of Fear #21
Did I read the issue?: Yes
Changes from the comic to the TV episode: Added a love interest, emphasized less on the deaths, removed a crucial foreshadowing element from the comic.
Synopsis: Carnival side show act tells the story of his fortune while suffocating from being buried alive. A doctor had found him while he was a homeless bum and offered him cash to be a part of an experiment. The experiment, a success, was to add the gland that gives cats nine lives to a human--effectively giving the human nine lives. Doctor proves that the man now has multiple lives, as the man comes back to life after being shot to death by the doctor; and together they start taking advantage of this peculiarity by becoming a carnival side-show. Both become very successful, but said success drives the protagonist to kill the doctor so he can keep the profits to himself. As the man finishes telling his tale, he realizes that he has never factored in the fact that the cat dying to give up its gland was one of the deaths. Terror overcomes the protagonist as he realizes he will soon die.
Highs: Acting is not too bad. Robert Wuhl does a really good job. Comical direction is unique, adds to the "carnival" feel of the episode, and makes this a light hearted--yet gruesome--episode.
Lows: Writing for the episode surprisingly ignores a key point in the comic, removing an element of foreshadowing. Still slightly boring.
Views: As I continue to watch this Tales from the Crypt, I confirm to myself that this never really was a very good show. That being said, this episode has been my favorite so far; and I don't have much to say about it. The writers go out of their way to imagine creative deaths for the protagonist to undertake and provide a bit of social satire: people love violence, and would not think twice about having the opportunity to kill a man or watch him die if the consequences were removed. Why not profit from people's macabre love of violence?
Still, the episode drags and comes across as boring. Maybe when (and if) I watch an episode inspired by a comic I have not read before I will enjoy it more for what it's worth. Until then, I do have one point of complaint, however. In the comic, when the protagonist sacrifices one of his lives by killing himself and the doctor in a car wreck, the doctor gives the protagonist a knowing--and evil--smile. For the rest of the story, the cat-man ponders the meaning of that smile; and the reason for it dawns on him right before he realizes his doom. I have no real understanding why they removed that from the television version of this story, as it would have added an element of suspense.
Not a bad episode, but still nothing to get excited about.
Rating: 2.75 out of 5 stars.
Tales from the Crypt: And All Through the House (TV Episode)
Viewed: Late February early in the morning
Season/Episode: 01/02
Christmas Episode Status: Yes
Christmas Episode Already?: Yes
Comic this came from: Vault of Horror #35
Read it?: Yes
Variation from the original: Not too much. A couple of changes from the original to add a new plot twist, but not much besides that.
Synopsis: Wife and mother of one daughter kills her husband during the Christmas holidays. Unfortunately, she decides to commit the deed the the night a psychopathic killer--who only targets adult females--escapes the (conveniently) nearby asylum. Further coincidence ensures that the psychopath has decided upon the murdering housewife to be his prey, creating a difficult situation for the wife: she could call the police, but she happens to have her dead husband lying around. As a plot twist, the daughter--fast asleep throughout the events of the story--allows the antagonist in the house.
Highs: The make up on the psychopath does a great job at making the character look disgusting, which can be assumed to be a good thing. Also a scene where the wife is trapped in a closet and the escapee looks into the window during his climb up a ladder can is actually considerably creepy.
Lows: The poor acting really detracts from the episode. The themes and absurdity of the plot clashes with the general feel of the show.
Views: I question why the producers decided to make this story an episode. The first episode, the Man Who Was Death (see my review earlier), achieved the attitude for which this show was going: adult takes on a children's horror comic. Keeping that general approach in mind, "And All Through the House" would be an episode the producers would avoid at all costs. The story itself reeks of self-parody, as the comic's story is pretty much exactly what the episode's was. However, the comic story came out long after the EC comics had established themselves; the show's take, on the other hand, is only the second episode. The first season of a television show should be about establishing its footing and making a name for itself, not already creating a self parody with what is honestly a goofy "evil Santa" gimmick. Think "Santa's Slay" with Bill Goldberg, and you would get the idea. That movie was terrible, and this episode was pretty terrible as well.
