It's not crazy...It's sports.

Recently, I watched the ESPN commercial about an ordinary man who shares the name of a superstar and the disappointment of the people around him when they find out the truth. Below I've attached the video:

Honestly, I found this commercial actually very funny to watch and clever of the directors to utilize this concept because in reality many people have the names of stars and when they do go out everyone is disappointed to find out they are not who their names set them out to be. One thing I'm not sure about this commercial is what it's actually promoting and how the line "It's not crazy...It's sports" has to do with the concept of the commercial. Even though this is a great concept for a commercial, I feel as if it failed to promote ESPN and the tag line but it did succeed in generating a great viral video that does reach a younger audience such as myself!

I had the best morning ever.

That's a lie. I couldn't put into a few short words how miserable, depressing, and just down-right horrible my morning was. I should've known from the start that today was going to start off bad the instance I woke up in a pool of vomit that belonged to my ailing dog along with the constant buzzing of my alarm clock which was two, TWO, hours late...now how did that happen? First I was confused, then I was angry, and then...I just got up and did the only thing I could do; take a shower and throw on my work clothes. Oh, but the bad luck didn't stop there. I walked out only to notice a closet with only one piece of clothing hanging from the rack; a bright red cape with crystal piping. It was part of my Halloween costume in 08' and trust me for one second there I actually contemplated throwing it on and making my way down 5th avenue with not one care in the world. But no I decided to sneak into my roommates room and just snatch one of her outfits, I knew she wouldn't miss it. I was already 2 and a half hours late but my stomach reached the point in which it was basically eating itself; I was starving. As I walked to the fridge, I imagined grabbing my leftovers from the other night but once I opened the fridge both me and my stomach were dissappointed. Nothing but one slice of aged American cheese stuck to the bottom of the trays was left in my fridge. I stood in front of my fridge for a good minute until it really sunk in that I had absolutely no food to eat. So, I did a quick prayer and picked up the cheese and ate it like it was a five-star meal. Too bad I immediatley threw up once the cheese entered my mouth. Hey, you can't blame a girl for trying?

I was already two and a half hours late so I ran down the stares of my apartment complex and once I got down to the street I made an attempt to flag down a taxi. And it worked. This was the moment when I thought my luck was starting to "look up" as some might say; oh boy was I wrong. I told the taxi driver to "step on it" and he did. He was going a little too fast but that didn't stop this one beat up honda to cut us off and almost cause us to have an accident. My life didn't even flash before my eyes, the only thing on my mind was, "I'm defintly going to get fired." Ten minutes later I finally reached my desk at work only to see one red note in the middle of my stacks of work that read, "Come see me, ASAP -Trudy"I lugged my feet to my boss' door while I thought to myself, "I'm defintly getting fired" so I knocked on her door and twisted the doorknob with the little faith I had into thinking I was keeping my job. "You're fired." My toes weren't even in the door when I heard these two words...way to rip the bandaid right off Trudy. "Yeah I'm sorry we're having major cuts and your position didn't make it...On the bright side though, you can have the rest of my bagel!" She sat there smiling believing her own bullshit that I couldn't possibly be as mad right now because she offered me her bagel! Oh, how sweet of her seriously right after I'm told I'm fired I just love a good 2 hour old bagel...HALF a bagel I mean, it's not even a full bagel!! So I did what any normal person did and told her to shove that half bagel up hers while I proceeded to flip every piece of furniture in her office. Okay, I'm not the strongest person so I might of just kicked a few things since they were too heavy to flip and just screamed out random curse words because I couldn't think of anything witty to say to her. It was a train wreck.

Remember the Titans

The general gist of the sports film Remember the Titans (based on a true story) is that it chronicles the story of a newly appointed African-America coach and his high school team on their first season as a racially integrated unit. I've labeled this film as my favorite sports film because of how it is inspirational, deals with race, and generally pulled my heartstrings and led me to cry every other scene. I'm a sucker for movies who make me cry.

Remember the Titans is a true underdog story that follows the general hollywood cinema formula for making a good movie that the majority of Americans will watch. This formula usually comprises of the use of underdogs, racial and sex role conflicts, love, inspirational, and the list goes on. Basically, Hollywoods formula to making a blockbuster is using anything that allows the viewer to escape into a false reality that may or may not be better then the reality they're in now. That is why I believe Remember The Titans was so successful in the box office because it has all the aspects of a typical Hollywood movie that average American eats up. 

