Game Six

(I'm taking a quick break from the Thirty Blog Challenge - This is too important)

As TCU started to march back in their opening game to Baylor this season, I refused to get into the game. My rationale was simple - I'd already accepted that the Frogs were going to lose, and I wasn't going to lose the game twice. If I allowed myself to get back into the game and they didn't win, that's exactly what I would've felt. I would've lost the same game twice.

Tonight, I lost the same game twice. As I sat in the apartment, actually yelling at the TV, I tried to get Neftali Feliz to get the final strike we needed. Instead, he gave up a two-run double that tied the game.

I fell to my knees. I couldn't move. It was horrible. One of the worst moments of my sports life. And I turned the TV off.

Only to find out a few minutes later that Josh Hamilton had hit a 2-run home run. And even though Feliz was done, we had two pinch hitters and the pitcher left in the game. A two-run cushion and three guys who could barely hit their weight coming up. It was in the bag.

Nope. Darren Oliver allowed two (and almost three) hits to those three guys. Then the Cardinals' top hitters came up and tied the game again. The next inning, they won.

Twice, the game was down to it's final strike. Twice, the game-tying hit was given up.

Tomorrow, I'm not going to watch the Rangers. It isn't because I've given up on them. It isn't because I'm turning in my fan card. It isn't because I don't care. In fact, I'd argue that it's because I care too much. Often times, I've been told that I'm too passionate about sports. That I allow it to control my life too much. To affect my emotions.

I'd agree with that, but it's all I've known. While it's broken my heart dozens of times, sports has been the one consistent thing in my entire life. It's always been there when I needed it, even when it didn't given me what I wanted. And after my dad died, it was baseball that made everything feel better again.

People forget (or don't care in the first place) that I love the Rangers. I love baseball. They were my first love, and any waning appreciation for the sport simply came from the fact that the team continued to break my heart again and again and again.

Tonight, they broke it twice more. Worse than when the Mavs lost in 2006. Worse than when the Stars lost in the Stanley Cup Finals in 2000. Or when the Stars lost to the Ducks in 2003. Or when TCU lost to Boise State in the Fiesta Bowl.

As far as sports-related heartbreaks go, this was number one.

And, yeah, they have a chance to win tomorrow. Probably a pretty good chance. Matt Harrison is a solid pitcher, and the Rangers' offense did more than enough to win tonight.

But you don't come back from a loss like that. You don't get a third chance at this. In life, you either take the bull by the horns, or it gores you through your chest. It's that simple.

And if the team is stronger than that, then more power to them. If they can come back from this loss, then I will be very proud of them. But I'm not strong enough. I can't come back from it.

I refuse to lose this series twice.

Thirty Blog Challenge - Blog 7

Someone Who Has Made Your Life Worth Living For

I actually have a few people that would make this work. I could start off with my wife. She's beautiful, fun, and she somehow loves me as much as I love her. We go to sporting events, dinners, movies, and long evenings on the couch. And during all of this, we just laugh. I would say her name here, but we haven't met yet.

I could say my mother, who isn't quite as fictional. She's taught me a lot about life, and she's one of the happiest people I've ever met despite the fact that she's been through twice as much trauma. She could've quit a number of times, but she refuses to. She has a strength and faith that I can only hope to tap into. And as much as I don't like being my father's son, I love twice as much to be my mother's son.

I could say my roommate Ashley. We're practically common law, and it's one of the most functional friendships I've ever had. We can talk about a number of things, and we always seem to be on the same wavelength. It isn't a perfect friendship, but it definitely works. He's smart and creative, and I think we're a lot more similar than either of us would be willing to admit. And he's always there for me when I need something. Anything. If he hadn't needed rescuing from Stephenville, I don't know where I'd be right now.

But I guess I'll just be super gay and say Tucker. I haven't known Tucker as long as I've known Ashley, but he's had a profound impact on my life. After a rough start to our friendship (Tucker admits that he doesn't like meeting new people, and that he makes it hard to get to know him too much), we bonded because of a similar situation - we were both unemployed.

And thanks to Halo, tennis, The Wire, and a collection of other things, we became close friends. I don't know if he'd call me his best friend, but he's definitely mine. He and I see the world in a similar way, even though he and I come from completely different places. I look up to him like an older brother, and I value his opinion more than I often value my own. He sees things in me that I'd like to see, and he's done a lot of hard work to try and help me get there.

When we were moving out of our old apartment, I went to a fantasy football draft for work. I was going to go to the draft, come home, and clean up the apartment. But when I got back to the apartment, I found Tucker inside my bathroom, scrubbing the bathtub. It's one of the worst jobs that he could've been doing, and I felt terrible. While I was out having fun, he was cleaning my bathroom. And that's Tucker - he's willing to do just about anything for his friends. And maybe that's why he chooses to have so few.

I often joke that Tucker is the "best case scenario" version of me. That if I tried as hard as I could to perfect myself, I could be him. And, in a lot of ways, he's the person I'd like to be. He has a great job that he loves, a loving wife, and he seems to have found happiness. He's always smiling, and he's always making those around him smile.

He's always done so much for me, and he's always looking to do more. And as hokey as it sounds, I'm so very honored to call him my friend.

And I totally mean it. As gay as this is going to look and sound, I absolutely do. And I don't even care that he's going to make fun of me for it.

Thirty Blog Challenge - Blog 6

Blog 6 - Something You Hope You Never Have To Do

Joke Answer - Get stabbed. Nick Swardson has a great stand-up routine about getting stabbed. It just sounds like it'd be horrible.

Obvious answer - Die. I know everyone dies. But it'd be nice if I were the exception to the rule. That last second before you die is supposedly peaceful to a lot of people, but it just seems like it'd be completely frightening.

A lot of people say they're completely convinced about their own religious beliefs, but no one is 100% confident. No one can know for sure. And while I'm convinced that there's some sort of God, I don't know if I was lucky enough to be born into a family that happens to believe in the real one. I have faith that I was that lucky, but I can't say for certain.

I hope, very much, that there's an afterlife, and I hope that whatever God exists is merciful to all those who chose poorly. But in that second, you just don't know.

And it would be like that one second before you flip on the switch in a dark room. That noise you heard might have been nothing, but it might have been the monster you're afraid of. After that second, you might be relieved. But in that second, you just don't know. And I just don't want to face that.

Real answer - watch someone I love suffer and die. Because everyone dies, everyone I love will die. And just like knowing that you will die, that's something equally as terrifying. But we can all hope that our loved ones die peacefully. On their own terms. In their own time.

To watch someone you love suffer is worse than suffering yourself. And just the thought of it fills me with so many emotions. Sadness. Anger. Fear. Regret. We all know that we're ticking time bombs, but we always try to put it out of mind. We know that, when we're talking to someone, it could be the last time we talk to them. But we just don't worry about it, particularly if you're not someone who's directly and recently familiar with death. Steve Jobs or Al Davis could die, but it won't make you hug your mom any tighter when you see her. Because we just assume the people we love will be there tomorrow.

And they might not be. But we all hope that they will. And when the day comes that they won't be, we all hope that we're given plenty of advanced warning. That they live to an age where we're able to let go with the minimum of sadness. And while there will always be that sadness, we hope that there's enough love and joy that it doesn't feel so bad.

But to have a sudden death. A painful death. A death full of suffering? In front of you? To see it all? That's something that I hope I don't have to experience.

Thirty Blog Challenge - Blog 5

Blog 5 - Something You Hope To Do In Your Life

Hmm, so many things. I could say get married. Or have a child. Or find that elusive "perfect job." All are things that I hope to do and all are things that would lead to another thing - find happiness.

For some reason, I don't want to go there. I'm starting to think that those things happen in their own time. Hoping to find that perfect person or that perfect moment isn't the result of effort or simple "hope." It either happens or it doesn't. I'd like to hope for something that I can control.

And, for that reason, I hope to see the world. The Eiffel Tower. The Brazilian rainforest. The Great Wall of China. Even Antarctica. I want to see the greatest things that man has done and the things that God made that man can't ever hope to top.

I've seen the U.S. If a city has (or had in the 90s) a baseball team, I've been to it. With very few exceptions, I've seen what this country has to offer. Amazing skyscrapers, fields of grain, sunsets that will leave you breathless, and all kinds of people. I've been to Central America, visiting the Dominican Republic and Honduras on high school mission trips. I've been to German any Austria, seeing the beauty of a European city and the horror of a concentration camp.

But there's so much left. I haven't even technically visited the entire country, missing both of the non-contiguous states. And as far as my own hemisphere goes, I'm still missing the entire southern part of this enormous landmass.

In the last couple years, I've traveled a lot more. Since my passport is still in need of renewal, it's all been domestic. San Diego, Los Angeles (three times), Phoenix, Denver, Colorado Springs, Washington D.C, Philadelphia, Atlantic City, and Chicago. Not to mention a month in Delaware.

Starting in 2012, I will have an extra week of vacation at work. With that, I'll be required to take two consecutive weeks of vacation according to the SEC (not the conference, Ashley). And since I'll be at JPM for another year or two, that's a couple of two-week vacations that I'll need to take.

I'm getting that passport renewed. And I already have my list ready of places to go.

