But, Really, What Do I Know?

So, fine, maybe my prognostication skills need some improvement. Despite my predictions to the contrary, the New York Giants beat the New England Patriots last night to claim their second title of the Tom Coughlin-Eli Manning era.

Both those Super Bowl victories have come against the Patriots and their legendary quarterback, Tom Brady, and both victories came in nail-biting fashion with last-minute heroics from Eli and the Giants.

For my part, I managed to pretty much get everything wrong, as even my two Super Bowl Box Pools proved to be against me. Sure, they're completely random, but still.

I had a shot at winning one of them, when the Giants went for a two-point conversion with less than a minute to play. Had they executed the conversion, I would have won this, a Joker 1:4 Scale Museum Quality Statue, the final score prize offered by the pool at a local shop:
And, fine, I would have had absolutely nowhere to put this 19-inch Joker statue, but c'mon--it's awesome!

So the Pats shouldn't feel too bad--clearly, I was the biggest loser yesterday.

Super Sunday

So...there's a game on today. As excited as I am for the actual day and all its food and things, I really don't care about the game itself. See, I'm a Dallas Cowboys fan, so, naturally, I hate the Giants.

And, being a New York Yankees fan, I'm not allowed to root for any team located in Massachusetts.

So, yeah, I hate both teams.

Or, at least, I'm supposed to hate both teams. But it's impossible to hate a guy like Tom Brady, the quarterback of the New England Patriots who went through college and his earliest professional days as an underdog.

Yep, the best quarterback of my generation--and one of the greatest in NFL history--started his career as an underdog.

In college, at Michigan, Brady was seen as a run-of-the-mill passer, and everyone from the head coach down wanted to see the QB relegated to second-string so freshman phenom Drew Henson could have more playing time.

It's an interesting story, and one retold in a recent issue of Sports Illustrated.

Brady, as he's done his entire career, sucked it up, figured it out, and won the starting job. He learned to read and anticipate defenses better than anyone else in the college game, and he was able to translate those skills to what has become a legendary pro career.

Tonight he plays in his fifth Super Bowl. He's won three of the four he's previously appeared in, losing to the New York Giants in one of the most memorable games in many years.

That season, the Pats were undefeated going into the Super Bowl; they were clear-cut favorites and a shoo-in to win. Then, the impossible happened and the Giants pulled a win out of--well, you know where.

Maybe Brady just wasn't used to being the favorite. Maybe he wasn't comfortable in the role of Apollo Creed.

That night, Rocky won.

Tonight, though? Well, tonight I don't think I would bet against Brady, even though his Pats are once again (slightly) favored.

It's an interesting matchup, made especially compelling because of the teams' Super Bowl history. But the Giants beat the Pats before, and I just can't imagine Tom Brady allowing that to happen twice.

The Bark Side

With the Super Bowl fast approaching, advertisers everywhere are working overtime to prep those wonderful, wonderful commercials.

And because everything is over-the-top crazy these days, some companies have taken to releasing previews for their upcoming Super Bowl spots.

That's right--like movie trailers, only for commercials.

Insane? Sure. But at least we get things like this, from Volkswagen. It's called "The Bark Side" and, well, I'm posting it today just because.

Enjoy, and Happy Sunday.

When We Were Young

As we're taking this Exfanding trip down (geek) memory lane, I'm realizing something that, while not shocking to me, might surprise a few people here.

You see, I wasn't always a geek. No, really. I swear.

I mean, sure, I collected baseball cards as a kid, and yes, I watched both Batman: The Animated Series and the 1990s X-Men cartoon like it was my job.

And, sure, for as long as I can remember I've only ever wanted to be Batman when I eventually grow up.

But I wasn't always such a big dork--I didn't even buy a monthly comic book until 2003. Actually, I wasn't even a little geeky in middle school or high school, and I certainly wasn't geeky through my first couple years of college.

In high school especially, there were so many other things to occupy my mind that I turned a blind eyes towards lots of really cool stuff. Like Buffy, or Freaks and Geeks. Or the 1990s comics explosion and eventual implosion.

I'm very glad to say, however, that I didn't turn a blind eye towards lots of really cool people.

I was friends with plenty of people who had geeky tendencies and geeky hobbies. I was also friends with lots of people who had never heard of Daredevil or Joss Whedon and who didn't care if Han shot first.

See, I was pretty much the definition of a high school jock--I played football for a couple of years and I was the captain of the baseball team. I was even prom king my Junior year, and I came in second my Senior year.

Which was okay because that year I was named homecoming king. I got to dance with the queen and everything.

Stop laughing. I'm not kidding. It really happened. There are photos. And, somewhere, there are trophies.

But I never really saw myself as a jock, and while classmates who didn't know me well may have pegged me as such, anyone who talked to me for even a little while knew better. I didn't hang out in cliques, mostly because cliques are stupid.

I also didn't eat lunch with a set group of people. In fact, most days I'd eat lunch in the offices of the school newspaper, where I held the position of photo editor.

Yep, even in high school I worked through my lunch hour at a desk.

What I'm trying to say here is, back then I wasn't into a lot of the things that I'm into these days, and that's a shame because I missed out on a whole decade's worth of cool stuff.

And I think that's why I wanted to do this series of posts about our fandoms at different periods in our lives.

I've recently been reading Wil Wheaton's memoirs, and those tales of Saturday afternoons in the basement playing D&D somehow managed to make me feel nostalgic for something I'd never experienced.

This blog does that for me--it makes me nostalgic for things I'd never heard of before Nathaniel wrote about them. Hopefully you get something like that out of Exfanding, too.

-- -- -- --

I'll be back tomorrow with a mixed bag Waiting for Wednesday, wherein I wrap up our "Remember When" posts with a talk about my emergence into geekdom.

Super Bowl Sunday-ing

Yes. Well.

Welcome to Sunday's post. Normally, Sundays around here are the sniveling and tiny kid brother to the starting quarterback of an older brother that is the rest of the week's posts.

Yes, the analogy works. Yes, it's more than a little clumsy. No, I will not rewrite any of it.

Anyway, Sunday posts tend to be less...educational. And more...nonsensical and irrelevant than the other things we like to write about over the course of a given week. And that's on a normal Sunday, preceded by normal, everyday posts for the rest of the week.

But this Sunday.

Sheesh.

Talk about a hard act to follow. It's like being the guy who comes up on stage to present the Oscar for "Best Technical Use of a Dolly Camera" after Roberto Benigni hears his name called.
This Sunday? What could I possibly write about that could even come close to the happenings on this blog over the course of the past week? Honestly? Nothing. Not a thing.