The episode failed to be scary, except for the scene mentioned in the Highs section. The acting was atrocious, and the fact that almost the entire acting load is carried by a fairly mediocre actress really accentuates her weaknesses. Spoiler: Demi Moore stars in an episode in the second season. I'm not really sure if Demi Moore is generally considered a great actress or not, but she apparently has demonstrated enough competence to land her some lead roles--which is more than you can say about several of the actresses who also performed on this show. If the creators of this show can land a talent like her, then use those resources to sign an actress who can perform roles such as this convincingly.
Other than that, I do not really have much else to say about this episode. It was boring and predictable. The only original direction the writers took with the story involved something small. In the comic, the wife kept the body in the house; and the presence of the body prevented her to be able to call the police when the psychopath showed. In the episode, she dumps the body outside beforehand--allowing her to call the cops and blame the dead husband on the psychopath. While I laud the innovation in storytelling, the change does not make much sense; it undermines a plot convenience in the original story and makes it less believable that cops would get involved.
One neat thing I liked about the story involves the Crypt Keepers closing remarks. Although the girl invites the psycho Santa in the house, CK makes sure to notify that the girl was not hurt by him. I do not remember much from the original comic; but I do remember that the Vault Keeper (the original teller of the story, a discussion for another day) said the same thing, as I was curious about this detail myself.
Overall, a boring episode that I was eager to finish five minutes after it began.
Rating: 1.75 out of 5 stars.
Season/Episode: 01/02
Christmas Episode Status: Yes
Christmas Episode Already?: Yes
Comic this came from: Vault of Horror #35
Read it?: Yes
Variation from the original: Not too much. A couple of changes from the original to add a new plot twist, but not much besides that.
Synopsis: Wife and mother of one daughter kills her husband during the Christmas holidays. Unfortunately, she decides to commit the deed the the night a psychopathic killer--who only targets adult females--escapes the (conveniently) nearby asylum. Further coincidence ensures that the psychopath has decided upon the murdering housewife to be his prey, creating a difficult situation for the wife: she could call the police, but she happens to have her dead husband lying around. As a plot twist, the daughter--fast asleep throughout the events of the story--allows the antagonist in the house.
Highs: The make up on the psychopath does a great job at making the character look disgusting, which can be assumed to be a good thing. Also a scene where the wife is trapped in a closet and the escapee looks into the window during his climb up a ladder can is actually considerably creepy.
Lows: The poor acting really detracts from the episode. The themes and absurdity of the plot clashes with the general feel of the show.
Views: I question why the producers decided to make this story an episode. The first episode, the Man Who Was Death (see my review earlier), achieved the attitude for which this show was going: adult takes on a children's horror comic. Keeping that general approach in mind, "And All Through the House" would be an episode the producers would avoid at all costs. The story itself reeks of self-parody, as the comic's story is pretty much exactly what the episode's was. However, the comic story came out long after the EC comics had established themselves; the show's take, on the other hand, is only the second episode. The first season of a television show should be about establishing its footing and making a name for itself, not already creating a self parody with what is honestly a goofy "evil Santa" gimmick. Think "Santa's Slay" with Bill Goldberg, and you would get the idea. That movie was terrible, and this episode was pretty terrible as well.
The episode failed to be scary, except for the scene mentioned in the Highs section. The acting was atrocious, and the fact that almost the entire acting load is carried by a fairly mediocre actress really accentuates her weaknesses. Spoiler: Demi Moore stars in an episode in the second season. I'm not really sure if Demi Moore is generally considered a great actress or not, but she apparently has demonstrated enough competence to land her some lead roles--which is more than you can say about several of the actresses who also performed on this show. If the creators of this show can land a talent like her, then use those resources to sign an actress who can perform roles such as this convincingly.
Other than that, I do not really have much else to say about this episode. It was boring and predictable. The only original direction the writers took with the story involved something small. In the comic, the wife kept the body in the house; and the presence of the body prevented her to be able to call the police when the psychopath showed. In the episode, she dumps the body outside beforehand--allowing her to call the cops and blame the dead husband on the psychopath. While I laud the innovation in storytelling, the change does not make much sense; it undermines a plot convenience in the original story and makes it less believable that cops would get involved.
One neat thing I liked about the story involves the Crypt Keepers closing remarks. Although the girl invites the psycho Santa in the house, CK makes sure to notify that the girl was not hurt by him. I do not remember much from the original comic; but I do remember that the Vault Keeper (the original teller of the story, a discussion for another day) said the same thing, as I was curious about this detail myself.