- The United Kingdom. I'd love to see London and the British countryside. I know it's foggy and gross and awful, but I still want to see it. I've always wanted to see Stonehenge. And, now that I've seen a couple "football" matches, I'd like to see an EPL game.

- Australia/New Zealand - I love the way Aussies talk, and I love the way New Zealand looks.

- Japan - I've always been fascinated with Asian culture. I don't know what it is about Japan, but I've always felt a connection to there. And before it sinks into the ocean, I'd like to see it.

And then there's the Pyramids and the Great Barrier Reef and the Holy Land. So many places to see and just a lifetime to see it all.

Most of us get too busy with other things to go out and see what the world has to offer. I hope that doesn't happen to me.

Thirty Blog Challenge - Blog 4

Blog 4 - Something You Have To Forgive Someone Else For

I always wonder if I should forgive my Dad for killing himself. After all, he did apologize in a suicide note. He said it was too hard to live the way he was, that he'd made too many mistakes, and how he didn't want to continue. I can understand that. Life sometimes gets too hard to handle, and if there's an easy way out, some people can take it.

And I guess I can forgive that. If he'd stayed alive, he would've continued to be a financial burden, and he would've continued to make life a living Hell for my sainted mother. For that, I'm glad he's gone.

But I don't really think I can forgive him for what he did to my mother. According to her best friend, my mom used to be a lot more fun and adventurous, and staying up worrying about my dad all the time changed all of that. Now she's a bit more of a homebody, and she really hasn't re-established herself in the world. Her life now revolves around my sister and me. She hasn't re-married, and I don't think her life has ended up the way she wanted.

She was such a cute and fun person, and my dad took the best years of her life. He lied to her, abused her mentally, and took all of her money. And while he gave her two kids (and she says it's worth it), I don't really want to forgive him for doing that to her.

So, I guess, I can forgive what he's done to me and my life. Like I said in blog two, my life is a lot better than most. But as far as what he did to my mom, I can't forgive him. And won't. Because while I can imagine that I deserve bad things, I know for certain that she doesn't.

Thirty Blog Challenge - Blog 3

Blog 3 - Something You Have To Forgive Yourself For

The one I let get away.

Imagine you're at a barbecue, and you see two grills. One grill is shiny and golden, and a small stack of juicy steaks are beside it. On the other grill are a stack of hamburgers. There's a long line for the steaks because everyone loves steak. There's less of a line for the hamburgers, but you get in the steak line. After all, they probably won't run out by the time you get there.

You smell something good, and you look around for what it is. You think, for a second, that it's the steak. But it isn't - it's actually the hamburgers. They smell good, and you start to wonder what it would taste like. But you stay in your line - you want steak.

A few minutes later, you start hearing that the steaks are running out. You check, but you can't see for sure. You can see the hamburgers though - there seem to be plenty. You rationalize that if you can't get a steak, you can probably still get a hamburger. You wait it out. You can still smell the burgers, but you start to ignore the smell. It's a matter of principle now - you're getting the damn steak. If not, the burger will be there.

News hits that the steaks are out. Everyone who reaches the grill leaves unhappy. But you have to see for yourself. People from the steak line get in the burger line and leave happy. You see it, but you still aren't affected. There was a huge stack of burgers - one will be there for you if you need it.

You get to the front of the line, and the news is right. Steaks are out. You notice that the smell from the steak grill isn't even as great as you'd imagined. Maybe the meat wasn't good, or maybe the chef wasn't. Either way, no steak for you, and the steak you wanted maybe didn't even exist.

But there will always be burgers, right? You walk to the burger line, and it's closed. All the burgers have been eaten. One wasn't saved for you.

In college, I tried for a steak and they were out. When I tried to go get a burger, it was gone too. And even though it smelled and looked good, it didn't matter. I went the more difficult route when I would've been happier with the easier one.

And I still beat myself up about it. Even though, at the end of the day, I was a dumb kind. Of course the hungry guy's going to want the steak. If I knew what I knew now, things would be different. But I didn't - I made the choice with the information I was given.

There's other burgers out there. Maybe even other steak. The barbecue isn't over, and I need to stop pretending that it is. I need to forgive myself for being choosing poorly and move on.

Thirty Blog Challenge - Blog 2

Blog 2 - Something you love about yourself

I'm really lucky. As much as I like to focus on the bad, I "won the genetic lottery" as Tucker likes to say it. To be born where I was, to the family I was born to, in the time I was born...it's one in a billion luck. I could've been born as a starving child in Africa. Or during the Black Plague. Or as a Cubs fan. It could be so much worse.

My family is great, and my mother gives me endless strength because she's faced challenges that make my problems seem like nothing. My friends are great and offer enormous support. I'm healthy, safe, and intelligent. I'm able to do things that 99% of the world can only dream of, and that's an amazing blessing.

There's a Twitter hashtag called "first world problems," and it's really funny to read sometimes. Problems with lattes and books and DVDs and smart phones. But the fact is that it's true. We have problems that most of the world wouldn't even consider. There are people that are starving in Africa. Not starving like "I skipped lunch and am starving" but actually starving - to the point of death.

I'm so blessed to be able to be on this blog. On the internet. In a safe and wealthy country. In a relatively safe time. I'm surrounded by good people that love me (and some that simply tolerate me). And as bad as I think life can get sometimes, it could be infinitely worse.

And I'm glad that I have people in my life that can remind me of that. Because God knows I need it more than I should.

Thirty Blog Challenge - Blog 1

My friend Brian (http://bmwooddell.wordpress.com/) did a blog series that I'm going to steal. He called it the "Thirty Day Challenge" but I'm calling it a "Thirty Blog Challenge." Primarily because I don't know if I can (or want to) do thirty consecutive days of blogging. Secondly because I would like the freedom to blog about whatever I want in the mean time. So this is something that I'm going to start and eventually finish. I won't make it neat and tidy like Brian did, but I'll do what I can.

Day 1 - Something You Hate About Yourself

That's a delightful way to start, isn't it?

Well, most people know that the defining moment of my life was the day my father committed suicide. It impacted my life in ways I probably still haven't figured out, but the primary way was my confidence.

I was the popular kid in school until my dad died. I was the first one to run up and kiss a girl. I would entertain the kids by lip syncing Weird Al songs. I played sports, and my dad always brought pizza to class. I seemed to be friends with everyone in school, and things seemed to be on track.

When he died, it all stopped. I stopped being friends with everyone. Anyone. I stopped going out and having fun. I stopped being funny. From that point on, I could count my friends on one hand. I ate lunch alone at school, and I came right home and spent time alone. Middle school and high school were about the same.

And because I spent most of my middle school years alone, I missed out on a lot of the social challenges that middle school provides. Elementary school is all about being social with people from your own gender. Middle school mixes things up a bit, and you start spending time with people of the opposite sex. That way, by the time high school starts, things are comfortable.

Not for me.

My awkward years were high school, when I finally started to mix and mingle. By then, it was too late. I'd disappeared in middle school (coincidentally the time when I was supposed to meet all the kids from all the other elementary schools), and the people I did meet probably wondered why I was so weird around girls. I didn't date in high school.

When it came time for college, I was still a step behind. I'd done middle school in high school, and now I was doing high school in college. I was naive, and I was uncomfortable.

The problem with confidence is that it doesn't really seem possible to manufacture it. Confidence is built on a foundation of other confidence. You're confident that you can hit a baseball because you hit it before. You know the girl will say yes because the previous one did.

But what happens when you have no confidence? You have no foundation. And with no confidence, you can't build more because you don't have a foundation. It's a vicious cycle, and it takes something extraordinary to break out of.

Finally, I feel like I've broken out of that. But what all did I miss? All those times in high school and college that I could have been a part of. Heck, what about the popular kid that I was back in elementary school - what if he had been allowed to grow up and mature? Where would I be now?

So I wish I'd had more confidence. I wish I'd handled the death better. And, most of all, I wish it just hadn't happened. I hate that it affected me so much, and I hate that it had to happen to me.

It made me who I am, and I understand that. A lot of people like the person I've become, and I'm not sure they would've liked the person I would've become otherwise. But I often think about the parallel universe where I had a normal childhood. Where I'd be now, and how things would've been differently.

And until I've completely conquered the fear that stops me from being as strong as I want to be, I'll always wonder what could've been.

A Good Hit to the Gut

You'll hear the phrase "a good hit to the gut" when dealing with knocking someone off some sort of pedestal. Someone gets a little too big for their own britches, and they need to be knocked down a peg so they can live in the world with the rest of us.

Tonight, TCU got a good hit to the gut. And I'm talking about everyone, but I'm especially talking about the fans. Yes, the game was a nail-biter at the end, with the final score coming down to a field goal. But I'm talking about 47-23. Deep touchdown after deep touchdown. A royal ass-whipping.

At that moment, TCU fans knew that this was different. No more perfect seasons. No more BCS hopes. A normal season for an average football team.

The last time that TCU lost a regular season game was November 6, 2008. They lost a 13-10 game at Utah, who ended up going to the BCS. The only other loss on the year was at Oklahoma to a team that eventually went to the national championship game. That year ended with the Frogs beating Boise State in the Poinsettia Bowl. Both of those losses are forgivable.

You have to go all the way back to 2007 to find a loss like this one. Four years ago. To a team that was starting a redshirt freshman quarterback named Andy Dalton.