I mean, sure, today is the Super Bowl and all--a pretty big deal for a whole lot of folks. Certainly for fans in Green Bay and Pittsburgh. But Nathaniel's news trumps even this very classic, old school football match-up.

But what can I do? I need to post something, and I have no stupid/funny link to toss up here and call it a day.

So let's talk sports for a minute.

I have no vested interest in the game this year, as my lowly Dallas Cowboys had another rough season. Still, it's the Super Bowl, and that means one, very important thing.

Baseball season is right around the corner.

Pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training in one week from today, and they'll be playing exhibition games in just about three weeks from now. And for me, that's important.

Because I need a little baseball right about now.

Between the long hours at the office and the mountains of snow and ice (seriously, it's like a Zeppelin song out there), and the fact that I haven't been able to get to my comics shop for going on three Wednesdays...

I could use an afternoon (preferably a warm one, but I realize one can't have everything) sitting down in front of a baseball game.

Football is a great sport, but in my opinion, at least, it's unfair and thus flawed. Sometimes, it seems like whoever gets the ball next/last will win the game. There's nothing I hate more than a last second field goal from 50 yards out.

Your team can trail by 21 points at halftime, come back to tie the score with 20 seconds left to play, and then lose to a 10-yard "drive" and a field goal. And the team that got its brains kicked in the entire second half can ostensibly render the last 29 minutes and 55 seconds of play pointless.

Not so in baseball.

Baseball, if nothing else, is eminently fair.

No time limits, no shot clocks, and both teams get the exact same number of outs with which to score their runs.

It's also exceedingly difficult.

You lose track of how hard the game is by watching the pros play on TV. You get a little better appreciation at the ballpark, but still. It's hard to quantify just how incredible it is that a human being can throw a baseball nearly 100 miles per hour.

Or how incredible it is that another human being can turn that pitch around and hit a ball 400 feet.

And I know what you're thinking--writing about why baseball is a better game than football, on Super Bowl Sunday, is probably not the best idea.

Yeah, well. You're probaly right.

But then again, so am I.

-- -- -- --

Enjoy the game, everyone!

A Quick Story for Today (To Be Followed Later in the Week with More Stories...and Photos)

As mentioned last week, I spent this past weekend in Baltimore, Maryland, catching a couple of baseball games and filling the rest of the hours by walking around the Inner Harbor and Fells Point, eating crab as often as possible, and checking out anything that seemed even remotely cool.

And I had a really nice time. Sure, it's not exactly a trip to Paris, but Baltimore is a great town, and it was interesting to watch my favorite team play a pair of away games.

The New York Yankees were in town for the weekend, and while I had tickets for Saturday night's game, the beautiful weather on Friday (and the fact that my hotel was literally across the street from the stadium) led me to walk up to the ticket booth in an attempt to buy tickets for a game that was to start in a couple of hours.

In New York, doing so would be pretty much a lost cause.

Still, I decided to make the across-the-street journey just to see what might happen. "Hello, sir," the man in the ticket window said. "What can I do for you?"

"Well," I answered, rubbing the back of my neck. "I was kinda hoping there might be some tickets still available for tonight's game." Figuring the next words out of the man's mouth would be, "Ah, sorry, sir. You do know the game starts in, like, an hour?" I was already prepared with a standard, "Eh, that's OK, I was just wondering."

Instead of that dreamed-up conversation, however, the man behind the counter said, "Sure. Where do you want to sit?"

"Uh, well...I guess best available."

"OK, hang on a sec," was the response, and the man in the ticket booth starting typing away.

"Oh," I spoke up again, "I'm sorry--I'll need four seats together, please."

Well, that was it. The straw that broke the camel's back. No way would there be--

"How about 15 rows behind the first base dugout?"

Awkward silence.

"Sir?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, you have four seats--together--behind the dugout? For tonight?"

"Yep, you want 'em?"

"..."

"Sir?"

"Um, well, I'm kinda afraid to ask, but--uh--how much?"

"It'll be 90 a ticket, so--"

"Ugh. That's gonna be--wait, what? $90 bucks? Nine-zero?"

"Yep."

"I'll take four."

"I know, sir. You mentioned that."

As I was walking back towards the hotel with four tickets--behind the first base dugout--to a game that was to start in a couple of hours, all I could think was, if this was Yankee Stadium, I wouldn't have even been able to bribe an usher for $90 bucks.

Um. Not that I'd ever do that, of course...

2010: A Baseball Oddity

I’ve been watching baseball for as long as I can remember, and I’ve been watching baseball seriously--and with a discerning eye--for the past decade or so. And in that time, I don’t recall any season in which professional umpires have made so many errant calls.

Sure, bad calls are very much a part of the game (and therefore I am absolutely against instant replay in any fashion) but this year’s list of blown calls seems excessive.

The biggest (and worst) such call so far this season cost a young pitcher a perfect game, and it seems like not a week goes by without some controversy or another concerning a close call, or an umpire, or both.

Interestingly enough, a pattern formed early on in the year that should have clued us all into what was to come.

At the start of the season, umpire Joe West criticized the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox--Major League Baseball’s two biggest moneymakers, mind you--for taking too long to play a game. Actually, West said this about the two teams:

"They're two of the best teams in baseball. Why are they playing the slowest?...It's pathetic and embarrassing. They take too long to play."

Too long to play? A baseball game? I’m sure his employers at MLB loved that. A three-plus hour game between the two biggest rivals in all of sports? Yeah, I bet the league did pretty well with advertising during that game.

Of course, it’s not about the money--for me, anyway.

Baseball is a game with no time limits; no restrictions on the offensive team other than the three outs allotted per inning. Before those three outs are recorded, well, whatever happens happens. A team could score 10 runs and cause their opponents to use 5 different pitchers in the same inning. Or a team could swing at three pitches and hit three groundballs to the shortstop.

That’s part of the beauty of baseball--there are no shot clocks or two minute warnings, no TV timeouts or halftimes. The game continues on until one team scores more runs than the other team, and gets 27 outs.

Joe West was wrong in his comments, and, frankly, pretty stupid in saying what he said. But he sure did a fine job of foreshadowing a long, bad season for MLB umpires.

And, because we haven’t had a controversial call since the weekend, an umpire Tuesday night gave us something new to talk about. In a game that featured three ejections and closer Trevor Hoffman’s record 600th career save, Tuesday night’s game between the Brewers and the Cardinals will be remembered for the following.

