Tuesday, June 17, 2008

"Rant on, Simpson, but your vainglorious boasting will only add savor to my inevitable triumph..."


Ranking Tiger's Majors: After the raging success of our last collaboration, Shuk and I are back at it again. The timely topic of the day is Tiger Woods, so I had the "terrific idea" (Shuk's words! Look it up if ye doubt the claim) to rank his major titles from least to most compelling.

OK...after this post and the inevitable Euro 2008 post-mortem (sentence guaranteed to make an appearance therein: "what the hell, Czech Republic?")...and probably something about the Olympics, I promise* not to talk about sports (or sports-related video games...or dreams I had about sports) here until I bring back the Little League World Series running diary in late August. Deal?

* = promise not binding

Kyle's List

14. 2000 U.S. Open: It was the 100th U.S. Open and this made it especially important to Tig--zzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Look, he won by 15 shots. There's really not a lot to be said. It's the single most dominating golf performance I can remember watching....and the only thing that was remotely entertaining was Tiger hitting his tee shot into the Pacific Ocean on Friday afternoon and proceeding to lose his fucking shit on national television.
Response: Wow, that didn't take long to have a massive disagreement. It wasn't fascinating to watch a (presumably) mortal human completely decimate a course that most would consider one of the toughest Open courses of them all? It was astounding enough to see him obliterate Augusta, but at least on that course, you could conceivably see someone going on a roll and getting a ton of birdies. But a U.S. Open course? That's like seeing someone pick off the lowest 15 briefcases on Deal Or No Deal in their first 15 guesses. (Yes, that's the best analogy I could come up with at the moment). I had forgotten about the mini-controversy surrounding Tiger's bad language. Give me a break, if there's any sport where cursing should be allowed with no questions asked, it's golf.
Follow up: for the record, I had no problem with the outburst (rather, I found it hilarious). Post-Nipplegate, it's gotten even worse, as I witnessed Johnny Miller smarmily apologize to viewers after Tiger said "dammit" after an errant tee shot on #1 yesterday.

13. 2000 British Open: Same thing, approximately six weeks later. Another tour-de-force performance, with Tiger humiliating the field (winning by eight) and, to be fair, the course itself (he didn't hit in a single bunker--St. Andrews has 112 of them--the entire week). I think (but am not certain) that this is the same tournament where David Duval, while paired with Woods, took--and I'm barely even joking here--five shots to get out of a pot bunker. (Arguably, that story has a happy ending, since Duval--stunningly--won the British Open the very next year...although he hasn't one since then and can barely break 80 at this stage, so the jury may still be out on that one...)
Response: Agreed. How many shots do you think it would take one of us to get out of the bunker? Over-under on 15.Follow up: I'd probably take the under but, without a doubt, I'd be trying to hit it laterally (or even backwards) after two misses. Of course, my uncontrollable weeping would probably work against me here, so...

12. 2006 PGA Championship: this took place at Medinah (where Tiger had also won the '99 PGA...I believe the bid that came in second was "the putting green in Tiger's backyard") and, no surprise at all, Tiger won in a romp. Aside from Tiger and Weir both shooting 65 on Saturday, I remember absolutely nothing about this tournament. Let's just move on.
Response: Apparently both the PGA and USGA keep giving majors to Medinah because it's the best course in the Chicago area and both organizations want to those big midwest sponsorship dollars, even though few would consider Medinah truly elite. Olympia Fields isn't very impressive, and Cog Hill has always had the Western Open (though with that tourney's new rotation system, it's been heavily rumored that it might get a U.S. Open sometime between 2015-2020).Follow up: hmmm....I was going to suggest Merion Golf Club, but apparently it's in Pennsylvania. Stupid geography!

11. 2005 British Open: Nicklaus's last British Open, plus it was played at St. Andrews, which made it especially meaningful for...well, you know the rest. Tiger led from start to finish, eventually winning by five, and was never seriously threatened. Tiger absolutely owns St. Andrews, and, as Shuk covered in a terrific post last year, you can already pencil him in for another Open Championship win in 2010.
Response: Agreed.

10. 2007 PGA Championship: ah, Southern Hills, site of 2001 U.S. Open gagfest. Tiger enters Sunday three clear of the field (and, with Stephen Ames--an accomplished golfer who, nevertheless, will probably never seriously threaten for a major in his career--lurking in second alone--this had to feel like a six stroke lead; Ames went on to shoot 76), saw his lead dwindle to one on the back nine (thanks to an improbable run by Woody Austin--heretofore best known for nearly knocking himself unconcious with his own putter in the '97 Verizon), then won by two. Pretty ho-hum, I suppose, but not a total runaway.
Response: I think Austin's adventures with the pond at Royal Montreal might now trump his self-flagellation with the flat stick. Good ol' Stone Cold Woody Austin.
Follow up: ah, yes, Frogman. I almost included that link, too. Here it is.

9. 2002 U.S. Open: much was made about the Open coming to a public course (Bethpage Black in upstate New York, site of next year's open)--indeed, Feinstein wrote a semi-tedious book on the subject (Open--no joke, there's an entire chapter dedicated to groundskeepers that I'm fairly certain even groundskeepers refused to slog through). Tiger commemorated the occasion by doing what he always does: wearing people down and winning going away. Jesus...some of these were good weren't they?
Response: Feinstein just got unlucky. His book would've been a lot more interesting if the tournament itself had been at all compelling. As it was, Feinstein probably was thinking "Oh shit, I'm going to have to stretch that paragraph about the groundskeepers into a whole chapter" while watching the trophy ceremony.Follow up: This is also how The Punch, which I believe was written initially on a cocktail napkin, became a full-length (and staggeringly dull) book.

8. 2002 Masters: Tiger defends his '01 title (and, I guess, gave the jacket to himself--Shuk, do you remember how they handled this? I think it would've been funny if they brought in Vijay--who won in 2000--to do it again). I didn't remember this, but Woods was tied with Retief Goosen going into Sunday (with Mickelson four back). Unfortunately, Goosen--in his efforts to his solidify his title as "calmest golfer in PGA history to be inexplicably terribly in the final round of majors" (I know he's won twice...still)--shot a 74 to Tiger's fairways-and-greens 71, and there was little drama on the back nine.
Response: I think when it's a back-to-back champion, the club president presents the green jacket. BTW, one of Bill Simmons' most enduringly funny bits was when he noted Jim Nantz's behaviour during the Butler Cabin ceremony. I can't help but giggle uncontrollably every year since I read that article. Anyway, poor Retief. I still can't believe he blew the lead in the 2005 U.S. Open. I would've bet a thousand bucks on him winning that thing after leading going into the final round.

7. 2001 Masters: Tiger entered Sunday one shot ahead of Phil, and, with the two of them paired together in the final group (and, I think it's safe to say, not exchanging a single word during that 4.5 hour round). this had the makings of an epic. Unfortunately, this was before Phil got the memo that he was actually, you know, allowed to win these things...as his respectable two-under 70 left him three shots behind Woods. This was the culmination of the so-called "Tiger Slam," in that would held all four major trophies at once, albeit it not in the same calendar year (he won the the last three majors in 2000 before taking the '01 Masters). A couple things of note here: (1) this win is responsible for possibly my single favorite Sports Illustrated ever, and (2) I've come to look at this win with disgust since Woods, despite being an alleged student of
the game, would argue--incredibly disingenuously, in my view--that he had actually achieved the actual "Grand Slam" of golf. To which I'll say: had he won the next three majors (interestingly, he never threatened again in '01), would he count that as two Grand Slams?
Response: Ooh, here's something else we can argue about. I think Tiger actually did win a 'Grand Slam.' It's not like in baseball, where you wouldn't say a guy hit for the cycle if he homers in his last at-bat on Friday and gets the next three hits on Saturday, since in that case it's different pitchers, different conditions, etc. I can't argue with Tiger's point that he had all four major trophies on his coffee table at the same time, so that should be a Slam. Maybe I just found it amusing that Tiger would have the trophies and the green jacket out on his coffee table. "Hey Tiger, do you want me to use a coaster?" "Sure, I think there's one under the Wanamaker Trophy."Follow up: sigh...but it's always been "all four in the same calendar year." Let me preface all of this by saying that what he accomplished in 2000-01 was amazing and unparalleled. That said: I think the best analogy is probably tennis. If Steffi Graf had lost in that '88 Australian Open final to Evert (something that, I'll note paranthetically, would've scarred me for life), won the remaining three slam events that year, and then took the '89 Australian (as opposed to winning all four in '88 like she actually did), you can bet they wouldn't have counted it as a Grand Slam. In fact, as I was looking this up, I discovered that Graf did precisely this in '93 (French, Wimbledon, U.S.) and early '94 (Australian), and...? It didn't count. I don't see why a different standard applies to Tiger.

6. 2006 British Open: proof that, not only is Tiger more physically gifted and mentally tougher than everyone else on tour, but also that he is flat-out smarter, too. Playing at Hoylake, Tiger hid driver precisely once off the tee, choosing to sacrifice distance for accuracy. In a stat almost too ridiculous to be true--but it's from Wikipedia, so it must be!--Tiger, using his two-iron for the most part, missed four fairways all week (driving accuracy: an other-wordly 92%) and won by a million actually only two strokes (but it seemed like much more). I watched this in Korea (where, due to the time difference, it aired late it night) mere weeks after I arrived and it was particularly soul-crushing, partly due to the fact that the commentary was exclusively in Korean, but mostly because I remember wondering aloud "will anyone on tour ever man up and take down Tiger on Sunday?" and concluding that, no, they will not. Two years and three more Tiger majors later, I stand by that position.
Response: Tiger has been taken down before...what made his 2000 season so amazing for me was that even though he had the three majors and all the other wins, he also lost that great duel with Hal Sutton at the Players and lost to (of all people) Mickelson at the Tour Championship. I think Tiger mght've been blown that latter tournament with the 54-hole lead, one of the (I think) three times that's ever happened. One was to Phil, one was to Lee Westwood, as I learned during the five seconds of this weekend's coverage when they actually deigned to discuss Westwood, and the other was to Ed Fiori, in Tiger's third-ever pro event. How many times do you think Ed Fiori has told that story over the years? Fifty thousand? Sixty?
Follow up: I believe Fiori actually follows Tiger around from tour stop to tour stop, regaling people with his Sunday heroics...until they flee. This usually takes about 75 seconds.


(If we were ranking Tiger's Amateur titles--and it's important to note that, rightly or wrongly, Tiger considers his three Amateur titles as majors--I would put this here--> 1994 U.S. Amateur: playing at Sawgrass (my favorite course on tour--bonus!), Tiger trails by six holes after the morning 18 in the final, and is down by five with 12 holes to play, but wins seven holes down the stretch to take the title, and, in the process, inadvertently ruins runner-up Trip Kuehne's life. In retrospect, this event is made especially hilarious by the fact that nineteen-year old Tiger wears: a Panama hat, shorts, and a not-even-remotely-tough horizontally-striped pastel shirt.)

5. 1999 PGA Championship: The famed duel with Sergio. This also marked the beginning of the irritating trend wherein players, after having competed fiercely with Tiger precisely once, are anointed "Tiger's Next Rival." To a varying degree, this has applied, at one point or another, to Garcia, Vijay Singh, Bob May, David Duval, Ernie Els, and Phil Mickelson, and it's never been true. Tiger is--and remains--peerless. Of note is Mike Weir, playing with Woods in the final group on Sunday, shooting an absolutely horrific 80 in his first serious run at a major. Dad and I were practically catatonic after this one.
Response: Agreed about the PGA. Oh shit, I forgot about the Amateurs. Well, I guess it's just as well, since I don't even think I watched the 1994 and 1995 Amateurs, though I do remember Tiger's goofy outfit from a picture in SI. His battle with Steve Scott in 1996 was pretty sweet, however. I think I might've put that in the top five. (Note: the '96 final, which was tied after 36, went to extra holes, with Tiger winning on the 38th.)