That team lost five games. They lost at Texas, at Air Force, at Wyoming, at BYU, and home to Utah. They went 7-5 and won the Texas Bowl over Houston. For the most part, I can't remember this season at all. I remember the Texas and the Air Force games, but I don't really remember any of the others. It was a mediocre team that was trying to work in a brand-new quarterback.

After that year, TCU went 34-2 in the regular season and 2-1 in bowl games (including two BCS bowls). All three losses were to teams in the top 10.

Five losses in one season. Less than that over the next three. And a Rose Bowl championship to tie it all off.

Tonight's game signaled that it was time to start over. And it didn't really matter if they won or lost. TCU could, very well, lose their next game at Air Force. They could lose a couple different games in the Mountain West schedule. They could lose to BYU. They could lose to Boise. This team could easily go 7-5.

And we all knew it going in. No one was talking BCS this year. We all predicted two or three losses. A lot of people thought we could lose to Baylor.

But it was all just talk. TCU fans could barely remember what it meant to lose a game. It'd been so long that we just grew accustomed to finding a way to win every game. I mean, think about what's happened since November 2008. It's a long time.

Until it happened. Until we looked up at the scoreboard and saw what was happening, we didn't really understand. And, as it happened, we all remembered what it's like to have a mortal team. To walk out of a stadium with that depressed feeling of "we'll get them next time."

And we needed that. We needed to see our team bleed, and we needed it to happen early so that we'll be prepared for what's going to happen.

And it will allow us to pay attention to what's being built. Tonight, we saw that the Casey Pachall era could be very good. After Patterson took the leash off, Pachall made some very solid throws, and it looked like he had great command of the team. He got the the team back in the game and almost won it.

I'm not saying that we can have a bad season and then immediately move on to greatness again. There's a chance that TCU will never reach the heights that it reached under Andy Dalton.

But now that we know that 2011 won't be special, we can start looking toward what's being built for 2012. And 2013. Because if it works the way that it could work, we'll all barely remember 2011. And tonight's loss will absolutely be worth it.

Revolution - 2011 TCU Football

In a lot of ways, the 2011 Rose Bowl was the end of an era in TCU Football. And I don't just mean that because Andy Dalton is gone. The 21-19 win over Wisconsin was the exclamation point on a statement that Gary Patterson and the Horned Frogs had been making for years. All the wins led to a final proclamation that was made on a national stage against a huge opponent from a super-conference. TCU isn't a fluke. They aren't an outlier. They belong. Period.

And the future also looks bright. In 2012, TCU enters the Big East Conference. It is, probably, the weakest of the BCS conferences. But it still has an automatic bid to a BCS Bowl game, something the Frogs have craved since the system was established. It has a television contract with ESPN, and the bias that comes with being on the East Coast.

But one fact remains - we still have to play the 2011 season. In the Mountain West. Without Andy Dalton.

And it's easy to look back on the Rose Bowl or ahead to the Big East. And when you look at the status of the 2011 season, it's easy to overlook it.

The conference is weaker. Utah and BYU are gone. Boise is in, but the conference moved a game that should've been in Fort Worth to the Smurf Turf. And the home games for the Frogs aren't exactly inspiring - Louisiana Monroe, Portland State, SMU, New Mexico, Colorado State, and UNLV.

We have a new quarterback. Casey Pachall was highly recruited, but he doesn't have the experience (and, from what I've read, the work ethic) of Andy Dalton. It will take time to adjust.

We have a lot of new players all over the place. Four of the five starting offensive linemen will be new. And even though Rose Bowl hero Tank Carder is back, the defense is also initiating new members. For the first time in a while, TCU fans will have to simply "Trust in Gary" that the defense will be good again.

And then there's the first two games of the season. The Frogs start out in Waco against Baylor. TCU has owned the Bears in recent years, but this one feels different. This time Baylor has the hyped QB in Robert Griffin III, who seemed really insulted by TCU in our game last season. It's the first game of his last season, and I'm sure he'll be looking to make a statement. Then we go to Air Force, a place where we've struggled in bad and good years.

There's a good chance that TCU comes home for it's first home game since the Rose Bowl 0-2. Which could set a horrible tone for the whole season.

I'm not really sure what to expect. I could see TCU running the table again. Beat Baylor and Air Force, and the rest of the schedule sets up well. You don't play BYU until late October, and you get Boise in November. If Pachall gets wins in his first two games, he could start building confidence to win the big ones down the stretch.

But I could also see losing four games this season and ending up in some random bowl game. I don't think the team will miss out on a bowl like they did in 2004, but I suppose it's possible.

So it's easy to get hungover from 2010 or look forward to 2012. But the below video helps keep me focused on the task at hand. There are great players on this team, great coaches on the sidelines, and a bright future on the horizon. The schedule isn't crazy, and we have the Rose Bowl trophy in our case. Go out there and keep it up.

http://www.youtube.com/watch%3Fv%3DfUXt3Mq_Aj8&sa=U&ei=pWVWTsHPDtTF0AGditDLDA&ved=0CBUQtwIwAQ&usg=AFQjCNFUOQtxCt03flys7DuchBYmjVrrMw

Changing the System

I don't usually write about serious issues on here because I don't really consider myself to be an overly serious person. The world is serious enough, and I don't see the need to add to it.

But I work in the financial sector, and it was obviously rocked when the US government decided to fight about the debt ceiling. The country was on the verge of defaulting on its loans, and the government decided to make it (and I'm about to use a really bad word here) political.

America's elected officials weren't working on behalf of the American people. Or even their own constituents. Or the US Constitution. Or even their own morals/ethics/ideas/conscience.

They were working on behalf of their party. And their employment.

And that makes me mad. That politicians don't care about what's good for the country - they care what's good for themselves and their party. They want to keep their job, and they know that they can only keep their job if their party supports them. And to get scratched, they have to do some scratching themselves.

I hate that many politicians get elected and, almost immediately, have to campaign again. It isn't as much about doing something in office as "staying" in office.

And that's where the problem lies, in my opinion. Because I don't think politicians are born evil or corrupt or weak-minded or bullied. I believe the system makes them that way. I believe that if you asked a young man or woman, about to enter politics, whether they would rather have:

a) a short career where they get a lot of positive things done

b) a long career where they get nothing done

that the majority would pick A. I honestly believe that people that want to serve the people come into it wanting to do good. And that, when they get there, they're quickly squashed, crushed, or changed.

So I suggest this: take re-elections away. Completely.

The US president currently gets a four-year term with one chance at re-election. So, basically, the president can either get four years or eight years. I say split the difference and give the office one six-year term. There is no chance of re-election for the president or vice president. He or she gets six years and then is done.

In Congress, I want to implement a similar plan. I don't know if the term length would need to be amended (up or down), but it would be the same principle. One term. No chance at re-election.

Basically, the system would encourage turnover...encourage new ideas...and discourage stagnation. No one could get comfortable, and no one would have to worry about running (or even participating in) a re-election campaign. A politician and his staff would have a definite amount of time to get things done, and there would be very little to distract them.

I'm not entirely certain what the consequences would be, but I can guess:

1. I think more honest people would show up in Washington, and I think more honest people would stay there. As I said, I believe most politicians come into the game wanting to do good. This would, in theory, allow them to do this without a lot of the extra worries.

2. It wounds the political parties. It won't kill them because they're immortal, but it takes away that voice in the politician's ear. Congressman vote on issues because the party tells them to. If the Congressman doesn't listen to the party, he is taken off the next ballot. So, to keep his job, the Congressman has to listen. If there's no chance of being on the next ballot, the Congressman should be, in theory, able to vote whichever way he thinks does the most good.

3. It keeps ideas fresh. You're probably going to have a group of young and idealistic people running the country. No more 80-year-old Senators who have been doing the job for a half a century and don't care anymore. And every election will be someone new with fresh ideas running against someone similar. Are there enough people in the country that want to be politicians to support a system with so much turnover? I believe there are.

4. Why do I believe that? Because I think my system would help heal the American perspective on the word "politics." Ashley and I had a long discussion about this, and we disagree on the severity of any potential change that this could bring. But we agree that a lot of intelligent people have given up on politics. And that, if you fix the system, those people could come back. Intelligent discussion outside of Washington could begin.

I have at least two friends who would be great politicians, and they could both do phenomenal work to save this country. But neither of them have any interest in running for office. Change the system, and maybe they would.

I know this. Partisan politics made the US government look ridiculous. People voting on party lines instead of their own judgment allowed the US to lose its coveted AAA credit rating for the first time ever. And it isn't just the politicians. People are just as bad - blaming the other side blindly.

The system is broken. Or, at the very least, very damaged. And it's going to take a lot of work to fix it. And, yes, fix it completely. Repairs aren't enough.

My system isn't perfect, but I believe it would get the job done. And if it can't, someone smarter than me needs to be working on a system that would work.

Because our nation is better than this. It's smarter than this. It's stronger than this. We just need to remember that.

Chicago - Life on a Train

One of the most interesting things about visiting Chicago is public transportation. It's almost impossible to move around in Chicago without a connection to it - even if you don't travel by train, the sound they make echoes around the city. And, coming from a place like Dallas, it's like an entirely different world.

In Dallas, everyone owns a car. In fact, many families have several cars. There was a time when I was living at home (and my sister was 16) that our family had three cars. They barely fit in our single driveway, but that's simply life in Dallas. If you want to get somewhere, you're going to need a car.