In the 7th inning, home plate umpire Bob Davidson turned to the stands directly behind home plate...and he threw a fan out of the game.

Yep. A fan. Someone who was watching a game that he paid primo money for, and heckling an opposing player.

Listen, I’m the number one proponent of "Don’t be that Guy," but c'mon. You can’t throw a fan out for heckling a player. The players make a whole lot of money--they can take the heckling.

And if they can't? Then find a new job. Maybe one that doesn’t pay a league-minimum of $400,000 a year.

Now, let’s step back a moment. Say a fan becomes overly rowdy at a game, and he or she (probably he) starts to annoy people around him. And he disrupts other paying customers from enjoying the game.

Then he should go. Absolutely. Throw him out.

BUT, security should throw him out. NOT the home plate umpire.

There’s a line, and in my opinion, the umpire crossed it. It’s the running joke of the 2010 season that umpires are, more and more, injecting themselves into the game. As if they want people to talk about them at the bar after the last out is recorded, instead of Alex Rodriguez or Albert Pujols.

But an umpire--a good one, anyway--should be invisible. A backdrop. Like a great safety or cornerback in football, a baseball umpire should not have his name called during a game. That’s how you know he’s doing a good job. Because nobody’s said a word about him.

But this year...I dunno. There must be something in the Gatorade.

-- -- -- --

In an update to this story (I wrote this post on Wednesday, before the umpire in question was interviewed by the media), take a look at this article from ABC Sports, where home plate umpire Bob Davidson says that the fan (a 44-year old male) used a homophobic slur, and that's what prompted his ejection.

Claiming that he feared retaliation from St. Louis Cardinals catcher Yadier Molina (to whom the heckling and slur were directed), Davidson stepped in and threw the fan out.

Now, obviously, I don't side with the fan. He's an idiot, and I don't get guys who heckle players. But, since he paid for his ticket, he's allowed to heckle. Yes, the slur was clearly over the line, but I still don't think it warranted an ejection from the umpire.

The fan was drunk--very drunk, according to Brewers players--and as such, he should have been escorted out by security. But, for whatever reason, security didn't think it was neccessary to throw the guy out.

And their job is to know when to throw a guy out.

Just to be clear--the guy's an idiot. What he allegedly said is disgusting and primitive, and I in no way agree with fans who heckle and carry on. I mean, I'm the guy who hates the guy who asks writers/artists to sign more than a couple of comic books at a convention.

Go to a game, sit there, have a beer, enjoy life.

But leave security to the security folks. Umpires have done enough this year to make themselves way, way too noticable during Major league Baseball games. So, in conclusion--everyone please just chill out.

Welcome to the Show!

Today, as promised, I've procured an excellent guest post about a video game. Which, thankfully, has saved me from writing anymore posts about video games this week. I'd reached my limit, folks. So here instead is a review of the Playstation 3 baseball juggernaut, MLB 10 The Show, written by my brother, Chris. (Only slightly edited to remove profanities...)

Take it away, Chris.

I have returned after a four month sabbatical to talk about the greatest sports video game since Tecmo Super Bowl--MLB 10 The Show.

Before I delve into the greatness that is The Show, I recently experienced the worst thing that could ever happen to a gamer--death. No, not my own. My PS3. I had the old, fat, clunky, and glossy PS3 system for three years and it finally crapped out on me after thousands of hours playing it.

There I was, playing The Show, in the 2012 season of my franchise with the San Francisco Giants (Lincecum and Cain, anyone?). It was opening day and the big free agent signed in the offseason was Carl Crawford, who homered on the second pitch of the game.

I was well on my way to bringing a championship to the Bay area...and then there was darkness. My game shut off and there was a yellow light. “Don’t go toward the yellow light!” I yelled. But it was no use.

My system had finally died.

I called up Sony customer service and they said that it would take three weeks to repair my poor, broken system and it would cost me about $200 for shipping and handling. I decided against it and bought a brand spanking new 120 GB slim PS3 for $300 bucks...after I got off the phone.

Now to the game.

Let me start off by saying that this game isn’t perfect but it’s darn close to it. Yeah, there are a few bugs, but what game out there doesn’t have bugs these days?

What makes MLB 10 The Show great are the little details/nuances that come from watching baseball day in and day out. From the umpire getting nicked with a foul ball, to the catcher throwing his mask off on a pop up, and even those annoying rally monkeying fans in Anaheim banging thunder sticks late in the game, The Show has it all.

Not to mention almost every batting stance, pitching motion, and pre-at bat rituals (like Big Papi spitting on his gloves before gripping the bat). It really is the most realistic baseball simulation out there (isn’t that from a commercial?).

Adding to the realism of The Show is the “Franchise” mode, which is the best in the history of the series. In addition to drafting and scouting future prospects, signing free agents, and making blockbuster trades, comes the ever-so-confusing waiver wire.

True to the real thing, lower market teams who can’t afford their high priced players will attempt to dump them on waivers. Sweet, I just grabbed Adrian Gonzalez...oh wait, the Padres just pulled him back.

Gotta love it!!!

And if you think you can just mash your way to victory, think again. MLB 10 The Show is by far the hardest baseball game to date. The AI is very smart and if you swing at a pitch out of the strike zone, that’s all you’re going to see.

If you’re hitting Josh Beckett’s fastball, he’ll adjust and throw off speed stuff your next time up. The key to hitting is to be patient, smart, and to work the count. Like I said, the AI will adjust to your success and exploit your failures.

MLB 10 The Show is without a doubt the greatest sports game to date. The series is so great that other gaming titles such as NCAA College Football and Madden are following the same formula by concentrating on small details to make a realistic sports simulation while not taking away from the game play.

See you in The Show.

Rocky: Love, Friendship, and Boxing...A Movie Series with Heart

The saga of boxer Rocky Balboa is unique in its depth, quality, continuity, and widespread appeal. The six movies that make up the Rocky series tell a compelling, meaningful, and action-packed story that's just as appropriate for Sports Night as it is for Date Night. With its heart-pounding (and head-pounding) fight scenes, organic and often funny dialogue, and remarkably believable characters, Rocky's got more than enough to please people from all walks of life, regardless of race, color, or Creed.

The six Rocky films follow the life of Rocky "The Italian Stallion" Balboa, a no-name fighter whose tough exterior and punchy speech belie the sensitivity and wisdom within, a man who literally and figuratively rolls with the punches and goes wherever life takes him. Rocky suffers some hard blows both in and outside the boxing ring, but he draws strength from his friends and family and regains clarity when he returns to his roots as a boy from urban Philadelphia.