4. 1997 Masters: This may seem out of place given his margin of victory (twelve strokes), but the whole thing was absolutely electrifying at the time. After opening with a front nine 40 on Thursday, Tiger plays the next 63 holes 22 under par--amazing. And I actually remember being riveted as Tiger stood on the 18th tee on Sunday, since he was one clear of the tournament record. He proceeded to hit his tee shot approximately 600 yards left, but was able to recover. Most exciting par save to preserve a twelve-stroke victory in history, I dare say, and a terribly important day, period, in golf's history.
Response: Agreed. The most impressive part of Tiger's career is the fact that he is one of the few phenoms in sports history who hasn't just met expectations, but he's blown them away. People were predicting that he might break Jack's record, but I don't think anyone foresaw him being four majors away by age 32.

3. 2005 Masters: The showdown with Chris DiMarco. Very exciting. Tiger starts the day three shots up on the field and shoots a very respectable one-under 71. DiMarco, however, pulls off a 68 and they go to a playoff, where, predictably, Tiger birdies the first hole to win it. The one thing I will say about this tournament--and this is probably the biggest problem with Tiger--is that it wasn't terribly suspensful. Tiger started the day three up and you just knew that, whatever happened, he wasn't going to lose. He just wasn't. This isn't terribly profound, but it's gotten to the point where he needs to be two or three shots back on Sunday for it to be even remotely interesting (or like, say, four down and confined to a wheelchair). Still, there are far worse ways to spend a Sunday afternoon.
Response: The problem with Tiger being behind on Sunday is that he never seems to come from behind and snag it, at least at a major. It's a curious statistic --- all 14 of his majors have come when he's held at least a share of the lead after 54 holes. Not even once has he emerged from being even one shot down.
Follow up: agreed. It use to amuse me to no end that Nicklaus finished second an amazing seventeen times in majors, as I thought this would be a record that Tiger would never approach (because, so the theory went, if he ever got close, he'd just win). But Tiger's now done it five times (all in the last seven years). Interesting.

2. 2008 U.S. Open: too soon and too high? Arguably yes on both counts, but given that I had this at #2 even before the playoff (which was riveting and indeed a required a playoff itself to be resolved), I'm pretty comfortable with this placement. By virtue of Saturday night alone, where he went from 5 down at 8 p.m. to 1 up just after 10 (thanks to two near-miraculous eagles on 13 and 18 and a--even he'll admit--fluky holed out chip on 17), this is one of his most exciting wins. Add to that the dramatics of Sunday afternoon and the surprisingly tension-filled playoff on Monday and you have the makings of a classic. Put it this way, in Tiger's fourteen major victories, he's faced three elimination putts--meaning: a putt he had to make, or one from someone else he had to fade, to stay in the tournament--and two of them were this week (see #1 on this list for the other).

Given that he wasn't fully healthy (though I do think he was milking this more than a little bit, witness the fact that his knee was fine anytime he needed to celebrate) and that he was fighting his swing the entire week, I'm having a hard time deciding if this is one of his most impressive or least impressive wins. Ultimately, I think it's the latter, since (cliched though it may sound/be) he simply appears to want these majors more than anyone else. Here's another platitude I'll throw out there: he refuses to lose. As I said to anyone who would listen at my grandpa's house when he was lining up that must-make 12-footer on 18 on Sunday, "it's hard-coded into his DNA not to miss these putts."
Response: I missed Saturday's round due to being at a Toronto FC game, but heard about it that night at a party from my pal Ian. Hearing Ian describe the action was arguably just as fun as seeing it, since Ian got gradually more and more fired up while relating the story, and I got more and more fired up hearing it, and I think we may have high-fived after it was over. Good times.
Follow up: jumping in the air freeze-frame high five or just regular high five?

1. 2000 PGA Championship: a comparatively easy pick (we'll probably have to discontinue these lists if Shuk doesn't have this in the same spot), Tiger's back nine duel with journeyman Bob May on Sunday, followed by a delightfully intense playoff (ultimately, Tiger won by a single stroke over three extra holes, going birdie-par-par to May's par-par-par) was (and is) the best example that people can point to and say "this is what final round golf with Tiger in the hunt should be like." Not Tiger being all rangy (some shades of this yesterday, truth be told), not Tiger never threatening, or (worse) Tiger lapping the field because his playing partner wilts under the pressure, but Tiger put to the test. Let the record show that May stared down Woods and did not blink (shooting a 66 on Sunday to Tiger's 67) and, were it not for a tricky-as-hell downhill curling ten (possibly less) foot putt by Woods on 18, May would've hoisted the trophy. Amazing tournament...brought down only slightly by the fact that Valhalla Golf Club (the pride of Louisville, Kentucky) is, by all accounts, an incredibly shitty course. I'm dismayed to discover that it's hosting the Ryder Cup this year--care to explain how that happened, Shuk?
Response: The PGA of America is a co-owner of the course and they want a return on their investment. Simple as that. The original plan was to make Valhalla the unofficial 'home course' of the PGA sort of the same way that St. Andrews is the unofficial main course of the Open, and thus give it a tournament every five years. Needless to say, plans changed. I think the word on the street is that the course has had some renovations done since 2000, in part because the players' collective reaction to hearing that it was hosting the Ryder Cup was Peter Griffin-listening-to-Buzz-Killington rubbing of eyes and sighing.
Follow up: I just remember the interminable delays on the tee in '00. This clearly won't be an issue for the Ryder Cup, but for all subsequent majors held there: look out.

Shuk's List

14. 2006 PGA Championship: I rank this the lowest simply because it was a foregone conclusion before the clubs were even taken out of storage. There was not a doubt in my mind that Tiger was going to destroy Medinah (for the second time), and unlike in 1999 at this same course, nobody came close to giving him a run for his money. The margin of victory was an impressive but not eye-poppingly dominating five shots, and...well, I'm already out of interesting things to say. Shaun Micheel came in second, so I guess it's good that we know he didn't fall off the face of the earth after 2003. I nominate his PGA win as the most boring close major championship win in history. He and Chad Campbell battled all day along in a great head-to-head duel, but it was just mind-numbingly dull. My reaction when he stiffed his second shot on 18 wasn't "Wow, that was one of the great clutch shots in history," but more like "FINALLY!"
Response: agreed. Total dud.

13. 2005 British Open: Similar to the previous entry, there was no drama about this tournament. Everyone knew Tiger would obliterate St. Andrews again, and nobody ever really came close. His closest rival was Colin Montgomerie, and if you thought poor old snake-bitten Monty would actually overcome Tiger in a major, you're dreaming.
Response: agreed again. They really should stop holding majors at courses where it's blatantly obvious that Tiger will dominate the field. Which means, uh...wait, hold on, every U.S. Open at Oakmont, every PGA at Winged Foot, and all British Opens at Troon.
------>Ugh, I hate Troon. Definitely my least favourite Open course, except for Hoylake.

12. 2002 U.S. Open: The "isn't it great that a public course got the Open" storyline was old by around, oh, Tuesday morning. The course itself didn't seem all that special. It was clear from the length that only about 10 guys would have a chance to win, Tiger being chief among them. The gallery's inexplicably love of Mickelson and the bush-league razzing of Sergio's waggles was pretty weak. All in all, a pretty weak Open.
Response: But you and I, if we drove for ten hours, then camped out in line in our car for another ten hours, could play Bethpage Black. The same course that Tiger once played for six days...six years ago! I don't think you appreciate how truly amazing that is.

Yeah, ok, I agree. I had this slightly higher (#9), but it wasn't particularly memorable.


11. 2000 British Open: I remember David Duval gave Tiger a minor run around the middle of the final round (and by that, I mean cut Tiger's lead down to three or four), but in the end, Woods dominated another major. My defining memory of this championship isn't Tiger-related at all...it's remembering Duval duffing shot after shot in one of St. Andrews' massive bunkers. By this time, Tiger winning by huge margins was beginning to wear just a bit thin, and we were waiting to see him challenged again. Enter Bob May...(but that's for later on the list).
Response: OK, so it was this year that Duval couldn't get out of that bunker. Man, that was agonizing.

10. 2002 Masters: I don't remember a whole lot about this tournament aside from the fact that Tiger entered the final round tied for the lead with, I think, Retief Goosen, and then Tiger made a birdie on about the second or third hole, and it was over. Though Woods didn't really pull away and dominate, and only ended up winning by three shots, it was the widest three-shot lead you'll ever see since NOBODY made a move. It was the most glaring example I can think of 'the Tiger effect,' when Woods' biggest strength seems to be plays steady while his rivals all shit the bed on Sunday. A quick look at the rest of the top eight at the 02 Masters...Goosen, Phil, Olazabal, Harrington, Els, Vijay, Sergio. So it's not like Tiger was playing away from the junior varsity team here. In a way, the fact that so many big names were gathered around the lead was pretty compelling, but it doesn't do much for the tension when you just know in your heart of
hearts that none of them were going to step up.
Response: this phenomenon drives me crazy. News flash to every golfer ever: Tiger will never hand you a major (or any tournament for that matter). That means you'll actually need to, you know, make a move, including--and I know this is anathema in major championship golf--taking dead aim at some pins. Trust me, 18 pars will not get it done.
-----------> Agreed. Does the money and finishing position really matter so much to these guys? Maybe if it was a guy fighting for his card or an exemption into the next year's major, but if you're Ernie, Vijay, or even the supposedly fearless Phil, why the fuck wouldn't you just go all out, and if it doesn't work, shrug your shoulders and try again next time?

9. 2007 PGA Championship: I thought he was going to lose. For some reason, though Tiger had his usual Sunday lead, he looked a bit shakier than usual and I thought this would finally be the time when he broke down and let one slip away. Maybe it was because Tiger looked human during second-place finishes at both the US Open and Masters earlier in the season. But, in the end, Tiger outpaced Southern Hills (a course I thought he'd struggle at) and got the win. Crazy ol' Woody Austin actually played very well in contention and finished only two shots back.
Response: This is my problem: I never think he's going to lose. On the plus side, I can make money doing this. On Sunday, I bet Taylor $0.25 that Tiger would win, and I'd pay him a $1 if he lost. Best of both worlds: I root against him winning (and will gladly pay a $1 if this happens) but collect when he does. (Question: would the preceding story have been more interesting if it involved more than a quarter?)
---------------> This is like that old Cheers episode when Sam and Robin made a $1 bet on a game of pool, with the logic being that the money didn't matter, but the dollar bill was symbolic of victory over the other. Good actor, Roger Rees. It's odd that aside from his guest spots on West Wing, he didn't do a whole lot in the 20 years since his Cheers days. I bet you didn't think that Roger Rees would be worked into this article somehow, but so it goes.
One last week: love the Cheers reference! My favorite Robin Colcord episode was when he was part of a prison work-release program outside of Cheers and Sam kept playing "I Fought the Law" on his boombox (boombox? Really??) and laughing hysterically. For some reason, any time Danson lost in on the show, I was in stitches.

8. 2001 Masters: It wins points for the unparalleled history of Tiger winning his fourth straight major title, but other than that, it actually wasn't an overly remarkable tournament. David Duval made things interesting again, but never really truly had a moment where you thought, "Man, Duval is taking this." What a strange case. Duval won the British Open a few months after this, and then proceeded to basically completely fall apart. It's one thing if a guy like Shaun Micheel does it after winning a major, but Duval was ranked #1 in the world. As OMC would sing, how bizarre.
Response: I remember this one as "the one that everyone desperately wanted Mickelson to win." The look on Phil's face on 18, when he knew he was out of it, was the very definition of deflated.
------------------> Everyone except me. I think I've blogged before about how both me and my extended family all dislike Phil Mickelson. I was happy when he won the 2004 Masters just to get his one major, but after that, he can shove it. I'll never forget watching his 06 Open collapse at a Father's Day BBQ, with even my 87-year-old grandmother chirping him.

