Elephant Talk

Classes are winding down and the semester’s coming to a close. I’ve been crazy busy lately, working on projects, helping students, grading assignments, playing gigs, and hanging out. I also have to finish my taxes before June 14. Then it’s fully into final grades, final dinners, final parties. I’ll emerge at some point at the end of next week, ready for the welcome abyss of no-plans-whatsoever.

This weekend was a full one. A gig on Thursday, which turned into a late night; a full 8 hours of animation sound design with some students on Friday; an aborted recording session Saturday and then another gig in Dalmaji that night.

I was looking forward to a mellow Sunday, but I got talked into going to my first baseball game in Busan. The team is the Lotte Giants, and their fans are rabid, to say the least. It was more like a European football match. They chanted songs, did the wave, did a double wave (quite impressive), and yelled a lot at the opposing pitcher.

Then, somewhere around the 8th inning, out came the orange bags. The purpose is to dump your trash into them, but while the game’s still going on, people blow them up with air and then tie them on their heads. So everyone’s got these bulbous orange growths on their heads and they bob up and down while doing silly chants and songs. Quite a sight. I wish I had pictures, but I can’t seem to find my camera.

Alas, Lotte lost 3-1, but it was exciting at the end. Afterward we had sam-gyup-sal because, well because that’s what we do.

Two teams make me particularly nervous when they play the Sharks: Anaheim and Calgary. The others in the division, for whatever reason, I’m okay with. We all have our own instinctive irrational paranoia when it comes to sports.

When I saw the seeding I thought oh crap. Kiprusoff, an inconsistent goaltender, always rises to the occasion when he plays his former team. I’ve seen it too many times. The Flames also seem to play tougher than the Sharks every time I’ve seen them.

I didn’t see this game. It’s either go across town to the Irish pub, or listen to it on my computer. I didn’t have the energy to sit in a stinky bar at 11 o’clock in the morning.

3-2 Flames. I’m not surprised. We’ll see how tough the Sharks really are.

I admit it. I was one of those 600,000 people who went on YouTube to see video of NHL player Richard Zednik getting his throat cut. Like probably half of those trolling around, I remember seeing the Clint Malarchuck video and was expecting something similar.

The Malarchuck video is gruesome. I just saw it again and it’s actually giving me a stomach ache. I won’t embed it here. If you want to see it, you’ll have no trouble finding it. While Zednik’s injury is similar, the video is not, at least the versions I’ve seen. I’m sure there are angles that could be shown, but unless someone steals a tape from the studio, I don’t think we’ll see it.

But what the hell is up with Buffalo? Both incidents happened in the same city. Freaky.

I just hope hockey doesn’t change because of this. It’s a tough game played by tough guys who come from tough parts of the world. That’s the game, and sometimes weird shit just happens. Thankfully, Zednik seems okay, so that’s great news.

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See, this is why American football is the best sport in the world. It’s not the biggest, but it’s the greatest. I get questions all the time from Europeans I meet: What is up with your “football”? — always asked with a snide little smirk. I try to explain, but it never quite works.

Here’s what people outside the USA don’t get about our misnamed passion: Every game is a four-act play; you have to understand the language and you have to watch the whole thing from beginning to end. That’s because it’s the narrative quality that makes it work, the almost Shakespearean progression of events that congeal into an epic story. Every game is a series of brief scenes that fall in a linear progression from beginning to end, with dramatic twists and turns, all finally culminating in and ending that is the sum of everything that happened along the way. And when it’s a finish like today’s game, it makes for a heck of a good story. Then there are the subplots, the tiny little back stories, the things happening on the field that you may never notice.

But mostly it’s the dynamic tension of potential versus kinetic energy. The game breathes. Those 40 seconds in between events are what give players, coaches, and fans time to think, time to fear. And we get close-cropped camera angles of eyes, showing all that pressure. Then you execute your plan — against the other team’s plan — and it works or it doesn’t. And at some point, at least once in every game, something incredible happens that turns the whole story on its end.

