A Match Made Somewhere other than Heaven

First appeared on March 27th, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

Throughout history there have walked the earth that very few men who’ve changed the world. A number so select one may count them upon a single hand; Hammurabi, Guttenberg, Henry Ford, Steve Jobs, Mr. Speckowski (6th grade Science at Lincoln Elementary).

But alas, if we were capable of springing a sixth digit like children born within the Chernobyl exclusion zone, then one man would make the list. One who lingers a Super Bowl win away from finding his face chiseled upon Mount Rushmore. One born destined to become the first man to spend U.S. currency possessing his own image. A trailblazer spreading his message of faith with a rock jaw and harder head. Of course we’re speaking of one Timothy Richard Tebow.

The problem here is Jets coach Rex Ryan thought we were talking about him. And now a star- crossed trade has brought the NFL’s two biggest caricatures together. Ryan is the blustery head coach who loves guarantees and a good continental breakfast. And Tebow, the quarterback who’s used his superstar status to become a spokesman for sandal wearing carpenters everywhere.

Both are exhausting yet refreshing. Frustrating yet somehow strangely inspiring. One simply cannot look away when either is on TV. Ryan the “King of Blusterstan” and Tebow a Kardashian in shoulder pads. Like moths to a flame or hot dog carts to an Overeaters Anonymous convention-we’re suckered in every time.

So the Jets can’t win a Super Bowl and the front office decides the best way to steal headlines from their roommate who could (the New York Giants) is to bring Ryan and Tebow together; thus adding a fourth ring to their already world famous circus. If Donald Trump has taught us anything, other than you too can become a bizillionaire by simply making ridiculous statements, it’s that there’s only room for 1 dominating personality in the board room. Now the Jets have two.

The impact each has had upon the world is inarguable. The Global Language Monitor recently recognized “Tebowing” as a word while Rex Ryan has a half tribal art, half sea monster tattoo on his calf. But to believe the coexistence of these two is the recipe the Jets need to win a Super Bowl is to believe socialized medicine and cars that don’t need gasoline will solve all of America’s problems.

While Tebow loves quoting passages from the Bible and pausing to thank a higher power, Ryan is more about ripping large chunks of raw flesh from your posterior region while quoting lines from “The Idiot’s Guide to Talking like a Trucker”.

Tebow’s a superhero whose Justice League of America card was earned by persevering despite draft experts arguing the NFL wouldn’t have his awkward delivery and upright, run the ball down your throat style. Yet lost in the chatter over his unorthodox passes and propensity for taking linebackers head on is the fact that, unlike Plastic Man or the Wonder Twins, Tebow is apparently immune to arrogance. The guy’s everything that’s right with sports and Americans love him for flying in the face of conventional wisdom. For this he’s become the stuff of myth.

And so now this Sasquatch in cleats meets a modern day John Wayne armed with clipboard and Burger King headset. A vampire who feeds on arrogance, Ryan learned the ropes from his legendary father (see the man whose defense MADE Mike Ditka) and he makes no apologies.

Both men are occupiers in a league that breeds conformity. And while the result may not be a Super Bowl it will certainly be worth more than the price of admission.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

March Madness is many things to many people

First appeared on March 20, 2012

March Madness is many things to many people. For basketball fans it is the greatest time of the year because the ubiquity of buzzer beating plays injects itself into the national consciousness faster than a congressman can tap your foot under a restroom stall. For haters of power programs, and fans of those ugly, plain clothed teams who didn’t get asked to the dance, it’s a time to rejoice that David’s stone was true once again as you go online and order a Norfolk State Basketball T-Shirt.

For the average part-time pretend sports columnist it’s a great time as well if for the simple fact the tournament produces such incredible stories. Turns of event that allow you to prattle on about nothing of note all the while stating what is fairly obvious in as many different ways as you possibly can think of; and you do it with pride because this is what your readers have come to expect of you.

It’s a prognosticators playground for they, even those who know nothing about basketball, have a 1 in 64 chance of being right. For Bill in Purchasing it’s a chance to remind people to listen to him because he was, at one time, a stand out varsity player; while others only see him as a bitter pill who has succumbed to both the jagged hands of Father Time and one dozen too many Dunkin’ Donuts Munchkins. And while these can wreck his frame and rob the “quickest first step in Wabash County”, they cannot harm his pride.

Drama, upsets, the same 5 commercials looping constantly, March Madness is also a television station manager’s dream. The Genie that is the NCAA Tournament is so mesmerizing it has ridden its magic carpet straight into the Oval Office. And as Obama took time away from solving Mid-East peace to share his picks with the world, it was a chance for the President to both show his non-political side while also pandering to the little-sought-after demographic of former basketball players turned couch potatoes.

For one month we become both zombie and robot, slaves one and all to the melodious voice of Jim Nantz or the herky-jerky Kevin Harlan. Only in March can Gus Johnson make something as innocuous as a twelve year old filling Gatorade cups behind the bench sound like the greatest thing since Neil Armstrong placed his size 11 down upon the surface of the Moon.