Indeed, the Rocky saga is one of triumph over impossible odds, faithfulness to the ones you love, remembering who you are and where you came from, and beating the snot out of big, burly men. Strong character interactions cover a wide range of emotions, and varied storylines offer a chance to reflect on everything from social status to intercultural tensions to growing old and being past your prime.

Each Rocky movie culminates in a big fight, but the road that leads there shapes what happens there, and the ramifications of what happen in the fight are rarely confined to the boxing ring. They're not movies about boxing, nor are they movies that happen to have boxing in them: the Rocky films chronicle the life of this guy named Rocky Balboa, period. This is emphasized by the fact that the films span thirty years, the first having been released in 1976 and the last in 2006, so the actors grow older with their characters.

From a cinematic standpoint, the films are very much a product of their time period--the music and storytelling style make it very easy to pinpoint the year or decade each film was released--yet there's still a timeless feel about them.

Almost without exception, each film picks up exactly where the last one left off, enhancing the sensation that this is indeed a story rather than just a bunch of movies. Even so, it's the actors who truly sell the story aspect--Sylvester Stallone, Talia Shire, Burgess Meredith, Burt Young, Carl Weathers, and many others make their characters come alive to the point where you forget anybody is acting.

Rocky also perfected the art of the montage: every film has at least one training montage or flashback sequence that helps to illustrate how things are changing and how things have changed (or stayed constant). The montages are interesting enough on their own, but when you throw in composer Bill Conti's triumphant "Gonna Fly Now" (AKA "Theme to Rocky") or Survivor's incredibly catchy "Eye of the Tiger," the montages can become very uplifting and powerful.

In contrast to almost any other non-trilogy movie series, and almost without exception, each Rocky picks up exactly where the last one left off, or close enough that you can use your imagination to fill in the gaps. This makes the Rocky series an excellent choice for a movie marathon: Sure, you can watch one at a time, but the films are better in pairs, trilogies, a quartet and a pair, or all six in a row (c'mon; what else could you possibly need those twelve hours for?).

Regardless of how you watch the films, it's almost essential to start with the first one (though each film has enough flashbacks and explanation for you to jump in anywhere, if you have to, I guess). However, I've heard multiple people say that the first movie was okay, but it didn't enthuse them enough to bother with the rest of the series.

Take my advice: Watch Rocky, and if you don't vehemently hate the film, watch Rocky II. The first two movies are different enough from each other that you'll almost certainly play favorites, and I've found that Rocky II is the film that gets naysayers hooked.

If you're still indifferent to or turned off by both movies, you'd best stop there--the standard of quality is fairly consistent across the series, and if you haven't been won over by the end of II, then there's just no hope for you. If you have been won over, then there's really no reason not to see the saga through to its completion, unless your interest honestly begins to wane after III or IV.

That being said, here's my take on each of the movies, with as much brevity and as few spoilers as I can muster (I.e. this might only make sense if you've seen the movies, so go watch them):

Rocky: Origin stories tend to be among my least favorite installments in a series, and Rocky is no exception. It's largely a character study, with the action and conflict only really kicking in toward the end; the flip side is that the movie establishes a solid and complex foundation for the other movies to draw from, so I respect Rocky for creating a world with characters who are interesting enough to follow through five more movies.

Rocky has earned the critical praise it has received due to the strong script and outstanding performances, but like with Star Wars, I find myself more interested in what's to come than what's being established. An incredible amount of material from the first film influences or is referenced in the later films, so whether you're looking as it as a movie classic or as a critical part of a larger series, there's no excuse to skip this one.

Rocky II: Overall, this one's my favorite. Other films may have more exciting final showdowns, better music, and manlier plotlines, but Rocky II is my favorite for the same reason that Mega Man 4 is my favorite Mega Man game--of all the installments in a series I already know I like, this one does the least to bug me.

Rocky III: Despite the introduction of "Eye of the Tiger" and the celebrities brought in for the occasion, the entire first half of this film makes me feel mildly uncomfortable. The tone is a bit more serious, and (as is necessary to the plot) everything feels a little off. Perhaps it's more exhilarating because it serves as a release from all that discomfort and anxiety, but the second half of the movie is fantastic, and really helps to cement why this is a fan favorite. Interestingly, I like the second half of III more than I like all of II, but I like all of II better than I like all of III. Figure that one out.

Rocky IV: This one should have been my favorite film in the series. The kind of pumping electronic 80s music that's right up my alley, good pacing, dramatic fight scenes, a good message at its heart, and bad guys who are very clearly the bad guys (though their motivations are understandable, and the good guys aren't painted in such a great light, either, so it works out well).

What's holding it back? There's a little too much flashback montage and a little too little character development leading up to the final confrontation. Equally as important, I have to suspend my disbelief a little too far in certain spots, especially when it comes to a certain...piece of technology. I still think the movie is great, but with a few changes, it could've been even greater.

Rocky V: Sly Stallone himself once said in an interview that, when rating the Rocky movies on a scale of one to ten, he'd give this one a "goose egg." Big fat zero. I can't say I'm quite as harsh, but I'm definitely on the same page here--this is the only movie in the series I genuinely don't like. Interesting tidbit: Stallone directed every Rocky movie except I and V, which were directed by John G. Avildsen. I and V are my least-favorite Rocky movies. I'm not blaming Avildsen; I'm just noticing a connection.

Rocky V bothers me because I don't like any of the new major characters, who feel more like exaggerations or symbols than the real people I've come to expect from the series. It's the darkest movie of them all, with a lot of bad things that happen and never get a satisfying resolution like in Rocky III.

The last fight in the movie just feels wrong, and it only gets worse when the heroic Rocky theme starts playing. The conclusion leaves me feeling empty and like there are still some big issues that are unresolved; if you view the movie through the filter that the characters are symbols, then it's not as bad, but the fact of the matter is that I like approximately 25 minutes of the movie, and it just keeps getting harder to watch as time goes on.

Rocky Balboa: I normally object to resurrecting a franchise more than a decade after the last sequel, but in this case, I can absolutely make an exception; Rocky V is a weak place to end such a strong series. I actually like this movie a great deal--though the script isn't as clever and quirky as in some of the other films, it's highly introspective, and a fitting way to close off a series that has covered so much ground over such a long period of time.

