Question- when was the last time your mind was blown? If you didn't answer 'right this second', then you're wrong. Because it's about to be. Check this action out.
You're welcome.
Yes friends- it's Assassin's Creed and Heroclix, brought together, like a chocolate/peanut butter combo delivered direct to the fringes of society. I'm in, like, nerd heaven. I love Assassin's Creed. I love Heroclix. To have them both together at the same time...well, it's as if you like a girl, and you also like her sister, but you can't decide...so you just decide to start dating their mom. That's what it's like for me. That's what I'm feeling right now.
That said, I don't believe that I'll see the perfect iteration of Ezio in Clix form until I get to heaven. So I do have some nits to pick. Overall I'm pretty stoked though. So stoked that I decided to bring you my thoughts, in blog form. Which I'm guessing you probably already figured out.
Warning- I'll probably reduce myself to quite a bit of Heroclixese here with a little Assassinish mixed in with zero form of translation. I'm a terrible ambassador of my passions. Sue me.
(Wait, wait, don't sue me- because the only items I have of value are my clix and my Assassin's Creed PS3 collection!!!!!)
What I like:
1) The pose. I'm not too crazy about the picture of the sculpt- there's just so much detail and color in the Ezio costume and this picture makes it look like they captured exactly none of that. Nonetheless, it's a classic Ezio pose, and very reminiscent of a Renaissance-era crotch chop.
2) The Team Ability- I'm guessing you probably don't know much about Heroclix. Let me just tell you that stealth is pretty spectacular. In a game where range rules, the man who can't be seen is king. True, there are ways to circumvent stealth, but by and large, stealth affords our friend Mr. Auditore here a very effective layer of protection. The average figure is gonna have to mosey on over to our friend here and hope that they doesn't roll doubles 1s, 2s, or 3s (or 4s if they have a sucky attack value). Because if they do, they're gonna get a hidden blade right to the face (or something...more on that in a minute).
For the most part, the team ability really a pretty cool representation of the combat system. They attack, they miss, you attack, you hit (and usually kill, but that wouldn't make a very fun Clix ability). Apparently most of the local militia (also known as 'guards') were pretty much terrible combatants, dressing up in their expensive armor every morning and waiting for some ridiculously skilled assassin to engage them in a duel and then kill them. Gloriously.
3) Most of the powers are pretty accurate and feel authentic to the experience of Ezio.
Name of power (actual Heroclix power). You with me?
Roof running (Leap/climb)- Let me just tell you that I've played four Assassins Creed games and the joy and thrill of the Leap of Faith never gets old. NEVER. The idea of jumping off of stories high buildings- backwards, mind you- into shallow bales of hay and/or bushes of flowers goes so far over the line of Ridiculosity that after a couple dozen of these jumps, you start to rationalize how you're able to jump right out of the hay bale and continue running through the streets. After a hundred or so, you start to believe that not only is this feat humanly possibly, but that you yourself could do it too. After that, your wife ties you up and throws you in the trunk every time your family stops at a building taller than ten feet. You bet your sweet bippy that every single time I move Ezio off of some elevated terrain, I'm going to be making the eagle screech while I pick my figure up off the table and drop him onto his back in the next square.
Altaïr's Armor (Invulnerability)- This is such a clever nod to the game play, it's not even funny. In the game, Altaïr uses a mystical relic, the Apple of Eden, to create the perfect armor, made out of some new mystery metal (probably unobtanium) that is extremely strong (maximum health), unbreakable- and light enough to allow "complete freedom". Ezio usually obtains this towards the end of game play, after collecting the six seals to unlock the tomb (or something). Assuming that most characters in the Clix-creed system have damage values of 1-2 (again...more on that in a minute), his armor will be de facto impenetrable. Well played, WizKids...well played.
Poison Blade (Poison)- One of the most discreet ways to kill foes is by jabbing them with the hollow blade filled with poison. It's super effective because it's not a flashy kill- you just sort of step up to them and stick them quickly with the blade, and then the punctured person starts to flail around like a zombie doing the Monster Mash, and everybody just sort of stands back and watches (or gets nailed by a wayward zombie arm) until the deceased falls to the ground and you can totally loot them of all their stuff (if you can tolerate people talking about your blasphemy). My two favorite things to do with poison are:
Go up behind a group of guards and stab one of the ones in the rear (note: I'm stabbing a guard in the rear of the group, not stabbing a guard in his personal rear), and then just watch as the rest of the guards continue on their rounds. Either that or I get bored and just go kill the rest of the guards.
Bribe a herald (which cost 500 florins), stick him, and then wait until he stopped spazzing and get my money back. I know he's just doing his job, telling all the people about the dangerous assassin, but come on, man- 500 bones? That's a lot of dough, and I'm not made of money. Not until late in the game, anyways.
4) I'm 33 years old. I've been married for seven years. I have two children. I graduated from college. And I guffawed out loud when I looked up at my open Ezio-clix tab and saw that it said "Ass-creed". Hehe. Hehe. Hehe. "Ass-creed".
Of course, the grass is always Tuscan Ember-er on the other side, and signore Ezio is no exception. Here's what I don't like:
1) If any Heroclix figure EVER deserved a special power granting combat reflexes and super senses, it's Ezio. I mean, that's sort of the whole 'parry/dodge' combat system. You basically just hold down that L1 button when you're being attacked, time the counter just right, and go into berserk mode with the chain kills. I would have rather seen Ezio's defense peak at a natural 17 and have a special power granting him those two defensive powers (CR/SS) than the natural 18 with mastermind- that's how Ezio fights.
Speaking of Mastermind....
2) The presence of Mastermind, period. I don't like it. On the HCRealms discussion board, one dude eloquently described the Mastermind-special power as representing the Assassin's guild (which at this point Ezio was pretty much in charge of) and how they'd lay their lives down for the cause. I'm
actually fine with that, for the most part. I just think that in the Clix combat system, his abilities would be better represented by the CR/SS combo.
Especially since they named the power 'Blend'. 'Blend' is obviously not sloughing off damage to some simpleton who is too inspired to know any better. 'Blend' is when Ezio is chilling with a compact group of civilians and your screen flashes wavy green and all of a sudden the guards can't see you. In a perfect world, I would have combined 'Blend' with the team ability and made it so that Ezio could use stealth if he was adjacent to one or more friendly characters.
3) If you've played the Assassin's Creed games, you know that Ezio is basically Batman in the 1400s. Armed to the teeth, he has probably a couple dozen weapons to choose from and even though he doesn't have them all at once (his clothes are pretty much a bat belt though), at any given time he can kill a guard by:
Hidden blade
Poison blade
Shooting a poison dart
Throwing knives
Dagger
Sword
Pistol (built into his gauntlet)
Crossbow
Bomb
And they represent this by a 4 range and 1 target???? I think his ranged capabilities would have been better represented by a special power giving him a choice of either 4 range with 3 targets (the throwing knives) or 8 range with 1 target (crossbow). To me, that would have pretty much made any other shortcoming inconsequential- the fact that they missed the opportunity amplifies them instead.
Additionally, the number of 1s and 2s on the damage slot is a little disconcerting. Would a couple of 3s killed anyone? I mean...you know what I mean! Sure, he's a mere man- I don't expect any Hulk-level shenanigans here. But if Ezio comes across any sort of damage reduction at all (which, in a set bound to be populated with suits of armor, is not out of the realm of possibility), he's basically going to end up dealing out more paper cuts and scrapes than he is awesome death blows.