In short, hens love roosters, bellies love tickle fun, everyone else loves Phil Mickelson!
Mark: Not me!
Everyone who counts loves Phil Mickelson!


7. 2006 British Open: Tiger has yet to have a truly classic British Open victory, but this comes the closest. I didn't see much of the weekend action since I was covering the Blue Jays on Saturday and Sunday, but I did sneak into the press box's dining area a few times between innings to check on what was going on. Again, the story here was a lot of guys falling by the wayside except for (grrr....) Chris DiMarco, who kept close to Woods and only ended up losing by two. There were a lot of question marks about Tiger coming into this tournament -- his father had recently passed away and he was coming off his first missed cut in a major, where Tiger openly admitted he wasn't mentally ready to deal with the U.S. Open coming so closely on the heels of his father's death. The win here indicated that things would be business as usual. The tournament loses a few extra points due to the farmer's field known as Royal Liverpool. Talk about an
uninteresting venue. The R&A are putting into the rota due to why exactly? Did Paul McCartney throw around some money?
Response: yeah...I think there's probably a reason that Royal Liverpool (aka Hoylake) didn't host the tournament for thirty-nine years. Tiger's sytematic dismantling of the course will probably keep it out of rotation for another thirty-nine years (I can only find info through 2012 and it's not mentioned). If, on the off chance they put it back in the rota, I think that Tiger should do something really insulting, like win it (Tin Cup-style) with only his seven-iron and then throw the trophy to the ground with disgust (while shouting "we could've played this at St. Andrews!") upon winning. That would have to be the nail in the coffin.
--------------------->The R&A only assigns majors five years in advance, unlike the PGA and USGA. Since it's the same nine courses that always host the Open anyway, they don't need a ton of prep time, unlike a course like Torrey Pines. Fun fact: Royal St. George's and Lytham are set to host the Open in 2011 and 2012, which marks the first time EVER (!) that the Open has been played on English courses in back-to-back years. I found this statistically entertaining.

6. 2005 Masters: Everyone remembers the unbelievable chip shot Tiger made at the 16th, which will be included in every Tiger Woods highlight package from here until the end of time. But let's not forget, Tiger bogeyed 17 and 18 in order to open the door for Chris DiMarco to get into a playoff. If DiMarco had pulled it off, we'd be listing this tournament as #1 on the much shorter list of Tiger's Most Compelling Chokes in a major. Even worse, then we would've had to listen to more verbal blowjobs from golf announcers about Chris DiMarco, who for my money is the most consistently overrated golfer of the last decade (narrowly edging Charles Howell III). DiMarco is the PGA's answer to David Eckstein, i.e. a player who is given more credit than he deserves because he's 'gritty' or some such horseshit. DiMarco has won three tournaments! None since 2002! Yeah, we get it, he likes the Florida Gators, come on, people!
Response: Interesting take on DiMarco. (I'm guessing you won't be tuning into his--I swear I'm not making this up--weekly XM radio show, then.) My follow up was going to be "yeah, but he plays big in majors." Except, no, he doesn't. (Only 6 top tens in 31 tries--only three of which were top 5s--and, since his near-win in '05, he's, amazingly, missed the cut in six of his subsequent 11 major appearances). Also, his three wins aren't exactly impressive (the 2000 SEI Pennsylvania Classic??). Does Chris DiMarco secretly suck? I'm really going to have to re-think this.
Also, I agree that we, as viewers, hear far too much about the college allegiances of the players on tour. My theory is that anytime the announcers feel the urge to talk about golfer politics (which would lead many to discover that 95% of tour players are hardcore Republicans, like "balking at the opportunity to meet President Clinton after the Ryder Cup heroics/boorishness at Brookline in '99" hardcore) they substitute an NCAA story, which is far more palatable for the average fan.----------------------------> I dunno, I think a lot of fans might hate a guy based on his college affiliation moreso than his political leanings. An Alabaman might forgive a guy who's a Democrat, but a rooter of another SEC school? Heresy. I think I read once in SI that the only open Democrats on tour were Billy Andrade and (somewhat oddly, in my view) David Duval. Yes We Can!

5. 1999 PGA Championship: This is at least three places lower than most would place it on a list, but it gets a lower ranking in my book since I missed the entire final round. My pal Eric got tickets to a Blue Jays game, which at that point in my life was a much more rare event than it is today. After a rousing afternoon of watching the Jays lose to Oakland, we drove back to London to hear all about this unbelievable tournament that Tiger had won. The duel with Sergio, Sergio's crazy shot from behind the tree, Tiger nearly collapsing on his putter after sinking the final putt...I heard about it all second-hand. Still, it was a pretty awesome major to watch prior to Sunday, but for reasons unrelated to Tiger. Ol' Mike Weir was making his first charge in a major tournament, and actually entered the final round tied with Woods for the lead. Of course, Mike then shot an 80. Eight. Zero. Thus beginning Mike's proud tradition of Sunday catastrophes. In fact, Kyle and I shared the memory of Mike's legendary choke at the 04 Canadian Open. I was over at Kyle's place watching football/playing cards, and we flipped over to the Open to watch Weir miss, approximately, 786 putts that would've won him the title. Weir didn't win another tournament for over three years, unsurprisingly.
Response: can you believe Weir's won eight times on tour? I saw this about a month ago and I was flabbergasted. I would've guessed four. (Notice how I'm totally ignoring the Canadian Open anecdote? Not a coincidence.) I have actually have two big issues with Sergio's tree shot. First, CBS, stupidly, apparently trained all their cameras on Garcia. As a result, you will never see footage of the ball actually landing on the green (only the last few rolls are captured on film). Second, I could swear that he missed the putt. Why does no one ever mention this? He could've easily chipped out laterally and gotten up and down for the same score! Is this most exciting par in golf history? I suppose. Also, he spat in the cup and, when called on it, acted like a total dick. Wait, that was years later. Still...gross.--------->Let's see, he won the Vancouver Open, the WGC event in Spain, the TOUR Championship, the Masters, the two LA Opens and that fall event last year after the President's Cup. I'm missing one....hmm, this might require a trip to Wikipedia. My brother has long hated Sergio, so I have to of course semi-root for him due to sibling rivalry. But it's hard when Sergio acts like a six-year-old. Doesn't the PGA Tour have an enforcer? Couldn't Mark Calcavecchia and Bart Bryant kick his ass in the locker room after a round or something?
Follow up: he won the Hope in '03 (finishing at 30-under over five rounds), which is strange because, as my dad likes to point out, Weir is rarely competitive in tournaments where the scores are really low, but has 9 top tens in the last six years in majors.

4. 1997 Masters: I remember reading an article about this Masters where the writer described it as, paraphrasing, the first tournament ever where when the wife asked you to go out and cut the lawn, you said you had to stay and see if the guy would win by 10 or by 11. As it happened, Tiger won by 12. I mean...holy crap. There were still some people wondering if this Woods kid was the real deal, and this win didn't just underline him as for real, but as a special talent. Stunningly, he didn't win another major for another two-and-a-half years, which seems inconceivable for Tiger today.
Response: agreed. If it didn't sound completely Pollyanna, I'd claim this was a magical week. Is not mind-blowing that, in the 11 times he's played Augusta since '97, he's only won it three times? Would you not have bet hundreds of dollars in '97 that he'd have 7 or 8 Masters to his name by now? Isn't insane that four wins here seems like an underachievement? Talk about setting the bar high.

3. 2000 U.S. Open: What's even more impressive than winning the Masters by twelve? Winning the U.S. Open by fifteen. This is absurd even writing it eight years later. He won the United freakin' States goddamn Open by FIFTEEN SHOTS. These are U.S. Opens --- you're supposed to barely survive them, and if you break par, it's a minor miracle. To put it in perspective, the previous three Opens at Pebble Beach were won by a cumulative score of seven under par. Tiger was twelve under par in 2000. It was a blowout of epic proportions, and the fact that it happened at arguably the best course in America just made it all the more fascinating to watch.
Response: gah. I disagree completely. I had this dead last. (This is supposed to be a "most compelling" list, Shuk!) I watched every stroke of it, but, Christ, was it boring. If I'm not mistaken, Tiger actually took a double or a triple bogey on Saturday morning (I recall his ball being wedged beneath the lip of a greenside bunker--can you confirm this?), so, really, he should've won by seventeen or eighteen. Also, put me in the "I think Pebble is just a bit overrated" camp. I'd rather see Pinehurst or Olympic (i.e. courses that don't already host a tournament during the year) in the mix more often.
--------------------------> Fair enough, though the AT&T Pebble Beach tournament is only a genuine 'Pebble Beach' experience on Sunday. The other three rounds are diluted by the other two courses, and the interminable celebrity play. This tournament has been a snore whenever Bill Murray isn't playing.

2. 2008 U.S. Open: An unbelievable duel with universally beloved underdog Rocco Mediate, who perhaps had the best attitude possible going into the playoff. As Rocco stated several times in interviews, he was literally just happy to be there, competing with the best in the world for a major title. You might say that his lack of killer instinct might have cost him the title, but then again, he just went out there and threw all caution to the wind. Someone like an Els, or a Mickelson, or a Sergio might (or, let's face it, would) have overthought and choked all over themselves. As it happened, Rocco ended up coming the closest as anyone has ever come to knocking Tiger off when he's had the 54-hole lead. It was made all the more interesting by Lee Westwood's involvement on Sunday (quick note: my family used to have major golf pools, and my dad almost always took Lee Westwood, which to this say, causes us to say 'Hey Dad, your boy is in contention' if Westwood is close), and Tiger's knee injury added a Jordan-with-the-flu aspect to the whole week. Now that we know Woods can win on a bad wheel, this eliminates Phil Mickelson's plan B, codenamed "The Kerrigan Initiative." I kind of wonder how serious this injury actually is, if Tiger is saying that he'll be taking a lot of time off. Could he, like, miss the British Open or something? If so, then we'll know just how serious this injury is, which might actually elevate this tournament even more in history. What ultimately puts this major second on the list is the fact that even with the bad knee, Tiger was the massive, massive favourite coming into the week. He owns Torrey Pines. If he were an internet gamer, he would pwn it.
Response: I had this at #2 as well. A riveting weekend. A few comments:
1. Now seems like as good a time as any for me to say that I've thought Jordan's flu game was a bunch of bullshit. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure he had the flu, but it's actually impossible for someone to play that well during the game and then barely be able to stand during timeouts. He was totally milking it. And for anyone that says that adrenaline carried him for 48 minutes, I will offer this: no NBA game has ever been compelling for 48 straight minutes. In other words, adrenaline may well carry you through the first three (and last two) minutes of each quarter, but that's it.
2. Let the record show that, if you had an interest in anyone aside from Tiger, NBC's coverage was absolutely terrible this weekend. Not only did they refuse to show the second page of the leaderboard, but, if I'm not mistaken, they didn't run their ticker at the bottom of the screen once on Sunday (which sent me scurrying to the computer to find out how Weir was doing). As a rule, my dad doesn't need much of an excuse to lash out at Johnny Miller, so, let me tell you, he had hate in his eyes Sunday afternoon. This even applied to Tiger's playing partner, the absolutely forgotten even though he missed the playoff by roughly six inches Lee Westwood, whom Hicks and Miller apparently solemnly vowed never to discuss. I'm half convinced that, had Westwood made his putt on 18, the USGA and NBC would've trumped up some sort of incorrectly signed scorecard penalty, in an effort to keep everyone's attention on Woods.
3. I won't say that Tiger got lucky, but, my word, if Rocco birdies 18 (the easiest hole on the course) just once on Sunday or Monday, he wins it.
----------------------> 1. Hmm, so you're saying it was just psychological gamesmanship from Jordan? Interesting. Not that I would put it past him, but did he really need to try such tactics on Karl Malone, who as I recall played that whole series with both hands wrapped around his neck? (No idea why he did it. Again, I'm sure he was a bit sick, but maybe decided to play it up a bit to have one more signature moment?)
2. 100 percent agreement. NBC's ultimate goal would be to have a six-hour golf telecast without ever actually showing any golf. (Kyle: LOL) They started coverage on Saturday at 4 PM with the leaders not seeing off until 6 PM, and in those two hours I think they showed roughly a dozen shots. It was pathetic. Does NBC simply not have as many cameras as the other networks? It's been even more terrible the previous two years, when a number of guys were in contention and got barely any face time on Sunday. I don't think we saw Angel Cabrera last year before the trophy ceremony. Also, did Johnny Miller think Rocco Mediate had never played golf before? I mean, he was an underdog, sure, but he had been on Tour for years and had a few wins under his belt. To hear Miller talk, you'd think Rocco only got into the tournament by winning The Big Break. (Kyle: I love that show. I was actually just thinking yesterday how funny it would be if the winner got an exemption into, like, the PGA Championship...just to see him shoot 90-95 and miss the cut by forty.)


