Football, Movies, and Not-so-stupid Questions.

My buddy Russ was a good football player. About my size, so not a moose, but strong. Sadly, he never really got along with our high school football coach, so his playing time was limited. One Thursday before a Friday game, the coach was going through the game plan: telling the assembled team in some detail general and specific assignments. The team we'd play was bigger, so we'd have to trap-block. The guards would drop back from their man, and run down the line and catch the advancing defensive tackle or linebacker on the opposite side of the line. The running back would take a fake and the fullback would hit the gap between the right-side guard and tackle. Stuff like that. After about 10 minutes, Coach Korn asked the team if we had any questions. Russ, knowing he was not going to be playing the next day- and knowing that the coach knew he knew this- raised his hand. Coach Korn eyed Russ warily: "What is it, Baggett?". "Coach", Russ said as the 80 or so half-padded players looked on. "Coach. If Jesus Christ and Superman got into a fight, who do you think would win?". Through considerable effort, I managed not to laugh. Fast forward thirty-five years: Last night, Lady Di and I saw "Man of Steel" at Walterboro's lone theater, Ivanhoe Cinema 4, and Russ's question popped up again. Confused? Well, yeah. See, in "Man of Steel", Superman is presented as a Jesus figure. Jor-El (played by Russell Crowe), a scientist from Krypton, seeing his planet about to implode, puts his infant son in a ship to a similar planet- Earth- to save his child and maybe to save Earth. Young Kal-El is found in Smallville, Kansas, by the Kent family. Dad (played by Kevin Costner), obviously knows his boy is different, because, you know, he found the kid in a space-ship. Mom and dad also discover his amazing strength, lazar vision, and lightning speed. Over the course of time, mom nurtures him, and Dad tells him he's obviously got a very special reason for being there, and eventually he'll know, but in the meantime, to keep his head down and not to tell anyone about his powers, because he doesn't know his purpose yet, and the world just won't understand him. Not hard to imagine another adoptive father, Joseph, telling young Jesus the same thing. When some bad guys- who, by virtue of their timely banishment managed to survive Krypton's destruction- arrive to conquer and colonize Earth, Superman has to step up to save Earth. Guess how old is at this auspicious moment? How's 33 grab you? There are plenty of other parallels between Superman and Jesus, and I'm quite sure they've been pointed out by lots of folks before (when I excitedly mentioned my theory in my post-mortum of the movie to Lady Di, she was all, "Duh!", so, I'm evidently not breaking any new ground here). Anyway, I thought of Russ, Leto Falcon football, and Coach Korn. And I've finally got an answer: Russ, Jesus wouldn't fight Superman. Jesus is Superman.

Football, Phones, and A.D.D.

I'm a creature of habit. I'm a creature of habit, and I tend to get lost in my thoughts. If I perform some little act enough times, I'll repeat it, even when the occasion doesn't require it. In Pee Wee League football, I played center on the offensive line. One of the things centers had to do those many years ago was gather the team to the huddle by yelling "Huddle Up!" at the end of a play. Another football behavior that Coach Baggett, and other coaches of yore, taught us was to yell "Fumble!" whenever we saw a loose ball. Sometimes, my body'll be one place, and my mind somewhere else. Any of my coaches could tell you that many times my body'd be on the field, but my mind was God-only-knows where. Sometimes, my mind was on the field when my body wasn't. In my youth, I've yelled both "Huddle up!" and "Fumble!" when answering the telephone. This was, of course, not an appropriate response, as there were no footballs around, nor any teammates, and because it confused the people on the other end of the phone. Now, phone have changed since my youth. Like a lot of newish cars, my Ford Fusion has a "hands-free" phone feature. I use it all the time. I press a button on the steering wheel and tell the car to "call home" or whatever other contact I might have in my phone. The car responds- usually correctly- and after my conversation is done, I press "end" on the steering wheel to end the call. My thoughts and actions are one. In a pretty brief time, the action is as natural and scratching an itch. Okay, now where was I? Oh, yeah. I friend of mine has been having some troubles, of late. I said I'd say a little prayer while I rode to work. And I did. After my prayer, I pressed the "end call" button on my steering wheel. It probably wasn't necessary, but I figure God understood okay. At least I didn't yell "Huddle up!".

Quoth the Ravens...

The Superbowl champion Baltimore Ravens are odd birds. The Ravens of the NFL are an especially brutal squad, named after the poem "The Raven", by Edgar Allan Poe. The prime mover of the Ravens has been, for nearly two decades, Ray Lewis. Lewis was accused- and acquitted- of an act of depravity: causing death in 2000 outside a club in Atlanta. The prime mover of The Raven was accused of being a depraved, drunk and drug-addled madman. Edgar Allan Poe endured this reputation unfairly, at least according to the hereinbefore included Wikipedia article, due to the malicious efforts of a Poe biographer with an ax to grind. Lewis and Poe have endured a cloud of suspicion over years, but the were both very good at their jobs. It's fitting that Baltimore's football hero leaves a legacy of excellence, and, perhaps, moral ambiguity, but as a champion. Call it poetic justice.

Where's Waldo.

The fine folks from the Area Health Education Centers were not the only folks to invade San Antonio: the Texas State Coaches Association was also very much in evidence. It was not particularly difficult to tell the coaches apart from the AHECers. AHEC folks are typically a gentle people, with understated clothing, practical eyeglasses, and generally bareheaded. The coaches? Well, the following picture has two AHEC conventioneers (I'll give you a hint: Lady Di is one of them), and two coaches. Ready? Begin!