In Chicago, many people don't own cars. You walk to a bus station or a train station, and you take public transportation. For the price of $2.25, you can go from one side of the city to another. And there are very few places in the city that are not accessible by a simple train or bus ride. For everywhere else, one of the billions of taxi cabs would be happy to arrange for transport.

Dallas has tried public transportation. Dallas-Area Rapid Transit (DART) has buses and trains, but they have a limited range and scale. If you want to get to Fair Park, downtown, or Victory Plaza...the train can help you. Like the trains in Chicago, they're cheap and can get you where you need to go. The problem is that the trains don't go enough places. There aren't enough rails, and there aren't enough destinations. Not to mention the fact that I've lived in Dallas my entire life, and I've been on the train less than 20 times. And I'm not sure I've ever been on a DART bus.

The train would be a great way to get to a Cowboys game or a Rangers game. The problem is that the train doesn't go to Arlington. And because Arlington refuses to join DART, it's possible that trains will never go there.

But who am I kidding? I live a couple blocks from a DART train station, and there's a train station a few hundred feet from the American Airlines Center. But how many times have I, a Dallas Stars season ticket holder, actually taken the train to a game? In 100+ games, I have never taken the train. Instead of spending a couple bucks to ride the train to and from the games, I spend gas money driving down to the arena and pay $15/game for parking.

Why? Because public transportation isn't a part of our DNA in Dallas. When it's introduced, most of our bodies attack it like an invading virus, and it's quickly forgotten. And, honestly, I don't even know how long it would take to get from the AAC to the local train station after a game. It might be a little longer, but it also might be about the same. Take out the savings, and it'd probably be worth it.

But, like with the night I mentioned in the previous blog, it's just odd to think that you don't have a car close. That, in essence, you're at the mercy of the city government to get you back home. If the train doesn't come, you're stranded. And you're two-dollar train ride turns into a $30 cab ride. That comfort, it seems, is worth the $15 parking and the money you'd spend on gas.

But I was intrigued by the idea of life on the train. In just one weekend, I easily walked several miles. Going from train station to destination might only be a few blocks, but those few blocks would certain help anyone's fitness regimen. Much more so than the short distances people in Dallas walk from a parking lot.

And while $2.25 seems like it might be a lot for a one-way ticket on the train, how much money do we spend on gasoline? I fill up my tank every couple of weeks, and it costs between $60 and $70 to get that done. For me, the train costs would be about the same. But what about people who fill up every week?

Then there was something that simply floored my poor Texan mind. In Chicago, they have cars that you can rent by the hour. You simply go to a designated place (smart phones make them easier to find) and reserve a car for a certain amount of time. Because grocery shopping can be a pain if you're traveling by bus or train, you can get one of these cars, take it to the store, transport your groceries, and drop it back off when your done. Our friend John says it can cost between $10-$20 for an hour.

It was such an incredible idea to me, partly because there would be zero reason to have this service in Dallas. But in a place like Chicago, it makes perfect sense.

Now, as is the case with any form of travel, things can be easily romanticized. When you visit a city, it's very easy to only see the good side of things. You're not at work, you're going from fun activity to fun activity, you're eating the best food, you're sleeping in, and your bed is made for you. When you're going to work, living in your own place, and living normally, a city can be completely different.

So it's hard to say how I think I would feel if I lived somewhere like Chicago. Would the train intrigue me if I had to take it every day? If I ended up stranded every once in a while? If I was at the mercy of the system? Would it eventually annoy me, or would it simply become as simple as hopping in my own car?

My friend Woody swears by public transportation, and it's one of the reasons he loves cities like Chicago. He will take the Trinity Rail Express from Fort Worth to come to Dallas, and I'm sure he'd be one of the dedicated riders if DFW got more public transportation.

As for me, I really don't know. While it was certainly interesting to exist without a car in a big city, I might just not be built for such a thing. The freedom of having my own car, my own space, and my own time might be too important to me.

But I do think that I might give the DART a shot to one of the Stars' games this year. Because I probably shouldn't knock something I haven't really tried.

Chicago - Surreal In the Rain

The boys and I just got back from Chicago - a weekend trip to the Windy City. Woody, Tim, and Ashley all arrived in Chicago by Thursday, and I joined them Friday afternoon to complete the quartet.

The first night there, we took the train down to Wrigleyville to meet up with Tim and Ashley's old roommate John. I don't know John well, but I did have a few classes with him. That said, I think he's a really cool guy, and I was glad that we had a fun person to lead us around.

That night, we had a dinner at a trendy diner, and then we headed to a cool bar down the street known for having games to play while you drink. After that, we went to John's show. John is a fan of improvisation, and he's currently a performer at an Improv theater down the street from Wrigley Field. We saw his show, and then we went to a bar down the street to meet some other people from the show.

We drank for a bit at a bar that, at least for that night, only played country music. I tried to imagine if this was how people viewed all Texas bars, but never really worried too much about it. It was a fun time in a new city, and I enjoyed it.

But then the rains came. I had worried about the rain, but it was mostly in the context of the Cubs game on Saturday. The idea of it raining any time in the other 50+ hours never really concerned me. As we walked out onto the street, I realized that I'd made a bit of a mistake in that.

Woody had left a little earlier to catch a train back to the hotel. He was back home, dry in his bed. We were looking at a down-poor in Wrigleyville.

Because going out in Chicago is different than going out in Dallas. People don't drive down, struggle to find a parking place (or valet) and then hop back in their car and drive off. People in Chicago might not even own a car, so they travel by public transportation. Trains are everywhere (and pretty cheap, especially compared to gas prices), and the city seems to have more cabs than any other vehicle.

But here's the problem. You still have to walk to a train station. Only one train line runs after 1am. And all the cabs were overwhelmed.

So it was a surreal visual to see all these young people standing outside, huddled against the storefronts, waiting for their turn to get a cab. People stood as close to the wall as possible to avoid getting wet, and to avoid getting splashed by the rising flood as cars went by. Some of the guys removed their shirts, which had been soaked. Most of the girls cowered or tried to move quickly in their cute outfits and high heels.

Some people gave up almost immediately, retreating to local restaurants that were still serving. As we tried to come up with a plan, we fell back to a pizza place that was filling with people that just wanted to stay dry. We tried to hide in John's theater, but we were quickly kicked out.

Here I was, in a strange city...in the pouring rain...and we had no idea how we'd get back to the hotel. But what was so incredible was the way that the city was so alive. Closing time in Dallas is usually pretty standard - small groups break off to find their cars. Here, however, the people had nowhere to go. They just stood along the street, talking and laughing and waiting. The city was alive with people who felt like they were stranded. Some speculated as I walked by that it would take an hour to get a cab.

But we didn't really feel like waiting...particularly with a noon Cubs game creeping up on us. We started to walk down to the train station, taking refuge in a 7-11 briefly while we game-planned. The train could take John pretty close to his apartment, but it would take us five blocks from our hotel. None of us felt good about the idea of walking five blocks at 2am in Chicago, but it started to look like our last hope.

But as we were underneath the train, a cab rolled by without any fares. We quickly grabbed him, and the four of us piled into the taxi. A $30 cab ride took us to the hotel, and we were saved.

But the city was still surreal. People were running around, some people were riding bikes, and the city was still alive with excitement.

And the roads? Flooded. I've never really seen anything like it because the water had nowhere to go. Streets filled with a foot or two of water, and some streets were even shut down. I don't know if it was a problem with runoff or too much rain, but it didn't seem like it was an insanely intense storm. Woody later claimed that they received six inches of rain, but it sure didn't seem like it.

It was very cool to be in an area like that. I don't know if it's something I would love to do on a regular basis, but I certainly enjoyed it one time. It was just a strange visual and a unique experience...particularly for my first night.

Christopher Nolan and Batman

Today, the official teaser trailer for The Dark Knight Rises was released. The Dark Knight was one of my favorite movies of all time; not simply because I'm a fan of the Batman (I'm willing to admit this moreso than any other nerdy obsession) - but because it's a great movie. It could've been about a rogue cop and his insane nemesis...and I think I would've loved it just as much. The fact that it was a Batman movie was really just icing on the cake.

And this is Christopher Nolan we're talking about - my favorite filmmaker. And it's not just about his Batman work. I think Memento might be my favorite movie - it's phenomenal in every way I can think of. It makes you think, and the creative way it's structured makes it exponentially better than it could have been traditionally.

His other movies are genius too. I loved The Prestige, and the way the narrative plays with you. You're taught to love and hate both characters, and you're torn between which of the rivals you want to win in the end. Even a movie like Insomnia takes a relatively generic cop movie and finds a way to do more with it.

And don't get me started on Inception - a movie I've obsessed about recently as it's been on HBO on a virtual loop. The movie gets deeper and stronger each time I see it, and it's just beautifully done. There's so much attention to detail, and each time I see it, I see or appreciate something new about it. And it makes you think...not just about how you interpret the ending...but how it can relate to our own wishes and dreams. And it's amazing that, after The Dark Knight...I was able to appreciate a movie that Nolan made when he could've been making another Batman.