1. 2000 PGA Championship: The ultimate in David vs. Goliath. Say what you will about Rocco Mediate, but he has some Tour wins to his name. Bob May was a nobody from nowhere with nobody, and he went toe-to-toe with Woods in one of the most unbelievable displays of clutch golf you'll ever see. The 18th hole alone featured two phenomenally good pressure putts from both men -- first May, then Tiger to force a playoff. Remember, this was really out of nowhere. Tiger had won the previous two majors by a total of 23 (!) strokes. Pundits were wondering if anyone would step up and become a rival to Tiger (they're still wondering, eight years later) and it ended up being a no-name journeyman. We knew Tiger could perform in pressure situations from the previous year's PGA, but this was his first head-to-head duel, and he passed with flying colours. It is somehow fitting that May never won anything after the PGA --- he was a true underdog. I think
he might've been my waiter at lunch last week.
Response: agree completely. This was awesome. I was thinking about it last night, and while the '99 Open remains my absolutely favorite major (I will never, ever forget where I was, how I felt, and every single stroke of Van de Velde's meltdown), this is a very close second.
As always, Shuk: a pleasure. Also, in the future, can we call these team-ups? (Please?)
---------------------------> Man, I missed Van de Velde's meltdown too! I was up with my parents at some podunk cottage up north (if you ask my parents about this, they may have suppressed the memory), and our only connection to the outside world was a radio. So we heard the jaw-dropping analysis of Van de Velde's disastrous last hole on the Fan 590, which made it somehow even closer to myth.

Ooh ooh, team-ups! Great idea! Like the old Marvel Team-Up comics. The only question is, which one of us is Spider-Man? (I just looked up that old title on Wikipedia, and it turns out, my memory of Spidey being in virtually every issue was correct. In one issue, Spider-Man teamed up with...the cast of Saturday Night Live. I think I would pay $100 for that comic.)

Saturday, June 14, 2008

"That's worth a lot of money. That's much more valuable than Steve Austin." "Well, that may be the case, but none of this shit is sexy, okay?"


Best Video Games of the 1990s: Part Two (#12 - #1): and we're back. Thanks in advance for not pointing out that my Top 25 list actually consists of 29 games.

T12. Name: FIFA 1998: Road to the World Cup (PS1, 1997)
Why it's on the list:
you can make a good case for the original FIFA (which went with numbers, but no names from what I recall), as it was probably more influential, but '98 was much more complete, with international squads and club teams, a very deep World Cup qualifying mode, a highly addictive indoor mode, and a soundtrack that prominently featured The Crystal Method.
Favorite Moment: Bo Jackson : Original Tecmo Bowl :: Michael Owen : FIFA '98. I have no idea why I vividly remember this, but, at a May 24 party at Andrew Henry's, I was beating someone something like 42-2 with England in an indoor game and, out of nowhere, Eric Mayr promised me an actual Michael Owen jersey (approximate retail value: $125) if I scored 50. I didn't, but, to this day, I firmly believe he would've made good on the promise had it come to it.
Biggest flaw: This was back before I realized the extent of EA Sports' greediness (stay tuned for my scathing editorial in my "Best Video Games of the 2000s" post three years from now entitled "How EA Sabotaged professional football video games forever by offering the NFL a poison pill deal that destoyed the NFL 2K series, otherwise known as the best football franchise in gaming by a wide margin"--admittedly, the title needs some work), but I should've known something was amiss when EA released FIFA '98: RttWC and then, roughly four months later, FIFA World Cup '98...even though RttWC already contained a World Cup mode. This strikes me now as especially devious. (Also, is it just me or is it like a major accomplishment if you actually score a goal in the latest iterations of this series? My word is it tough now.)

T12. Name: Gran Turismo (PS1, 1998)
Why it's on the list:
three reasons--> 1. it was the first real "wow" game from a graphical standpoint for Sony. I remember being basically mesmerized by the (then seemingly) photo-realistic replays (that it probably looks jaggy as shit now doesn't diminish this). 2. It was the first game to really cash in on the potential of the dual shock controller (hitting a straightaway with a Dodge Viper--my favorite car in the game despite having handling only slightly superior to, say, an apartment building--was somehow infinitely more satisfying with the analog stick). 3. It was awfully addictive.
Favorite moment: the day I bought GT, I brought it over (along with my PS1) to Eric's to test it out. Eric, Jeff Livingstone, and I started playing it around 5 p.m. Roughly ten hours later, I'd had enough and went to bed. I woke up around 11 in the morning to discover that Jeff and Eric had stayed up all night (and, indeed were still) playing. I know, I know, the average eight-year old Korean boy now does this routinely, but, ten years on, I remain in awe of this accomplishment.
Biggest flaw: Some incredibly stupid challenges (please point me in the direction of the game designer that thought that a 200 lap race made for compelling game, as it remains my life's mission to hit him in the mouth) and the license tests were no picnic (often aggravatingly so). I'd really like to complain about the six-car race maximum--a problem that only recently been addressed with the release of GT5: Prologue--but I'm told that the PS1 graphics card simply couldn't handle anything more than that, so that would be petty.
Unanswered question: I must confess, I still don't quite understand why car manufactures would allow their cars to be in the game, but wouldn't allow the cars to be damaged. So...it was okay for developers to unflinchingly copy the physical specs of all these cars, even if some of the vehicles were revealed to be too heavy, too slow, corners like shit, or all three, but a dented fender was out of the question? Why make everything else so realistic but then allow me to bash in to other cars with absolute impunity? Also, I never understood why some cars couldn't have horsepower added to them in the shop. Care to explain, Jon?

11. Name: Mario Kart 64 (N64, 1997)
Why it's on the list:
right up there among the greatest party games in video game history. I'm kind of stunned that commenters have rallied (ha!) around the original version, since I think this one eclipses it basically every way: better graphics, more options (including support for four-player play), ghost mode, more challenging courses. (This seems like an appropriate time to mention that the original MK courses didn't actually feature any changes in elevation--plummeting off the track notwithstanding. Seriously, no hills. Look it up.)
Favorite moment: Dunno...I always dug battle mode...and seem to recall drinking battle mode being pretty entertaining.
Biggest flaw: Like, was the game programmed to self-destruct if I somehow managed to get a first place seeking shell? GOD!
In case you weren't aware: the latest Wii version of Mario Kart is phenomenal, though challenging (which is the official reason I'm giving for berating my seven-year old nephew--on his birthday!--for picking Wario's Gold Mine twice in a row during our custom cup. No fair, Max! Not cool.)

10. Name: NHL Hockey '94 (Sega Genesis, 1993)
Why it's on the list:
Ah...these were the years when the series was really in a groove (with the "run into the goalie and your guaranteed to score" cheat from the original game having been addressed and the constant 13-12 outcomes and "whoever has the puck last wins games" from NHL '97 and '98 a mere blip on the horizon). I'll also point out that, while NHL '93 told you who scored and got the assist (with the original NHL Hockey doing neither), '94 was the first to keep a running tally during the game. A great "well, we could go out that party...or we could just stay in and play a three person round robin first to five wins tournament" game.
Total choke job: I've wracked my brain...and I can't think of a single other thing to say about this game. Weak.

9. Name: Final Fantasy Tactics (PS1, 1998)
Why it's on the list:
because it's basically three-dimensional chess, except not boring, and if chess consisted of a completely incomprehensible plot. More than any other game in the series (with the possible exception of FF5, which I only played briefly with an emulator), Tactics mastered the job system--as in: whether or not you made your guy a wizard, a lancet, or a priest actually mattered. A terrific soundtrack, too.
Favorite moment: Losing a tough battle, sitting back and thinking of a new plan of attack, and then coming out and totally kicking ass. Very satisfying. As was being a mercenary (I imagine this is also true of real life).
Biggest flaw: ok, technically (technically) I didn't actually beat this game, struggling for several days with a particular difficult pitched battle and eventually giving up. Only later did I discover--courtesy of Taylor--that I'd completed something like 98% of the game and was thus agonizingly close to the end. Alas, by then my enthusiasm had waned (read: my memory card file had been deleted) and I never got to see how it ended (my guess: confusingly).
Unanswered question: Let's skip over the 1,000 word rant (that I don't particularly relish writing and that you don't particularly wish to read) about the confounding plot (suffice to say: I have my suspicions that it was translated from its original Japanese into Farsi and then back into Japanese before being converted to English) and the lack of a sequel (seriously...what the fuck??) and we'll finish with this: how could IGN possibly have given this 8.5 out of 10? Those are some staggeringly high standards. (On the plus side, how cool is it that IGN still has its PS1 reviews up?)

T7. Name: NES Open Tournament Golf (NES, 1991), PGA Tour III (Sega Genesis, 1994) and Jack Nicklaus Golf 6: Golden Bear Challenge (PC, 1999) (Note: three games taking up two spots--yeah, that just happened.)
Why they're on the list:
Because each game can properly be considered an evolutionary leap in golf games: NES Open introduced a (now-primitive) career mode with its tournaments (and live updates during the round--very cool in 1991); PGA Tour III introduced real golfers and courses to the mix, and all kinds of cool game modes (notably: the skins game and shootout mode); JN6: great ball mechanics, an incredibly sophisticated course designer, and a rapid fan base (churning out dozens of quality courses a day when the game was first released).
Favorite moment: a tie (course) between seeing Mario hoist the trophy after winning a tournament (note: this only applies if you were actually playing as Mario), winning a six-carryover skin on No. 18 against your buddies (PT3), and sinking your teeth into the latest U.S. Open course weeks before the actual tournament (JN6).
Biggest flaw: All three became too easy rather quickly (a flaw common to all golf games, if you think about: if you can't routinely pull off a 56 in any of the latest versions of Tiger Woods, you should probably stop playing golf games), with the one exception being the shootout mode in PGA III--you vs. 11 computer players on No. 1 tee, highest score gets knocked out, play until there's only one person left--which was inexplicably impossible to beat.
If I could only play one of three golf games for the rest of my life: it would, hands down, be JN6 (the course creator is that deep).
If forced to pick which one was most influential: hard not to go with PGA Tour III, since everyone played it, but I'm going to side with NES Open because: (a) it almost led to Misha murdering me (scroll to footnote #7 and the paragraph that immediately precedes it), (b) it has, far and away, the funniest controversy attached to it (the NAACP filed a complaint due to the fact that all of the game's caddies are black--look, I don't even think they had black people in Japan in 1991...), and (c) the main menu screen (bottom left hand corner above) is fantastic! It looks very much like Mario and Luigi, by virtue of being so good at golf, have been given free prostitutes!