Pictured- Ezio dealing out awesome death blows
4) A couple of other powers were missed, pretty egregiously I might add. First off, his hidden blade. I know, I know- the card says Hidden Blade (Close Combat Expert). But when I'm ramming my hidden blade into that guards skull, it doesn't feel like I'm having my damage increased by 2- it feels like I'm dealing penetrating damage (to his brain. And now he's dead. BOOM). That screams 'Exploit Weakness' to me. Especially if they lined it up with his blades/claws/fangs, giving him the potential to deal 6 penetrating damage. Powerful? Sure. But this is Ezio freaking Auditore. This guy should be able to one-hit KO street level characters and strike fear into the hearts of more powerful foes. Not that he doesn't do that to a degree....just not to the degree that he could/should be.
The other power blatantly missing is some form of willpower. Pretty much any character can have an argument made for them to have willpower- but it's one of Ezio's defining characteristics. More than the unrivaled badassness and weapons proficiency, Ezio is such a compelling character because of his drive and determination to lead humanity to the truth- even in face of sickeningly overwhelming odds, delicious conspiracies, and the death of pretty much everyone that is close to him. He keeps plugging along through thirty-plus years and three video games. And in the end, he's able to walk away from it all because of the love of a beautiful woman. Which doesn't really tie into willpower at all, but seriously- Sofia is a foxy lady.
As long as you don't look at her face. (Sorry ladies)
Overall- I do like the dial. I'm a little discouraged by some of the shortcomings, especially since I can't see another Ezio figure coming out from this time period (there will be an Ezio from Revelations though, which gives me hope), but overall it does feel like it could be Ezio, and with the proper support (AKA, his fellow Assassins), Ezio could very well prove to be the stone-cold killer that is near and dear to my heart.
Spoiler- This post deals with more frustration on my part in terms of job search impotence. So if that's not really your thing, then feel free to not read this post. Besides, you've already clicked on the link, so Google is counting this as a page view, so your work here is essentially done.
A little back story- last year I worked in a special education classroom with a wonderfully awesome team of ladies who decided that they liked me and were sympathetic to my college-graduate-family-two-kids-grossly-underemployed status. So they've been trying to help me find gainful employment, scouring the classifieds and want ads on my behalf. I'm beyond grateful to these women.
Last week, one of them sends me some information about a job posting she saw. It was an agency I was familiar with advertising a mental health position for a Bachelors of Social Work person. Well hey here, future job! I mean, come on now- I have, like, 4+ years of direct care mental health experience, some contacts inside the agency, and...hello? What is this? BACHELORS OF SOCIAL WORK???? You mean that the college degree I got a couple of years ago can actually be used to get me a decent job?
In full disclosure, decent job isn't quite accurate. It was an obscene job. Obscene as in (I haven't really told anyone this number because of trying to keep my expectations tempered, but I'm going to throw it out there now because I hope someone from that agency stumbles upon this blog, realizes that their seemingly deceitful practices really hurt good people that would like to partner with them in the pursuit of human empowerment, and feels bad for it) $40 per hour. Yes, folks, you read that right. 40. Dollars. An hour. For a bachelors-level position in a field I have worked in with people that I know in charge. I tried to not get my hopes up, especially since I wasn't sure if it was a full-time job or not (but honestly, I could have worked 10 hours a week at that rate and made the same amount of money I am making now wiping butts and noses full-time)...but when you're firmly thrust in the throes of poverty and trying to pull yourself up by the bootstraps that they tell you are standard-issue if you're an American, you get sort of intoxicated by such big numbers. You start to dream about all of the debt you could shed quickly, like Loki getting the cosmic-cube and basically just doing whatever the hell he wants because he can. You start to believe that you might soon find peace and stability.
And then you call to follow up on your resume' submission because they told you they are going to be conducting interviews in a week and you still haven't heard, and you really don't understand because (and I can't stress this enough) you have RELEVANT EXPERIENCE (in spades, I might add), INSIDE CONTACTS (not quite nepotistic in nature, but still...non-strangers), and THE DEGREE QUALIFICATION THAT THEY SPECIFICALLY ASKED FOR IN THEIR AD. And you talk to the lady on the phone (who is in charge of going through the resumes and is also a person you went to dinner with at a tasty Mexican restaurant while downstate at a conference for this agency) and she tells you..."Well, you have a Bachelors, and we're really looking for a Masters, because that's our agency standard, but hey, would you be willing to let us keep your application on file for this other position that we have a hard time getting applicants for".
Obviously I said 'yes'. Not because I want to work for this agency so badly, but because I'm so effing poor that I have to consider working for people that would dangle a carrot in front of your nose and then switch it out at the last minute for a candy bar as long as they're offering a couple more dollars an hour. Not a perfect analogy, I know...but you see what I'm saying, right?
My career- not going anywhere for awhile.
I really hope that this was a typo on their part, the clerical mistake of someone who is still probably making more money than I am. But the whole thing really reeks of 'bait and switch' (hence the title). Goodbye cosmic cube of dollars. Goodbye financial independence. Hello creditors.
I plowed through the denial/isolation phase of grieving with a simple "I quit" status on Facebook. I've been simmering on anger since then. I'll probably move quickly through bargaining, hang out for a little bit at depression, and...should I get to a stage where I accept this? I don't know. I am tired of accepting that I am getting passed over for positions that I could do, probably better than the people that they are actually hiring. A little cocky, sure- but I know who I am and what I can do given the chance. I've succeeded everywhere I've gone- but I'm not going anywhere as long as I don't have...what? WHAT??? Can someone please tell me what I'm lacking (other than a Masters degree)?
Someone once said "The only thing stronger than fear is hope". I'm not sure who actually said it- it was probably Johnny Depp or some other famous actor who gets an anonymous famous quote attributed to them complete with a sexy picture, but I know now that it's true. It's true because the most painful thing a person can experience is to allow themselves to hope only to find that their hopes have been dashed against the rocks of reality.
For those of my readers who either aren't paying attention or are living under a rock (not being facetious, by the way- 33% of my readership is in either of these two categories), the Olympic Games started this weekend. You may have heard of them, they're sort of a big deal, only happening every 4 years. Although, with all the national championships and world championships and world cups...maybe it's not such a big deal. Side tangent- why are the world championships considered less prestigious than the Olympics? I mean, you're the champion. Of the world. THE WORLD!!! What can be better than that? It's the freaking world!!! Leonardo DiCaprio didn't say "I'm the king of the Olympics!". Dr. Evil didn't hold the Olympics ransom for one million dollars. And God didn't send His only son because He loved the Olympics. Come on!
I'm not really sure what my tangent was about. But it's out there now, and it's up to the world to take up the gauntlet of my crusade. Or whatevs.
Back on task, the Olympics. As I've alluded to before (or perhaps just came right out and said...I can't be bothered to remember such things), living with my in-laws has been awesome because they have, like, a 500-inch Flat Screen Plasma HDMI Future TV. And they like to watch sports. So, seeing as I like to watch sports, and they like to watch sports, and the Olympics are the Mecca of sports...this past weekend we watched a lot of the Olympics.
