We Rarely Practice Discern

Ladies and gentleblogreaders, in the hopes of reviving this here blog, I'm going to start running a series of emails that I am currently exchanging with the gentleman pictured with me above* (the one, the only, Luke Reeves).

I'll run the emails in a format where I'll post one of Luke's emails starting today, my response tomorrow, and continue alternating the responses to infinity and beyond.

Please feel free to offer your responses, thoughts, and insights.

Here goes nothing...

Part I

Justin,

Firstly, I loudly applaud the disclaimer at the foot of your email.

Secondly, I appreciate the note. As I reflect on the tail end of last year, I realize I spent a little too much time not acting human. By that I mean holing up at my house and not really interacting with people. As time goes on, a propensity for introversion is rearing its ugly head, so holing up becomes easier and easier. But that's probably not what's best. Hence the goal.

So bring it. What's been your topic of thought of late?

Again, thanks for starting this conversation.

reeves

*The picture above was taken immediately after the David Tyree catch in Super Bowl XLII. At some point in the distant future, I will direct my grandchildren to this picture to demonstrate just how improbable that catch was.

True Colors Fly in Blue and Black

Congratulations to Mr. Jeremy Masten for correctly naming "Free Fallin'" by Tom Petty as the Sunday Song of the Day.

Rest easy, everyone. We now have proof that the Sports Guy did not mix himself a Drano smoothie after last night's devastating loss by the Great Satan.

Now it all makes sense.

You bleed for your team, you follow them through thick and thin, you monitor every free-agent signing, you immerse yourself in draft day, you purchase the jerseys and caps, you plan your Sundays around the games ... and there's a little rainbow waiting at the end. You can't see it, but you know it's there. It's there. It has to be there. So you believe.

Of course, there's one catch: You might never get there. Every fan's worst fear. All that energy over the years just getting displaced, no release, no satisfaction, nothing. Season after season, no championship ... and then you die. I mean, isn't that what this is all about? Isn't that the nagging fear? That those little moral victories over the years won't make up for that big payoff at the end -- that one moment when everything comes together, when your team keeps winning, when you keep getting the breaks and you just can't lose.

And if none of this makes sense, well ... it does to me. I just watched somebody else's team win the Super Bowl. Giants 17, Patriots 14.

"Free Fallin' Out Into Nothing" by Bill Simmons.

I must confess that a small part of me hurts for the Patriots, Simmons, and the entire fanbase of the Great Satan. Set aside their former smug satisfaction, thoughts of Spygate, and Bill Belichick leaving the field last night with :01 remaning on the clock. Instead, think if you had been working towards anything monumental for months and months, only to see it taken away at the last moment by the black sheep brother of your greatest rival.

After weeks and weeks of pressure, constant questions about perfection, and tons of potshots, the Pats fell a few minutes short of immortality, and as Eli Manning knelt to the turf in Glendale, Arizona, I was reminded once again how the pursuit of perfection is an unforgiving journey.
History will not view the Pats' season as a success despite the second-ever undefeated regular season. Instead, they will be viewed as a tragic collection of figures that, by all accounts, should have finally ushered the '72 Dolphins out of the spotlight, and entered into a rareified status that only comes along every so often in this era of parity and mediocrity.

Now, everyone is undefeated once again. When the next season begins in September, we will have these inevitable discussions around the final team remaining undefeated, constantly wondering if they can make it all the way. Those conversations will be full of possibility and conjecture, but they will always contain the phrase,"Yeah, they're undefeated, but what about Super Bowl XLII...?"

I'm a Bad Boy 'Cause I Don't Even Miss Her

Congratulations to Ms. Stacy Villescas and Mr. Joseph Halbert for correctly naming "Boys of Summer" from the Don Henley album Building the Perfect Beast as the Friday Song of the Day. Thanks are also in order to my Dad and John Middleton for the Don Henley-related trivia. If a celebrity is from East Texas, he or she is going to get the 5-star treatment here at Running Down a Dream.

Speaking of "Running Down a Dream", the editorial staff would like to thank Mr. Tom Petty for the plug tonight during the Super Bowl XLII halftime show. You'll note that we did not have to pay a hefty $3 million for a halftime plug, but merely convinced Mr. Petty and The Heartbreakers to play our namesake tune in return for a YouTube plug. Here you go, Tom.

Oh, you also want to talk about that game that also occurred on either side of Mr. Petty's performance? I can do that as well. For a game that was largely forgettable through the first 3 quarters, that final quarter was probably the most intense 15 minutes of football that I have watched since the 2006 Texas-USC Rose Bowl matchup, and we're talking about a game that featured the hated New York (Football) Giants and the Great Satan.
I'm not sure what the collective reaction in your locale was to the escape by Eli "Harry Houdini" Manning from Pats' pressure and subsequent heave downfield to an obviously living right David Tyree, but everyone around me screamed things at the television that looked something like this:

"Icantbelievewhatjusthappened!!!"