It's about moving forward when it looks like there's nowhere left to go, and it's about closure, and these themes work well for the characters and the movie series itself; plus, that's to say nothing of the people who can relate to those themes. Especially after marathoning the entire Rocky saga over the course of a day or a few days, Rocky Balboa serves as a superb way to reflect on the life of this underdog boxer and to process how you've just watched thirty years of a person's life develop over the course of about twelve hours.

So there you have it. Six films that, together, tell a story of courage, love, friendship, and pounding grown men into submission. If you've got a movie night coming up, give Rocky and Rocky II a shot, and make sure you've got a clear favorite before moving on to Rocky III--we wouldn't want to have a split decision.

The Most Ridiculous Thing You'll See Today

This week, we were all (like it or not) witness to one of the most bizarre (insane also works here) sports spectacles in this country's history. I'm not talking about the over-the-top nature of a Super Bowl, or even the bombastic lead up to a Wrestlemania.

I'm talking about the signing of a free agent.

Something that happens dozens of times a year in every sport was turned into one of the strangest sports scenes I've ever seen Thursday night during an hour-long "special" broadcast live on ESPN.

In a months-long courting period that included campaigns like this one in major cities around the country, NBA mega-star Lebron James waffled between taking his talents to the Knicks, the Bulls, and the Heat and staying in his hometown of Cleveland to continue playing for the Cavs.

Instead of a press conference, King James decided on an absurd, faux talk show setting at a Boys and Girls club in Greenwich, CT, of all places. The day before his announcement--his announcement that he's teased for months now--he was reportedly seen house hunting in Greenwich (which would lead one to believe that he was leaning towards the Knicks at that point), and he is supposedly attending a wedding in Miami on Saturday night.

News reports and sports "experts" speculated endlessly about a decision that, I think anyway, was made months ago, and was incredibly transparent. Still, ESPN was able to squeeze every last dollar out of the non-event, and hype their own one-hour show--which they dubbed "The Decision"--non-stop all week long.

All that build up, and Lebron had to travel to Greenwich to announce that he was going to Miami to play for the Heat.

Had he scheduled the...thing...in Miami, then ESPN could not have made a buck off the announcement. Airing from a "neutral" location, basketball's biggest star turned free agency into a sideshow, a useless guessing game, and, frankly, the most pretentious thing I've ever seen an athlete do.

And that's saying something.

And just when I thought it couldn't get any more bizarre, I saw this on the Cleveland Cavs' home page.

A letter--in some weird comic book-y font, no less--written by the Cavs' owner, blasting the player that made him an absolute fortune over the past seven years.

Now, sure, i kinda was hoping that James decided to stay with his hometown team, but how can you blame the guy for wanting to go to a team with a better chance at winning a title?

Anyway, as ridiculous as all this is...it's still not the most ridiculous thing you'll see today.

This is.

-- -- -- --

Happy Saturday, everyone!

Kendo: Modern-Day Swordplay

This entry has been written by Scott Rothrock for Exfanding Your Horizons. He has been many different kinds of geek throughout his life: book geek, cook geek, CCG geek, comic geek, Japan geek, computer geek, prop geek... and will doubtless explore more geekdoms in the future. Right now, he has started a writing blog called The Prism Glass, which aims to produce four stories weekly as well as blog posts on every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

If you look at semi-mythical items in stories through the ages, you'll probably find that a lot of them are weapons. Archangel Michael wielded a flaming sword, Lugh and Cu Chulainn both used spears, Arthur used Excalibur, Luke Skywalker used his father's lightsaber... Dirty Harry threatened people with his magnum. A disproportionate number of semi-mythical weapons seem to be swords of some kind.

It seems only fitting that a weapon that captures people's imaginations in the modern era would also be a sword. The Japanese katana is legendary -- not only because of the people who used it, but also because of its fabled, almost unbelievable strength and cutting power. The Japanese used a process of folding steel that produced a quality of blade rivaled only by Damascened watered steel. The cutting edge of a properly-produced katana was absolutely unrivaled in its time; even today, the edge is unbelievable given the low-tech processes that create it. It is a truly mythical weapon.

The sharpness of the blade has the unfortunate side effect of seriously maiming or killing partners, which in turn discourages paired practice. In the modern era, the use of the katana has been split into two specific systems of modern martial arts: iaido, and kendo.

Iaido is the practice of the use of an iaito. An iaito is a sword approximating the length, curvature, weight, and balance of a katana. However, unlike a katana, its blade is created from an aluminum-zinc alloy and is impossible to sharpen. This reduces the number of accidents considerably -- imagine how many would-be samurai found their careers cut short simply because they slipped and lopped off a few fingers when drawing or sheathing their sword!

At its heart, iaido is a deceptively simple art. The nationally-sactioned form of iaido contains 12 kata, or set practice routines. These kata have been codified from many other older, traditional schools of iaido. However, these are performed without a partner, which means that the practitioner must understand the "story" behind the kata in order to move properly and demonstrate a realistic fighting spirit. It's not as simple as it sounds. Indeed, many beginning students spend weeks simply learning how to draw and return the sword smoothly. At least they don't have to worry about losing fingers in the modern day!

Kendo balances iaido. While iaido teaches students to use a sword in historical situations, kendo teaches students how to use a facsimile of a sword in real situations. Many people dislike the idea of kendo due to the fact that a lot of techniques simply would not work well with a sword; indeed, they're correct. The "sword" used in kendo is a long rod made from four thin bamboo slats and is called a shinai. Unlike an iaito, it is neither shaped nor sized like a katana.

But there's a distinct advantage to using a shinai. When two kendo practitioners use shinai and a set of armor, they can attack each other in a match without worrying about harming the other. Indeed, there are fewer injuries in kendo than any other martial art; most of these injuries result from overpractice rather than any real accident during a match.

Kendo allows people to learn to think on their feet and respond to situations with snap judgments. It is also a philosophy of a sort; my sensei always encourages us to be "straight" -- to go straight for our goal without flinching, to continue even though we may have doubts, and to follow through with what we've started. It certainly doesn't sound like a bad philosophy, does it?

This is what kendo attempts to create in a practitioner; someone who is both physically and mentally healthy. It creates a person with the judgment and self-confidence necessary to see and opening and go for it despite whatever fears or self-doubt exist. After all, if you're always worrying about getting hit yourself, you'll never be able to get a good hit on the opponent.

And hitting is, in the end, what kendo is all about. There are three main striking areas: men (top of the helmet), kote (wrist), and dou (ribcage). There is also a target in front of the throat called tsuki, which is an illegal strike for younger participants and often restricted to higher-ranked and more-experienced practitioners due to the obvious dangers.