Unfortunately, you haven't been watching them with me. For about 33% of you, that's because you either live under a rock or simply haven't been paying attention. The rest of you, sadly, just don't live here. Or not so sadly if you do, in fact, snore.
Don't sweat it though- I've decided that rather than let that your snoring come between you and the privilege of knowing what I'm thinking as I watch the XXX Olympics, I will bring my Olympic thoughts right to you, hand delivered on a silver platter through the miracle of the internet. I know you'll probably never get a chance to say thank you- but really, you'll never have to. I'm that awesome.
But seriously, you should say 'Thank you'.
This isn't going to be any sort of running tabulation or a Bill Simmons-running-diary. No, this is just me, sitting down at my computer after the fact and typing up some random thoughts about what I've witnessed. Will it be as epic as what I actually witnessed? Pfft...please. Of course it is. This is the Olympics, brah.
VOLLEYBALL:
I watched the US Mens and Womens team take on Serbia and South Korea, respectively. Volleyball is one of my favorite Olympic sports. I'm familiar enough with it to know what's going on, but watching it only once every four years makes it feel fresh and new. It's not quite as cool as Sepak Takraw, but still- it's pretty awesome.
WARNING- This paragraph is probably going to seem to be veering hard into 'sexist' territory. But I'm going to navigate it so smoothly and deftly you're going to wonder what the heck just happened. Either that or I'm going to smack in the middle of Don Imus' forehead. I enjoy watching women's volleyball just as much as I do the men's game. It's one of the few sports where I can honestly say that, and it's not because volleyball players are cute. (Actually, the US Olympic team this year is not very attractive. The whole game against South Korea, it was painfully obvious who had the more beautiful side. South Korea was just flat-out drop-unconscious gorgeous though). The women, while not playing with the same athleticism as their male counterparts, play at a high enough level to where that difference is not noticeable. Also, the women utilize more lob shots than the men, who seem destined to spike every third hit no matter where they are or how many defenders might be blocking them.
Last thought on volleyball- the US team has a player named Destinee Hooker. I just want to say WHAT THE HECK were her parents thinking? Did they lose a bet? Were they conducting some sort of sociological experiment? Did her moms water break as they were driving through the Red Light district? Literally that is the worst name I have ever heard. There is no coming back from that name. Her parents, in one fell swoop, managed to give her a name that evokes images of a prostitute and a stripper. All I know is that if Shane ever brings home a girl named Destinee Hooker, he is either getting A) Punched in the face, B) Disowned, or C) Punched in the face and then disowned.
HANDBALL:
France beat Norway in women's handball. Apparently this is a huge upset, since Norway is like the Chicago Bulls of handball. See, this is why you watch the Olympics. Now that I know this, I can't imagine how I lived life without knowing that Norway excels at womens handball. Anyways, handball is like the America of sports- a melting pot of other games- a lot of basketball mixed with some soccer and hockey- and dodgeball. Like America, it's awesome.
Side tangent #2- I'm finding out that the phrase 'World Cup' does not belong to soccer alone. Apparently every sport has a World Cup. And I just think, there's already a World Cup-level event. It's called soccer. You can have Bowl, or Fondue, or Serving Spoon- but please. Nobody cares about your sport other than the parents who shelled out thousands of dollars so you could maybe go to the Olympics. Have some decency and leave the Cup moniker to the real sports. End tangent.
ARCHERY:
I have never watched competitive archery before, and after watching South Korea (another mystery dynasty) defeat China in the women's final, I just have to ask myself- why? THIS SPORT IS AWESOME!!! It's like Legolas versus Hawkeye versus Robin Hood, but for reals. It was amazingly intense, every archer seeming to come up with a clutch shot- if football is a game of inches, then archery has to be a game of centimeters. Plus, there was a camera placed head-on with the archers. How big do your stones have to be to be operating a camera face-to-face with an archer?
ROWING:
I watched some rowing. Other than hearing that a Grand Valley State graduate was on one of the women's teams, I really don't have much to say about this sport other than I can see why it's so popular among the Ivy League schools. When you're smarter than everybody else, you get to partake of the frivolities that the rest of us find incredibly boring.
BASKETBALL:
I watched the NBA all-stars US men defeat France by lots, a little bit of Spain/China, and the first quarter trainwreck that was the US women and that European team that they played. Not much I can say that hasn't been said about the US mens team- they're obviously very talented, but watching blowout basketball is not very compelling. Indeed, I was washing dishes while this game was on, which should tell you how non-must-see-TV this game was. I've watched a couple of the US games, and the talking heads of sports, and everybody is talking about our weaknesses while we blow teams away by 20+ points every game. Sure, this years team is no Dream Team- but at what point do we stop trying to manufacture some drama and just watch the hurricane blow through the opposition?
The US womens game though...that was different. I was all in for this game, not because it was compelling. Actually, it was so bad that it became compelling. Like you were rooting for the US to pitch a shut-out level compelling. Like you were rooting for the US to win a close game after while scoring less than 40 points. Seriously, this game set womens basketball back fifty years, easy. I've never been a huge womens basketball fan- this may sound sexist, and I apologize for that, but I feel that guys just do it better. They are faster, stronger, and jump higher. Sure, women may do some of the fundamental things better (which I realize may be a stereotypical/generalist argument), but it's not more exciting. I enjoy basketball, but I enjoy excitement more. If I have to choose between basketball and exciting basketball, then it's a no-brainer. I'm choosing NBA 2k11 on the PS3.
SWIMMING:
Thanks to Michael Phelps, swimming is as trendy as it has ever been and will probably ever be. Me? Not buying. It's still just people swimming fast in a pool. I will say this, though- as a habitual nose plugger, I'm super impressed with how these swimmers aren't drowning all the time. Seriously, how do they do that? If I get a little bit of water through my nose, I'm making a dead sprint to the pool side so I can cough my lungs out. Did I miss out on the gene that allows you to breathe underwater like a fish?
One of the downsides of having an Olympics in a different time zone is that the TV coverage does not always match up with the real time. That means that I knew Michael Phelps did not medal pretty much before I even saw him qualify. And I went upstairs last night so that I could see the US mens 4X100 relay team win the silver medal that MSN.com had already told me about. Swimming is already not exciting- but when the drama is completely eliminated, I realize that I really don't care about swimming. Period.
Side tangent #3- I love watching these weird, non-familiar sports, and listening to all these commentators who are taking these sports much, much more seriously than I ever will with more insight and knowledge about them than I will ever have (or care to have). The idea that these sports are happening somewhere in the world even when it's not the Olympics is still slightly mind-blowing for me. It's like object permanence but with sports.
FIELD HOCKEY:
People playing hockey by running around on a hard floor- should be awesome, right? WRONG. I tried to watch the US womens team versus Germany but found that I couldn't. It was pretty boring. And I don't think it was because it was women's field hockey- I just don't think the sport is all that compelling. It's way slower than ice hockey, which seems to negate any potential skill that could make the sport exciting. Plus, I just kept thinking about their backs, and all that bending over, and I decided that watching field hockey is the poor mans version of watching somebody claw the chalkboard.