"HowdidEliManningdothat?"

"WhatkindofdealdidDavidTyreecutwiththedeviltomakethatcatch?"

"Whyareweallyellingatthetvscreenoverteamswenormallyhate?"

(Yes, we were in the "talking so fast so that all of your words run together" mode.)

As 85% of you then witnessed, Eli Manning heaved a pass to the corner of the endzone into the waiting arms of Plaxico Burress, and millions of yet-to-be born children in the New York-Connecticut-New Jersey tri-state area will be saddled with names like Plaxico Wasserstein because of that famed connection.

In the end, Eli Manning stood as the Super Bowl MVP after outdueling Tom Brady, and I am currently eating a nice baked serving of crow for all of the grief that I constantly piled on the youngest Manning brother. Frankly, I'm expecting to walk outside right now and see a flock of pigs winging through the sky in a perfect "V" and cats living with dogs in perfect harmony. It's true, my friends. Hell has frozen over, Satan (not the Great Satan) has pulled out the tire chains, and everyone is stockpiling canned goods.

As someone once said, "It's not the end of the world, but I think you can see it from here."

I would write more, but I need to do little checking to make sure that the Sports Guy and Joey Halbert have not done anything rash after the Great Satan's once perfect season fell apart like a tumbleweed in the Arizona desert. In fact, Joseph summed things up well when he told me after the game, "How the mighty have fallen. Karma is a cruel, cruel mistress."

Too true, Joseph.

Too true.

A Voice Inside My Head Said Don't Look Back, You Can Never Look Back

[Setting: Mid-town Manhattan outside of the NFL Offices]

Member of Immanuel Bible Church (Springfield, VA): Commissioner Goodell, excuse me, sir, Commissioner Goodell, excuse me.

Roger Goodell: [Turns around quickly] Yes?

Member of Immanuel Bible Church (Springfield, VA): Commissioner, on behalf of Immanuel Bible Church in Springfield, Virginia, I want to invite you to our annual Super Bowl party where you can watch the big game on a six-foot screen. Six-feet, Roger! That's larger than the sub sandwich you and Bill Belichick just polished off after discussing what to do about Spygate.

Roger Goodell: Six-foot screen, you say? Hmmmmmm.

Member of Immanuel Bible Church: Yes sir, and all the pizza you can handle.

Roger Goodell: Gee, I really appreciate the offer, but I just think I'm going to have to decline.

Member of Immanuel Bible Church: Why's that, Rog? As I said earlier, I know you love subs. We can scrap the pizza order for subs.

Roger Goodell: Well, it's not that, although I do love subs. It's just this copyright thing.

Member of Immanuel Bible Church: What copyright thing?

Roger Goodell: Well, our lawyers tell me that the NFL has a policy banning public showing of games on TV sets or screens larger than 55 inches, which puts you about 17 inches over the line.

Member of Immanuel Bible Church: Well, what about the sports bars with huuuuuge screens?

Roger Goodell: [Moves hands in same motion as Rob Schneider in Home Alone 2: Lost in New York when asking Kevin McAllister for a tip]

Member of Immanuel Bible Church: I see, Roger. No need to rub it in, dude.

Roger Goodell: Well, see you around. I've got to get out to Arizona for the game. All this time near Yankee Stadium has really been freaking me out.

"NFL Pulls Plug on Big-Screen Church Parties for Super Bowl" by Jacqueline L. Salmon of the Washington Post.

We Were Born With Our Eyes Wide Open

Chuck Klosterman begins in earnest his campaign for induction into the Running Down a Dream author/writer/columnist Hall-of-Fame.

If the Patriots win, they will just become this thing that scorched the earth for five months before capturing a trophy that was never in doubt. Future historians will describe this New England team as if it were a machine. Everyone will concede the Pats' superlative greatness, but the 19 wins will be just a collection of numbers. But if they lose -- especially if they lose late -- the New England Patriots will be the most memorable collection of individuals in the history of pro football.

They will prove that nothing in this world is guaranteed, that past returns do not guarantee future results, that failure is what ultimately defines us and that Gisele will probably date a bunch of other dudes in her life, because man is eternally fallible.

Losing isn't everything. It's the only thing.

"All Too Perfect" by Chuck Klosterman.

So When Does the Plane Go Down?

5 Things You Probably Did Not Know About "The Big Game" taking place on February 3, 2008 (Note: Read this post with enough sarcasm to kill a horse, just not one named Barbaro).