Slumdog Millionaire

Whenever someone asks me what my all-time favorite movie is, Slumdog Millionaire is always the first movie that comes to mind. I can easily remember the first time I watched this movie. It wasn't in the movie theaters, or in my living room on my TV, I watched it on my 10-inch wide screen Dell laptop through the use of online streaming. (Okay, it may or may not have been completely legal at the time...) You see even though I was watching it on my laptop I still wanted the whole effect of being in a movie theater, so I turned off the lights in my room, sat next to a large bucket of freshly popped popcorn and cranked the volume on my laptop to the loudest it could go. It was then when I was drawn in by the initial scene of an Indian man as a contestant on the Indian version of Who Wants to be a Millionaire. Then from there it cut to his life as a child living in the slums and the obstacles he reached along the way which, as a result, led him to be on a contestant on the famous show, only to be one question away from becoming the epitome of a Rags to Riches story.

I guess it's true; Everyone loves a Rags to Riches story. it doesn't matter if every movie that uses this archetype basically follows the same storyline is fairly predictable, everyone still pays money to go and see it. Doesn't matter if it's the same story, we keep on going back to the movie theatre to experience the same feeling of watching this certain type of movie. It makes us feel good and escape from our present day issues. This is why movies continues to produce revenue because the average people across America need a place to escape and fall into a false reality in which they wish was their actual lives. Not only does this movie include a Rags to Riches story, it includes a "forbidden love" storyline in which the main character, Jamal Malik, from the beginning (since he was a young boy to be specific) was chasing after the love of his life, Latika, but at every point in his life in which he finds her something is preventing him from being with her. Of course, in the end, like any other movie, he gets the girl, the money, and the "Dream". And it is for this Slumdog Millionaire is my favorite movie. I'm a sucker for happy endings and I did cry at the end of this movie not only because I was happy but I was sad it ended. For some reason, in those two hours I thought I was apart their lives but as a stranger looking on from a distance. Once it was over It was back to reality and I didn't necessarily enjoy that feeling. This is why whenever a similar type of movie comes out I go see it because I want to experience the same feeling i felt throughout watching Slumdog Millionaire.

Trigger.

It was in the fall of 2010 when I first dug my brand new spikes into my high school's freshly coated, red track. Man, was I excited. No, I was more than excited, I was ecstatic. I enjoyed the thought of being on a team as well as being apart of something bigger and better than me. You could say I fell in love with the idea of Track as a sport right then and there; this is where it all began, where my love for playing one sport turned into pure hate.

I'm a competitor and a damn good one at that. In any sport or game I participate in, I throw in my 110%, and nothing less. I make sure to win and if I fail to do that I pick myself up and make sure I win the next time. For some reason though, during my time as a varsity track player, I lost my will to win and my determination to leave my competitors in the dust while I cross that finish line without breaking a sweat. I simply lost it. Now whenever I feel the late night breeze of fall I get flashbacks to my time on the track right before a race. It's crazy how one thing could trigger your senses and take you back in time to a major event in your life. Yet, in my case, it takes me back to a certain time frame. Once I feel a cool, slightly damp breeze brush against my skin, I feel as if I'm on my high school's track with my black and gold uniform on, my hair tightly pulled back into a ponytail and my shiny silver spikes on my feet. Even though it's not  real, I still feel the same anxiety of the race run through my body and somehow I look up to see my team in the bleachers watching me with looks of hope, happiness, and sometimes boredom. How is it that even in my flashbacks I still feel the same amount of pressure and disgust I felt when I actually played the game? I wish the weather didn't trigger me back into this memory.  I didn't enjoy being the lead hurdler in my track team, nor didn't I enjoy listening to my competitors spit smack to me as I ran to the finish line.

It's funny though how I dispise this memory so much whereas one of my good friends, who was a fellow hurdler, cherishes these dreams. I remember her before our races literally screaming with enjoyment and excitement to get in the game while I was in the back dreading my participation in the race. My friend took this sport seriously and developed a true love for it while I was looking for my way out. And I'm glad I did, because I rather cheer for her in the bleachers then be right beside her expressing complete dread.

We all need answers, we just don't know if they're the right ones.

As I write this, I am sitting at table staring at my screen with a White Chocolate Mocha Latte from Starbucks in my hand wondering how I am going to properly articulate the two pieces I just read into words. Truthfully, I'm still not sure, therefore, I'm just going to do what I always do and just, simply, write.