6. Name: Madden NFL '96 (Sega Genesis, 1995)
Why it's on the list:
The best of the second-gen Madden games, as it was the first to include classic teams (which had to be unlocked), create-a-player, and combine mode (think Madden-meets-Nintendo Track and Field, but minus the power pad). It was also around this time that the passing game got really good (with passing windows being discarded in Madden '95) and the computer stopped sucking so thoroughly.
Favorite moment: creating yourself, sending him to the combine, rocking the 40-yard dash (say 4.2), and then signing yourself to your favorite team. You did this. Admit it. (Who won't you admit it?)
Biggest flaw: The Lions--despite being a respectable 10-6 in the regular season before flaming out in the Wild Card round of the playoffs in the real world--were really, really bad in this game. Like a QB rating of 20 bad (Scott Mitchell was pretty shitty, don't get me wrong, but not like, you know, armless), a WR rating of 46 (even though they had Herman Moore, Brett Perriman, and Johnnie Morton), a RB rating of 51 (with Barry Sanders!) and an overall rating of 55. In fact, looking over the team ratings, the disparity between the haves--San Francisco (99, the same score as the All-Madden team in the game, as if such a thing were even possible...), Dallas (90)--and the have-nots--Minnesota (35), the Jets (32), and Oakland (29!)--was such that you were basically forced to be one of the powerhouses, which is kind of lame.

5. Name: Tecmo Super Bowl (NES, 1991)
Why it's on the list:
two words: season mode. Now several more: this was seriously mind-blowing in diggity-one, especially because I'd been languishing for over a year with my Sega Master System copy of Great Football (that's what they called it!) which was anything but. Going from that to TSB (which had real players, real schedules, real uniforms, etc.) back then would be roughly akin to a child today going from a well-worn CD single of Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend"on a skip-prone discman to a fully stocked 80 GB iPod. Worlds apart.
Favorite moment: This may seem like such a small thing, but mine was the moment after I completed the first game of my first season and it went back to the season menu and I watched the computer simulate the other games that week (stunning for an eleven-year old) and then spending an hour sifting through the stats for (gasp) real NFL players. I may have wept. (I was kind of an odd child.)
Biggest flaw: There were all sorts of hilarious quirks in the game, none more confounding than the one where a ball fumbled on a botched flip from the QB would be whistled dead.
Unanswered question: 1. I maintain that the "star player runs away from hospital after getting a clean bill of health" screenshot should have been incorporated into all subsequent football games. Think of the possibilities! Players running away from prison; players running away from VD clinics (hey...same guy!); players fleeing Vegas strip clubs (too soon?). Missed opportunity, if you ask me.
2. If I told you that three NFL players weren't included in the game (due to those players not being a part of the NFLPA licensing agreement), I think the hardcore gamers could probably name two--Jim Kelly (QB Bills in the game) and Randall Cunningham (QB Eagles)--but the third? No fucking way. This is because it was Bernie Kosar, QB extraordinaire (career TD to INT ratio: 3:2) for the Browns (or, as I like to call him, Old Concrete Shoes). Cunningham I kind of get (he was a superstar) and, to a lesser extent, Kelly (by then, one of the most successful QBs in the game) is explicable, but Kosar's non-inclusion is, frankly, flabbergasting. What hubris on his part! He played in one Pro Bowl! Was there some sort of Bernie Kosar Double Dragon-inspired game in the works where he would fight his way through the mean streets of Cleveland (come to think of it, that would've been kind of awesome...)? All of this really reminds me of the Buffy episode where everyone was under the delusion that Jonathan was the most famous person in the world.

4. Name: Dusty Diamond All-Star Softball (NES, 1990)
Why it's on the list:
because it was a softball (!) game with 60 playable characters, each with their own idiosyncrasies, and stadiums with different park effects (if you broke a window with a home run at the school diamond, it counted as an out; if you hit it through the outfield in the park, the ball would...actually roll through an enjoining park, etc.) How can you not love a game universe where the following scouting reports exist:

"Ace" - Great arm, some power, and can run through water. A good choice for an outfielder.
"Artie" - This guy wears a hardhat, and swings a pick axe! Other than that, he sucks.

"Arnie" - Crap.
"Froggy" - I like this guy, he hops around the bases like a frog. He has decent speed, and can hit the long ball, or run out a double. Can run through all kinds of obstacles. Great choice for lead off, or #2.
"Diablo" -This guy rules. He uses a spiked club for a bat, and boy can he bat.Use him as your cleanup hitter. He hits a homerun about every other hit he gets.
"Dizzy" - Crap, total crap.


Favorite moment: Wow. Three, I think: 1. Having an official player draft (or even a free-for-all turbo-draft) and then duking it out in a best-of-five series (rotating among the parks).
2. beating the Amazons (the all-girl team you had to take on after beating the regular players five times in single player mode) for the first time has to rank right up there. (If you call Misha, I can almost guarantee that he could reel off the ideal starting lineup, position-by-position, to neutralize the Amazons).
3. The moment you realize that if you put someone like Sparky or Mikey in leftfield (though, in the ordinary course of things, they should be at SS and 3B, respectively), you can throw slowish baserunners out at first base on groundball singles.
Biggest flaw: Honestly? Nothing. In doing some research for these posts (read: googling the game names) I stumbled upon the Dusty Diamond Online League, where people are still playing the game by way of emulators. I won't lie, I spent about twenty minutes perusing the league leaders (Louis hitting a cool .700! Diablo slugging 1.149--what, no OPS?) My only beef is that Rule IV in the league charter states that players must pitch the ball straight down the middle. Huh? What, you couldn't figure out how the code for a tee ball mode mod? Why not just make it the first to 100 runs wins?? I thought you guys were hardcore!
Neither here nor there: DDASS (hmm...starting to understand why they didn't push the acronym) would be a sure-fire hit on the Wii. Think about it. Use your arm to pitch, breaking left or right for a curve or a slider (something I, ill-advisedly, attempt to test out in the shower), conduct a player draft (hell, even the Miis could be playable), pick your park and go. This would be a huggggge hit. (To the Nintendo execs no doubt lurking here: money please).

3. Name: NBA Live '97/NBA Live '98 (PS1/PS1, 1996/1997--note: I consider these to be one game, so it's only taking up one spot).
Why it's on the list:
the first realistic NBA game(s) to realize the potential of the next gen systems.
Favorite moment: 1. My brainstorm to create the 50 greatest NBA players (in their prime) and then--in a nod to Dusty Diamond--have Misha and I draft teams for a best-of-seven series. This was riveting...and I'm fairly certain we spent whole weekends doing this (alcohol may have been involved).
2. A couple of months later, I created classic teams--'70 Knicks, 80' Sixers, 84' Celtics, '87 Lakers, '89 Pistons, '96 Bulls--which also led to numerous heated battles, thrown controllers, and people storming out of the room.
3. Video game Voshon Lenard of the Miami Heat (circa 1997) was a stone cold killer for three-point range (not to be confused with the real Voshon Lenard of the Toronto Raptors circa 2003, who--no doubt as a result of a secret wager that he couldn't eat himself to death--resembled an amorphous blob) and won me countless games (and series against the Bulls) with his heroics. Fun fact: If you mention Lenard in passing to Misha, there's about an 85% chance he will cringe involuntarily.
Biggest flaw: While I feel like they've really bricked the series since '98, I'll limit my comments to the one flaw I can remember: they never left enough room between the three point line and the sideline--to the point where, if you spotted up from there, there was a 50-50 shot you'd be called out of bounds. If basketball freakonomics teaches us that, next to the lay-up, the corner three is the most efficient shot in the game, shouldn't it stand to reason that you can, you know, actually attempt one of those instead of loitering in the first row?
Unanswered question: You wanna know the most underrated features of Liva '97/'98? If a guy had the ball three feet from the basket, he would lay it in or slam it home. And yet, for whatever reason, this is a massive issue in current NBA video games, with virtual players--frustratingly--insistent on shooting the dreaded three-foot jumper, which never seems to go in more than 40% of the time ans is, generally, incredibly annoying.

2. Name: Final Fantasy VII (PS1, 1997)
Why it's on the list:
Wow...um, because it was less of a video game than something which more or less took over your life for weeks on end that happened to be in video game form? Yeah, I'll go with that.
Memorable moments: breeding a golden chocobo, the first time you see Sephiroth (chilling, unlocking all the summons, and--SPOILER--the cutscene where Aries dies (for the record: if I was crying, it was because I was thinking about a friend of mine who you don't know who is dying. That's right, dying.)
Biggest flaw:
some of the summons took entirely too long to unfold and there was no way to ever skip through them, not even after seeing them two dozen times each. Taylor and I have a theory that, because the game designers spent a disproportionate amount of time developing these (increasingly longer) summons(es?), they had it written into their contract that they couldn't be skipped.
Unanswered question: Lance Bass as the voice of Sephiroth in the U.S. version of the animated movie? Really??

1. Name: Coach K College Basketball (Sega Genesis, 1995)
Why it's on the list:
Because it's the best basketball game (and best college sports game period) ever made...and I love it. I was thinking about it today and, over the years, I'm sure I've played 1,000+ games...and it's still fun.
Memorable moments: me getting awfully drunk, losing an agonizingly close game to Misha (where I'd, no doubt, led by upwards of ten points in the second half) then promptly accusing him of using some sort of Coach K voodoo or "cheat codes" to do so (this later became a running joke at my expense); winning the national championship; breaking the backboard for the first time; the double alley-oop (could only be done with '79 MSU or '74 NC State); playing king of the court against a bunch of friends and reeling off five straight wins while everyone curses at you; discovering the guaranteed basket glitch in the game (if you ran full speed to the short corner baseline and launched a three as you were flying out of bounds, it would go in 95% of the time--I once watched my club basketball coach and current UWO coach Brad Campbell score 100 points in a game with Purdue's Cuonzo Martin doing just that) and then solemnly swearing never to use its powers for evil.
Biggest flaw: Boy, it's awfully tough to criticize this game, but depriving us of Allen Iverson (by not including Georgetown in the game) verges on the unconscionable. (Same for giving us MSU '79, but not ISU '79, so we could re-create Bird-Magic--that's a no brainer, people!) Also, I'm calling out Krzyzewski for obviously putting his foot down and not letting the developers include North Carolina--dick move, Coach K. Finally, sometimes the Coach K assistance (aka "Sega assistance," aka "let's make it impossible for one team to win by more than 12") could be trying at times. At some points, with a big lead, the game would effectively put a Was it still dramatic? I suppose, but artificially so.
Unanswered question: how in the world did the playtesters not notice that if you're called for goaltending in the game and the basket goes in, the other team was awarded four points? Admittedly, this happened rather infrequently, but still...

Honourable Mention: Final Fantasy VIII (PS1, 1999; try as I might, I could never really get into this one, and I maintain to this day--much to Taylor's dismay--that the way you acquired magic in the game (drawing endlessly from a well) was irredeemably stupid); Links Golf (PC; great game, though it's shortcoming became obvious --you had to pay for course expansion backs and there was no career mode to speak of--when JN6 was released), Wipeout (PS1, 1995; if this were even one-tenth as cool as it was it was made out to be in Hackers--come to think of it, this, too, should be in the "aged worse" movie discussion--it would probably be in my Top 5); Super Mario World (SNES, 1991; sorry, everyone! I screwed up); Police Quest series; Space Quest series; College Football '96 (PS1, 1995; I'd by lying if I said that, 13 years later, I wasn't still angry about the fact that I took 113th ranked North Texas from the absolute cellar to 12-0, by only using the T-form formation, and then getting totally snubbed for the National Championship game. Grrrr.); RBI Baseball 3 and 4; Metal Gear Solid (PS1, 1998; MGS2 was amazing--but came out in the 00s. I barely played the first one. This is here solely to placate Taylor); Bases Loaded II: Second Season (NES, 1990; if Bo Jackson is the first inductee into the video game Hall of Fame, Paste has to be #2); Tekken 3 (PS1, 1998; I was never one for fighting games, but this one was pretty addictive); Super Punchout (SNES, 1994; loses marks for not being quite as good as the original); Olympic Summer Games 1996 (PS1, 1996; awesome...except my copy always froze after the 100m freestyle swim, which was only the sixth or seventh out of the ten events); Intelligence Qube (PS1, 1997; does anyone remember this? I loved this game. That poor guy...).