1. Eli Manning, quarterback for the New York (Football) Giants, is related to another quarterback in the league, Peyton Manning, who happened to play in the "The Big Game" last year in Miami, Florida. Since Eli's aforementioned brother seems to be adverse to publicity and commercials, a large raise will go to the reporter who can scrounge up more information on this recluse.
   
2. The New England Patriots (coughTheGreatSatancough) are currently undefeated with an 18-0 record. What's that? You didn't know that well-hidden tidbit? Well, that's exactly why you're reading this post, my uninformed friend.
   
3. A man named Eric Mangini, who coaches a football team named after airplanes in New York, told on his former boss, Patriots coach Bill Belichick, after the initial game of the 2007 season. Some people got mad, some people paid large sums of money to a guy named Roger Goodell, and people keep talking about this thing called an "asterisk". There's really not enough reporting on this to forumlate an entire story, so let's just move on to the next point.
   
4. In the past 18 months, the quarterback for the Great Satan, Tom Brady, has fathered a child with a beautiful tv-star, Bridget Moynahan, broken up with Ms. Moynahan, began dating the world's most famous super-model, Gisele Bundchen, and compiled the greatest statistical year for a quarterback in the history of the NFL. At halftime of "The Big Game", Mr. Brady will receive a special present from the Make-a-Wish foundation because it seems that life has really dealt him a poor hand. No one deserves a string of bad bounces like Tom has had these past few years.
   
5. Did you know that Jerome Bettis is still from Detroit? Seriously, even though "The Big Game" was played there two years ago, you, the American viewing public, still need to know that the big, lovable, mass-transportation nicknamed lug was actually a native of the city where he won his first "Big Game". What? You didn't know that either? I'm beginning to think that you're a lost cause.

At least you're not dumb enough to believe that the Manning brothers actually have a father who played professional football, because that would just be ridiculous.

You Can't Take It With You

Perhaps it was not Shackelton's voyage to the Antarctic, and it certainly was not the FROZEN TUNDRA OF LAMBEAU FIELD, but the first annual Ninja Camping Trip this weekend to the desolate wasteland of the Cedar Ridge Campground outside Belton was by all accounts a success despite the cold.

I returned home to my comfortable abode expecting a warm welcome back to civilization, but what I received rocked me to my very core.

The madness from last week has not abated, and young Eli (Now, I'm up to 45% of Archie and Olivia's inheritance) Manning has now led to the New York (Football) Giants to that "big game" that will take place in Glendale, Arizona on February 3, 2008.

(Proper name of this "big game" removed due to a run-in with a NFL official).

The NFL can monitor me all it wants, but you know what game I'm talking about (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

In said "big game", the New York (Football) Giants will face "The Great Satan". This game is almost like cheering a matchup between AIDS and the ebola virus. In other words, no matter who wins, we all lose.

Living on the Road is Getting Pretty Old

In what will almost certainly lead to the premature downfall of America's Team, here's an attempt to articulate my hopes for the remainder of the NFL campaign. I've written before about my belief, along with that of millions of other sports fans, regarding my ability to affect the outcome of sporting events.

Slightly delusional? Likely.

Uncommon? Hardly.

With that said, despite the vitriol and outright hatred that has been directed at the New England Patriots over the course of this season, I wish them well until February 3, 2008. In much the same way as that 2006 Rose Bowl victory by the 'Horns was much more satisfying because it involved such a dominant U.S.C. squad, a possible (dodging lightning bolts) Cowboys victory in Super Bowl XLII over an 18-0 Patriots team would be incredibly satisfying.

Sure, the Pats have had their share of close calls recently, but much like a college football team that eventually wins the national title (see 1997 Nebraska Cornhuskers), they have escaped those encounters unscathed and have the faint appearance of a team of destiny. I'm sure that by committing my internal hopes to the unchangeable medium of the internet, I have somehow insured that in the next few weeks T.O.'s knee will explode in a grisly scene that only Joe Theismann could respect or that America's Team will fall in the NFC playoffs to a team in Minnesota led by one Tarvaris Jackson, and if that is the case, I'll go into the witness protection program with Steve Bartman and become, in the words of the immortal Emmitt Smith, an "escape goat."

If the knee of Mr. Owens remains intact for a run towards a possible meeting with the Patriots, and the 'Boys actually conquered Belichick's undefeated minions, wouldn't that have to rank right up there with the best Super Bowl storylines of all-time?

• Would Bill Belichick's head explode on national television?
• Would Troy Aikman begin openly rooting for his former team during the Fox Broadcast?
• Would Joe Buck constantly bring up Randy Moss's former "mooning" of Packers' fans in an opportunity to remind America that he decried that celebration as a "disgusting act"?

The possibilities are endless my friends.

I realize that by writing all of this, I have fallen victim to the current culture of generating hype regarding something that may never come to pass, but if it does happen, you already know of one Cowboys fan that would not complain at all.