Overall, a boring episode that I was eager to finish five minutes after it began.
Rating: 1.75 out of 5 stars.
Cyrus (movie)
Viewed: 03.07.2012
Running time: About 90 minutes
Price of view: Free (I got it from the LIBRARY!!!)
Would I have paid to watch it?: Yes, surprisingly. Though maybe not too much.
Synopsis: John (John C. Reilly) has been divorced for over 7 years and sees no prospects in life, specifically in his love life. After deciding to go to a party at the request of his ex-wife, John meets his love interest: Molly (Marisa Tomei). After they begin seeing each other, John is introduced to Cyrus (Jonah Hill)--Molly's unusually dependent son who has lived with her his entire life (although he is 21). Throughout the rest of the film, John, Molly, and Cyrus learn to adapt in having new people in their lives and the change involved in the process.
Highs: The style of the film. The ad-lib, "mumble" style dialogue. Marisa Tomei's character. "Uncomfortable" style of humor done well. Well written characterization, including female characters.
Lows: No minorities at all. One noticeable loose plot thread. Lack of real direction at times.
Undecided: The choice of John C. Reilly as the main character.
Views: I was pleasantly surprised with this film. Although I remember hearing about it in 2010 and wanting to see it, I picked it up assuming it would not be very good. I was wrong. The movie starts out strong and really does not stop until the end. Unfortunately, Cyrus easily draws a split opinion depending on the tastes of the audience. I for one, find favor in the indie-chic style of the film, with its quick, amateurish cuts of the camera and ad-lib dialog reminiscent of early Kevin Smith films and primary focus as a character drama. Others, who may expect more bang for their buck--both in more polished writing and cinematography along with more dynamic plot elements, will definitely hate the film. Critics may cite that the film really goes nowhere, and they would have a legitimate argument in that regard. Bluntly looking upon the film, it defines itself as a staple "couple falls in love, fall out, then reconcile" film that has been done over and over again. No dramatic elements are really taken to differentiate itself from the rest, either, outside of a fight between a man and his potential stepson at a wedding and the healthy relationship between John and his ex-wife.
First and foremost, the film is a character drama that focuses primarily on two aspects: (1)how people cope with new people entering their lives, and (2)increasing one's self-reliance. All three of the main characters fall into examination in the first aspect. John originally finds himself needy, desperate to find someone to help pull his life together. Molly is originally isolated, avoiding romantic advancement due to the complex relationship with her son. The most complicated character in this process, however, is Cyrus. He is threatened by John impeding on his relationship with his mother, and defends himself by trying to covertly drive them apart. The selling point of Cyrus (the character) is his untrustworthy personality. He appears to like John but has quite nefarious intentions planned. Cyrus does not limit his discretion and dishonesty only to John, as he lies to his mother as well. The progression of Cyrus' character throughout the entire film adds more complicated layers: is he being truthful, or does he still have ulterior intentions? The quirks and shortcomings of the other two characters are worked out; John becomes less needy, and--inversely--Molly becomes more open and needful for John (this is mostly seen after Cyrus succeeds in splitting the two apart). However, Cyrus' quirks are never completely resolved. After determining John and Molly are right for each other, Cyrus opens up to John. Interestingly enough, Cyrus still uses his deceit to finally trick John into seeing Molly at the film's conclusion. Has Cyrus developed as a character? Maybe to an extent, in that he is now open to the idea of another man in Molly's life. However, his quick decision to use his methods in a reverse method shows he has not developed in the sense the others have, just less malevolent. Irony in its truest form, honestly.
The second examination in character, the increase in self-reliance, is seen in John and mostly covered in the previous exploration. John originally comes off as very needy and desperate, even making this a selling point of himself at the party with Molly. His fault continues to be prominent as the film progresses, even questioning it himself to his ex-wife and having it exploited by Cyrus. However, as John becomes aware of Cyrus' strategy, he realizes enough is enough and decides to end things with Molly--even after she has expressed her wishes against this. As the film reaches its conclusion, even Cyrus has to convince John to come back. The John from earlier in the film would have never done this, probably staying with Molly regardless what havoc Cyrus brings. This shows a growth of stability and maturity in John and presents an underlying theme in the film.
