Showing posts with label football. Show all posts
Showing posts with label football. Show all posts
Sunday, February 05, 2017
Enjoying the Ride on Super Monday
The late great George Carlin observed that a good joke needs at least one element that is way out of proportion. That is what makes it funny — even if the topic itself is not necessarily funny.
Let me back up just a bit.
The premise of the episode of How I Met Your Mother that first aired on this night 10 years ago was pretty basic.
The biggest sports event of the year — the Super Bowl — was about to be played (coincidentally, this year's Super Bowl is being played on the same date — in 2007, when this episode was first shown, this was the day after the Super Bowl). It was Ted's favorite day of the year, and he had everything planned for a memorable Super Bowl party for the gang. But fate intervened. A worker at the bar where the show's regulars frequently gathered had died. No one could remember who the now deceased worker was, but they were more or less coerced into attending his funeral.
The funeral happened to take place at precisely the time when the Super Bowl was to begin. This is where I ran into a conflict.
I am a lifelong football fan and a veteran of newspaper sports copy desks so I know a few things about the history of the Super Bowl.
There was a time when the Super Bowl was played during the afternoon, as most regular–season games are, but for more than 30 years it has been played in prime time with a kickoff around 5:30 p.m. (Central — that is the time zone in which I live).
And, while some NFL playoff games are held on Saturdays, the Super Bowl is always played on a Sunday. There have been 50 other Super Bowls, and they have all been played on Sundays.
There are no other football games being played; in fact, there is rarely much of anything else going on that day. The game has the stage all to itself.
So, putting those facts together, we can deduce that the funeral was taking place at 6:30 p.m. (Eastern — that is the time zone in which How I Met Your Mother was set) on a Sunday.
When I first saw this episode, that was the part that was the wild exaggeration — for me (even though I knew — and should have remembered that I knew — better).
I grew up in the South, as I have observed here before, and I cannot remember a single time when a funeral in my small hometown was scheduled to take place on a Sunday. I guess I always assumed that Sunday was reserved for regular church services — and special services for religious days like Christmas and Easter — and funeral organizers, being aware of this, work around it.
But when you grow up in the American South, you tend to see things from more of a Christian–centric perspective than folks do in any other region of the country. I knew when I was growing up that there are other faiths beside my own or, at least, the one that guides my life.
My father was a religion professor, and he made it a point to expose my brother and me to other faiths, other denominations, other ways of worship — most, if not all, were in the state's capitol city about 30 miles from us, and my father knew all the congregational leaders through his work. And I learned early on — when I had to put on my suit to attend a service while my friends were playing pickup football or baseball games — that Sunday is not the day of rest and worship for everyone.
But I suppose I just always thought that, even if a faith observed a different sabbath day than mine did, it would acquiesce when it came to scheduling events like funerals.
I have also learned that there are some places where funerals of all kinds do take place on Sundays. Even Christian funeral services. Funerals in those churches are held on Sunday afternoons or evenings. Mornings are still reserved for worship services but when necessary those church staffs can convert a sanctuary from the joy of the morning worship service to the usually somber atmosphere of a funeral.
For that matter, Catholic parishes often hold wakes for the deceased on Sundays, but they usually do not, as I understand it, hold funeral masses on Sundays.
Anyway, I can kind of imagine how the conversation went when the writers for How I Met Your Mother were working out the details on this one. Take a big event, one that you would typically share with the people to whom you are closest and throw a wrench into your plans. The wrench that was chosen was a funeral.
As a child, I would have found the idea of a Sunday funeral totally implausible. (I would have been more likely to believe a plot based on the story of the Pied Piper. Speaking of which, I had heard "Music has charms to soothe the savage beast" all my life, and I had seen film clips of Indian snake charmers, but Sunday funerals were new to me.) But as an adult I learned that some funerals are held on Sundays in some places and in some faiths.