BONUS:
While typing this blog, I watched a little bit of kayaking and found out that if your kayak capsizes and you pass through a gate, you are given a 50 second penalty. Is that not the biggest d-bag penalty you could give out? I mean, when a kayak capsizes, there's a legitimate chance that the person could drown, right? So naturally, the best way to empathize is to dock them almost a minute of penalty time. Here, you almost drowned AND we're making sure there's no way you can win. In the kayaking world, is there that much of a concern that somebody would purposefully capsize their kayak in order to manipulate the course more successfully?
I'm actually asking, I really don't know. It just seems like an excessively harsh penalty. But I can't get too hung up on that- US versus Brazil in women's volleyball is on!!!
Before I start this post, you should know that I went through, like, three different beginnings for it. Which is stupid because it's just a post about the things I like about sports (in case you didn't gather that info from the title). Still, I think it's important that you people know how much I care about bringing you the best possible internet quality product since 2008. I take this serious. I flat out bring it.
BRING IT. Here we go.
Basketball:
I've written before about basketball before, but let's be honest- you just want me to write about it again.
I didn't start playing basketball around 6th grade, but when I did, by golly it grabbed right a hold of me and didn't let go for a long time. Even when it did let go, it didn't really let go. It has this very intoxicating rhythm that really drew me in immediately- the bounce of the ball, the squeak of the shoes, the sound of a perfect 'swish' (or a bank shot), the lock-and-load of the shot, the pacing of how the players move up and down the court. Basketball is basically full-body hypnosis played at full speed.
Things I like about basketball:
- The cutting down of the nets after certain championships. One of the coolest traditions
- Even though there are different positions, the statistics are the same for all players. This helps because it is still possible to compare players at a specific position while also allowing for a much more meaningful picture of a player's all-around capabilities.
- A bounce pass caught in stride and taken in for a lay-up/dunk.
- The first weekend of March Madness for being the one sporting event in which upsets are routine. Nothing like rooting for David knowing that at some point, he's going to slay Goliath. Just as long as it's not your Goliath.
- The intimate context of the game. More than perhaps any other sport (other than maybe golf and tennis, but I don't count those), basketball is performed in the crowd. Fans sit right beside the court, right next to and behind the bench. Players don't wear helmets, masks, or special padding- shorts and tank tops. It's all right there, man. Factor in the crowd noise, and how players feed off of it, and you have arguably the most immersive experience in sports.
- That calm-before-the-storm moment, when the crowd is starting to get frenetic, and the defense gets a big stop, and they bring the ball back up the court and shoot a three-pointer, and everybody is just sort of suspended in the moment...I love that small period in time, especially when that shot falls and the crowd explodes. It's probably the most fulfilling moment in sports.
- The back and forth nature of momentum. I love how one play or one sequence can completely change the nature and complexion of a game- at least until the next one.
- Pistol Pete, Manu Ginobli, and pretty much anyone else that is a physical manifestation of unorthodox genius.
Hockey:
I went to a few hockey games as a young man (although I don't recall much about them), but it was a sucker punch loss that really drew me in. It was 1994, and the top-seeded and heavily favored Detroit Red Wings lost a heart breaking game 7 to the San Jose Sharks. As much as it sucked (I suppose it didn't totally suck- I was still a cursory fan at that time, after all), it did cement the Detroit Red Wings as my favorite local team and hockey's place in my heart.
It doesn't hurt that since I've started following sports (early '90s), the Red Wings have had the most success of any local team. It's a heck of a lot easier to buy in as a fan when you can follow a team that is having success. Oddly enough though, it's the season-ending losses that reinforce the fandom much more than any Stanley Cup (or equivalent trophy) could.
What I like about hockey:
- The tradition. Out of the four major sports in the U.S., hockey is the one (well, probably baseball too) that feels like it still has strong ties to the origins of the game. Football and basketball are drastically different from their genesises (geneses? genesi? What's the, um, plural on that?). Hockey seems like it has remained largely the same (other than equipment changes). Also, I'm often wrong.
- The Stanley Cup. I suppose this ties in with the tradition, but it's a specific tradition that I love. Hockey's postseason tournament is, in my opinion, the most grueling of all of them. So the Cup, even without taking into account its historical allure, is highly coveted. Factor in that the winners get their names engraved on the pages of forever, and you can see why players will play through missing teeth, broken ankles, broken noses- you name it, hockey players have probably played through it in pursuit of Lord Stanley's Cup.
I love seeing the captain (who, a week or so earlier, probably refused to even touch the conference championship trophy, which is another tradition that I love) go grab the cup, skate a victory lap, and then go hand the cup to a person of his choosing (often a long-Cupless vet). Who could forget when Stevie Y handed the cup to Vladdie back in 1998? I get chills just thinking about it.
And then the fact that each player gets the Cup for a day during the offseason? Awesome. Simply awesome. I love hearing stories about what each player decides to do with the cup. Even though some of these things may, on the surface, seem to be "sacrilegious" to the sanctity of the Stanley Cup, I believe that they only add to the prestige and mystique of the sacred chalice.
- The Red Wings uniforms- Clearly this is my being an biased fan, but you gotta admit, it's pretty awesome. It's so simple in its design, with such an elegant and classic logo- yet it captures something magical. It serves both as a portal of history- a link between the past and the present- and as a banner of conquest, a unit draped in the flags of conquest.
Sidebar- I love the teams with classic, unchanging (or minorly changing) uniforms- Yankees, Tigers (the Olde English D is always a constant), Celtics, Lakers, Cowboys, Steelers, Blackhawks, Browns, Redskins- there are more, surely. Yes, a new look can galvanize a fan base for a short time and in some cases even be an improvement, but there's much to be said for tradition playing connect-the-dots over decades.
- Watching Pavel Datsyuk. Dude is sweet. Please watch the video and try to imagine yourself doing these things on skates. I did and I woke up tangled up so tightly in the couch cushions they needed the Jaws of Life to get me out. I love watching "court" magicians, people that are so skilled they easily make the best in the world look like beginners. Datsyuk has skill with the puck similar to Maravich on the court or Barry Sanders on the gridiron. Some people were just made to make other people look silly. Those are guys I love to watch.
- The Captain's "C"- Other sports have captains, but they're more of a ceremonial thing. The NFL seems to award captaincy to anyone who can walk. Basketball captains don't really anything. Baseball don't even have captains, yo. But hockey captains not only have prestige (my friend Phil literally went up six levels of prestige in my eyes when I found out he donned the captains' "C" in high school) but are the only players on the ice who can communicate with the officials, and (as mentioned) are the first people who get to touch/not touch certain trophies. Plus, they get that cool looking "C" on the front of their jerseys.
- A tip play in front of the goal, when a player lets loose a blast from the blue line and a player in front of the net uses his awesome hand-eye coordination to get a blade on the puck and send it whirling in a completely different direction, sending the goalie scrambling in vain while he watches the puck settle in the net behind him.
- Speaking of goals, the whole post-goal thing- love it. The sirens blaring, lights spazzing, the team surrounding the offending goal scorer and engaging in an orgy of 'daps' and smiles, then the scoring player skating past his bench and getting even more ridiculous love from his fellow skaters. It's a wondrous feeling to behold, especially when it's your team scoring in a playoff series against the freaking Predators.
- Playoff beards. As a facial hair enthusiast, I can't say enough about the playoff beard. Actually, I'll just show you what I'm talking about.
Oh. Crap. Not that one...let's see here...