But as with everything in life, except bunny rabbits and free beer, there is a dark underbelly to March Madness. Fans of Missouri and Duke are suffering through March Sadness after they made tournament history by becoming the first pair of number 2 seeds to fall in the same year. The finality of the tournament can drop you like a steel hammer. That head-splitting moment when March Madness becomes “April Malaise” leading you to torch your own bracket; frustrated that it wasn’t the best of 6 million submitted online to ESPN.

Or it’s a warrior like Robbie Hummel giving the fight of his life before going down. And it’s the sight of her son dropping his sword for the final time that moves a mother to tears. Yes, it’s the rare combination of beauty and tragedy; Broadway meets testosterone.

But until this moment comes, the Tournament holds great promise. So your team wins a game at a very late hour and you go in and kiss your sons on the forehead as they sleep because that is the only thing that can possibly add to your happiness at that moment. And what a sweet moment indeed.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

Goodbye 18, it's been real

First appeared on March 14th, 2011
in The Lebanon Reporter

So you’re the biggest Colts fan ever. Yet somehow the national search missed you and settled on some 12 year old freckle faced dork from Fort Wayne. So it was understandably troubling when you, like everyone on Earth including the Bushmen of the Kalahari and Inuits of Nunavut, heard there was a strong chance the Indianapolis Colts were going to release Peyton Manning. In fact the first time you heard the news you became so startled you dropped your autographed copy of his biography into a steaming bowl of Spaghettios splattering orange globs all over your 2010 AFC Pro-Bowl Jersey.

Your High School coach told you “never say never” when Floyd County had you down by 35 at halftime, but in Manning’s case you know you’ll never see anything like him again. That was five days ago and for four straight mornings now you’ve awaken to check the Colts roster online only to discover again that he really is gone. You knew this day was coming, you just hoped you’d have won the lottery and bought your own private island in the Caribbean first; maybe the one next door to Michael Jordan’s.

Here you’d read every Doc Savage book ever written as a cabana boy keeps your bottomless cup filled and it would be enough to help you forget how much professional football, and Manning more importantly, meant to you.

You know there’ll be other quarterbacks. Some with laser arms and some with rocket arms. But one with a laser-rocket arm is rare indeed, as rare as the Yeti or someone playing defense in the first quarter of an NBA game.

But now he’s gone and you don’t know what to do. Crying seems a bit extreme, especially since you were noticeably devoid of emotion when burying your child’s gerbil in the back yard last November. And yet that’s just what Jim Irsay seemed to be doing during his joint press conference with Manning-something as insignificant as planting a domesticated rat amongst a bed of Petunias.

You took note of how nonchalant Irsay was while showing the door to the man who sparked your enjoyment of football and so you decide it’s time to move on. You pack up your Colt replica helmet popcorn caddy and #18 wristbands and head off to the place everyone goes to say goodbye to old friends. And when you get to Goodwill you find a line out the door of former season ticket holders toting their Colts memorabilia off as well.

You’ve seen the grainy video of Manning throwing and heard every sportswriter with a functioning voice box weigh in on what the Colts should do and still you, along with Mick Jagger, have mixed emotions. But you’re powerless to stop it now; maybe the freckle faced dork, but not you.

You don’t know what the future holds and who could expect you to? You gave your Tarot Cards, Crystal Ball and Ouija Board to Goodwill three years ago. But as you survey the line of people waiting to dump their Colts gear it becomes clear just how much Jim Irsay has stolen from them. And then comes the epiphany.

There’s one thing Fast Jimmy can’t take away from you. So you return to your car; which is somewhat hard to find considering half of them in the parking lot have horseshoes painted on their hoods, and as you pull away you do so knowing full well that, while Irsay may have gashed your soul with that Samurai Sword he called a “business decision”, try as he may he cannot take away your memoires.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

Indiana and Purdue Fans need to take a closer look

First appeared on March 7th, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

A wise man once told me “sometimes you can’t see the forest for the trees”. And while it sounds very prophetic, I literally had no idea what it meant until I heard Andy Taylor explain it once on the ‘Andy Griffith Show’. You’ve probably seen the episode; the one where Opie gets busted for lying about something he did despite hearing Andy warn him beforehand that it was a bad idea (OK, so maybe that describes all of them).

For fans of the Indiana Hoosiers this should be a time of great rejoice. For the first time since 2006 they swept their arch rival Purdue in basketball and yet the grumbling of Hoosier Nation lingers. In one season Indiana fans went from ”We’ve got a shot at another National Title” to “FIRE TOM CREAN!!”

Oh the ‘forest for the trees’ indeed. In bringing the Hoosiers back to the Top 20 and dusting off their dancing shoes, Tom Crean has completely pulled Indiana's program from the toilet bowl Kelvin Sampson so carelessly dumped it into. Hoosier fans should simply be thankful that, before he could flush the program entirely, Sampson paused to make a cell phone call long enough to be fired.