But he did. And even though the movie is a year away, I'm still really excited about the third Batman film. Nolan, so far, has done no wrong, and I can't anticipate a scenario where he doesn't meet expectations. Even though my expectations will probably be through the roof (Dark Knight was one of the few movies that surpassed my expectations in theaters).

Something about the trailer bugs me, though. Plastered through the video are references to this being the end. The conclusion. That this is it.

And that makes me upset. Bale is the perfect Batman to me. Nolan is the best director, with an amazing perspective on what makes this world make sense. And the supporting cast (Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman, Gary Oldman) are also very good in their roles.

This universe is Batman to me. Because, somehow, it's not a comic book world anymore. It somehow makes sense that a billionaire would train to be the world's greatest fighter and dress up in a bat costume. It doesn't draw you out of the world with crazy CGI, ridiculous gadgets, or over-the-top villains. This Batman makes sense.

And in my perfect world, he'd keep doing it. He'd make a Batman movie...take some time off...and make another movie...then come back to Batman. Bale and Caine and Oldman could do the same thing - Bale could make a Terminator movie or The Fighter or whatever he wants in between playing Bruce Wayne.

And I understand that they can't or won't. That artists don't want to do the same thing over and over again, no matter how popular it is, how much money it makes, or how critically acclaimed their work has become. That, sometime, it has to end.

What sucks is that Nolan and Bale could leave...but Batman will not go away. The Dark Knight broke all kinds of records, and the hype for the new movie will continue to build for twelve more months. This is a property that Warner Bros. will not allow to go quietly into the night.

It happened before. Tim Burton's Batman was popular, and the sequel was also quite popular. Then, Burton left, and Michael Keaton left with him. But instead of letting the series die off, the studio gave the idea to someone else. And we all know how that worked out.

Don't get me wrong - I wasn't a huge fan of the Burton films, which were more "gothic" than "dark". All in all, I think the Nolan films are light years ahead in almost every way. But the Schumacher films were a disaster, and they almost killed the franchise for good.

And I can't imagine someone else taking over the films. Or, better yet, who would take over the role of Batman. The role of Gordon. The role of Alfred. Roles that have been grabbed by actors and not let go.

Part of me hopes that the Batman series is put to rest after Nolan is done with them. Let Batman rest for a while, and then come back at it in another decade for another generation to give someone else a chance. Maybe Batman can appear in Justice League movie (or series of movies). Or maybe they can try and film The Dark Knight Returns.

But, of course, my main hope is that Nolan reconsiders. That he realizes that this is a character that he knows well. One that he can do. And one that the group doesn't want to let go. Maybe he makes a fourth or even a fifth film.

Because, honestly, the man could make a million of these movies, and I'd still be hoping for one more.

Wow, I am weird

I went through and read a lot of my old stuff. I've been writing this blog for three years now, and I've been through a lot since then.

And I'll be honest, a lot of the things I've written were just for me. I don't advertise this blog because it isn't really important if people read it. I had a large handful of things that I wrote on here that I don't even get anymore because they were written in a code that I understood at the time (and have, since, forgotten).

I know it's weird. But, there are times when I need to write something. Anything. To get the thoughts out of my head (so they're less destructive) and out to the Internet...where anything bad can be absorbed my the power of our collective insanity.

I've phased a lot of the craziness out. The weirdness remains, and it will be here for a long time. But I want to thank you for being here. For sticking with me. And for helping to absorb the insanity.

Death

I'm extremely saddened by the story of the death of Shannon Stone, a 39-year-old firefighter from Brownwood, Texas. There is no reason for me to know the name of Mr. Stone because his Thursday night should have been normal. He was supposed to take his 6-year-old son, Cooper, to his first-ever Rangers' game. Prior to the game, the son simply wanted a baseball. In anticipation of this, Shannon bought his son a glove. When they got to their seats, right next to the left field wall, they hollered at Josh Hamilton to throw them a foul ball. When he got one in the second inning, Josh threw them one.

It should've been a great moment. Cooper would get his foul ball. He'd hold it and stare at it for the entirety of the game. He'd tell his mother. He'd tell his friends. He'd bring it to school. He'd keep it in a safe place. It should've been a big day for him.

And now it's the biggest day of his life. Because his father, desperately trying to get his son that ball, fell off the stands. He fell 20 feet and landed on his head. He died half an hour later.

Now his wife has no husband. Brownwood has one less fire fighter. Cooper has no daddy.

My father died when I was nine. He didn't die in front of me, and he died by his own hand. It didn't make national news, and it didn't affect nearly as many people. But, in almost every way, that act completely defined the person I eventually became. The ripples from that act still affect me today. And they will affect Cooper for a long time.

Because I know what happens next. Cooper, at age six, is probably too young to full realize what happened and what it means. My sister was six when my dad died, and it didn't really affect her as much as it affected me. Maybe it's because she was simply too young to remember much about him. Maybe growing up without a father was just normal to her. I hope that's the case with Cooper.

But here's what's going to happen. At some point (and it probably already happened), Cooper is going to fully grasp that his father is gone and isn't coming back. He's going to be sad, and he's going to want to be all alone. All the love in the world, all the money from donations, and all the support isn't going to mean a damn thing. He's going to want his dad back and nothing else.

Then his friends are going to find out. They will probably find out from their own parents, but the comprehension on his friends' levels won't be as strong. They won't understand the pain, and they won't understand the reality of it. To many of them, Cooper's dad is just a random grown up. And because they're kids, they're not going to know how to react to Cooper.

I know most people left me alone. I had a lot of friends before my dad died. I had many, many less afterwards. I assume that parents and teachers told the kids that I would be sad and that they needed to be nice to me. Or leave me alone and let me grieve. Either way, I don't remember much support from my friends. Then again, I've blocked almost everything from that era. Children aren't supposed to have that much pain inflicted on them, and a still-developing brain simply can't handle it.

I hope Cooper does better than I did. I hope he handles it like my sister did. I hope that Cooper's friends rise up to support him, and more importantly, that Cooper is able to accept that support (something I almost certainly didn't do).

It's going to be hard. Cooper is going to go through the rest of his life without a father. And, unless you have lost a parent, you simply can't understand what that's like. He has one less parent to talk to about serious issues. And, as a young boy, he lost his one guide into the world of being a man. His mother, whether she ever remarries or not, is going to have to handle all of those responsibilities. She's going to have to serve as mother and father, and it's a Hell of a job.

I thank God that my mother was strong enough to do that, and I pray to God that Cooper's mother is as strong as mine.

And, eventually, it will get better. You learn to live a life, and having no father becomes the norm. There are times when the idea of a father is simply alien to me. When one of my friends talks about their father, I have trouble comprehending the concept. Which, I suppose, is the mind's way of handling it. It fills in the hole left as well as it can. Sometimes too well.

But there will be times when it will come back. And like a sore wound, it will hurt just as bad as when it happened.

And he's going to struggle with his faith. How could he not? He's going to see all of his friends running around with their dads. Getting taken to ballgames by their dads. Getting coached by their dads. Playing with their dads. And Cooper is going to hate that. He's going to hate the fact that everyone else has a dad and he doesn't. You think kids get jealous about their friend's new iPhone. Try that with a parent.

If he's like me, he's going to wonder "why me?" And it's going to take a long, long time for him to be able to forgive anyone for the pain he's had to endure. For a childhood that was taken away from him.

Don't get me wrong. I didn't have a bad childhood. But I also didn't have the childhood that I could have had. I was forced to grow up way too fast, and I was forced to comprehend a topic that children shouldn't even have to worry about. I've missed out on 18 Father's Days. My father wasn't present to see me graduate high school or collage. He won't be present at my wedding, and he won't ever see any future grandchildren. He won't be there to give away his only daughter, either.

And, unfortunately, I still had my father to blame. He killed himself. It wasn't a tragic accident - he made the conscious decision to abandon his family and leave us with the bill. It's something that I will not forgive because I do not want to forgive it. If there's a Hell, he can rot in it. And if he's not, I will do what I can to drag his ass there. He had no right to do that to my sister, and he had no right to do that to my mother. Zero. None. So fuck him.

Cooper has no one to blame but crappy luck. Because so many things had to go happen for Shannon to die. They had to get those exact seats. They had to go to that exact game, which was only played because a different game rained out earlier in the season. Conor Jackson had to hit it exactly where he hit it, somewhere where the ball would land without anyone catching it...causing it to go onto the field. Josh had to throw it exactly where he did. No one else could catch him. And he probably had to land exactly how he did.

Any of those factors change, and Shannon would've been fine. Cooper would've been fine. And I wouldn't be typing any of this.

Maybe he'll understand that he was simply given a bad hand. Maybe he'll realize that some people get breaks and some people don't. Maybe all the love and support will get through to him, and he'll be able to forgive everyone (including God and himself) for what happened. I know if it were me, I wouldn't be able to do that, but hopefully Cooper is stronger than me.

It sucks. It really does. Losing a parent is one of the worst things that can happen. It tears apart adults so you can imagine what it does to a child.

And I don't understand why it has to happen. It's something I struggle with every day. Why couldn't any of those factors have changed, even slightly? And you might say that billions of miracles happen every day. That people are constantly saved from things like this happening.

And I'd ask, "why not one more?"