The film is great, outside of two things with which I still have issue. First, I am undecided how I feel about John C. Reilly being cast as the lead role. I know he is a goofy guy, and a goofy guy is perfect for this part. However, Reilly seems to be more of a sidekick than a goofy protagonist. As the movie went on, Reilly continued to remain convincing; however, I could not help but feel someone else could have done better. It's hard to take the final scenes seriousness with Reilly's trademark squawky voice. Maybe I've watched too many Steve Brule segments. Secondly, a plot point went unresolved. Before the wedding where the climax of the film takes place, John is dependent on his ex-wife for advice with Molly. While this is endearing in showing John and his ex-wife--and ex-spouses in general--can have a decent relationship after a divorce, the ex's fiance shows increasingly irritation with John's presence. This plot point never shows itself again after being established two or three times in the film. A small point to get upset about, of course, but still one that leaves me scratching my head as to why it was included in the film.
Overall a great film that I would watch again.
Rating: 4.0 out of 5 stars.
Running time: About 90 minutes
Price of view: Free (I got it from the LIBRARY!!!)
Would I have paid to watch it?: Yes, surprisingly. Though maybe not too much.
Synopsis: John (John C. Reilly) has been divorced for over 7 years and sees no prospects in life, specifically in his love life. After deciding to go to a party at the request of his ex-wife, John meets his love interest: Molly (Marisa Tomei). After they begin seeing each other, John is introduced to Cyrus (Jonah Hill)--Molly's unusually dependent son who has lived with her his entire life (although he is 21). Throughout the rest of the film, John, Molly, and Cyrus learn to adapt in having new people in their lives and the change involved in the process.
Highs: The style of the film. The ad-lib, "mumble" style dialogue. Marisa Tomei's character. "Uncomfortable" style of humor done well. Well written characterization, including female characters.
Lows: No minorities at all. One noticeable loose plot thread. Lack of real direction at times.
Undecided: The choice of John C. Reilly as the main character.
Views: I was pleasantly surprised with this film. Although I remember hearing about it in 2010 and wanting to see it, I picked it up assuming it would not be very good. I was wrong. The movie starts out strong and really does not stop until the end. Unfortunately, Cyrus easily draws a split opinion depending on the tastes of the audience. I for one, find favor in the indie-chic style of the film, with its quick, amateurish cuts of the camera and ad-lib dialog reminiscent of early Kevin Smith films and primary focus as a character drama. Others, who may expect more bang for their buck--both in more polished writing and cinematography along with more dynamic plot elements, will definitely hate the film. Critics may cite that the film really goes nowhere, and they would have a legitimate argument in that regard. Bluntly looking upon the film, it defines itself as a staple "couple falls in love, fall out, then reconcile" film that has been done over and over again. No dramatic elements are really taken to differentiate itself from the rest, either, outside of a fight between a man and his potential stepson at a wedding and the healthy relationship between John and his ex-wife.
First and foremost, the film is a character drama that focuses primarily on two aspects: (1)how people cope with new people entering their lives, and (2)increasing one's self-reliance. All three of the main characters fall into examination in the first aspect. John originally finds himself needy, desperate to find someone to help pull his life together. Molly is originally isolated, avoiding romantic advancement due to the complex relationship with her son. The most complicated character in this process, however, is Cyrus. He is threatened by John impeding on his relationship with his mother, and defends himself by trying to covertly drive them apart. The selling point of Cyrus (the character) is his untrustworthy personality. He appears to like John but has quite nefarious intentions planned. Cyrus does not limit his discretion and dishonesty only to John, as he lies to his mother as well. The progression of Cyrus' character throughout the entire film adds more complicated layers: is he being truthful, or does he still have ulterior intentions? The quirks and shortcomings of the other two characters are worked out; John becomes less needy, and--inversely--Molly becomes more open and needful for John (this is mostly seen after Cyrus succeeds in splitting the two apart). However, Cyrus' quirks are never completely resolved. After determining John and Molly are right for each other, Cyrus opens up to John. Interestingly enough, Cyrus still uses his deceit to finally trick John into seeing Molly at the film's conclusion. Has Cyrus developed as a character? Maybe to an extent, in that he is now open to the idea of another man in Molly's life. However, his quick decision to use his methods in a reverse method shows he has not developed in the sense the others have, just less malevolent. Irony in its truest form, honestly.