So that element of the plot wasn't as off the wall as I certainly would have thought if I had seen it as a teenager. Even so, I felt a certain resistance to the concept of funerals on Sundays when I did see the episode, and I had to remind myself then — and have had to do every time I have seen it since — that funerals sometimes are held on Sundays.
Things at the funeral seemed to be moving right along, and the gang estimated that they could be home in time to catch the end of the game, but the post–funeral gathering went on for hours. Ted (Josh Radnor) insisted that they make a pact that they would avoid hearing the score all day Monday, then gather to watch a recording of the game together 24 hours after the fact.
He acknowledged that it wouldn't be easy to avoid hearing who won, but it was a sacrifice they had to make. They all reluctantly agreed.
It turned out to be extremely challenging to live up to Ted's "media blackout." For his part, Ted tried to work from home to avoid any unwanted input.
"The media blackout was particularly hard on Robin (Cobie Smulders)," the older Ted reminisced, "because, well, she was the media." She kept trying to keep the sports anchor from doing his report on the air.
Marshall (Jason Segel) was at Lily's kindergarten class for show and tell. Marshall had promised Lily (Alyson Hannigan) he would do it several weeks earlier; now he was hanging out at the school in his attempt to avoid finding out who won — but one of the students blackmailed him, threatening to spill the beans unless paid off.
Meanwhile, Ted had to go out to pick up some hot wings at a sports bar. The wings were a tradition for the gang's Super Bowl parties, but Ted had to construct a device that would enable him to avoid seeing any coverage of the Super Bowl on the TVs that were everywhere in the sports bar. He called his device the Sensory Deprivator 5000.
Ted had handcuffed gambling addict Barney (Neil Patrick Harris) to the radiator while he went to get the wings, but Barney escaped — and went looking for someone who could tell him who won the game so he would know if he won his bet. But Barney couldn't find anyone who had watched the game or kept up with sports. Then he bumped into Emmitt Smith (yes, that Emmitt Smith). Surely he would learn who won the game from Emmitt.
But Emmitt didn't know. He claimed he had forgotten the game was being played.
"You know, when you've won two or three of those things, it's kind of like, 'eh,'" he said.
When they all gathered that evening, it turned out that they had all learned the outcome earlier in the day. At first Ted didn't want to watch the recording. But they had beer and wings, and they decided to go ahead and have their Super Bowl party a day late anyway.
"As unforgettable as that Super Bowl was," the older Ted said, "here it is 23 years later, and I don't remember who won. Hell, I don't even remember who played. What I do remember is that we drank beer, we ate wings, and we watched the Super Bowl together.
"Because sometimes, even if you know how something's gonna end, that doesn't mean you can't enjoy the ride."
Thursday, December 22, 2016
Survivors' Guilt and Infinite Hope
"One day, not today, not tomorrow, not this season, probably not next season, either, but one day, you and I are gonna wake up and suddenly we're gonna be like every other team in every other sport where winning is everything and nothing else matters. And when that day comes, well, that's, that's when we'll honor them."
Jack (Matthew McConaughey)
The motion picture can inspire people in ways that no other medium can.
That may never have been illustrated as well as it was in "We Are Marshall," which premiered 10 years ago today. It told the story of a school and a town shaken by tragedy — and rising from the ashes. Literally. The airplane carrying nearly all of the Marshall University football team crashed just short of the airport as the team was returning to Huntington, West Virginia, from a game.
I remember when the Marshall football team was almost entirely wiped out by that plane crash in 1970.
I was a young boy in Arkansas, a follower of the Razorbacks, and they had played a school earlier that year that had a similar tragedy befall it. One of two planes carrying the members of the Wichita State University football team to a game in Utah crashed in Colorado. The upperclassmen and the head coach were among those killed.