If I had a chance to speak with Cooper, I'd tell him how sorry I am that this happened to him. That I understand what he's going through. I'd try and help him navigate the coming days, months, and years...in hopes that he might not make the same mistakes I made. That he doesn't allow the sadness and hatred and anger to envelop him. That he might find a way to get beyond this a stronger person.

And I'd simply wish that he didn't ask me any question that started with the word "why?" Because, to this day, I don't have the answer to those questions. They're questions I still have, and I will have until someone can answer them.

I hate that this happened to him. I cried last night. And I've been sad all day. I feel terrible for Cooper, but I also feel sorry for the 50-year-old fan who couldn't save Shannon. I feel sorry for Brad Ziegler, who watched it happen and cried himself last night. And I feel sorry for Josh Hamilton, who will certainly internalize this.

No part of this story isn't sad. I can't help but visualize what Cooper must have felt like when he watched his father fall. When he saw paramedics rush to his side. When some stranger came and took him to some mysterious room in the bowels of the ballpark. When he was rushed to some strange hospital. And when he had to travel home without the man he came with.

He must have been so scared all night. And the night only got worse from there.

I don't know how to end this. So I'm just going to stop. But I hope that you realize that life is so fragile. Any of us could die at any moment so try and celebrate every moment you have with the people around you. Hug your loved ones. Tell them that you love them. And live for as long as you can.

M. Night Shyamalan

Tonight, I watched Devil, which is the first entry in the so-called "Night Chronicles" by director M. Night Shyamalan. The point of these films are ideas from Shyamalan done by other directors and writers. It's a way for Night to get movies done without having to do all of the work, and it's an idea that I like.

For many others, it was a joke. The story of Shyamalan's success in Hollywood is one that has happened many times before. A figure does something that everyone loves (in his case, The Sixth Sense) and people expect that from him/her from that point on. The "bit" of "the twist ending" became a calling card for Shyamalan for all his movies, and when it "happened" in a couple of his other movies, people immediately turned on him. They said he was stale. That he was repetitive. And that he thought he was God's gift to writing.

I never really understood that. So I want to quickly break down Shyamalan's films and figure out what these people are talking about.

The Sixth Sense - It's Shyamalan's classic movie. Unfortunately, it's also his first. It's a beautifully shot movie, and it's just a great story. I will openly admit, here in front of the six of you that read this, that I cry at the end of the movie. Or, at the very least, tear up. When Cole admits to his mother that he can see ghosts, telling a tear-jerking story about his grandmother, it just hits me every single time. The movie is about acceptance and love more than anything, and I think it has a great message about holding on to the things we really care about...and knowing when to let go.

Unbreakable - This is probably my favorite Shyamalan movie, and it had to grow on me. Coming off his first movie, people expected a lot out of this movie. And, at first, it doesn't seem that great. Bruce Willis is, again, the star of the movie, and he plays a man who learns that he is "unbreakable." Over the course of the movie, you realize that this is a superhero origin film. Willis' character is powerful, strong, and invincible. He even has his one weakness - water. The "twist" at the end is that Samuel L. Jackson's character ends up being the villain of the film.

But that's not a twist if you really watch the movie. It's a comic book story at heart, and every comic book story needs a villain. And there are only, really, about four characters in the movie. Willis, his son, his ex-wife, and Jackson. Plus, the movie is pretty consistent in its superhero story structure, and that means that Jackson had to be the villain. In fact, Jackson's final monologue pretty much tells you why you should've seen it coming. More on that in a bit.

Signs - This is the Shyamalan movie that I struggle the most with. It's an alien film, and it's something that I've never truly bought into. It's a movie I always say that I want to watch again, but I never end up doing it. But I heard something about the movie that might make me appreciate it a bit more.

A lot of the complaints about the movie revolve around the end. After being a pretty scary movie throughout, using darkness and shadows instead of real images, we finally see the aliens in the final few minutes. They look kinda dumb, and they get hurt by water. Kinda like with War of the Worlds, people get mad because something so easy could take down a villain. It seems like a cop out.

But then I heard that the aliens in the movie aren't aliens - they're demons. And then things start to make sense. The whole movie is about faith - Mel Gibson, the star, plays a former priest who lost his faith. He lost his wife, and he can't forgive God. And, through the movie and the attack, Gibson's character learns to trust God again.

So what does that have to do with aliens? Nothing. But if you decide the creatures are demons, it makes sense. Gibson's demons are literally attacking him (and his family), and he has to fight them with the help of his newly-regained faith. I need to watch the movie again for subtleties, but I don't remember anything in the movie that necessarily disagrees with this theory. And, if that's the case, I might run with it. It tidies the movie up a bit.

The Village - So the Sixth Sense had a definite twist ending. Unbreakable really didn't, but I can accept that a lot of people thought it did. Signs definitely didn't. And, yet, because of the twist in his first movie (and assumptions about his twists in his later films), Shyamalan got this reputation for "twist endings." And people started to look for them in his films. Looking for clues instead of watching the movie.

The Village definitely has a twist ending. We learn at the end of movie that the narrative actually takes place in modern times, when we'd been left to believe that it was taking place in the past. There were clues to this fact throughout the movie, and a lot of people figured it out when they were watching it for the first time. And, for some reason, they held this against Shyamalan.

The problem with that is this - it isn't a contest. Shyamalan isn't trying to trick you, and if you figure out the ending, it shouldn't affect the quality of the movie. Ashley says this about movies a lot - if he can figure out the ending before it happens, he criticizes it.

But you can go into the movie Titanic and know how the movie is going to end. The boat is going to die, Kate Winslett's character is going to live, and Leonardo DiCaprio's character is going to die. We know this because the actual boat sank, Winslett's character appears in the present, and DiCaprio's doesn't. It didn't stop the movie from being good, and it didn't stop people from loving it.

But because people figured out the ending to The Village, it gets disqualified. As if the only reason that the Sixth Sense was any good was because it tricked everyone. Which isn't the case...the movie was great whether it ended with a twist or not.

Is The Village great? No. But it has a lot of really good moments, it tells an interesting story, and it keeps your attention. And when you think about the ending and consider what it all means to the characters, it is actually quite thought-provoking.

Lady in the Water - People got mad at this movie because there was no twist. So if he has a twist, it sucks. If there's no twist, it sucks. This was when people were completely turning on Shyamalan, and it started to annoy me.

Is Lady in the Water great? No. But it's also not terrible. If it'd been done by any other writer/director in Hollywood, it probably wouldn't have been beat up that much. It's a nice little film that I've watched and enjoyed enough to watch a second time.

A big criticism of this movie is that Night actually appears as himself in the movie (in a role instead of a cameo this time). And, in the movie, he plays a writer who is told that he will eventually publish something great that will be appreciated after his death. Reviewers trashed this as Shyamalan being egocentric, and they trashed it. They also trashed that Shyamalan had a movie reviewer killed in the film so it might just be sour grapes between the writer and critics.

And people seem to forget that it's supposed to be a fairy tale. But, as you'll see with the next movie, people always seem to forget what Night's actually trying to do.

The Happening - Okay, here's the movie that people really hated. And it's the movie that I seem to go out of my way to defend.

With every DVD, Shyamalan includes one of the films he did as a child. And while it's cool to see the work a great director did before he was famous, he always includes a movie of the same genre as the feature film. So he's not doing it to be cool...I think he's trying to reference the tone of the movie he's trying to do.

The Sixth Sense is a ghost story. Unbreakable is a comic book story. Lady in the Water is a fairy tale. If you know this going in, you enjoy the stories more because he's really writing a love letter to the genre more than anything. It makes his stories formulaic, but that's kinda the point.

People hated The Happening because they thought it was about plants killing people. The problem is that it isn't. And unlike the demon theory for Signs, this is actually backed up by the story.

The first thing you have to know is that, like his other movies, Shyamalan is paying homage to a genre. And the genre in this movie is B-movies from the 1950s. These were movies that were supposed to be shocking, and they were all based on flimsy science. The nuclear age had been thrust upon people, and we had all these nightmares about what it would do to our world. This was the time that Godzilla was thought up. That monsters were coming to life in all shapes and sizes. That people wanted to be scared of the unknown.

The second is that, like in Unbreakable, Shyamalan comes out and tells you what he's trying to do. Except, this time, he does it at the very beginning. The protagonist is played by Mark Wahlberg, and he's a high school science teacher. He brings up a story to his class about the disappearance of honey bees, and he asks his students to think of what could've happened.

And he ends up declaring that there is no answer. That scientists would come up with a theory, and that the theory could be right and could be wrong. That there's a chance that people would never know the true answer, and there's a good chance that the "accepted" answer would eventually be proven wrong.

Then the people start dying. No one knows what's happening, but the main characters decide to flee the cities. Rumors start, and the characters hear that the towns are safer than the cities. That people are safer in smaller groups. And then there's the theory about the plants.

One of the characters believes that plants are fighting back. That they're releasing a toxin into the air that is making people suicidal. And this theory is accepted by most of the characters for the remainder of the movie. And, because of this, it's accepted by the audience.

Here's the problem - people forgot the earlier scene. And Shyamalan even throws in a scene at the end of a haughty scientist proclaiming the plant theory and why everyone should believe it. It's a scientist giving science's official theory, whether it's right or wrong. It's exactly what Wahlberg's character said would happen. But people ignore that and focus on the plants.