BOOM. There we go. See what I mean?
- Goalie masks. Just Google "Goalie Masks". You'll understand.
Baseball:
America's game- I guess? I do like baseball, don't get me wrong. It was the first sport I played, and the playing-catch-with-dad meme basically timeless. Baseball movies also tend to be the most believable out of all sports movies.
Well, okay, but...
I'll give you that one, but..
OKAY, OKAY, I GET IT!!!
Alright, now you're just being mean
I like baseball- when it's the only game in town. Apologies to those baseball fans who have read down this far, expecting me to wax poetic and help you connect with your favorite game in a deeper, more spiritual way. But my unconditional love with the game died the day that I dropped that fly ball in the majors that lost us the game.
Still, there are some things that I enjoy about baseball (other than being the bridge between hockey/basketball and football):
- Crack of the bat. Or the 'ping' in college basketball. Bonus points for that special 'crack' that a home run bat gives off.
- Sticking with the sensory stuff, the baseball mitt itself. The sound that a ball makes when it snaps in there, the smell of the leather, the feel of a nice, broken-in mitt in your hands. A baseball mitt is probably the most iconic piece of sports equipment in our time. At least, it's the most tactile.
- Strikeouts. Specifically, when power pitchers Justin Verlander strike people out with their offspeed stuff. I mean, the hitter is just standing there, waiting for the heat, anticipating the heat, knowing that the heat is coming- and they get a wicked bender that just makes their knees buckle.
- The All-Star game. Something about the fact that each player wearing their own unique uniforms while playing on the same team is aesthetically pleasing to me.
- Differences between the leagues. Actually, this is probably my favoritest thing about baseball. I love that both leagues are treated like separate entities- different rules (pretty much just the DH, but still- awesome), different stats- sometimes I wish that other sports did that too. Like the AFC only had three downs to make a first, or Western Conference games only permitted five fouls.
- Randy Johnson. I miss watching a dude pitch that could throw hard enough to eviscerate a bird in flight. Plus- mullet.
- The old stadiums quirks. The ivy walls of Wrigley (which are quite spectacular in person), the Green Monster of Fenway, the Water Spectacular of Kauffman, McCovey's Cove out in San Francisco. Obviously every sport stadium has many artificial differences, but these features (and others like them) make each ballpark a completely individual experience.
- Finally, I mentioned this before, but it deserves special mention in the baseball section: The Olde English D.
Football:
If baseball was the first sport I played, football was the first sport I loved. It was also the first sport that broke my heart. It was the University of Michigan against Michigan State in 1990, with the Wolverines ranked the top team in the country. I will go to my grave believing that Desmond Howard was flagrantly violated on that 2-point play. I was visibly upset for hours and the pain wrought that day still resonates in my dislike of the green and white.
Football dominated my early sports experience. Like many boys, we would wage in epic backyard gridiron battles- I was convinced as a youth that my dad should have played QB in the NFL. Afterwards, I would take the football outside and play pretend games, throwing the ball to myself, making spectacular play after spectacular play. I even made up my own football league (based on states' nicknames) with its own rosters, stats- I even made football cards for it.
'Sup.
What I like about football:
- The pacing. Football lies beautifully between the extreme pace of hoops and the slower gait of soccer and baseball. It's back and forth but you still have time to breathe. This makes for a more fulfilling emotional experience- yes, there are "bang-bang" plays that get your heart pumping instantly, but there are also lulls which allow for the momentum to build gradually. A long scoring drive, followed by a three-and-out, into another long drive that may or may not result in a score- but the end result is that you are firmly in the throes of excitement.
- All those statistics. As I love basketball for the solidarity of its statistical measure, so do I love that football has so many statistics. Not because I think it is some hyper-efficient way to compare players- I'm just somewhat of a numbers junkie, and football has numbers in spades.
- The padding. With all the helmets and shoulder pads and such, football players are much like the modern equivalent of the knights of old. If a player happens to wear a visor in that helmet, it's even better. I love me some visors.
- Sideline catches. Definitely one of the most difficult displays of athleticism and coordination in my opinion. Knowing where you are, being in complete control of all of your extremities, while also having to worry about the defenders who are trying to smash you into pieces touch you with both hands to make sure you're down.
- Barry Sanders. Man I miss that guy.
- The option offense. I think this stems from the first time I saw the Air Force Academy play football- it was some sort of bowl game, and I was blown away by:
A) The fact that there was an Air Force school that got to play football
B) The fact that their mascot is the Falcons but the logo on the side of their helmets is a bolt of lightning
C) The option offense.
As you may have guessed, I'm a big fan of sleight-of-hand type maneuvers in athletics. Whether it's Pistol Pete doing some crazy pass or Pavel Datsyuk weaving in and out of defenders, I really derive a lot of enjoyment over those special athletes that can take you past what you think is physically possible. The option offense is pretty much that in unit form. Eleven men working in unison to basically break the ankles of their defensive counter part. When it works, it's sick. Just sick.
Soccer:
I've only been a soccer fan for about four years. It's definitely the baby of my sports family, so there's admittedly a "new car smell" bias on this list. I should probably check back in ten years and see how I feel about soccer then. Of course, if I'm still running this blog in ten years (and you're still reading it), then we should both just immediately fall on our swords to preserve our honor.
Still, I do enjoy many things about the beautiful game. Such as:
- Crowds- The fans are soooooo passionate, it modifies the enjoyment of the game exponentially. In real life, soccer crowds are probably too crazy for me (unless I decide one day I'd like to be trampled) but sitting at home, watching on my in-laws 52 inch HD-plasma-whatever TV, I can leach off of their collective passion like a tick sucking on...OH MY GOD THAT'S A TICK ON ME!!!!!
- Running clock. One of my biggest pet peeves of American sports is all the freaking TV time-outs. I understand that companies are paying large sums of money for these TV spots which somehow help keep these leagues solvent...or something. But I love watching soccer because once that ball is in play- it's all action, all the time. No dead balls stoppages, no time-outs, no breaks for injury- and that's no small thing. If you've ever watched a soccer game, you realize that it is a common occurrence for players to have near-death experiences. Especially when that player is in the penalty area.
- Mystery stoppage time. At the end of each half, some additional time is added to the end to compensate for the fact that the clock never stops (even when the action does). But it's always sort of mysterious- how much time gets added on? Who decides, and how is the decision made? Do they tell the players? I imagine if you've been running around on the field (sorry, pitch- more on this in a sec), you're probably ready to get to that locker room STAT. Really, the whole thing is probably just some sociological experiment to see how far you can push people in competitive settings.
- The international aspect. I know that there is yearly club soccer, but I don't get into that as much. National teams though? I eat that stuff up. I've always loved international competition. The idea of groups of people playing for something other than individual accolades- playing for a sense of national pride, is likely naive, but still something to root for. It's like you're not watching players compete- but entire nations. And that's pretty sweet.
And when it comes to international competition, the World Cup is where it's at. Yes, there's the winter and summer Olympic games, but realistically, nobody cares about many of those sports. Besides, no other sport has the competition rate that soccer does. I mean, jeez, everybody plays soccer. So when a team wins the World Cup, it can really lay claim to the title of Best in the World.