Alright, that's it. Sorry for ending so abruptly.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

"...I mean, seriously, Asia? You framed an Asia poster? How hard did the people at the frame store laugh when you brought this in?"

Best Video Games of 1990s (Part One, #25 - #13): Now, I know I've dorked it out here before, but this is probably taking it to a whole 'nother (not particularly cool) level. (But how great is that picture?)

I'll freely admit that this list skews heavily towards sports games, but, if I'm being honest, I spent the bulk of the 90s playing...sports video games, so that was probably inevitable. On that note, off we go:

T25. Name: Jones in the Fast Lane (PC, 1991)
Why it's on the list: I won't lie, this is a truly inspired pick...and the only game on the list that fits on 1.44 MB floppy disk. I always thought this game--described by Wikipedia as The Game of Life crossed with Monopoly, which is accurate enough but doesn't quite capture the quirky humour of the game--was lots of fun and, though I don't have a shred of evidence to back up this assertion, I firmly believe that JitFL is responsible for the Sims-craze of the early 00s. There, I said it.
Favorite moment: racing though university and landing a plum job as a result. That I haven't been able to do this in real life should in no way be held against this game.
Biggest flaw: inexplicably, a bar is not one of the venues in the game.
Unanswered question: What the heck happened to Sierra Entertainment? In the 90s, they released the Police Quest games, Space Quest, King's Quest, and the incredibly filthy Leisure Suit Larry series. Now? Nothing.
Neither here nor there: Go on, download the midi version of the theme music and tell me it's not delightful. I dare you.

T25. Name: Pete Sampras Tennis (Sega Genesis, 1994)
Why it's on the list:
super-simple gameplay (A = lob, B = normal, C = topspin or slice) and--gasp--a tour mode that was actually good, incorporating the four majors. Compare this Virtua Tennis 3, which came out last year for the PS3, and was fun to play, but included a comically thin world tour mode (including a "Wimbledon" draw with 8 players, first to three games wins--weak).
Biggest flaw: I suppose it got a little repetitive after a while, but my biggest beef is with the game's namesake who...was just wayyyy too fucking good. Look, it's bad enough that he was the only professional player in the game, but isn't it a bit of a dick move to put yourself in the game and then be unbeatable? Dirty pool.
Unanswered question: How is it possible that this was the best realistic (thus excluding Mario Tennis, which was fun, but too goofy) tennis game on any console for nearly a decade? I find that almost laughable.

24. Name: Tomb Raider (PS1, 1996)
Why it's on the list:
For anyone under the age of, say, seventeen reading this (a demographic which, I think we can safely surmise, is rather close to zero): yes, kids, before it was crappy film franchise, it was a video game franchise that was kind of awesome...before, admittedly, becoming crappy at that as well. It's probably a stretch to say that this game kicked off the current trend of highly cinematic (complete with cut scenes and original soundtracks), but not a huge one.
Favorite moment: The T-Rex scene. Abjectly terrifying (h/t) when it happened, and still among my top five coolest gaming moments (list does not include moments involving the Tomb Raider nude code, or "nude raider").
Biggest flaw: Not really fair to the first TR, but it's hard not to look at this series as a colossal disappointment, since, while TR2 was ok, it went pretty swiftly off the rails after that.
Fun fact: the original game's plot is so labyrinthine and openly expository that it makes Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull look like a Drabble strip in comparison.

23. Name: GoldenEye 007 (N64, 1997)
Why it's on the list: I don't have to explain myself to you, dammit! Oh, sorry. It's here because it's probably (along with the Madden series), the defining game of my generation. It would, undeniably, be higher on almost any other person's list. But I never really got into it, so here we are.
Favorite moment: when everyone got tired of playing GoldenEye and I knew we could play Mario Kart. (Note: this almost never happened).
Biggest flaw: I sucked pretty hard at this game, partly because I didn't have an N64 (PS1, thanks) so I only got to play at friends' houses, partly because I'm generally pretty rubbish at first person shooters (most common in-game lament from yours truly: "I can't see my body! This is so confusing!!" This was immediately followed by me winning "Most Cowardly."). Also, though I remember nothing from the single-player campaign (did it follow the film's plot? I think so...) I recall it paling in comparison to the multi-player experience.
Quirky fact: 1. According to Rare (the game's developer) the multi-player feature was added as an afterthought, with the majority of the code being written by one guy (Steve Ellis) sitting alone in a room, sustaining himself on Mountain Dew Code Red and Doritos for three months (ok, that last part was made up).
2. My buddies (Bryce, Phil, Jeff, and I'm blanking on the fourth) got so good at multi-player mode and became so concerned that people were "cheating" (i.e. looking at the other three quadrants to figure out where the other players were on the map) that they made what can only be described as a cardboard plus sign that could be fastened to the screen in order to block off sightlines, an invention that, by all rights, really should've been patented by the four of them. (Though it does beg the question: exactly how close did they have to sit to the TV for this device to be effective? I'm guessing somewhere in the 12 to 18 inch range...which would've been a sight to behold (feel free to make your own "12 to 18 inch/sight beholding" joke at this juncture.)

22. Name: You Don't Know Jack Movies (PC, 1997)
Why it's on the list: it's a(n) hilarious game, that somehow never (or, at least, rarely) repeated questions.
Favorite moment: a tie between the game ending Jack Attack (a word association puzzle) and successfully "screwing" someone (forcing them to try to answer a question they don't know--which you could attempt once per contest).
Biggest flaw: none of the other games in the series were nearly as good this one, an out and out irreverent gem.
Fun fact:
the answer to the trivia question in the bottom left hand corner of the this post's screenshot collage is, I believe, #3. And, yes, this will be the only time I mention The Paper Chase here.

21. Name: Top Gear 2 (SNES, 1993)
Why it's on the list: A relatively straightforward racing game--except I'm convinced it was impossible to beat--Top Gear 2 is my lone SNES inclusion--though, if I were ranking the top 400 games of the 90s, StarFox would...be in the discussion--is here because, simply put, it was wildly fun.
Favorite moment: saving your nitro boosts until the last half of the last lap and then chaining them together to vault from 14th to 1st. Very satisfying.
Biggest flaw: see concerns re: it not being beatable above.
Unanswered question: They couldn't have incorporated nitro boosts into the Gran Turismo series? Really??

20. Name: Sid Meier Alpha Centauri (PC, 1999)
Why it's on the list: By all rights, this spot should be reserved for any one of the following: SimCity 3000, Civ II or III, or Railroad Tycoon II--but, for whatever reason, I always enjoyed SMAC (best understood as "Civ III in outer space...in the future...when all the world leaders have gone mad with power and/or created a cult in their own image"--I don't want to get too bogged down in the details, but suffice to say that one victory condition was "transcendence," so...) much more. This was largely because the game at a real atmospheric (not a pun) quality to it, not to mention some kick ass concepts (controlled singularity, temporal mechanics, digital sentience, etc.) and a strong soundtrack to boot.
Favorite moment: Right around when I bought the game, my parents and brother went away for a week and I decided to spend the week drinking beer and playing this game in (in the dark, no less) in my room. I think I played for something like 30 hours over three days. Good times.
Biggest flaw: I may not have played it after that 72 hour rush...which suggests its replayability wasn't exactly off-the-charts.
Unanswered question: How in the world did they not make a sequel to this? And how was this game not a bigger hit? (Yeah, yeah, the latter--which I suspect had something to do with the story being a little too "out there" for some--explains the former, but the Civ games, more grounded in reality than SMAC but also far more tedious, were massive hits. Puzzling.)

19. Name: NBA Jam (Arcade Version, 1992)
Why it's on the list:
the game that kicked off the over-the-top pro sports video game craze (you could make an argument for Arch-Rivals, but, no, it wasn't licensed), NBA Jam, in its original form, was all kinds of fun. 2-on-2 basketball with real NBA players, actual commentary, crazy dunks, being on fire, and ridiculously cheap AI resulting in something like 98% of all games coming down to the final possession? What more could a 13-year old ask for? (Aside from, you know, a girlfriend...)
Favorite moment: March Break, 1993, our competitive basketball coach decided to bribe some bar owner for the use of his NBA Jam system. He agreed (I've always wanted to know how much he gave them) and thus the game ended up in Dave Kuzmanovich's basement for one glorious week. Needless to say, I lived there (literally, I think--it was a week-long sleepover) for that March Break and...played the shit out of that game. Good times.
Biggest flaw: just not as satisfying on a console (in my case: my Sega Genesis). I'm sorry, it wasn't. I recall walking down to MicroPlay with Viktor the day and came out and we were both so psyched. But it never quite matched the arcade version. Also, it was kinda lame that you couldn't substitute in the arcade version (this is especially important when you consider point #3 below).
Unanswered question/Matters of Intrigue: A few things here:
1. apparently, Midway wasn't willing/able to shell out the money needed to get MJ in the game, so, to compensate, they decided to make Scottie Pippen (who was in the game) absolutely-fucking-amazing (like: really, ridiculously good), which I always found amusing. Seems reasonable that, if you were, say, a European child and your first exposure to the NBA was this game, you'd be inclined to think that Pippen was the greatest player that ever lived.
2. The arcade version had Shaq (then with Orlando) and Barkley (Phoenix), while the console version did not. (In Barkley's case, this was because of Barkley: Shut Up and Jam, an almost impossibly bad game that was like some sort of side-scrolling basketball/fighting/RPG--I know!--that sold, unsurprisingly, approximately seven copies. Wise move on Chuck's part, I think we can all agree.)
3. Curious, I decided to look up the original rosters. In an amazing turn, Dallas's team consisted of Derek Harper (meh) and someone named Mike Iuzzolino. Now, not only had I never heard of Iuzzolino prior to yesterday, but--were it not for his entry at basketballreference.com--I'd be certain he never existed. I'll bet you a thousand dollars he has the arcade game in his house, as it has to have been the highlight of his life. Worse still, if you check out Dallas's roster for the 1992-93 season, aside from Jim Jackson and Sean Rooks (both rookies that season), Iuzzolino almost looks like a sensible choice. I mean, my God, how did that team manage to even win...11 games? Wait...they went 11-71!?! That's like the second worst single-season record in history! (Comically, it seems as though the team overachieved, as the Pythagorean calculation--which looks at total points scored and allowed for the year and then determines what their record should have been--says they should have been 8-74. 8-74!)
4. Apparently, the original game actually called goaltending (unless you were on fire), which, I swear I don't remember at all.

18. Name: Ape Escape (PS1, 1999)
Why it's on the list: simple idea (you're a weird looking kid contracted out to retrieve 100 apes who, having been equipped with special helmets are made super-smart and can travel through time--ok, maybe not that simple), combined with increasingly cool trapping devices (the Time Net, Stun Club, etc. ), and terrific level designs. Basically, it's the opposite of Project X (funnier too!).
Favorite moment: one of the monkeys in the game is named "Kubrick." SCEI, I tip my cap to you.
Biggest flaw: very (too?) challenging in places.