The second examination in character, the increase in self-reliance, is seen in John and mostly covered in the previous exploration. John originally comes off as very needy and desperate, even making this a selling point of himself at the party with Molly. His fault continues to be prominent as the film progresses, even questioning it himself to his ex-wife and having it exploited by Cyrus. However, as John becomes aware of Cyrus' strategy, he realizes enough is enough and decides to end things with Molly--even after she has expressed her wishes against this. As the film reaches its conclusion, even Cyrus has to convince John to come back. The John from earlier in the film would have never done this, probably staying with Molly regardless what havoc Cyrus brings. This shows a growth of stability and maturity in John and presents an underlying theme in the film.
The film is great, outside of two things with which I still have issue. First, I am undecided how I feel about John C. Reilly being cast as the lead role. I know he is a goofy guy, and a goofy guy is perfect for this part. However, Reilly seems to be more of a sidekick than a goofy protagonist. As the movie went on, Reilly continued to remain convincing; however, I could not help but feel someone else could have done better. It's hard to take the final scenes seriousness with Reilly's trademark squawky voice. Maybe I've watched too many Steve Brule segments. Secondly, a plot point went unresolved. Before the wedding where the climax of the film takes place, John is dependent on his ex-wife for advice with Molly. While this is endearing in showing John and his ex-wife--and ex-spouses in general--can have a decent relationship after a divorce, the ex's fiance shows increasingly irritation with John's presence. This plot point never shows itself again after being established two or three times in the film. A small point to get upset about, of course, but still one that leaves me scratching my head as to why it was included in the film.
Overall a great film that I would watch again.
Rating: 4.0 out of 5 stars.
Two
Night time
Sometimes at night at the light of my desk
I succumb to a soliloquy of stalking stars
The land of late stayers and ne'er do wells
Talking to themselves the tales told of times long sold
Wondering and tapering the images taken
the dreams slowly faded before their chance in gold
Sifting from their weight in ragweed and silver bells
the children of the night carry their brazen fortune
Only to be told to go back and try again
Awakened by glimmers of shining dust floating
Heavenly and peaceful; to stay in that mind
for only one more day
Convention: A cold word to look at.
Sports
I play soccer
Soccer balls!
I kick the ball
into the goal
They jump and cheer
and smear the queer
O fate! A way
to look at it
Kick the balls
into my hole
And say it with me loud!
ASSOCIATION FOOTBALL!
Sometimes at night at the light of my desk
I succumb to a soliloquy of stalking stars
The land of late stayers and ne'er do wells
Talking to themselves the tales told of times long sold
Wondering and tapering the images taken
the dreams slowly faded before their chance in gold
Sifting from their weight in ragweed and silver bells
the children of the night carry their brazen fortune
Only to be told to go back and try again
Awakened by glimmers of shining dust floating
Heavenly and peaceful; to stay in that mind
for only one more day
Convention: A cold word to look at.
Sports
I play soccer
Soccer balls!
I kick the ball
into the goal
They jump and cheer
and smear the queer
O fate! A way
to look at it
Kick the balls
into my hole
And say it with me loud!
ASSOCIATION FOOTBALL!
Monday, March 5, 2012
wooo wooo
Goodbye crinkling pages cracked.
The sun that rises as I look at separate shadows.
Goodbye to you yellow grass and weeds.
Slow minors with the fickle crafts
And wheels of passion sealed with glue
Withered stares and timid glances
The dusty pictures and jugs of water
Those days of waiting and longing
With perfect combed hair and the girl of your dreams.
Goodbye days of long, dry, anticipation
When just one day those things will click
And the tide will finally rise
Last brisk race to red robin
Juicy steak burgers and sour dough bacon
The beefy crunch burrito
Complete with spicy fritos.
And whole milk with full flavor.
White was white and black was black
White was right and always went first
The advantage of pragmatic lifestyles
Go for the moon and enjoy your titles
The library for free rentals compared to pay places
The films you wanted to watch but never had the time
Or the friend who’s number you had but never called.