- Soccer uniforms. Soccer uniforms fascinate me, plain and simple. From the walking billboards that club teams become, to the sometimes-inconsistency of the color schemes, to the fact that goalies wear completely different uniforms (not just equipment- different uniforms), to the exchange of jerseys after a game (I wonder how they decide who to exchange with, and if they actually keep those sweaty, stinky new jerseys)- I simply dig everything about soccer uniforms. They're the last unexplored frontier.
- Different names for routine things. Some of this is probably not soccer specific, but still- the vernacular of soccer has been a breath of fresh air. The field is called a pitch, jerseys are kits, a pass is called a ball, a tying goal is an equalizer, a shutout is a clean sheet, and exhibitions are called friendlies. I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never learn a foreign language- but I'm well on my way to being able to speak Soccer.
As hard as it is to believe, these lists are (largely) just off the top of my head. I'm sure that I could come up with many more. However, I'll save you all the trouble of reading through another novel and summarize it all like this- sports rule!!!
PICS- Crosby- http://guymanningham.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/sidney-crosby-playoff-beard.jpg
Commodore- http://bleacherreport.com/articles/675897-nhl-playoffs-2011-top-25-playoff-beards-in-nhl-history/page/26
Rookie of the year- http://img191.imageshack.us/img191/3599/rotydvdcover.jpg
The Scout- http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51yvdSMI7-L._SX500_.jpg
Little Big League- http://www.slicksportstalk.com/sites/default/files/post_thumbs/Little%20Big%20League.jpg
Angels in the outfield- http://www.detroitmommies.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/Angels_in_the_Outfield_Poster.jpg
English D- http://waiversharks.com/spirit-of-detroit/files/2008/04/old-english-d.jpg
Have you ever watched 'How I Met Your Mother'? If you haven't, then you should, because I watch it and it's the funniest show in the world. I realize I'm only like six or seven years behind the bandwagon but hey- better late than never, right?
Anyways, this blog is not about that show, but it invokes a certain character from that show- namely, the show's main character, the "I" of "How I met your mother"- Ted Mosby. Ted is the freaking man. He's funny and charming and has a great job (that clearly lets him stay out until all hours of the night and engage in endless shenanigans with Doogie Howser) and is cute and...well, you get the picture. If Ted Mosby was a real person, then he would always win People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive who is not Jason Parks award (not to be confused with the Sexist Man Alive) and wannabes like Ryan Reynolds and George Clooney would end up stuck in a sidebar somewhere on the cover of Weekly Us.
Like that'll ever happen
So before I get swept away in some bizarre romantic fantasy involving me and a fictional dude, allow me to sort of explain how I plan to tie the character of Ted Mosby into my ongoing and thus far fruitless pursuit of a real-life social work job. Because I'm totally going to do it, and you're totally going to be like, 'whoa'.
See, Keanu Reeves- he gets it
7 year spoiler alert- in the Pilot of HImym, Ted meets this really funny, charming, hot girl named Robin, and after a super first date, they're up in her apartment, dancing to really romantic music (did I mention it's like 1 in the morning) and Ted tells Robin that he loves her. Apparently, this is a huge first date no-no, and so the romantic moment ends, Ted walks away- but not before dropping this totally inspirational nugget:
- "You know what? I'm done being single, I'm not good at it. Look,
obviously you can't tell a woman you just met that you love her, but it
sucks that you can't. I'll tell you something though, if a woman, not
you, just some hypothetical woman, were to bear with me through all
this, I think I'd make a damn good husband, because that's the stuff I'd
be good at. Stuff like making her laugh and being a good father and
walking her five hypothetical dogs. Being a good kisser.."
And I think that's when it hit me- I'm like the Ted Mosby of social work. I'm the guy that would make some human service agency an amazing social worker who is super fun to work with, helps people, and is good at his job. These past couple years of post-grad living have been like my employment bachelorhood- fun jobs, nothing long term- but now I'm ready for The One. I'm ready for that commitment. I'm ready to meet Your Mom.
Good one!
So basically this blog is going to be like an internet cover letter. It'll cover all the stuff that a cover letter would probably cover, but without the rote formalities and big words that a normal cover letter would have- plus it has pictures.
PICTURES!!!
Before I begin- slight sidebar. I think that there should be an eHarmony for jobs. Like someone figures out a scientific formula where you answer a bunch of questions and then an employer answers a bunch of questions and your composite scores get matched up based on compatibility. I just think it'd make more sense than the whole application/resume/interview song and dance that we do, which is very
antiquated- it's like going on a blind date, except you're competing with a bunch of other people like an episode of the Bachelor, but you only get one date (two, tops) before having to decide if
you want to get married. Maybe that's why there is such high turnover rate in some jobs and other people stay in places where they clearly aren't happy.
Maybe they have a top-notch benefits package...
Okay, so I'm going to get this started by listing the things that I'm...not. I'm not going to be a polished professional right off the bat. I've never been the best at jargon. I definitely don't have lots of experience- my human service career has largely been filled with hands-on direct-care positions, which means that even though I've still developed a Bat-belt of social work abilities, I've been doing slightly different work in a different setting than my social work peers have been doing.
But let me tell you what I am- besides a good father and a good kisser.
'Sup.
First of all, I'm smart. Not like, Mensa-smart or anything like that, but pretty darn smart. I graduated from Northern Michigan University with a 3.97 that probably could have been a 4.0. I did this while working and helping raise two young children. I'm sure I'm not unique in this-but it's not a commonality either. Actually, scratch that. I accomplished something that has never ever been done before. I guess I'm also like the Neil Armstrong of social work or something. Whatevs. Just another accolade at this point.
I'm able to look at things objectively and from multiple angles. Life doesn't happen like some linear script- it's more like a lottery ball machine, with a myriad of events and people all jostling around and resulting in interesting things with the faux appearance of randomness. So not only do I recognize that things aren't often what they seem- I actively seek out tributaries that might not seem to attach to the big river. Because chances are, they might.
But I also know that I don't know everything- and often times I feel like I don't know anything. So I have the humility to learn from others- including my clients, who are really the experts in their life stories. I'm not afraid to ask questions or to dig a little deeper. If I have an area of weakness, I exploit it by trying to improve it. In college, I took a Gay/Lesbian history class because I recognized that I had a prejudice in this area. I went in with a (not as much as I thought I had) open mind and learned quite a bit. I also made a great friend who happens to be a lesbian. The moral of the story? I'm awesome.
But this awesomeness didn't just happen like some sort of freak lab accident. I have a life story of my own, with its own trials and tribulations. I've been poor. From the get-go, life has been tough. Sara and I jumped into marriage as a couple of naive kids strung out on Peter Cetera songs and romantic comedies- which probably would have been fine if we hadn't got pregnant right away and then decided to move into a group home four months into our marriage. Can you say "Cluster of Stressors"?
Even though life has been tough the last few years, and I feel like we've had to scratch and claw for everything, I also wouldn't trade it for anything (unless it was a few million dollars) because I believe that I've learned from it. And while I know my story doesn't translate into a cure-all, I think it will help me to not only be more empathetic to my clients- but to also to be able to meet them where they're at (and treat them with dignity and respect).