Wichita State resumed playing with the players who survived by virtue of the fact that they were riding on the other plane, but they went on to lose all their games in 1970, including a 62–0 loss in Little Rock to the Razorbacks about three weeks after the crash. Frank Broyles, the Arkansas coach, tried not to let things get out of hand, bringing in the second– and third–stringers fairly early in the game — but try telling young guys not to do well when they get a rare opportunity to play.
About the only way to keep that score down would have been to invoke the mercy rule — except I'm not sure if that even existed in 1970.
Anyway, when that tragedy struck Marshall, I thought I was seeing history repeat itself.
And I was — only it was worse.
At least Wichita State had some of its players left. Quite a few, actually, although most lacked much in the way of playing time.
The Marshall football team, as I say, was nearly wiped out. The remainder of the 1970 season was canceled, and the program was nearly dropped.
But the student body resisted — and insisted that the football program continue.
If you're a football fan, you have to understand that the Marshall football program of today bears little resemblance to the one in the early 1970s. Granted, Marshall did struggle this season and won't be playing in a bowl — but the team has been in bowl games in five of the last seven seasons.
In 1970, when the last couple of games were canceled, Marshall was 3–6 and had seldom won more than it lost in the previous seasons. In spite of this season's record, it can truthfully be said that the football team has risen from the ashes and is better than it was before.
Preserving the football team was not exactly an act of loyalty to a storied program at the time. For some, dropping the program was about redirecting funds to areas where they could be more productive. That is certainly a worthy goal for any college administrator, but there are other considerations.
David Strathairn, an actor whose work I have admired for many years, played the university's president who was initially inclined to suspend the program indefinitely. He had the best of intentions, not the least of which was the money that could be saved and redirected to other things.
But preserving the program was important to the students — and to the community. It wasn't about winning; for most, it was about moving on — but in an "we all move forward together" kind of way.
It was a long hard journey for Marshall, and it started with getting someone to accept the incredible challenge of taking over as the program's head coach and essentially building it from scratch. Yes, a long hard journey that was dramatized effectively in "We Are Marshall."
Everyone in Huntington was facing a challenge after that crash. The football players who survived the tragedy were dealing with plenty of issues. The father of one of the victims and his son's fiancee struggled to move on.
One of the few teammates to survive took it upon himself to carry the program forward on his shoulders. It was a burden he soon found to be impossible yet he felt a solemn duty to his deceased teammates. "They left it in my hands," he tearfully told his coach.
"No, they didn't," the coach replied. "They just left."
A surviving assistant coach (Matthew Fox) helped the new head coach (Matthew McConaughey) rebuild the team quickly, but the tragedy weighed heavily on him, and he wondered if they were disgracing the memory of his colleagues.
But that's the thing. When you've been knocked to your knees, you have to endure some difficult moments to return to what you consider normal, and some people don't possess whatever you want to call it — courage comes to mind for me — needed to persevere.
It is that courage that is inspiring, but it can be so easily manipulated in the movies. It's enough to put a viewer on the defensive from the start, isn't it? I mean, you know when you sit down to watch a movie like "We Are Marshall" that you're going to be manipulated, and you kind of brace yourself for that, don't you? I know I do. I think it's some sort of defense mechanism.
But "We Are Marshall" got away with it in large part, I believe, because it was unquestionably and demonstrably true.
Oh, sure, I know there were some things that were made up for dramatic effect, but much of it was probably dialogue (and, being a writer myself, I have to tip my hat to whoever wrote some of those lines). The events were beyond dispute — and even though you knew there had to be a moment of triumph, a time when the football team would win a game for the first time since the crash, it was no less effective when it happened on the big screen.
The sad truth about life is that not everyone who tries to rise from the ashes is successful. They don't make movies about those who, as Tennyson might have put it, are washed down by the gulfs, only about those who "touch the Happy Isles."
But, while not all who attempt to touch those Happy Isles succeed, all who try do so with the hope of success. "We must accept finite disappointment," Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, "but never lose infinite hope."
Anything that inspires people — a movie, a book, a song, a speech — appeals to that infinite hope, not acceptance of finite disappointment.