But it's not as simple as simply hitting the target! Unlike fencing, there are a number of restrictions on what is considered a valid strike, which is why a kendo match requires not one machine, but three experienced human beings in a triangle around two people in a match. These three people carefully watch both of the participants in order to judge who has made a proper strike.

Ki-ken-tai-icchi is the Japanese phrase used to explain what constitutes a valid strike. Taken literally, it means "spirit, sword, and body united". To create a valid strike, a kendo practitioner must shout the name of the target (demonstrating spirit and situational awareness), strike the target with his shinai (the sword hitting the target), and stomp forcibly with the right foot while maintaining forward movement (awareness and use of the body in maintaining balance and striking power). He must do all of these at roughly the same time in order to receive a point.

It's pretty complex and not at all like real sword-fighting, but it keeps the sport (and it is a sport) from devolving into a series of wild swings and absurd dancing. The techniques and practices used to build ki-ken-tai-icchi also strengthen the body and spirit. Simply shouting the name of the target constantly while practicing is amazing exercise for the lungs, which in turn increases your endurance. Striking itself requires hand-eye coordination and spatial awareness. The stomp is a part of a semi-leap, which strengthens legs (and strains feet/ankles) and improves balance. All of these things together create very real exercise that strengthens both body and spirit!

It's a grueling, expensive sport, and it certainly isn't for everyone. I've never excelled at or even liked normal sports, but I love kendo. However, if you think you may be interested, it's definitely worth a look. What can you stand to lose by looking?

If you want to see for yourself what kendo is like, the All United States Kendo Federation is a good place to start. Its dojo listing contains only dojo known to practice proper, safe kendo -- so you don't have to worry about throwing your money into some kind of commercial black belt factory. The kendo world grows all the time, so perhaps there's something in your area.

Saturday Posting and Yankee Games

So, as you read this, I am off to the Big Ballpark in the Bronx known as (the new) Yankee Stadium. And, before you go all, oohh look at the rich guy, let me say this: the tickets were free. Well, my ticket was free, anyway. And, before I launch into today's regularly scheduled post, I just wanted to vent a little about the Yankees. I promise to keep it to a paragraph (or two).

My rant goes something like this: I've loved the Yankees my whole life, because rooting for them was something that my Dad passed down to me. We're going to the game together today in some (admittedly) not so great seats, mostly because you have to be a pre-Autumn-of-2008-Wall-Street-type to afford any of the good seats in the new Stadium.

And that's wrong.

And it's become entirely pointless to say things like, "But the fans pay the salaries" or ask the ever popular, "Don't they care about the people that root for them?" Because the answer to that is, no. No, they could not care any less about any of that. They will, however, happily take your money. Which is fine, and all capitalistic of them, but the prices at the new Yankee Stadium are so far above and beyond prices anywhere else, it's just plain sickening.

And, yes, I know that you get what you pay for. In my case, since the ticket is free, that seems appropriate.

To be honest, my interest in going to the Stadium lies more in walking around the new ballpark and taking in the sights, and revisiting Yankees teams of the past in the form of the various exhibits and monuments that are set up around the Stadium.

Some friends have gone to the ballpark already this season, and they've all said it's a beautiful place. So, even if I don't really care for this year's club, at least there's that. And spending a day at the ballpark with my Dad has always, and will always, be a Very Good Thing.

And for those of you that are still with me, here's where I seamlessly segue into comics. While our beloved little funny books do, indeed cost money in order for us to take them home from the store, I feel as though we (the fans) get exactly what we pay for.

Yes, I know books are skyrocketing in price, and yes I know that Bowen statue you've been ogling is nearly $200 bucks, but still. Comparatively, comics are still a cheap form of entertainment, and a book or two a week is within the purchasing means of a large majority of people.

And don't forget about the conventions.

Where, for ten to twenty dollars, fans can buy a ticket and meet the people that make the comics. And they can talk to them, and say "thanks," and get their autograph. Or maybe even a drawing.

And that's an experience that is wholly unlike most other fandoms. Imagine walking up to [insert million dollar athlete here] at a signing, and getting a "hello" and an autograph. The autograph will cost you a pretty penny, and believe me, there won't be a "hello."

You'll be lucky if he or she even looks up before signing whatever it is he or she is meant to sign.

But that's not how it is in comics. And that is also a Very Good Thing.

Monday Thoughts

A bit of a later post for today, since Nathaniel did the unthinkable yesterday and posted on a Sunday--which, as we all know, is a National Weekly Blogger Holiday. Ah, but, to Latveria with tradition, I say. On that note, please do make sure to check out Nathaniel's GameCola work this month--it's good, good stuff.

Preamble aside, just a little head's up that I have a bit of a different (editor's note: he means "thoughtful") topic for my post today, so please forgive the sappiness of what I'm about to write. (Don't worry, it's still about comics!)

Being that this past Saturday was Free Comic Book Day, I'm in a very comics-friendly mood. More so than normal, even. And, while FCBD is certainly a part of this "even the fanboys that weigh 300 pounds and dress up like Ms. Marvel aren't so bad" feeling, there's something else, too.

I had an encounter with a fellow comics fan a couple of weeks ago, and we got to talking a bit. He was telling me how he had just recently gotten into comics, and how, in a very direct way, comics had become a huge and important part of his life. This new fan told me that he struggled with some serious personal problems in his very recent past, and as part of his long and difficult climb back from these troubles, his parents started buying him comics.

And he got into them in a big way. And now he has a job and buys comics and trades once a week, and he told me how much of a positive influence this has had on his life.

And this made me feel good--for him, because his life seems to be back on track, and for our little hobby in general. Now, certainly, what I've related is a unique case, and it would be insane (and irresponsible) to think that comics alone helped this fan through a tough time.

But, they helped. And that's something. More than something, I'd say.

And this encounter got me thinking about my own experiences getting into comics, and while I view what I went through as being nowhere near as arduous as what the fan mentioned above had to endure, I think there are some similarities there.

As I've mentioned on this blog in the past, I played baseball in college, and pretty much ever since I was able to walk. By the end of my Junior year of high school, baseball got a bit more serious, because I had several colleges offering me scholarships and suddenly the notion of playing ball for a living crept into my head.

Granted, even before I sustained a career-ending injury in college, the chances of me playing beyond college were slim, other than an outside chance of being a (very) low round pick in the professional draft.