Look closely, now. No, the guy in the chair is unaffiliated. Here, I'll pare it down a bit...

Okay, look to the left. See the guy with the ponytail, seated with his laptop? No, he's not a coach. That'd be the two beefy guys to the right.

More coaches outside of the Italian Restaurant. Hooters was obviously full.

Kicks.

Baltimore Raven's kicker Billy Cundiff's miss of what would have been a game-tying field-goal in the A.F.C. championship game is almost a week-old now. The miss is not fresh news, anymore, but as a long-standing Florida State Seminoles fan, it touches a nerve. The following videos are about kicks. They range from Paul Revere and the Raiders warning against chasing kicks in the 1960's, to the thoroughly raunchy video by Peaches and Iggy Pop. None of them is so painful as the last video, though.

New England Patriots: The Empire Strikes Back.

Outside of New England, Patriot's coach Bill Belichick is a guy opponents and fans of opposing teams love to hate. Is it his sometimes frosty demeanor? His propensity to run up the score? Accusations a few years ago that he filmed opponents' practices? Or maybe its his dreadful hoodies? In any event, an Associated Press article today about Bill Belichick contained a quote from Grantland.com writer Charles P. Pierce that Belichick is "the NFL's last real anti-Christ". Anti-Christ? No. Darth Sidious? Well, I've never seen them in a room together...

It's Too Late, Baby.

I tried. Really, I did. Looking good for Auburn at 19 to 11 up on the Ducks, but it's after my bedtime. I'll check on it in the morning.

New Year's Daze.

New Year's weekend was a stone groove. Lady Di and I kennelled the dogs and left the Boro for Central Florida. We had a New Year's Eve luncheon with AndyMan and niece Allison at Uncle Bob and Aunt Maggie's home in Orlando. The Blackfords are always good company, and Aunt Maggie made sure, as she always does, that we had lots of good food to eat. After lunch, Diane and I donned our Florida State University Seminoles gear and watched the Chick-fil-A Bowl at an area sports bar. South Carolina fought gamely, but the 'Noles prevailed. I'm generally a Gamecock fan, and I've boasted of the 'Cock's baseball championship; however, I'm an FSU alum, so I'll happily collect the four or five one dollar bets I'd wagered on the 'Noles. Saturday, we dragged our carcasses out of bed and headed for the Citrus Bowl to watch the University of Alabama Crimson Tide (whose mascot is, inexplicably, an elephant), battle the Michigan State University Spartans.

There's Lady Di outside of the Citrus Bowl. The weather was perfect. 78 Degrees and sunny. The atmosphere crackled with the hopes of fans of both teams. We consumed normally forbidden food like hot dogs, chips, french fries, and big bottles of coke, and, er, ... dang, where's the bathroom?


Apparently, we weren't the only fans who'd over-imbibed.

Even mascots gotta wait their turn!


The Crimson Tide inundated the Citrus Bowl. The joint was crawling with 'Bama fans.


And their allegiance runs deep, too. This gal's wearing a shirt in tribute to legendary 'Bama coach Paul "Bear" Bryant. The Bear's been dead longer than this fan has been alive, but she knows all about him. How does 'Bama get fans so loyal?


They start 'em young.

Like I said...

Spartan fans were probably outnumbered four to one. The lot that showed was spirited, though.


Now, that's a hat, right there.


These lads had spirit (must not care for math, though: I tried to get them to spell "S-U-M", and they said it didn't add up).


The end-zone is a pretty cool place to watch a game. Hard to tell how many yards either team got from play to play, but you don't get a view like this one on the fifty yard-line.


...or this. If you want to get a decent idea of how the third best team in the SEC destroyed the co-champions of the Big Ten, then just look at the blocking on this play. The Tide played bigger, stronger, and faster than the Spartans.

MSU's football team took a pounding, but the band rocked the house at half-time.

The game got ugly. At 42 to zip late in the second half, we joined the throng of Spartan fans in a funereal procession back to our cars. Still, it was a lot of fun (and the Spartan fans took some solace in knowing their team was, at least, the best team in their state, which, as any Auburn fan will tell you, was not true for the Tide. War Eagle!).

America: Love it, or Leavitt

According to a report I got from the Sports Illustrated e-mag University of South_Florida_Coach_Jim_Leavitt got fired for slapping a player, then lying about it. USF didn't have a football team when I was growing up in Tampa. If you wanted to watch college football, you went to Tampa Stadium and watched the IAA (now known as the "Football Championship Subdivision", as opposed to the "Football Bowl Subdivision") University of Tampa Spartans. What? You never knew that Tampa Stadium hosted a football team before the Bucs got there in the mid-1970's? Tell it to Freddie Solomon. I remember dad taking me and AndyMan to a Spartans game (I also remember he walked up to then-governor Reuben Askew, shook his hand and said, "Hey, Reuben! How's a boy?". He'd never met the man, as far as I know, but, well, dad did stuff like that). I met Jim Leavitt when AndyMan was working the gate at a Jesuit HS football game. Seemed like a decent enough sort. 'Course, football coaches aren't paid to be sweet and loving, they're paid to make dudes knock the crud out of other dudes. I played football for 12 years or so, including a couple of years at a small college, and, off-the-record, I've seen a little coach induced not-strickly-football-related physical contact during that time. Ah, well. For better and for worse, those were different times. But, not THAT different. Just ask Woody Hayes. Leavitt'll probably find work, because he managed to win some ball games. Shoot, his Bulls even beat Florida State this year. Yeah, he'll find work. No Bull. I understand Texas Tech is hiring...