Just remember to approach that light with subtle tact.
Never attempt an approach behind the dragon’s back
Keep those daring thoughts close and the fleet of foot
Ones far away, never to see the slight of day but on
Those that have acute snowfall, windy patterns of flow
And eddys swirling the thought like dandruff on to gusty plains
The sun that rises as I look at separate shadows.
Goodbye to you yellow grass and weeds.
Slow minors with the fickle crafts
And wheels of passion sealed with glue
Withered stares and timid glances
The dusty pictures and jugs of water
Those days of waiting and longing
With perfect combed hair and the girl of your dreams.
Goodbye days of long, dry, anticipation
When just one day those things will click
And the tide will finally rise
Last brisk race to red robin
Juicy steak burgers and sour dough bacon
The beefy crunch burrito
Complete with spicy fritos.
And whole milk with full flavor.
White was white and black was black
White was right and always went first
The advantage of pragmatic lifestyles
Go for the moon and enjoy your titles
The library for free rentals compared to pay places
The films you wanted to watch but never had the time
Or the friend who’s number you had but never called.
Just remember to approach that light with subtle tact.
Never attempt an approach behind the dragon’s back
Keep those daring thoughts close and the fleet of foot
Ones far away, never to see the slight of day but on
Those that have acute snowfall, windy patterns of flow
And eddys swirling the thought like dandruff on to gusty plains
How Life Imitates Chess (Self Help Book)
Finished: Sometime near the end of February
Author: Garry Kasparov, the Russian Chess guy.
Length: Approximately 220 pages
Synopsis: Garry Kasparov spells out a strategy to tackling life's problems by making allusions to his chess career and the important games/matches of his life.
Highs: The analysis on his chess career. Discussing prioritizing your life. Discussing how to focus on the long term but build on your short term tactics. Being aggressive. Focusing on being creative in multiple facets of your life.
Lows: So. Freaking. Boring. The pages move like cold molasses. The chess games are described in vaguely qualitative terms at best. Kasparov comes off as a total egomaniac at points, rarely criticizing himself.
Views: I don't know, I really don't know. It was by far the most average book I've read all year. It wasn't a page turner, or very good. But the book did not induce me to throw it out the window or at a wall, either. Are self-help books supposed to be page turners? Because this one wasn't. Garry Kasparov is many things, the first one being very knowledgeable of himself. He knows he's kind of a big deal, and throughout the entire book you can tell he has an attitude of "yeah, I'm a big success, here's how you can try to be a success". The selling point of the book is "HEY LOOK CHESS THERE IS CHESS IN THIS BOOK", but--honestly--I am pretty much qualified to write the same amount of chess in this book as he does. That's not because I'm a chess grandmaster (heh, far from it), but that's because the chess that is involved is so vague and described in such a bare bones manner that the reader really gets no handle on the chess at all. I understand why: so even the most naive person towards chess can fully utilize the book. It's just frustrating because if you want to use chess as your canvas to illustrate your points, then USE CHESS AS A CANVAS TO ILLUSTRATE YOUR POINTS. No one is going to pick up a book about how "Life Imitates Chess" if they don't have a semi-competent grasp of the game of chess. Those people will buy a Chicken Soup for the Soul books or that book about An Inspired Life. CALL TO YOUR AUDIENCE GARRY. Plus, you must humiliate yourself a bit to look credible in a self help book. Indulge in your mistakes to make your audience relate to you. Garry fails at this hard, and I think this is the greatest short coming in the book. Instead of learning from a charming, relatable guy, I feel like I'm being preached at by a teacher. Garry takes on the role of a charming teacher, but he makes sure to establish a sense of superiority. I learned some stuff from this book, mostly to be aggressive and not shy away from my creativity (Garry would approve of this blog, I suppose), but he did it in such a boring, preachy way.
Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars.
Author: Garry Kasparov, the Russian Chess guy.
Length: Approximately 220 pages
Synopsis: Garry Kasparov spells out a strategy to tackling life's problems by making allusions to his chess career and the important games/matches of his life.
Highs: The analysis on his chess career. Discussing prioritizing your life. Discussing how to focus on the long term but build on your short term tactics. Being aggressive. Focusing on being creative in multiple facets of your life.