And that's my main criticism of Shyamalan critics - they don't pay attention. They don't watch the movies. And they don't ignore their pre-conceived notions of what an M. Night Shyamalan movie is supposed to be.

So when the Night Chronicles were announced, people laughed. When I first saw a trailer for Devil, a big fat guy in the audience openly laughed when Shamalan's name was mentioned and scoffed at the name "Night Chronicles."

But again, they don't see what Night is trying to do. The criticism about Night is mostly about writing. His movies aren't original, his endings are predictable, and that he's lost his touch. Well, Night is removing himself from the equation outside of the ideas. And the ideas are the one thing that I don't think ever gets criticized. You never hear that Shyamalan's movies are bad ideas...just that they aren't executed well.

Well, Night isn't writing these movies. He isn't directing them. And he's not appearing in cameos. He has an idea, and he gives it to someone to make real.

And, still, he gets criticized. I'm not going to say that Devil is a great movie, but it's, again, watchable. And the best part of the film is the idea itself.

Which is the only part of the movie that Shyamalan did.

Beginnings

Today might be the start of something big. This morning, Tucker and I finally began work on our "final" draft of the Bumblebees are Impossible (working title) pilot script. For a project where my enthusiasm waned in the middle (writing nine episodes of the show was tiring from both a mental and a creative perspective), I'm finally back to a place where I feel really good about it all. I've told several people our general premise (without giving too much away, of course), and there seems to be a genuine interest in this type of show.

So I'm really looking forward to getting it done so we can start showing people all the work we've done. I'm hoping to be done sometime in July...and then we can get to the real work: selling this thing. And maybe even starting a new career. It should be very exciting, and I'm really optimistic that things can go well. It's a great idea, and I'm proud of it.

Secondly, Tucker and Ashley began working out with the "Insanity" program last week. It's part of the P90X program (which is a workout program on steroids, basically). Insanity is mostly cardio and "core" workouts, and it's supposed to be pretty brutal. It's also supposed to get results...quickly. So I watched part of one video last week (I couldn't participate due to family obligations), and I actually did the video today.

It's rough. And while I'm sore, it actually wasn't quite as bad as I was thinking it would be. It kicked my butt, for sure, but I don't feel like I'm in terribly good shape. I've swam/swum laps in our condo's pool on three occasions, and I've been keeping up with my own ab/core exercises...but I'm just not in shape. If we can do this on a consistent basis (and I hope we can), I think it will be great for a summer workout.

And while I'm sore, I can always take advantage of my membership with Massage Envy. I haven't been in a really long time...meaning I have about 40 free massages that I need to use at some point.

So hopefully these two things (starting the final work on the pilot and the workout) will be the start of something new and good for me. Wish me luck.

And, yes, if you're reading this...you're probably on the short list of people who will get to test out the pilot script. Unless you're from the Netherlands. In which case....probably not.

LeBron James : A-Hole

I hate LeBron James. As far as athletes go, I dislike him more than anyone else. More than A-Rod. More than DeSean Jackson. More than (insert player on the Red Wings or Sharks).

I didn't used to hate him, but I've never liked him. I thought it was ridiculous when I saw that a high school player's games were going to be broadcast on ESPN. There is something pure about high school sports to me...where the only footage of high schoolers is really amateur stuff for the school itself. That, to see a high school game, you have to go there in person.

And I didn't really appreciate the fact that this kid (he's a few months younger than me) was getting so much love and attention before he did anything. Because he hadn't. He had potential, but he was getting credit and praise based on potential. He was built up before he'd accomplished anything.

And that wasn't his fault. He was dubbed "King" James before he'd stepped onto an NBA court. There was months of buildup to Cleveland selecting him with the first pick. And then more buildup to his first game.

I'm not going to lie: I rooted against him. I hoped that he was going to be a massive failure, and that the hype would blow up in his face. That all the money he'd been given by sponsors would be a waste, and that LeBron would go down in history with Kwame Brown and Ryan Leaf.

Of course, I was wrong. LeBron instantly made Cleveland a contender, and he started playing like one of the best players in the league almost immediately. And he started appearing everywhere...from commercials to "Saturday Night Live."

And it almost started to seem like a good story. Hometown kid making his city proud. And over in the Eastern Conference, it was hard to really get mad at him. I went to the first game the LeBron played in Dallas, knowing that I'd missed every opportunity to see Michael Jordan play in Dallas. If he was going to be "the next one," I wanted to see him live.

There was also a time when I almost turned around on him. In the 2007 NBA Eastern Conference Finals, I happened to turn on a game to see LeBron go off on a game against Detroit. It was fun to watch him take over a game and lead his team to victory. It made me think of something Jordan would do, and it was cool to see it happen in front of my eyes on live television.

But there were things that kept me from turning around. I didn't really like the way LeBron completely embraced the "king" nickname. I feel like nicknames should be used by fans and broadcasters, and that athletes should show some humility with them. It'd been a few years, and LeBron hadn't done anything. He'd still never won a championship, and he hadn't even been named MVP yet. And he was already declaring himself king, when players like Kobe and Duncan had more reason to be declared royalty (with MVPs *and* championships).

Then came 2010. LeBron was in the last playoffs with Cleveland, a team with the best record in the NBA. He had the strongest core of players around him, including Antawn Jamison, Shaquille O'Neal, and Mo Williams. His team won 61 games and was primed to go deep in the playoffs.

But then something happened. LeBron quit on his team. After knocking out the Bulls in five games, the Cavs played the Celtics. They took a 2-1 series lead and looked primed to head to the Eastern Conference finals. But after losing game four, the "King" of the NBA turned in one of his worst performances. I didn't watch this game, but all accounts of it said that LeBron looked disinterested. LeQuit became a new nickname, one that he was less inclined to embrace.

As he walked off the court in his final game with the Cavaliers, LeBron memorably took off his jersey...symbolizing the end of his career with Cleveland.

Then the sweepstakes begun. It seemed like LeBron wanted out in Cleveland, and people started to speculate where he'd end up. Some people thought he'd follow Jordan's footsteps and try to win in Chicago. Others thought that, if Wade went home to Chicago, LeBron could step in and play in Miami. Then there were the two New York teams, with many people wondering if LeBron needed to go to the number one media market to try and win.

There was even speculation that the Mavs, armed with Dampier's special contract and Mark Cuban's marketing genius, could be in on the LeBron sweepstakes. Ben and Skin even put together a really catchy song to try and lure James to Dallas.

And when I started hearing rumors that Miami was going to try and get LeBron James to come to Miami, I thought it sounded crazy. It'd never happened before, and I couldn't see the two of them getting along. John Hollinger wrote an article breaking down each of the possible destination for LeBron, and how he'd interact with those teams. Hollinger, someone I generally hate, said that LeBron would work the best with Dirk Nowitzki....who's game would compliment LeBron's (and vice versa). The worst combination, he said, was LeBron and Wade.

And the reason was simple. Their games don't compliment each other. Wade dominates games by slashing into the lane and getting to the basket (and/or the free throw line). LeBron does something very similar, but he's more inclined to pass the ball than shoot.

So LeBron could slash through the defense, get to the basket and kick it out to an open Wade....who would then do the exact same thing. Wade doesn't have much of an outside shot, and he wouldn't be able to take advantage of that situation. The same was true of the inverse...Wade could do the same thing and hit a wide-open LeBron...who would have to try driving the lane again himself.

It wasn't going to work. And when I heard that Chris Bosh was also possibly going to Miami, I knew it was crazy. Bosh had said all offseason that he didn't want to be someone else's Robin. In Miami, he was primed to be Batgirl.

But then it started coming together. And then LeBron announced "The Decision" on ESPN.

Now, I was on vacation in LA when this happened so I didn't see any of it. But I did read about the speculation that LeBron was going to go to Miami before the announcement was made. I hoped it wouldn't happen, but then it did.

And by all accounts, "the Decision" was ridiculous. LeBron praising himself and trying to grab all the attention. A one hour special leading up to a one-sentence ending.

It was probably driven by ESPN, but LeBron didn't help himself with any of it. Fans in Cleveland had probably read the news, hinting that LeBron was going to leave them. And LeBron made it worse by dragging out the decision on national TV. They felt like he was rubbing it in their faces for everyone to see.

It was childish. It was selfish. It was immature.

And people hated it. They didn't necessarily hate the idea that LeBron wanted to try and go play with great players and try to win. No one said much when Gary Payton and Karl Malone tried to win with Kobe and Shaq. No one said much when Ray Bourque left his longtime home in Boston to try and win with Colorado.

The difference was that LeBron was in his prime. And instead of finding a Robin to help him win, he was agreeing to *be* Robin to Wade's Batman. Because, let's be honest...the Heat was Wade's team, and he had the ring. Whether or not LeBron was the better player, Wade was the one driving the bus, and LeBron was begging for a ride to the title.

The media interviewed Michael Jordan after "The Decision", and Jordan said that he would've never called up Bird and Magic to try and team up. And the reason was, simply, that he wanted to beat Bird and Magic. He wanted to beat Barkley. He wanted to beat Malone and Stockton. And that's why Jordan is known as the best player in the history of the game - because he played in an era where a lot of great players played...and he beat them all. He had Scottie Pippen to help, but Jordan got all the glory.

LeBron was acknowledging to the world that he couldn't beat Wade. And, if you can't beat him, join him.

