Clemson beat Alabama last night to capture the NCAA College Football Playoff National Championship. (The Tide got rolled.) Actually, it was this morning before the game ended. Apparently it was “a game for the ages,” but one of those ages isn’t 52, because I was fast asleep well before the fourth quarter, which featured four lead changes, and three touchdowns in the final five minutes of play. The winning score came with a single tick left on the game clock… at about 12:25 a.m. In other words, the most exciting parts of the title game happened when most sane people who live east of the Rockies were snoozing.
The game kicked off at 8:19 Eastern time. And college football games used to take about three hours. But now, pretty much any and every play is subject to video review, which is nearly as much fun as watching paint dry. Throw in the requisite injury time-outs, a long halftime and a few extra commercial breaks (broadcast rights ain’t cheap) and you’ve got yourself a sixty-minute game that took more than four hours to conclude.
In their never-ending quest for better ratings, TV networks will pick game times that suit their needs, not the desires of the fans. But in the DVR/internet age, I think more and more fans will skip all the hoopla, catch up on their beauty sleep and catch the five-minute highlights the next day.
Shaving four hours off your total viewing time? Now that’s the stuff that dreams are made of.
This isn’t a picture of me… my skin mask has more of a lavender hue to it.
Last night, a minor modern-day miracle occurred, and I was thrilled to be a part of it. (Don’t worry, I won’t break my arm patting myself on the back.) I met up with four other adults for dinner and during the course of a two-hour meal, none of us pulled out our cell phones. Shocking! Amazing! Incredible! The five of us were connected by our work on freelance projects, but two of the folks there had never met each other before, and I’d met one person there just once previously, more than a year ago. So we weren’t exactly besties… which you would think would make us more prone to turn to the phone. But somehow we managed to muddle through, carrying on what is called a “conversation.” (Look it up, millenials. And try it someday!)
It made me think of a couple of things I’ve recently read about our phone addiction. Here’s an email from marketing guru Seth Godin:
And here’s an excerpt from Talking As Fast As I Can, a new book from Lauren Graham, where she’s channeling her inner old fogey, whom she calls “Old Lady Jackson”:
Amen, Old Lady Jackson. Stop by anytime for a cup of tea. We’ll chew the fat… and we won’t take a photo of the fat first to post on Instagram.
Learn a new language. (Russian would seem to make the most sense.)
Buy the world a Coke. (Just to clarify so we’re all on the same page, I’m buying a single Coke and all 7 billion of you will have to share. Don’t worry, I’ll spring for a 2-liter. Bring your own straw.)
Have an attitude of gratitude… when I finally win that Powerball jackpot that The Man has been cheating me out of for years.
Avoid all media references to Kim Kardashian and/or Kanye West. (So basically go live in a cave.)
Sell my idea for bacon-wrapped Canadian bacon to Hormel or Oscar Mayer.
Stop, collaborate and listen (per the instructions of self-improvement guru Vanilla Ice).
Stop making lists for everything.
Somehow convince our incoming president that “counterintelligence” has nothing to do with knowing the difference between granite, quartz and laminate.
A new year means 365 new opportunities to connect (with other human beings, not with your smartphone).
Singer-songwriter (and Gilmore Girls town troubadour) Grant-Lee Phillips recently sent a nice note to all those on his mailing list, and I thought a couple of excerpts were well worth sharing.
“A renewed commitment to compassion.” Yep, that’s a darn fine resolution from a darn good performer.
Looks like Cincinnati is a good place to be for New Year’s Eve if you really want to cut loose… in a fiscally responsible way. WalletHub crunched the NYE numbers using criteria like “legality of fireworks,” “average price of a New Year’s Eve ticket,” and “forecasted precipitation” to rank cities and the ‘nati wound up #6 on the list.
The new album from Buffalo Tom has been fully funded by their fans (including yours truly). My faith in humanity has been restored.
A note from Buffalo Tom:
I used to think it was a bit sad that bands and artists I love had to resort to crowd-funding platforms to release new music. But upon further reflection, I think it’s better this way – no meddling from the suits at a record label, and a more direct connection to the fans that love their music. Rock on!
My favorite NFL team is the Oakland Raiders. Because when you spend your formative years (ages 6-17) in Arkansas, there’s no mandatory geographic alliance to any particular team. The Raiders were on TV a lot back then, because they were really good. I liked their logo and team colors (what other reason do you need when you’re six?).
And their players were an odd collection of rejects, castoffs and misfits. I could relate to that too.
The Raiders have been pretty darn horrible over the last decade and a half (and that’s putting it nicely). No winning seasons. 10 seasons with 11 or more losses.
But I’ve stuck with them through it all. Because I’m not a quitter… although I’ve certainly been tempted.
This year the Raiders turned the corner and have been good again. They’ve had some great draft choices and made a few smart free agent acquisitions over the past few years, and those moves have paid off. This year they clinched a playoff berth more than a week ago with a win over the San Diego Chargers. First trip to the playoffs since 2002.
Then this past Sunday, playing at home against the Indianapolis Colts, up 33-14 in the 4th quarter, their young team captain/MVP-candidate quarterback Derek Carr was sacked (first time he was touched by the Colts all game) and suffered a broken fibula.
(Carr was one of three NFL players to have a broken fibula on Sunday… bad things happen in threes apparently.) Just like that, the Raiders went from dream season to nightmare, from Super Bowl contender to also-ran.
The Raiders’ defense is pretty suspect, and it’s doubtful they would’ve gone all the way this year. But the fickle finger of fate has given Raider fans the finger once again. The autumn wind is a pirate, but apparently God is a Patriots fan.
Kevin Sullivan on Life advice from a man who lived it: “A good one Damian. Bring our lens into focus after the long weekend or our long life journey.” Jul 7, 09:38
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