The first piece I read was called "The End of Practice" by Rodney Jones. It chronicles one mans struggle to reach the complete "male dream" while explaining his surroundings in gory yet in depth detail. The piece begins with Jones stating that he, as a man dreams, of "harnessing and exacting irrevocable power over others", a dream desired by most men in the world, but lacks that same power in the present and faces the fact that another man holds the power he yearns for the most. And in this case of the poem, that man is his coach. His coach is the one that controls his team, making them run laps, race to the death, and compete like their lives depended on it. The author longs for this power but throughout the poem he realizes that the gap between his hand and his grasp on it slowly, but surely, gets larger and larger; restricting him from reaching the ultimate male dream that's surrounded by a need for supremacy in the present world. One thing I found quite interesting in the poem is the way Jones tells this story and depicts the characters attempts to reach their goals but all in separate ways. Yet, only one, yes only one of these men can ultimately win at this game and/or sport of life. The one thing that puzzles me is the last line of the poem which read, "and, while this came pass, monks in Asia soaked their robes in gasoline and burned alive for peace." I don't understand while this relates back to the big picture of the poem. Does it relate because those monks reached the complete control and power of themselves in which contrasts with the fact that the author and generally most men don't reach that ultimate control and power. Is it suppose to contrast these ideas? Or, does it mean something different? I'm not sure and it's truthfully bugging me how I cant grasp the concept of this closing line. 

Klosterman's "33" is the piece I read next. On the surface, this essay depicts the general idea as the conflict between the Los Angeles Lakers and the Boston Celtics throughout the 1980's and the strong following it brought on. On a much deeper level, this essay equates the rivalry between the Lakers and the Celtics as a reflection on the 80's culture and ideas; stating the fact that the true reason behind him favoring the Celtics is because he liked "his dad team" in which he discovered he was actually "rooting for the Republican Party". Klosterman truly believed that through the way the basketball players played  (with their heart and not their minds) and the influence of their coaches that each teams ideal trickled down into their present day culture and debates. Yet only this theory can be applied to 80's basketball and not to present day's basketball based on the fact that today players play as if they're robots focusing on 3 goals, and three goals only; money, fame, and success. Whereas in the past, players based their performances on their passion for the sport and their desire to win the game for the sake of their team and fans. It wasn't based on economic success as it is today. Therefore, the ability for culture to trickle into basketball, and vice versa, is based on the players, along with their coaches, subconscious intentions. 

The idea of the combination of sport and community, to me, does in fact create a culture based on the simple fact that once a major sporting event is hosted or widely celebrated in your town the whole community gathers together to form a connection among the community which leads to a defining culture. It is this culture that is highly influenced by sports and the community that follows it because of the politics along with the entertainment associated with it. In regards to the poem, this combination defiantly defines the community in which the men surround their lives with the dream of reaching ultimate power and in an attempt to reach it they turn to sports as their outlet, yet once (or if) they fail their attitudes change and their outlook on life and personal preferences change and in response to this the culture alters to the building and ever changing views of the men of society. Culture defines us because we define culture. When we make our decisions on who we support or on any other major question, it builds our culture as a whole and consequently affects others personal culture as well. We also base our decisions, morals, and ideals on whats accepted as well as what is not accepted by our culture. We form a culture based on the foundation of each individuals thought process. I highly believe that it's the way that we define ourselves and how others define us that greatly affects the meaning of our culture and the backbone to the combination of sports and community. I also believe it defines us more as a whole rather than in certain parts. This is because the way we view ourselves usually deals with the bigger picture rather than our individual flaws or perfections. As humans, we both actively try to accept and escape from these definitions we put ourselves in and what others place us in. It is the natural order of things and in turn this affects the creation of our culture and the meaning behind it. In my personal experiences, the way others define me affects the way I define myself. When others inform me on how they view me, I take those opinions to heart and then look into myself to figure if its true; whether it be bad or good. 

Overall, I found both articles interesting yet I still faced some questions that myself, and a few of my friends, fail to answer. Therefore, I plan on asking these questions during my next ENC1145 class with the intentions of being faced with the answer I desperately want answered. But for now I guess I will close up shop and end this blog entry in the hopes of reaching a complete understanding of these two articles and the relation between the, 

Dear Manny "Cop out" Pacquiao,

You see, I am a huge boxing fan. And when I say huge I mean HUGE boxing fan. I don't mess around when it comes to expected fights so I don't necessarily appreciate you consistently push back the day you want to fight Floyd "Money" Mayweather. Not one bit. Don't just claim you have the cajones to fight the undefeated boxer who recently just plowed into the infamous Miguel Cotto (one of your biggest competitors) and then keep on pushing back the supposed "final" dates of the fight. I mean, you shouldn't be afraid right? I'm just looking for a fight! One better than the Mayweather vs. Cotto fight...
Okay, I'm not quite sure you're capable of giving a bigger and better fight (no disrespect of course) because come on yo have been dragging lately. You've officially passed your prime. But, hey, who wouldn't want to see a fight between two men passed their golden years fight to the death. So, in your best interests, decide on a set date for this fight! Your fans (not me I just want to watch you lose) are counting on you! Mr. Money Mayweather is waiting. It's impolite to make people wait.

xo,
Naomi