17. Name: NFL Blitz (Arcade/PS1, 1997/1998)
Why it's on the list: The definitive bar game (that's right, suck it Golden Tee), Blitz is also the rare arcade game that lost little in transition when ported to consoles. (The PS1 version, in particular, was great.)
Favorite moment: Hmmm....not sure if have one. Sacking your opponent three straight times (and thus creating a preposterous 4th and 65 situation) was always pretty satisfying. Misha and I used to play this game quite a bit and we were very even most of the time, except when I played as the Vinnie Testaverde-led Jets, and I was (for reasons that are still unknown) absolutely unstoppable. These games would always conclude with me obnoxiously chanting "J-E-T-S. J-E-T-S. J-E-T-S. Jets! Jets! Jets!"and then Misha smashing his controller (which, since it was my PS1, was, I'll note, actually my controller) onto the ground. Yes, those truly were the golden years.
Biggest flaw: Directly contributed to me being horribly anti-social at any bar that had the game. Also, this may seem especially nitpicky (given that it was a hardcore arcade game), but the field goal kicking mechanics were a little wonky/borderline unfair. And, finally, the original game had too many money plays.

T15. Name: Hardball 5 (multiple consoles, but I played it most on the PS1, 1996) and Bottom of the 9th (PS1, 1997)
Why they're on the list:
Hardball (lots of depth and a stathead's dream; it also had classic teams and classic stadiums, which was unprecedented at the time), BOT9 (comparatively shallow, but very easy to play, with easily the best batter-pitcher interface for years).
Memorable moment: After spending countless hours updating the H5 rosters for the current season, Misha then (too?) quickly pointed out that I couldn't get mad at him because, weeks earlier, I had inadvertently deleted his NHL '96 season, which he was something like seventy games into.
Biggest flaw: Baserunning, which was way too hard in Hardball (advancing multiple baserunners at once never seemed to work like it should) and way too easy in BOT9 (we used to deliberately get into rundowns, since the defensive team would invariably screw up, and you could easily grab an extra base).

14. Name: Super Mario Brothers 3 (NES, 1990)
Why it's on the list:
Because it's the defining first-gen side-scroller, had interestingly themed levels, and was an all-around fun game to play.
Favorite moment: In the spring of 1990, Jon invited me over to his parents' place for a sleepover, with the major selling point being that he had just purchased a copy of SMB3. I, only owning a Sega Master System at that point (and it was actually my dad's, as he'd received it for his 40th birthday) and growing weary with Quartet and Out Run jumped at the chance to play some Nintendo. Anyway, I get there and Jon loads up the game, and proceeds to take the first turn. Fair enough, it was his after all. I'll play after his game's over. Except he keeps playing. And playing. And playing. Despite my best efforts--"boy, I sure would like to play this new Mario game!", "I think your mom is calling you," and "hmmm, you seem to have an enormous bladder for the typical 11-year old" among them--I never got to play. I can't even remember if he beat the game. All I can recall is sitting on his bed, increasingly perplexed but also really into the game, and watching him play for something like eight hours straight. And then, in the morning, we had pancakes.
Biggest flaw: was prominently--awesomely, at the time; hilariously, now--featured in The Wizard.
Unanswered question: why was Jon such a dick that night? I'll be honest, I don't really have any, so let's just bag on The Wizard a little bit longer. Gay movie poster or gayest movie poster? Those are your only choices. Has any movie released in the last twenty years aged worse than this one? I've thought about it, and while both Wayne's World movies (and, if you don't believe me, check out WW2 next time it's on cable--it's painful), the Austin Powers franchise, and Karate Kid II (which, you could argue, was never good and thus not eligible) are all in contention, The Wizard is still a cut above.

Roger Ebert has a pretty hilarious review of The Wizard up on his site, where he points out that, for a disturbingly large portion of the movie, the kids are placed in a series of precarious situations (hitchhiking through the desert and loitering outside a Vegas casino, just to name a couple) completely without adult supervision (or even the mere mention of adult supervision...which suggests the film tacitly endorses all of this).

Personally, I'll always remember this movie for Lucas, the video game bully who intimidates Jimmy by wielding not one, but two Power Gloves. Given that I've actually experience the sheer suckiness of the Power Glove firsthand (an experience so disappointing that it's probably worthy of its own post), I think it's safe to assume that the Director's Cut includes a scene where a disgusted Lucas, flummoxed by how the imprecise controls sucked all the fun out of Mike Tyson's Punch Out, throws both of his Gloves on the ground and hops on them repeatedly (not unlike a cartoon character).

13. Name: Bill Walsh College Football (Sega Genesis, 1993)
Why it's on the list:
Because it was the first game to feature college teams (technically, Super Play Action Football on the SNES--a game so flawed from a design perspective, it must be noted, that Misha, Kolin Jones, and I could only complete a full season by calling fake punts for every offensive play--featured college teams, but it only included the team names and made no effort to incorporate actual college players) and because it was one of the first games to feature a "deep" (ok, maybe not by 2008 standards) playbook. Also, when I bought it, my game came with index cards for all the teams in the game (complete with player ratings and info about the schools)--very cool.
Memorable moment: note that I don't say "favorite" here. Some Saturday night in early '94, Misha and I were playing an intense back and forth game (what can I say? We were hella cool) and I engineered a miraculous last minute drive to take a 3 point lead with 0:04 to go. I kicked it deep--for reasons I'll explain in a second--and, to my horror, Misha returned the kick for a touchdown to win the game. This was extra painful because, to that point, we'd assumed that returning a kickoff for a touchdown was flat-out impossible (even returning one past your own 35 was comparatively rare) and, in fact, it never happened again. This led me to believe the game was rigged against me (a come-to-think-of-it-kind-of-creepy delusion that would rear its ugly head at another point--see part two). I think I needed an angry nap after that one.
Biggest flaw: 1. OK...the play balancing wasn't, you know, the best, as certain players--notably DE #99 (aka Hugh Green) for Pitt 1980, RB #30 for Nebraska 1983 (Mike Rozier), QB #22 for Boston College 1984 (Doug Flutie), and QB #17 for Florida State 1993 (Charlie Ward)--were virtually unstoppable.
2. Index cards aside, the game shipped with player numbers but (as per NCAA rules) no names. Now, in 2008, this may not seem like a big issue (though: more on this in sec), but in 1993 this was actually a major problem. Eventually, I had to go out and buy a sports almanac just so I could figure out who the hell these guys were supposed to be. Part of me now thinks that, had the Almanac route failed, I would've taken to cold calling SIDs.
Unanswered question: Not that I blame BWCF for this at all (since, more than anything, this can be pinned on the NCAA), but since it was the first game to do this, I must mention it: how can it be that, fifteen years on, developers aren't allowed to use players' names? The numbered players are obviously modeled on the real players, so why not go that extra step? You're very obviously cashing in on the student-athletes' likeness regardless of the inclusion of their given names. What a farce.

Part two to follow...

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

"I don't think I'll go back. It's gotten too commercial. It used to be about the grammar..."

2008 Scripps National Spelling Bee Running Diary:

7:55: We're coming at you live from our luxurious apartment on the York campus. This year's Bee features Carrie and I, a Chinese take-out menu, and a fully stocked bar (Dubonnet, Cork Gin, red wine, soju, Genesee beer, some leftover Long Island Iced Tea mix--mmmmm--and Strongbow). For tonight's festivities, I'm going with beer topped with soju, while Carrie sticks with Strongbow, her old standby.

7:57: Admittedly, our Bee drinking game rules are somewhat amorphous, in large part because:

a. I can't find the ones we used last year;
b. I don't recall the ones we used being all that good anyway; and
c. it's fun to make them up as you go along (this resulted in the '07 fan favorite--a mid-show audible called by Carrie--"drink every time you have the unhealthy urge to punch one of the kids in the face.")

Here's the plan for this year. We've conducted a turbo draft for the final 12 spellers, with each of us getting six. If my kid spells the word right, Carrie drinks. If they miss, I drink. (One wrinkle that could be added if we had more than two players would be doleing out drinks. So, if my kid hits, I'd have 3 drinks to assign--2 to Taylor, 1 to Carrie, etc.--just like "Kings"...aka the greatest drinking game ever.)

Picking first (then 4th and 5th, then 8th and 9th...) I have: Kavya Shivashankar (from Kansas, and my pick to win it all); Catherine "Cat' Cojocaru (Minnesota); Samia Nawaz (Arkansas); Tia Thomas (California), Austin Pineda (California), and Kyle Mou (Illinois).

Carrie, selecting 2nd and 3rd (then 6th and 7th...) has: Sidharth Chand (from Michigan, her first pick--largely by virtue of the fact that he's a Bob Marley fan, which is, truth be told, fairly cool for a 12 year old from Bloomfield Hills); Sameer Mishra (Indiana); Rose Sloan (Illinois); Jahnavi Iyer (Pennsylvania); Justin Song (California); and Scott Remer (Ohio).

Our initial rules state that a drink must be taken if a speller:

-has facial hair
-cries
-faints (although collapsing from dizziness would also, arguably, qualify--meaning LOC isn't required per se)
-manages to crack up the audience
-triggers the red light of dread (kids have 150 seconds to spell the word, after two minutes, they are no longer allowed to ask questions--at that point, the red light comes on)
-looks old enough to drive
-is sponsored by a newspaper with a mockable name (thing Seattle Post-Intelligencer).

Other rules include taking a drink if announcers say something completely idiotic, as tonight's coverage is brought to us by the execrable (yeah, I know what it means) team of Mike and Mike. Sample projected dialogue:

Announcer (to speller): your word is [something odd sounding]
Mike Greenberg: Boy, Mike, that's a real tough one.
Mike Golic: yeah, I think I picked that up from a stewardess in Albuquerque.
Golic and Greenberg: [laugh like Animal]
Me: [banging my head off our coffee table]

Last year, we had a "drink if the speller is wearing glasses," but this almost resulted in alcohol poisoning, so we'll give it a miss this time around. (The Vegas line on the winner wearing glasses, incidentally, is EVEN. Hmmmm.)

If one of our spellers makes it to the final two, the other person has to take three drinks. And whoever doesn't have the person that wins the title has to finish their drink.

7:58: for the record, I'm betting on a girl winner (bet $20 to win $40), without glasses (bet $15 to win $25.71), and a championship winning word of more than 8.5 letters (bet $15 to win $25).

7:59: This is the 81st year of the Bee. Prior to 1925, the powers that be decided that--because having but one competition with a limited number of participants would unfairly exclude other, equally capable (but not invited) kids--the best way to determine the strongest speller in the nation was to hold several different sanctioned national bees, with an assortment of voters meeting up annually to determine which adolescent had spelled with the most vim and vigour. The "'Fracas'/'Foulard' controversy (and ensuing riots) of 1924 took care of this once and for all and it was decided that, for the well-being of the country, only one title would be awarded. (Get it, Taylor?)

Apparently, from 1943-1945, the Bee wasn't contested due to the war which...what? I mean, I totally get that the Stanley Cup wasn't awarded in WWI and WWII (and that MLB went ahead with replacement players), but that's because the actual players were serving overseas. The same, of course, isn't true of the Bee. Did the Nazis steal all our difficult words?

It's also worth noting that the Bee, in its original form, was insanely easy compared to today's standards, with such less-than-demanding title-winning words between 1932 and 1956 as: knack (which I'm pretty sure my godson Jack can spell right now...and he's 16 months old), deteriorating, intelligible, promiscuous, therapy (!), initials (!!--these last two were back-to-back in '40 and '41, otherwise known in Bee-running circles as "the era where we totally didn't give a shit"), psychiatry (come fucking on), vignette, and condominium. (And a special bonus shout-out to the 1984 competition, which ended--improbably--with Daniel Greenblatt successfully spelling "luge").