Did I mention that I'm a husband and a father? That means something. Obviously it means that I am motivated to keep my job, since wives and children are expensive to upkeep. But also, it means that I have a sense of commitment and the ability to work through difficult issues. While I wouldn't often classify myself as a "selfless" person, I engage in varying degrees of personal sacrifice every day that I'm alive. It's not always easy and I don't always do the best job- but at the end of the day my family knows that I love them dearly and would do anything for them. Just like I will your clients, hypothetical future employer.
There's so much more that I could say about myself. My unconventional path has given me the skills and tools I need to be good at what I do. And obviously you've picked up that I have a great sense of humor and am an above-average writer. Both of those are merely latent traits in the overall package that is Jason Parks. I guarantee that if you give me a job and pay me money- I will be a darn good social worker. Probably not the best ever- but I'll give you my best, and you'll never even need to say thank you.
As long as your insurance covers chronic hoarseness
PICS-
Weekly US- http://img1.bdbphotos.com/images/orig/f/9/f924btnpo7nento2.jpg
Bill and Teds- http://i4.ytimg.com/vi/OT4B-NJUcZE/0.jpg
High five- http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZytdDbL_DZU/T3R_qolQPvI/AAAAAAAAACQ/RH0RUUALq0s/s1600/internet_high_five-2496.jpg
Ridiculously photogenic guy- http://knowyourmeme.com/photos/283598-ridiculously-photogenic-guy-zeddie-little
Wedding- http://devasuram.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/worst-wedding-photo-4.jpg
Batman- https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSDBOm7yzpg-F4eFP2bXnXDtsKTxcPUBFrqxF-1mGZmOBI8wvk59Ewonvpl_4LdAz4eL9dZjXfXy3IKz2G9gb5gCqxELBQXlFgYQ3q9BbcTtqqgoYzkbrRKoIHbvcBLaElFiStc0WJesM/s1600/936full-batman-begins-screenshot.jpg
For those who don't follow sports, the Miami Heat beat the Oklahoma City Thunder last night in the NBA Finals to go up 3 games to 1 in their best of 7 series. With the next game in Miami, there is a really good chance that LeBron James will be a World Champion by this weekend.
And I don't know how I feel about that.
Let me back up- I know how I feel about that. I don't like it- at all. I am sick and tired of LeBron. Honestly, I've never not been sick and tired of LeBron. I've rooted for his failure pretty much since he came into the league. I watched with a particular glee last summer as the Dallas Mavericks added to his history of Finals failures. I think I read every single news piece about LeBron's 4th quarter failures like some sort of bizarro proud papa. I cheer Skip Bayless (Skip Bayless!) every time he says "Prince" James in that condescendingly sarcastic tone of voice. Now, as he stands on the brink of vanquishing his playoff demons and engraving his name onto the pages of history- I find myself wrestling with how I'm processing this particular event.
Because the thought of LeBron having a championship is affecting me way, WAY more than it should. Not enough to make me want to jump off of a building or cause property destruction or anything like that- but I am realizing that there is part of me, however small (I do not know), that has derived some sense of identity from LeBron James' failures, a conscience fueled by schadenfreude. The closer LeBron James gets to his first title, the stronger those little, subtle punches to the gut become.
And I know how I feel about that- it's sort of sickening. Because really, nothing changes for me in a post-LeBron championship world other than I now have to view LeBron through a different lens. But he'll still be a world-famous, multi-millionaire athlete- and I'll still be Jason Parks, playing Angry Birds and writing blogs that no one reads.
So why do I care so much? Is it because I'm a fan? Maybe, but I'm not so sure. In this instance, I'm not
really rooting for a specific team, I'm just rooting for teams that play
LeBron. So I guess you could say I'm an anti-fan (LeBron fans might
refer to me as a 'hater'). Instead of rooting for a specific team to
win, I'm cheering for a specific player to lose.
Messed up, I know. I take solace in the fact that I'm not alone. Many people around the world dislike LeBron with as little reason (or less, if that can be believed) as I have. Of course, many people just as mindlessly like LeBron. Or at least, LeBron the name brand. How funny that we can attach such strong emotions (on both sides) to people with such little interaction with them.
Truthfully it isn't just LeBron though. I've always been this way when it comes to high profile athletes. Michael Jordan was my first anti-fan association. Brett Favre is on the list too, as well as Tom Brady (although after leading my Fantasy Football team to it's best showing ever, he's probably off this list), Emmitt Smith, Eric Lindros and Sidney Crosby. On a more mezzo-level, you can throw in the Yankees, Duke and North Carolina (hoops), Ohio State (all sports)- and that's pretty much it. I think.
I'd like to say that my disdain for these individuals/teams is because somehow I'm this extraordinary free-thinking spirit who despises being told who is good/who to like and carves out my own path. But nope- because anytime a player (or team) comes along that is heads above his peers, my anti-fandom comes poking his head out like those creepy tongue-thingies out of the Sarlacc pit.
Besides, I do recognize that there's at least a bit of homerism that factors in. Obviously Ohio State is U-M's biggest rivals- that's why they get scorn. Duke and North Carolina each waged war with the Wolverines in the NCAA finals during my early formative years as a hoops fan (which explains why their fellow blue bloods Kentucky and UCLA get a pass). Brett Favre played against the Lions twice a year, was voted MVP during Barry Sanders' 2,000 yard season (a travesty), and had some really obnoxious fans at Bullock Creek High School. Emmitt was Sanders' RB position rival, and I still haven't fully accepted him as the all-time NFL rushing champ. Tom Brady beat the St. Louis Rams in the Super Bowl when I was all over their bandwagon like ugly on Steven Tyler.
Who is undoubtedly the ugliest woman I have ever seen
Some hypocrisy plays a role too. For instance, Alex Ovechkin, Peyton Manning, Dwyane Wade, Carmelo Anthony, Aaron Rodgers, the Boston Red Sox, Tim Tebow- the list goes on of athletes who have received similar (if not even more) accolades and adoration to athletes/teams that I've despised. Yet I don't root against those dudes. I was quite ambivalent when the Red Sox won their first World Series back in 2004, and I actually sort of rooted for Manning and Rodgers in their Super Bowl wins. So why, when I have no immediately available vested interest, do I cheer some and jeer others?
I think multi-faceted, the answer is.
Coming did not you that one see
1) Humility/underdog status- perceived or factual- plays a role. Manning, for example, comes across as just a hard-working normal guy who gets by because of his insane amount of preparation instead of any God-given natural talent. Sure, he was a top overall pick (whereas Favre was a second rounder) and highly touted coming into college- but I've perceived him (and his ridiculously awkward throwing motion) as more of a humble underdog than Favre, who seems more natural throwing the ball and obviously more of a dominant personality.
Same thing with Wade. Yes, he was top-five NBA pick. However, he seemed (at least to me) to come out of nowhere after leading Marquette University (a non-traditional power) to the Final Four. Wade is quite possibly just as big of a prima-donna as James is, but because he didn't get on the cover of ESPN the magazine as a high school junior (and he's much more of a quiet personality than James), he has gotten a pass (for the most part).
So obviously part of it is how these guys are packaged to me through the eyes of the media and my perceptions of those packages. I don't think that explains it fully though, hence thought number deux...
2) Alpha-dog status. Over the past year or so, I've been processing the human experience through more of a biological/animal perspective- which frankly has been fascinating. I don't want to dredge up any evolution/creation debates- but it is interesting to think of our behavior as if we were just animals (instead of being some elevated form of life).