Still, baseball was truly my first love, and to this day I miss playing.

Those feelings have subsided quite a bit since I walked off the field for the last time in 2001, and I can honestly say that I have no regret whatsoever about what transpired. That wasn't necessarily the case eight years ago, mind you. But I'm at a place right now where I feel very comfortable with what happened, and it's not something I think about anymore.

And I know that you're asking at this point, how in the world does this relate to comics? Well, I got into comics in 2003 and I can honestly say that the medium has filled the void left by the abrupt end to my playing days (see, I told you this post would be sappy).

Talking to the new fan, with his life problems (hopefully) in the rear view mirror for good, made me think of all these things. And how happy I am that I found comics. Or, more accurately, that comics found me. Nothing more profound than that.

But, it's certainly enough to make me smile.


*Oh, and now that today's sap-tastic post is done...I just want to reinforce how much I don't like the 300 (or 200, for that matter) pound fanboys dressed as Ms. Marvel.

**Seriously.

Most Extreme Elimination Challenge: Where failure is funny

In America, we've got game shows such as Wheel of Fortune, Family Feud, Jeopardy!, and The Price is Right. In Japan, the game shows are quite similar to ours, except Alex Trebek is an attractive woman with a bowl of hot soup tempting you to give up trying to win 80 bajillion yen ($7.50 U.S.) by outlasting the other guy who's also standing in a freezing, snow-covered outdoor jail cell wearing nothing but tighty-whities. Also, there are no podiums or trivia questions.

Yes, Japanese game shows have gained notoriety for being more absurd than Dennis Rodman's hair, so much so that there are really no more jokes that I can make about them; Japanese game show jokes have been almost as overdone as jokes about Dennis... Rodman's... uh, hair. Oops.

Irregardless! Whether the stereotype holds true for the majority or minority of Japanese game shows, there is one show in particular that is, in fact, fairly ridiculous, especially when a bunch of Americans get their hands on it.

I'm talking about Takeshi's Castle, a popular Japanese game show that is akin to a real-life video game.

Contestants charge up a steep and slippery slope, trying to avoid the fake boulders rolling at them; they try race through a maze without getting caught by men in funny costumes; they dangle from a spinning mushroom suspended over a pool of water in to reach the other side; and they generally make fools of themselves while attempting (and often failing) to run, hop, and climb their way past any number of silly obstacles just to reach Takeshi's fabled castle, where presumably some treasure or princess awaits.

C'mon, folks. If a pudgy, pasta-loving plumber can do it, then this should be a cinch.

Takeshi's Castle is entertaining enough on its own, but America's Most Extreme Elimination Challenge (known, logically, as MXC for short) transforms the show from "entertaining" into "stupidly hilarious."

MXC takes actual footage from Takeshi's Castle, mashes it up, and completely replaces all of the Japanese speaking with off-the-wall English dialogue, gives all the challenges double-entendre-laden names, and adds side-splitting audio commentary to the challenges.

With this new dialogue, contestants are arbitrarily divided into two opposing teams, and the commentators weave a "plot" for each episode around them. Team matchups have included the likes of Cops vs. Cons, Las Vegas vs. Sesame Street, Personal Hygiene vs. Comic Book Industry, and Hot Chicks of Primetime vs. Hot Celebrity Mommies.

[20 sextillion yen says that somebody stumbles across this blog using the search terms "hot chicks of primetime" or "hot celebrity mommies." Or "sextillion."]

MXC invents new names and roles for the regular characters of Takeshi's Castle, resulting in a main cast consisting of hosts Vic Romano and Kenny Blankenship, field marshal Captain Tenneal, and field reporter Guy LaDouche, plus some minor characters such as Chief Otto Parts. Contestants receive punny names and goofy occupations that usually play off each other, and it's almost a guarantee that one contestant in each episode will proudly carry the last name of Babaganoosh. I bring this up because Babaganoosh is one of the funniest words you're allowed to say on TV.

True fact. Look it up.

Each episode ends with Kenny Blankenship's Most Painful Eliminations of the Day, a recap of the worst wipeouts and biggest botches seen in the episode. Some of these are just embarrassing, while some are so amazingly painful that it's a wonder anybody can stand up and chuckle at themself after contorting into positions that not even Gumby could achieve. Hence their suspiciously wise catch phrase that everybody shouts together at the end of every show: DON'T!! GET!! ELIMINATED!!!

Folks, I rarely watch TV of my own volition, but this is one show that I would pause Mega Man to go watch. It's that funny. The humor ranges from sophomoric to silly to unexpectedly clever; it's probably not for young kids or anybody offended by political incorrectness or occasional sexual/scatological references, but there's such a good blend of humor that anything too disagreeable usually passes pretty quickly.

Still, it's pun-tastic, and it's outrageous, and I love it.

[Alex]: Hey, Nathaniel, don't you think it's time to actually show people some clips from MXC?

[Nathaniel]: Right you are, Alex! Here's two clips from the Superheroes vs. MySpace episode.

[Alex]: Doesn't this one have a half-naked guy in it?

[Nathaniel]: And some inappropriate and possibly offensive jokes, as well!

[Alex]: Well, I think we should at least warn people about that.

[Nathaniel]: Truer words have never been spoken. Let's watch those clips!

Pole Riders | Movies & TV | SPIKE.com

Rotating Surfboard of Death | Movies & TV | SPIKE.com

[Alex]: I think the Spike TV website has a bunch more of these clips, plus a schedule of when you can see these episodes on TV.

[Nathaniel]: Good to know. But I think our readers can handle one more clip before they go.

[Alex]: Or they could buy the DVD box sets of all five seasons. They're something like $25-$30 apiece.

[Nathaniel]: Indeed! But if our readers could afford real entertainment, they wouldn't be here, Alex. Onto our last clip, from the College Sports vs. The Mall of Baghdad episode!

Log Drop | Movies & TV | SPIKE.com

[MXC logo from Wikipedia. Other MXC images from Spike.com. Image of Dennis Rodman's hair from cm1.theinsider.com. Dennis Rodman from outer space. But you knew that already.]

An Evening with the Harlem Globetrotters

I'll be the first to tell you that I'm not a sports guy. I played a bunch of different sports when I was in elementary school and early middle school, but I jumped ship when things became less about just having fun and more about leagues, winning, and picking up cheerleaders (which, I suppose, would technically fall under "just having fun.")