8:00: ...and we're off. Except there's no spelling yet, just a moderately uncomfortably musical number.

While I was home for lunch, I witnessed a particularly brutal stretch where four consecutive Canadians were knocked out of the competition (in a three minute stretch, no less) in Round Five (quick aside: was it absolutely vital that they go one after another, organizers? Was that to maximize the cruelty when they eventually flamed out?). This was compounded by afternoon co-host Chris Fowler totally jinxing poor Emily Lafleur from Montreal by pointing out that she was in good shaper with her word--"tonneau"--because it was of French origin, sagely noting "she's from Quebec [pause]...and thus speaks French"--thanks, Chris, but I'm actually not a fucking idiot). When I check later, the news is even worse: three more Canadians miss after I head back to the office--meaning that all seven remaining Canadians were knocked out (again: consecutively) in Round 5. Two more Americans also miss during the stretch, running the streak to nine before Matt Gabriele of Ridgefield, Connecticut nails "pericope." Given that 24 of 45 kids advanced through Round 5, this stretch strikes me as somewhat remarkable, with the odds being 7/15ths to the power of 9 (or, put differently: roughly akin to flipping a coin nine times in a row and having it land on heads every time--a 1 in 512 shot) that that many would miss in a row. I text Taylor--the resident Wasko stats expert--to see if this checks out.

8:02: Great news! Mike and Mike have been bumped for Tom Bergeron and...some other guy. I've never been this (or: at all) happy to see Tom Bergeron in my life!

8:05: Early controversy over bowdlerize/bowdlerise, with Carrie claiming she should get credit for it since Europeans go with S's instead of Z's for their suffixes. Ruling? No. A minute later, Carrie and I both hit on "shamateurism" (the indirect and surreptitious payment of amateur athletes) which I'm fucking positive is not in the OED [Follow up hours later: it actually is], and may well have been culled from the Urban Dictionary. What's next, srsly? Wikidemia? Pwned? Frienvy? (I really could keep going...)

8:07: Kayva, my first pick, is pegged as the favorite by the hosts. Carrie says something unprintable.

8:09: Carrie taps 14-year old Austin Pineda (who, I swear to God, lists "eating confections" as one of his hobbies in the media guide--Austin, you may want to had "living with diabetes" to that list while you're at it) as the "biggest dork in the competition." He promptly adds an extra "L" to "tralatitious" (having been passed along from generation to generation) and is knocked out. Well, then, he can't be that dorky, can he?

8:12: Justin Song nails "aurelian" (A collector and breeder of insects, especially of butterflies and moths). I point out that the media guide mentions that Justin speaks Mandarin. Carrie is completely unimpressed, pointing out that he's Chinese. The fact that he was born in San Diego doesn't faze her. This reminds me of the time, years ago, when my grandma rear ended an Asian driver in the Westmount Mall parking lot. Furious (though at fault), she jumped out the car and shouted "why don't you back to where you came from?" At which point, the man replied "Vancouver?"--...except a little less racist.

8:17: Taylor texts back to ask how the drinking game is going and to say that the probability is way harder than I think and that I'd have to use binomial distribution to calculate it, which no thanks. Show off. Let's just stick with the coin flip analogy.

8:22: Carrie spells two in a row correctly ("hemeralopia,"a visual defect in which the eyes see indistinctly, or not at all, by daylight, but tolerably well by night or artificial light; and "basenji," an African breed of smallish hunting dog, native to the inner Congo regions, which rarely barks). She is totally clobbering me, which begs the question: what was the point in reading all those David Foster Wallace books? Commercial break.

8:23: Carrie, continuing her hot streak, proceeds to sing, word for word, the lyrics to the entire Addams Family theme (appearing in an M&M's ad). What talent!

8:28: Back from the break, I hit on "tautological"--Pertaining to, characterized by, involving, or using tautology; repeating the same word, or the same notion in different words--which is a total grad school word...and I proceed to feel super-smug. Then Carrie gets it, too (she's 4-for-9 at the moment). Son of a...

8:33: We drink because Jahnavi Iyer looks like a licensed driver and has facial fair--the latter being a controversial ruling on Carrie's part, since, I should point out, Jahnavi's actually a girl. No matter. We drink. Carrie gets "caduceus" (The wand carried by an ancient Greek or Roman herald) to close out the round, beating me 5-4 in the process. I drink.

8:36: An unimaginably bad spelling skit with Steve Carrell and Will Ferell. Yikes. Who wrote that? And how untalented to you have to be to make SC and WF look unfunny (insert Talledega Nights, Evan Almighty, or Semi-Pro joke here--ah, but never together!)

8:38: Wait, I've got it! Bewitched.

8:43: Rose lights up like a Christmas tree upon being given yet another word that she's clearly studied before. Worst. Poker. Player. Ever. This prompts Carrie to blurt out "these kids are crazy! And then, a moment later, in case I was at all unclear: "I hope we don't have kids that like spelling!" Gotcha.

8:44: Hilarity ensues when 13-year old Sameer Mishra hears "numnah" (A saddle-cloth or saddle-pad) as "numbnut." (See below.) Good times.



8:53: Hey, it turns out Sidharth Chand goes to Detroit Country Day Middle School, also known as Chris Webber's middle (and high) school. Cool. In a completely unrelated note, sideline reporter Erin Andrews has just broken the story that Chand has accepted $38,000 in illegal bribes from a literary agent...and has tested positive for pot. Ouch. Don't go banner shopping just yet, Country Day.

8:57: After restarting twice (which spellers can do, provided they don't change the order of the letters--a rule so onerous that I have no idea why kids even bother re-trying), Jahnaci Iyer totally nails "Nietzschean" (prone to psychotropic drug use Of, characteristic of, or associated with Nietzsche or his views). Impressive! The kids went 11 for 11 that round. (My rough calculations indicate that, had they used the 1925 word list this year, this competition would last, approximately, thirty-seven years.) Carrie hit one, while I was totally shut out. Goddammit, where's that gin?

9:04: Samia Naswaz, we are told, prides herself on "knowing every detail of the seven Harry Potter books." Don't say that out loud! Rowling will totally sue your ass (see also her pending, groundbreaking suit J.K. Rowling v. The Thoughtsicles of Every Child Ever).

9:15: Kavia's role model (Nupur Lala) is someone I've never heard of. Perhaps a professional speller? I must Wikipedia this one.

9:16: how about that? I was close. Lala was the 1999 Spelling Bee champion, which was chronicled in the excellent 2002 documentary Spellbound. According to Wikipedia, Lala--training, I believe, to be a doctor--was offered a spot on unnamed MTV reality show (does it rhyme with "heel furled"?) , but declined because it would be "too invasive." Hmmm.

9:
19: just spent the last three minutes pondering how a former spelling bee champ would fare on the current season of The Real World (Hollywood). Tentative answer: not well.

9:20: the Bob Marley fan manaes to spell "Ziarat" (which sounds like an impotence drug, but is actually...) I've now missed 21 words in a row...but this always cheers me up (audio isn't even remotely SFW):



9:21: I just miss on "bogatyr" (apparently, a medieval Russian warrior...though the OED doesn't recognize it). Cat Cojocaru misses too--going with "bogateer"-- so she's out. I'm starting to wonder just when the hell our Chinese food is going to be here. I'm going to be smashed...

9:29: yay....food! And I bust out of my slump to spell "huapango" (a fast, rhythmic dance of Mexico, performed by couples) to start Round 11. Samia Nawaz misses...and we're down to six spellers.

9:31: And, for good measure, here's the best Spelling Bee moment ever:



9:34: After Sameer Mishra gets "nacarat" (A bright orange-red colour) even though he doesn't seem to recognize the word, the co-host--himself evidently a Bee veteran--recommends that, all things being equal, the kids should try to spell the word likes it sounds. That's what I've been trying to do all night, asshole! That's terrible advice.

9:36: During a commercial break, I turn to Game 6 of the Pistons-Celtics series, just in time to see Leon Powe complete a three-point play. Wow. Really??

9:37: this is followed by an ad for Wipe-Out, an American rip-off of Most Extreme Challenge, which was itself essentially a rip-off of the Japanese show Takeshi's Castle. Carrie and I both baffled as to how it took this long to bring it to a major U.S. network. Each episode must cost like $10 to produce.

9:41: On a word I somehow spell correctly ("ecrase," meaning crushed to produce a grained effect), spelling machine (and prohibitive favorite) Kavya Shivashankar miraculously misses. She's out. Dammit. Carrie, helpfully, deadpans in her best Cartman voice: "aww, dude...lame."

9:44: Three left--Tia Thomas, Sameer Mishra, and the nattily dressed Sidharth Chand (who is totally rocking a sweater vest). I'm pulling for Sidharth. The boys are both wearing glasses, while Tia appears optemetrically sound (though there's a reasonable chance that she simply wants to look cool for the cameras and that, up there on stage, she's actually as blind as a bat--whatever, she's single-handedly keeping my bet alive at this point.)

9:48: My concerns that this night couldn't get any worse appear to be unfounded, as we're treated to a prolonged (and agonizing) segment on CNN with #1 Hillary Apologist Lanny Davis, who is advocating a combined ticket. The wrinkle? He's "not sure" who is going to be at the top of said ticket, going so far as to remark: "It's not clear which one will be the nominee." Oh, really?? This is news to me. God, you're such a fucking hack, Davis. You should quit. I mean everything. Not just politics. You know what would be almost as convincing as your asinine "Hillary will be ahead in the popular vote and that's what counts" argument? That, because they think they've discovered water on Mars and we shouldn't proceed with anointing a nominee until we've tallied the hypothetical Martian vote. ("I'd like to see how the Democrats can win in November if they've totally disenfranchised the planet of Mars!" you can shrilly declare.) You and Harold Ickes (who--and, believe me, this is one of the better bad things he's done recently--voted to strip Florida and Michigan of their delegates last August and then completely disengenuously ranted against the decision Saturday night before the DNC Rules and Bylaws Committee) ought to be so fucking ashamed of yourselves.

10:01: Tia Thomas--heartbreakingly--goes out in 3rd place, missing on "opificer" ( A person who makes, constructs, or creates something). My pick of a girl winner (and a 20/20 winner) just went up in smoke. Down to two. Come on, championship word over 8.5 letters!

Carrie has both finalists, so I have to take six drinks.

10:03: Carrie hits on "talegil" and I go on a run with french words ("escalandre," "introuvable," plus "kulturkampf"--one of the four German words I know). All of a sudden, we're on fire.

10:07: Closing out Round 15, Sidharth misses "prosopopoeia" (a figure of speech in which an imaginary, absent, or deceased person is represented as speaking or acting)--and then, agonizingly, doesn't know where to go. He's just wandering around the stage. Awwww. Get this poor kid to the green room!

Sameer is one word away from the title...

10:08: ...and he easily navigates "guerdon" (a reward, requital, or recompense) to win it all. I slam my Genesee. Carrie laughs. (Final tally: 10 correctly spelled words for Carrie, 8 for me--we'll downplay the fact that this is out of 52).

10:09: And, just like that, it's over. Because ABC has gone over its allotted time (and God forbid we cut into the ten o'clock news on a slow Friday), we're not treated to the traditional interview with the winner. A shame. We do find out that Sameer wins, along with a complete set of Encyclopedia Britannica (God, Scripps must be kicking themselves for hitching themselves to a long-term deal with that sinking ship twenty-five years ago--do you think the EB rep simply sheepishly hands over a DVD off-camera? I'm guessing yes) and a $35,000 college scholarship for his future. By my calculations, when he starts at Harvard in 2014, this will cover, roughly, his first year textbooks....and a Grand Slam breakfast at Denny's.

OK. That's it on this end. We're off to watch the rest of Vantage Point.

10:10: ...or maybe I'll just lay down on the floor for a minute...