Lows: So. Freaking. Boring. The pages move like cold molasses. The chess games are described in vaguely qualitative terms at best. Kasparov comes off as a total egomaniac at points, rarely criticizing himself.
Views: I don't know, I really don't know. It was by far the most average book I've read all year. It wasn't a page turner, or very good. But the book did not induce me to throw it out the window or at a wall, either. Are self-help books supposed to be page turners? Because this one wasn't. Garry Kasparov is many things, the first one being very knowledgeable of himself. He knows he's kind of a big deal, and throughout the entire book you can tell he has an attitude of "yeah, I'm a big success, here's how you can try to be a success". The selling point of the book is "HEY LOOK CHESS THERE IS CHESS IN THIS BOOK", but--honestly--I am pretty much qualified to write the same amount of chess in this book as he does. That's not because I'm a chess grandmaster (heh, far from it), but that's because the chess that is involved is so vague and described in such a bare bones manner that the reader really gets no handle on the chess at all. I understand why: so even the most naive person towards chess can fully utilize the book. It's just frustrating because if you want to use chess as your canvas to illustrate your points, then USE CHESS AS A CANVAS TO ILLUSTRATE YOUR POINTS. No one is going to pick up a book about how "Life Imitates Chess" if they don't have a semi-competent grasp of the game of chess. Those people will buy a Chicken Soup for the Soul books or that book about An Inspired Life. CALL TO YOUR AUDIENCE GARRY. Plus, you must humiliate yourself a bit to look credible in a self help book. Indulge in your mistakes to make your audience relate to you. Garry fails at this hard, and I think this is the greatest short coming in the book. Instead of learning from a charming, relatable guy, I feel like I'm being preached at by a teacher. Garry takes on the role of a charming teacher, but he makes sure to establish a sense of superiority. I learned some stuff from this book, mostly to be aggressive and not shy away from my creativity (Garry would approve of this blog, I suppose), but he did it in such a boring, preachy way.
Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars.
Thoughts
It's another Monday night. You don't know what you're doing. Maybe you'll watch another episode of wrestling. Maybe you won't. Maybe you'll just sit here idly as time passes by. That's what I typically do. When I'm bored I look at pictures of people I used to be friends with on facebook. I look at their photos, the captions on them, and their inane bullshit statuses. Oh boy, today Betsy started prepping for a 5k run. What is it with 5k runs, and running in general? Do something different for once. Go fishing, go biking, go on a hike. Take a bunch of drugs and just trip for a day doing absolutely nothing. But they won't put that on their facebook, oh no. Employers may be lurking. Even if they don't, or even if the facebook friends do the drugs, they won't post about it. The point is everyone runs, but why? Back in high school we all played sports. THAT is the reason so many of us get fat: we quit the sports that are available to us on a silver platter in high school and--if we are lucky--college. Maybe they do tough mudder. What is Tough Mudder anyway? Just a bunch of bullshit. That's a rhetorical question, I don't even want to know what Tough Mudder is. All I know is that when I've watched my twelfth youtube video of the day, at one point I will have seen before one of these videos an ad for Tough Mudder. My patience runs out too quickly for me to actually sit there and watch the entire ad for the Tough Mudder. It's just some guy with a husky voice speaking with his diaphragm about how we have all come across the country to participate in {click} ad skipped. Ok, everyone, go run your 5ks, your cross countries, your marathons. Keep running them. Keep making yourselves feel better. It works. It's freeing, right? In ways the elliptical never will be. The elliptical is the smart way to workout, you don't bust your knees by the shock of impact that running gives you. It just doesn't happen, and yet you get about the same work out. Or at least that's what the built in calorimeter tells you. My bass guitar is just sitting there. I guess I could play it, but I'd rather just sit here and write. I have run out of things to play on the Bass. Maybe tomorrow I will finally grind that ax and give my bass the one hour practice session it and I deserve. My victory today was going to the Social Security Services building in the lovely town of South Bend and starting the process for a replacement for my social security card. I figured it would be harder than it actually was. I thought I'd need my birth certificate, my driver's license, and maybe even my draft number--which had my social security number on it for verification. Nope, after calling them, I found out all I needed was the driver's license. And that was all I needed. Amazing. Sometimes things aren't as difficult as you might originally think they are.
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