Furthermore, I'm not particularly fond of watching sports. For me, Super Bowl Sunday is about hanging out with people, watching funny commercials, and eating lots of food--the bowl of vegetable dip is super enough for me. And though there are a few sports I do enjoy watching in person from time to time, often the highlight of any game is the hot dog I get.

Yes, I like food. Lay off, man.

All that being said, I am happy to report that I attended a sporting event last night that I truly, greatly enjoyed--and I didn't even have anything to eat! You see, my father and I went out to see the world-famous Harlem Globetrotters.

The Globetrotters have been around since 1926, but I swear these guys didn't look any older than 30. The lineup included men with names like Special K, Bam Bam, El Gato, and Tiny (who, ironically, was rather tall), and though they played basketball, it was unlike any game I've ever seen.

The Globetrotters can do things with a basketball that seem to defy physics, or at least the normal standards of human coordination. Before the start of the game, each player is introduced and has a chance to show off his crazy basketball skills, rolling a ball off of his back and around his arms, or spinning a ball on his finger and then relocating the spinning ball to his shiny bald head. Words really don't do justice to these guys (their skill, not their baldness).

The game itself was, ostensibly, a basketball game, but there was so much theatre involved even non-sports-fans could have a great time. There were occasional breaks where their mascot, Globie (or any of Globie's alleged family members) came out and got launched into cans of Campbell's Soup or, in one case, ate one of the audience members whole.

Seriously.

The players cracked jokes, performed amazing tricks, brought out slapstick humor, pulled audience members onto the court, chased after the referees, argued with the coach of the other team, and put on little theatrical shows in the middle of the game. And yet, they still played a mean game of basketball.

The Globetrotters are kid-friendly; they're a riot for the young'uns in the audience, and they honestly make the adults feel like kids again. And considering a ticket to see them probably costs about as much as it does for you to go out for dinner one night, it's affordable family fun.

Check out their website here, and you can read more about there history here on the PBS website.

If you get a chance to see the Harlem Globetrotters, I would highly recommend going. Unless you're planning on getting eaten. We need as many readers as we can get.


[Pictures from www.harlemglobetrotters.com. The Globetrotters are good, clean fun, so there are no foul shots.]

Newgrounds: Everything, by everyone

If you're ever hopelessly bored, there's one place on the Internet that's sure to keep you busy for a while: Newgrounds.com. Newgrounds is a sprawling online mecca of user-created videos, games, and music with something to offer to virtually everyone--and something to offend virtually everyone, as well.

Vampires? Check. Harry Potter? Check. Golf, goths, Jesus, Sonic, horse racing, old folks, noir, Naruto, Stephen Hawking, tentacle monsters, kangaroos, Hanukka, and Bomberman? Check check check check check check check check check yikes check check check.

Just about every genre conceivable is represented in some form at Newgrounds, along with (if you haven't guessed it yet) nearly the entire range of questionable content available. You'll find violence, nudity, foul language, sex, gore, scatological references, political incorrectness, and offensive insensitivity.

Just to name a few.

Fortunately, descriptions and content warnings are given that are (sometimes) accurate, so you'll usually have some warning before watching something that will scar you for life. But sometimes you get blindsided by copulating stick figures. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Newgrounds is a true grab-bag. For everything that is hilarious, there's something nauseatingly unfunny. For everything beautifully created, there's an ugly piece of junk that got slapped together in three minutes. Newgrounds is truly everything, by everyone.

Me? I like it for the video-game-related stuff. Here are just a few of my favorites to get you started:

- Dodge. (fast-paced arcade game where you dodge projectiles and turn them against your enemies to survive)


- Final Fantasy: About Random Battles (funny video)



- Megaman vs. Ghosts 'n Goblins (crossover game)



- Megaman vs. Metroid (crossover game to settle the "Who would win in a fight: Mega Man or Samus?" debate)


- Schfifty Five (illogically catchy music video)



- Shift (Wickedly clever puzzle/platformer game and its sequel--in the same vein as Portal)


- Super Mario: Rise of the Mushroom Kingdom (epic tragicomedy, episodes One, Two, Three, and Four)

There are so many more. You can blame me if you don't get any work done today.

Exfanding Review: The Wrestler

A quick review today, about one of the most talked-about films of the past year, Darren Aronofsky's The Wrestler. Now, right off the bat let's just warn everyone that this is a hard R-Rated flick, so definitely don't bring the kiddies.

I should also preface the review with the fact that I've followed Professional Wrestling on and off pretty much my entire life, but the story of this film is a universal one, and knowledge of wrestling is pretty irrelevant to one's being able to understand or follow the movie.

Now, the first thing that jumps right at you when the film opens and we see our first glimpse of Mickey Rourke as aging 80s superstar Randy "The Ram" Robinson, is that this part was written specifically for Rourke.

This movie is, in some ways, analogous to Rourke's own career path, and Rourke embodies the broken-down Ram, perfectly capturing the essence of the character. Simply put, Rourke's performance as the once-great Madison Square Garden headliner is pretty stunning. As is Marissa Tomei's in her role as the complicated and eminently interesting love interest.

The film opens with a wrestling match featuring The Ram against a young wrestler trying to make his way to the big time. And when I say "wrestling match," I mean just that. This opening scene goes a long way in cementing the believability of the movie, and of Rourke as the title character. Not only does he look the part, but he can play the part.

Rourke is in the ring, performing the various moves, and looking more than capable as a pro wrestler. And this is very important, since the film requires the character to partake in some pretty brutal wrestling action (including a bloody "hardcore" match featuring tables, and chairs, and ladders, and glass, and staples, and...well, you get the idea).

Really from the moment the film begins, the viewer is completely immersed in this guy's world. And, as the film progresses, the audience alternately loves the character, and despises him, and fears him, and fears for him, and it is this cycle of emotions that make this movie stay with the viewer hours, and even days, after seeing it.

I won't give a plot summary here, for two reasons. First, because I'm no good at it, but mostly because I felt the script was utterly predictable. At various points in the film, before events happened on screen, I knew they were going to happen. And, usually, something like that would completely ruin a movie for me, or anyone I guess.

But, despite this fact that I was watching a story where I knew what was going to happen at each turn, I found myself glued to the flick, unable to turn away, and disappointed when it ended.

And, I suppose, that's a hallmark of good film-making, and certainly a credit to the actors and their performances.

So, I'll end with this. The Wrestler is the story of a beaten down, broken, has-been trying to rectify the sins of his past. The story is utterly human, and recognizable. If you go see it, you'll find yourself rooting for The Ram, and rooting against him, and you'll leave the theater still thinking about him.