Indiana fans should relish the little things right now. Things like the fact Robbie Hummel will suffer nightmares of Cody Zeller’s second half swat for years to come. That rejection was so bad Hummel will likely toss around at night with visions of Zeller swatting his pop tart away from the toaster rolling through his head.

Instead of bemoaning three straight conference losses, Indiana fans should rest safe in the knowledge that, after hearing the cheer block chanting “Jailbird” at one Boilermaker, Indiana University is producing a student body so well rounded they value the importance of staying abreast of current events.

Before Boiler fans start feeling too good about themselves, they aren’t exactly boasting 20/20 vision either. Proof they can’t see ‘the forest for the trees’ can be found in their questioning of Head Coach Matt Painter’s dismissal of Kelsey Barlow at such a critical point in the season. And while at the time, considering Painter’s lack of depth, it seemed the equivalent of Custer sending someone out for donuts in the middle of his last stand, clearly it was the right move. For, despite being swept by their arch enemy, it’s almost indisputable that the Boilers are playing much better basketball now.

I always thought Indiana was so tough to beat at Assembly Hall because of magic or divine intervention but, according to Painter, it’s a result of making shots instead. For, after the Hoosiers excelled in numerous phases of the game, Painter refused to acknowledge the performance, instead chalking the loss up to Indiana’s “making shots”.

But after getting down by 18 in one of the most difficult places to play in college basketball Sunday Night, Purdue had enough heart to fight their way back into the game. For all Matt Painter’s team has endured over the last 3 years, this should bode well moving forward.

Oh the ‘forest for the trees’. Lost in the bluster of Sunday Night’s rivalry game was the fact that neither had any remaining hopes of a regular season conference title. What many also failed to see was the fact both teams have won 20 games and were fighting for a middle of the road seed in the Big Ten Tourney. Indeed it’s a far cry from the heyday of Knight and Keady but, trees or not, we can all see one thing clearly-these two still don’t like each other.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

Sure Signs the World is Ending

First appeared on February 29th, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

“It’s the end of the world as we know it” or so Michael Stipe of R.E.M. fame once so fortuitously crooned and while, for R.E.M. at least, it appears to literally be the end after announcing their retirement, the rest of us remain skeptical when it comes to the end of days. But even if the best you can say is that you have a second cousin who is 1/25th Mayan, the dire 2012 prediction of their calendar does have some concerned.

Count John C. Calleman among the “concerned”. He’s a world renowned expert on the Mayan Calendar who has been quoted widely on the subject. It’s hard to argue his work isn’t very important and deserving of a wider audience, especially for me considering I didn’t know anything about him until I googled “experts on the mayan calendar”.

Calleman’s website says the debate over the calendar’s prophecy is “pivotal for the future of humanity” which I found both enlightening and scarier than barefoot skiing across a lake of fire. It all called for a closer look at the world and I was shocked to discover that the end may in fact be near.

One sign we’re doomed is the fact a controversy stirring inappropriate gesture made during Madonna’s Super Bowl half time show didn’t come from her. Surely, if Madonna is as omniscient as we believe, she’d have revealed the end of man by riding a white horse across the stage shortly after M.I.A. decided to give the half of the world that owns a television set a shot of her middle finger in HD.

The Republican Party certainly realizes 2012 won’t end well. Halfway to a Presidential Election and they can’t find a nominee capable of spending his way to the front of the field? Of course when frogs start raining from the sky, the millionaire who opined for the death of Detroit will be the first in line for a government sponsored umbrella while the one who thinks all the cool kids are still wearing sweater vests will just smile and say “see, I tried to tell you so.”

Apparently the sports world isn’t apocalypse-proof either. Major League Baseball has to be concerned when they can’t suspend one of their biggest players for violating their biggest rule. When an arbitrator overruled Ryan Braun’s suspension for PED’s the decision rumbled across the sports world like the massive earthquakes that are soon to split the Earth open and swallow us all whole.

Perhaps they (Calleman, the Mayans and R.E.M.) are all right. After all, how else can you explain two coaches (Tubby Smith and Bruce Weber) clinging to jobs despite producing 3 straight 20 win seasons in the past? And these don’t include a 37 win season in Weber’s case. Perhaps, at least when it comes to Minneapolis and Champaign-Urbana, we’re too late and the super volcanoes have erupted, spewing so much toxic ash that these people can’t see they already have good basketball coaches.

The evidence for concern is all around us. A soon to be three-time loser steps into the spotlight and saves the season of one of the NBA’s most storied franchises. Young adults rioting in the streets while others pay upwards of $1,000 on EBAY-and for what? The chance to prance around the basement of their parent’s homes in their Nike Foamposite Galaxys?

Perhaps the surest sign the end of the world is nearing came in February when the job Indianapolis did hosting the Super Bowl actually drew compliments from people visiting from both Boston and New York. Now that’s clearly the sign that something strange is happening.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams