Friday, August 28, 2009

The Only Rule is It Begins

For the first time since the halcyon days of August 1988, I have arrived at the cusp of September and I do not find myself heading back to school. Perhaps it is because over 80% of my life thus far has been spent marking the year by the arrival and passage of school six weeks, semesters, and quarters, but to arrive at this point in the year without going back to school does feel pretty odd I must say.

Given that I've almost certainly seen the last of a classroom from a student's perspective, I suppose that from here on out I'll mark the beginning of fall as any good Texan would by noticing that football is right around the corner.

One of my favorite parts about my drive from Houston to Nashville was the opportunity to pass through a number of different areas of allegiance in the land where SEC football is King. As I passed over the Mississippi River in Baton Rouge, I could see the towering mass of Tiger Stadium (a.k.a. "Death Valley") rising from the trees that cover the L.S.U. campus. My fingers turned the radio dial to an A.M. station in Baton Rouge discussing the upcoming season and how Les Miles and the boys were going to recover from last year's 8-5 campaign.

As I passed out of the Pelican State into Mississippi, the topic of conversation turned from Tiger football to Rebel football. I picked up a station out of Jackson that was wrapped up in the hype surrounding the '09 Ole Miss program. Would Jevan Snead continue to impress in the SEC? Were the expectations surrounding Houston Nutt's team too high or could the boys in Oxford really live up to all of their advanced billing? The radio hosts and callers didn't come to anything even approaching a consensus, but they all seemed to agree that this was the most excited they've been before a football season since Eli Manning was walking through The Grove on his way to Vaught-Hemingway Stadium.

After jumping on I-20 at Meridian, Mississippi, I quickly passed into Alabama, and once you enter the Yellowhammer State, the talk immediately turned to the Crimson Tide. I found an AM station out of Birmingham that was all Crimson Tide all the time. If you've been past Tuscaloosa on I-20, you know that the city does not appear to be very much from the interstate, in fact you cannot even see the most famous piece of architecture in town, 92,138-seat Bryant-Denny Stadium, and as I passed by the University of Alabama campus, and the hosts discussed the Tide's prospects this year, it was as if they were talking about a figment of their imaginations.

Finally, as I turned north out of Birmingham on I-65, I eventually crossed into Tennessee where absolutely no one was talking about Vanderbilt on any of the stations that I was able to find. Despite the fact that a number of the callers on the stations in Lousiana, Mississippi, and Alabama were berating their favorite teams, the Vanderbilt program would probably long for a little vitriol being thrown its way, because as Oscar Wilde once said, "The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about."


Current Reading

Radical Son: A Generational Odyssey by David Horowitz

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Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Now They Make New Movies in Old Black and White

Among the many shortcomings of modern sports broadcasting, some of the most egregious offenders are the painfully awkward promotional spots that are wedged into breaks in the action.

Even though I cannot see Joe Buck's face when he is forced to extol the virtues of the next episode of "Hole in the Wall", I have no doubt that Joe's attorney tells his client to smile as he silently reviews the announcer's contract with Fox before each and every descent into that world of advertising purgatory.
All of this came to a head last Saturday afternoon when I heard the venerable Verne Lundquist say the following words during the CBS broadcast of the Kentucky-Alabama game:
"Tune in on Monday at 9/8 central for the latest hijinks of Charlie, Alan, and Jake on America's #1 Comedy, Two and a Half Men."

For a second the words washed over me without recognition, but as my mind changed gears from the Rules of Evidence to the Southeastern Conference on a Saturday afternoon, I came to a horrible realization:
What if Verne's right? What if Two and a Half Men really is America's #1 comedy? Is that the kind of world in which I want to live? Isn't that infinitely worse than an economy in turmoil or the fact that Shakespeare in Love beat Saving Private Ryan for the 1998 Best Picture Oscar?

My momentary fears subsided because I've only spoken to one other human being since Saturday who actually knows someone who has watched the show, but let me tell you, I was thrown for a loop there, folks.

I mean, that's almost absurd as telling me that Beverly Hills Chihuahua is currently sitting atop the box-office sales tally.

What's that?

You're serious?

If you'll excuse me, I need to head down to the fall-out shelter.

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