The story of Marshall University, its football team and the town of Huntington fed that hope by virtue of its truth.
It was not a Hollywood story strategically slated for a holiday premiere. It was the real thing.
Labels:
2006,
David Strathairn,
football,
Matthew Fox,
Matthew McConaughey,
movie,
sports,
We Are Marshall
Sunday, February 07, 2016
A Super Bowl Story
Today is Super Bowl Sunday. Later today the Carolina Panthers and Denver Broncos will meet in the 50th Super Bowl. I plan to watch it with my father.
I've been thinking lately about some sitcoms' Super Bowl–themed episodes — there have been a few of those, although they haven't been as numerous as, say, Christmas or Thanksgiving episodes. Of course, there is more of a time crunch. In theory, you have all year to plan an episode for Christmas or Thanksgiving. We know those holidays will be coming up every year.
Of course, we know that the Super Bowl will be played each year as well, but if you want to do more than a generic Super Bowl episode — you know, if you want to actually mention the names of the teams that will be competing in the game — you only have two weeks between the conference championship games (in which the participants will be determined) and the big game itself.
Some episodes actually have mentioned the names of the teams that were playing. I can only presume that the script had been written in advance, and the writers merely had to fill in the blanks. A few of those come to mind, and my memory is they were entertaining episodes.
But the one I have been thinking about lately never mentioned the participants. It was on Frasier in January of 1999. Now, normally I write about movies or books or songs or TV episodes that are marking anniversaries with a five (i.e., 25th) or a zero (i.e., 50th) in them. This one doesn't fit either, but I still feel compelled to write about it today.
Why? I don't know. I just do.
I guess because it underscores one of the funniest aspects of Frasier — at least as far as I am concerned. I'm talking about the conversations he had with the listeners on his radio show. They were usually played by celebrities whose voices were known to most people, and I always enjoyed watching the closing credits to see if I had correctly identified them.
The episode was about Frasier (Kelsey Grammer) and Roz (Peri Gilpin) trying to set up their parents on a blind date. The Super Bowl was merely the backdrop to the story — and that was set up by a conversation Frasier had in the show's opening with two radio listeners, a husband and wife played by real–life husband and wife Marlo Thomas and Phil Donahue.
Thomas' character called in and told Frasier her husband was having some friends over to watch the Super Bowl, and she thought it would be nice — and fair — if she invited some of her girlfriends over. Frasier agreed and told Donahue that he sided with Thomas.
"That just proves you don't know the first thing about football," Donahue replied.
Frasier started to protest that his knowledge of football was irrelevant, and Donahue interrupted.
"OK, how's this," he said. "My wife's friends can come over if you can answer even one little football question. Like ..."
Frasier tried to protest again, and Donahue cut him off again.
"You're down by six, you're on your own 40, three seconds left, what do you do?"
Roz got Frasier's attention from the control booth.
"Well, all right, you would ..." Frasier said. Roz held up two telephone handsets. "Line up your receivers ..." Roz made a throwing motion. "... and throw a pass ..." Roz made a throwing motion for a long pass. "... a long pass."
"Yeah, and what's the name for that?" Donahue asked (technically breaking his own promise by asking a second question).
Roz knelt, crossed herself and struck a prayerful pose with her eyes cast skyward.
"A Hail Mary," Frasier replied.
Having won that conversation with Roz's help, Frasier told the listening audience, "I hope you enjoy the game. In the meanwhile, this is Coach Crane saying, I'm listening."
When they were off the air, Roz told Frasier, "I'm impressed you're so good at Charades."
"I'm impressed you could mime a virgin," Frasier replied.
I hope you all enjoy the game.
Labels:
episode,
football,
Frasier,
Kelsey Grammer,
Marlo Thomas,
Peri Gilpin,
Phil Donahue,
radio,
sitcom,
Super Bowl,
TV
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