With this point of reference in mind, my seemingly irrational disdain for certain individuals/teams would actually be a manifestation of some biological function. For instance, think about territorial animals. It's pretty natural for them to be threatened by (and respond accordingly) to a bigger, stronger alpha-male that comes into their territory. They won't spend too much time thinking about how glorious everyone else says those gleaming, sharp teeth are. They don't really care about the other-worldly strength possessed by those powerful arms. They just know that now some other dude wants in on that harem action, and by "wants in on", I mean "will probably kill me and take over". Hard to be a fan in that instance.
So yeah, maybe I look at guys like LeBron and I'm threatened by their excellence, their self-confidence, their natural gifts and the abundance of their resources. If life was a savage jungle, obviously LeBron James would be better prepared for 'survival' than I am, which is such a sad proposition that I cannot think about him in terms of his positive traits because I hate him for the food he is indirectly taking out of my stomach.
Or something.
The reality is that these 'off-the-cuff' thoughts don't help me to come to grips with the fact that very soon, my identity as a sports fan is about to be shaken very severely and I have no idea what the landscape will look like when it's all said and done. The only thing I know for sure is that there is still hope for the Thunder, and my obligation as a fan is to root them on to victory- even if that victory is currently sitting in the big, toothy, powerful jaws of defeat.
OH GOD I CAN'T STAND IT!!!!
PICS: Steven Tyler- http://www.eonline.com/eol_images/Entire_Site/20080521/300.tyler.steven.052108.jpg
Yoda- http://images.wikia.com/starwars/images/e/e0/Yoda_SWSB.jpg
LeBron- http://rickischultz.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/lebronjames.jpg
We live in a dark world during dark times. People are doing horrible things to other people, saying mean things about other people, and passing gas in groups without claiming it. Every day, a new apocalypse seems to be rising out of the ashes of the failure of its predecessor. We are living on borrowed time, even on our best days, and trust my sister when I tell you that life is hard- no one makes it out alive.
So when we find any sense of beauty or hope in this fallen and decrepit world- well, we should cherish it and share it with others, right? I mean, most of us are in this "eat/drink/die tomorrow" frame of mind, looking for something to help get us from one valley to the next. But when you find something glorious, something that doesn't just numb the pain, but can really light a fire in men's hearts and make them aspire to something more, something greater beyond what they believe they are capable of...well, you have to share that with the world, right? You don't hide it, no matter how embarrassing it might seem to be. This could be your shot, your chance to change the fate of the world. So you grab hold of that sucker by the handlebars, spit something (doesn't matter what, as long as you make it look cool) and you just let it ride.
Right? With me so far? Good. Because I'm about to show you something so beautiful and so inspired that your life will forever be altered by it. Do you want to see it? Thought so.
BOOM. Do you see that? You, um, may have to enlarge or zoom in, but what you are looking at is the most perfect mustache since...since...well I have never seen it's equal. It is unequaled. A mustache that has (or had, unfortunately) no peer. The Mozart Jordan of mustaches.
Isn't it lovely? Isn't it wonderful? Isn't it precious? And to think that my wife wanted me to keep this picture, nay, this mustache, in hiding. As much as I love objects of beauty, I love to be able to sleep in my nice, cozy bed at night. So in the end, I had to kill the mustache so that the dream could live on. The dream to bring light into the darkness and help someone through their troubles- whether that means they lost their job or are going through an earthquake or maybe struggling with their own facial hair insecurities. Hey, look at me, even I can do it- and sure, you probably can't, but I'm here for you anyways loser brother.
Here it is again, at a different angle and in worse lighting. Just make sure you're sitting down.
Because it'll still take your breath away.
So remember today, as you walk through the valley of the shadow of death- that there is good in this world. There is light and love and hope...and even though there is one fewer mustache now (rest in peace, friend), you can go on with your day knowing that now there is purpose and meaning.
When you become a parent, you realize very quickly that have been given a human blank slate with zero instruction. It's tremendous pressure to be sure- another persons life is solely and completely in your hands. If you don't realize what a big deal that is, you haven't been paying attention.
Possibly because you've been too busy cutting your own hair
It's also pretty exciting though, when you realize that you have also been handed a miniature 'you'. This is your chance to relive childhood, to buy all those GI Joes that your parents would never buy you, to watch TV shows based on comic book heroes and all this can be yours- if you can make it through the first couple of years, when they're watching crap like Dora, and Max and Ruby. Note: It ain't easy. It's kind of like watching someone gouge out your eyes and then use them to scrape the chalkboard in twenty minute segments.
The problem is that one day, your kids will grow up and start to (gulp) develop their own identities. And ideas about what is actually cool. There's a chance (however small) that all those early attempts at socialization and personality shaping will backfire, and suddenly your household of Red Wings fans has yielded some Blackhawks bastard spawn and you're watching game 6 of the Western Conference finals wondering what the hell just happened. That's why, as a parent, I have to make sure that doesn't happen. That's why I bought Shane this pair of Spider-man socks.
Aside from being the coolest socks ever (I know, right?), these socks are a symbol of the struggle that I have waged to make my children in my image. Just like Spider-man battled with the alien symbiote (and also his baser nature) and reemerged as a more awesome Spider-man, Shane and Delaney have wrestled with the entertainment advances of their father and come out on the other side as little daddylytes. Brings a tear to my eye just thinking about all of the awesomeness that I have been propagating.
Something happened a few weeks ago though that completely rocked my world, shook me to the core, and threatened my very existence. We lost the socks. Well, we lost one of the socks, but that's basically like losing both socks. Socks are like swans- they mate for life, and if one of the mates is lost, then you throw the other one away because it's a worthless piece of junk.
I held on to hope for the last three weeks, believing that the missing mate would turn up in the laundry or in one of the kids toy boxes...waiting for a ransom note or a call from the dastardly villain that stole that precious piece of my soul...but as we boxed up our belongings and moved to a different home, and gradually unpacked all of the kids things, I slowly began to come to grips with the fact that the sock was gone...forever. Must have got teleported to Battleworld for some sort of Secret Sock Wars or something super important. Obviously. (sniff)
I know it's stupid to get attached to anything material- especially something belonging to your children and ESPECIALLY socks and ESPECIALLY socks purchased from the dollar section at Target. It's just...it was such a cool looking sock, cooler than either pair of Batman socks or the Ferb socks and almost as cool as the Perry the Platypus socks. Besides the physical sock itself, there's a chance that as Shane grows up, he'll forget all about Spider-man and super heroes and grow up liking shows like Teen Wolf and reading books about knitting and just generally being as anti-me as a man can be.
Which means he'll probably grow up to be a, you know, man
I'm sure I could wax poetic about how throwing away this sock is symbolic of my children and how they're growing older, or materialism, or tie it into life and relationships, or even making the best out of a bad situation (like being bitten by a radioactive spider, for instance). Maybe one day I will. But right now, the grief is still too near.
Goodbye, Spider-man socks. I'll miss you, old friends.
PIC- Brittney Spears- http://static.poponthepop.com/images/gallery/britney-spears-bald-head-shaving-head-photo.jpg
Stephen Jackson- http://cdn.bleacherreport.net/images_root/slides/photos/001/388/288/stephen_jackson_display_image.jpg?1317846729