From that point on, I declared that any comparisons to Jordan were null and void. If the guy couldn't even be the man on his own team, how could he be the best ever?

And like many people, LeBron became a villain. And it was a role he almost embraced. In his first post-decision ad for Nike, LeBron asked the world "what should I do?" and mentioned his role as a villain. But the fact was that LeBron didn't really care. He wanted to go to Miami so that he could be a champion, and he still wanted to be treated like the best player on his team. He wanted the glory Jordan got without having to work as hard for it.

In a sense, he quit again.

So the 2010-2011 season began, and ESPN latched on to the Heat like it was their lifeforce. Every game was covered heavily by the network, and there was an ongoing article called the "Heat Index" where the Big Three's performance was broken down for each game.

And, for the first few weeks, the Heat struggled. With no post presence at all and very few pieces around the Big Three, teams found a way to beat them. Teams usually win with a strong center and a strong point guard, and the Heat had neither.

Just like with his first game as a Cav in Dallas, I bought tickets to watch LeBron's first game for the Heat in Dallas. And I went, not as much to cheer the Mavs...but to boo the Heat. All LeBron's bandwagon fans showed up to the game, and one guy behind me symbolized exactly what I assumed LeBron fans cared about. Instead of cheering "Let's go Heat", he cheered "Let's go LeBron"

He didn't care about the team. He cared about LeBron. Just like...LeBron himself.

But after the early struggles, the Heat started to play well. Eventually, they rose up to a top four seed and seemed to be rolling into the playoffs. They brushed away Philadelphia, and they handled a weakened Boston team. After that series, LeBron admired himself as he claimed that he joined Wade to beat the Boston beast. That the Celtics' Big Three inspired Wade and LeBron to come up with their own Big Three. That Boston's gambit had started a chain reaction that proved that, to win, one superstar wasn't enough.

And that idea made me mad because I saw it as the end of basketball as I knew it. Forever, each team tried to get a superstar and build around him. The Lakers had Kobe. The Spurs had Duncan. The Heat had Wade. The Magic had Howard. The Mavs had Dirk. You get your guy, and you put role players around him.

Some role players (like Gasol in LA and Parker/Ginobili) were better than others. But there was, still, no denying who The Man was. In Boston and in Miami, there was a debate on who was the best of the Big Three. And all three were legit superstars.

And it didn't stop there. The Knicks were talking about trying to get Chris Paul to come to New York to join Amare and Carmelo Anthony. The Lakers were trying to add Dwight Howard to Kobe and Gasol. The Nets and Bulls were trying the same thing.

Meanwhile, the Suns and Nuggets and Magic and Hornets were getting picked clean. They were losing their superstars, and it started to look like smaller market teams in basketball were going to simply become training grounds for the bigger markets' future stars.

And I hate that. I actually love the idea of parity...and not as much in a "every team is equal" sense...but I love when different teams can win on any year. I love that, in the NFL, teams like the Ravens and Buccaneers and even the Giants have won in an era dominated by the Colts and Patriots. That, any given year, a different team could make a run. Teams that you expect to be good can stumble, and teams you'd never imagined could be good can make a run.

I love that. But in NBA, like Major League Baseball had become, was in danger of becoming a sport of 8-10 dominant teams and 10-15 doormats. I hate that.

So as the playoffs went on, it looked like Dallas and Miami were going to meet up. I feared the Heat, which were now firing on all cylinders. In addition to the Big Three, they'd added Mike Bibby and Mike Miller to the roster...two veteran guys who could definitely play. They even had scrappy players like Udonis Haslem and younger players like Joel Anthony and Mario Chalmers off the bench who had improved by playing with the Big Three.

But it wasn't just my team versus the team I hated the most. It wasn't just Dirk vs. LeBron. It was a team of three people versus a team of twelve. It was old school versus new school. A team built around three superstars versus a team built around one.

If the era of "multiple superstars" was going to be stopped, the Mavericks had to stop them. Dallas had to prove that it was still possible to win with one superstar and a bunch of other players to compliment him.

S0, yes, I was invested because it was my team. But I also was invested because it felt like the soul of the sport was on the line. And if it'd been any other team (yes, even the Spurs), I would've been cheering as loud as I could for whoever was left standing to battle the Heat.

But I knew it'd be rough. Not only were they playing Dwayne Wade...one of the greatest actors/floppers of our time...they were playing against a team that the NBA wanted to win. The network wanted them to win. The announcers even wanted them to win.

And the sad part was that no one seemed to be hiding it. The announcers on the ABC broadcast seemed to be opening cheering for Miami as if they were campaigning for jobs on the Miami broadcast team. Multiple ABC promos surrounded the Big Three, LeBron, and Wade...with almost nothing about Dirk or the Mavs.

It seemed like the world was getting ready for a LeBron championship, and no one seemed all that concerned about Dallas.

Then, the dancing in game two happened. Wade and LeBron mocked the Dallas bench as it looked like Miami was about to take a 2-0 lead. They acted like Durant in the Oklahoma City series...except that Durant had never been on that stage before. Wade and LeBron should've known better than to act that way, but they're both selfish guys who play to the cameras. They're about themselves, and they don't know how to play as a team.

After game one, the Heat players (meaning the Big Three) apparently joked about having two parades after their eventual title - one in Miami and one in Cleveland. I guess to rub it in Cleveland's face one last time.

(Which is funny because the Cleveland fans, summarized by the account CavsForMavs, had united with Dallas fans to try and "defeat pure evil" and eliminate Miami's title hopes).

Then came game four. With Miami trying to take a commanding 3-1 lead over Dallas, Dirk battled a sinus infection and a 102 fever. After Dallas won, the Miami players seemed insulted by the attention Dirk got. Because how dare ABC and ESPN, who were supposed to be the Big Three's private marketing groups, talk about anyone but LeBron and Wade?

And so the two immature guys did what immature guys do....they made fun of the other guy. Walking down the hallway before game 5, Wade and LeBron mocked Dirk's illness by fake coughing to the cameras. They both later claimed that they weren't making fun of Dirk, but they denied it like children deny things..."Nuh uh...I didn't do that! I promise!"

They lied, and they lied terribly.

And what made everything better was that Dallas won game five (in a game I attended), and LeBron kept coming up small. After only 8 points in game four, LeBron missed several shots in the fourth quarter of game five and had a crucial offensive foul that helped give Dallas the game.

And LeBron discovered that all the attention went both ways. Do good, and they're crown you prematurely. Do poorly, and they will rip you apart. And they did...for days and days, the commentators tried to figure out what was wrong with LeBron.

And it turned out the Hollinger was simply right: the two big superstars don't work well together. They don't compliment each other. And they can't win together. They'd won plenty of games against inferior opponents with skill alone...but against a team with one united goal, LeBron and Wade couldn't help each other.

And after another stinker from LeBron in game six, it was over. More criticism for LeBron, and at his press conference, he lashed out at his critics. He basically gave the same speech that Romo gave after getting dismantled by the Eagles to end his season.

At the end of the day, he was still a millionaire. He was still famous. He was still living a great life. And at the end of the day, LeBron's critics were still poor and unhappy. They still had bills they couldn't afford, and they still had to work 60-hour weeks just to get by.

The man is an immature brat, and he deserves nothing but criticism. He's been given ever opportunity to succeed, and he's failed each time. And not because he isn't the best player...because he doesn't have the drive. He doesn't have the work ethic. And he doesn't have the heart.

When the going gets tough, LeBron runs away. He did it against Boston in 2010, and he did it against Dallas in 2011. And he does it all, despite the fact the networks and league wants him to win. They give him all the calls, and they give him all the glory. They desperately want him to be Jordan if he'll just take the damn mantle.

But he won't. Because he can't. Or he doesn't know how.

LeBron has never worked a day in his life. He was born an exceptional athlete, and he's gotten by on pure athleticism his whole life. Meanwhile, players like Kobe Bryant and Dirk Nowitzki...also gifted atheletes...keep working day after day...game after game...season after season...to get better.

LeBron doesn't do that. He doesn't work. He doesn't adjust. He doesn't try and get better. He doesn't accept blame, and he doesn't try to help.

Like a kid, he makes fun. He lashes out. He denies and runs away and cries.

And that's why I hate LeBron. Why I've watched in joy all the videos making fun of LeBron and his failures. Why I've read every article that trashes LeBron's legacy, his personality, his manhood, and his work ethic. Why this title meant so much more than it would've against the Magic or the Bulls or the Celtics.

I hope LeBron never wins. I hope Wade's physical play forces him into an early retirement. I hope Bosh, tired of being ignored, tries to go elsewhere. And all the bad karma that LeBron built up keeps him from ever winning the final game of the season.

I hope that LeBron gets the destiny that Dirk almost got...being a great player that never truly wins. Where he's thrown in with Barkley and Malone...players that were great but never got it done. That never winning keeps him from being named among the game's best.

And I hope that, as he sits and watches basketball after he's retired...that LeBron realizes that he wasted all his talents. That he wasted all the God-given skill. That he could've been the best, but he lacked the heart to do it.

And that's when I hope LeBron feels his lowest. Because he could've been beloved. He could've been great. He could've been the best. But, at the end of the day, he's a kid in a man's body. And he's just too weak and too small and too scared to ever be what the rest of the world seems to want him to be.