I hate the Giants. Not really, it’s more that I hate the way Eli Manning came into the league (again, gotta understand the backstory). But still, that game was a blast. From 7 minutes remaining on to the end, the whole bar was standing. With every play, they were leaning, gasping, cheering, exhaling. Quite a scene, and quite a game.

Two upcoming events worth mentioning:

1. The Superbowl airs at the eye-sleep-rubbing hour of 8 am. Thank god for the global ubiquity of Irish pubs, because the one in Busan is opening early for the event. I sent out one of those silly Facebook invitations, but I doubt anyone will come. I don’t care who wins, but I would love to see some of this New England offense I heard so much about all year.

2. The lunar new year celebration begins on Feb. 6. My student assistant told me to stock up on five days worth of groceries and water. Apparently the city becomes a ghost town during that stretch. It’ll be a good opportunity to hunker down and do some cooking, writing, semester planning, and DVD watching.

I hate to be cliché, but Prague might just be the best city I’ve ever been to. I don’t want to get too excited because so far we’ve just had a first date. I’m not ready to fall in love yet; I’ll have to give it some time. But I am all starry eyed. Adjectives escape me. Nouns too, for that matter. More on this I’m sure after I’ve settled in. I’ll be here for several more days.

And on that note, I’m trying to plan life after Prague. The original intent was to go spend a day in Cesky Krumlov, two days in Salzburg, and then go back to Germany. But the more people I meet, the more compelling things start getting in the way. First was the girl in Olomouc who told me I need more than one day in Krumlov. And then there’s the guy I met in Bratislava who just now Facebooked me that Iron & Wine is playing in Vienna on the 16th. And finally, there’s just about every single traveler I’ve met who has told me I can’t leave until I’ve visited Budapest.

So I don’t know. If I can do a night train from Vienna to Stuttgart, I might be able to manage all of that. Hmmm, how many European cities can I name in a single blog post? I know! Let’s end that silliness and post some photos instead…

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Before Sunday’s game between the Steelers and the Patriots, I was planning on posting a detailed description of how New England would kick Pittsburgh’s butt. I didn’t. But I shoulda. It went down exactly how I knew it would.

The Patriots have a lot of teams figured out. The Steelers are one of those teams. It’s the same effing pattern everytime: Don’t even bother to run the ball (New England had I think 20-something yards rushing), play-action fake, and throw the ball deep to expose Dick LeBeau’s safety and corner blitzes.

Maybe it takes a true Steeler fan to know how to beat the Steelers, but I don’t know why every team doesn’t use the same formula.

Grr. That’s enough about that.

Which is the bigger form of cheating? A player using drugs to enhance his natural abilities? Or coaches surreptitiously videotaping the other team’s practice sessions?

To me, the first is a little tough to quantify. But the second one, there’s no question: that’s cheating.

I’m not saying this simply because the Pats beat the Steelers in so many big games. I actually like the Patriots, what I still believe to be a class organization.

But this quote in the above linked article really stood out for me:

“On the other hand … the negative reaction to this is just completely overblown (as King Kaufman pointed out in Salon.com today). The Patriots were breaking rules because they are obsessed with getting every minor strategic advantage, but that doesn’t change the fact the strategic advantage is minor. The idea that suddenly all three Super Bowl championships are tainted is ridiculous.”

Now, I’m not one to make apologies for Barry Bonds, but why doesn’t the same standard apply toward him? Steroids didn’t give him his home runs, they gave him a slight edge. So why, when Bonds’ name is mentioned, is it like he’s the devil incarnate? When they talk about Belichick, people instead call it a dumb mistake. There’s a subtle but distinct difference there.

It makes me wonder if the real reason Bonds is demonized is because he’s an asshole. And the more I think more about it, it may even be because he’s an African American asshole.

I’m sitting at a table in an office at Korea University in Seoul, weaseling some free wireless. There’s a reason I’m here, but I’ll get to that another time.

What I’d really like to mention is that there’s a total lunar eclipse coming Tuesday. It’s surprisingly difficult to find international times, but if I’m right, it should hit around sunset in Busan. This should make for a pretty spectacular sunset.

Oh, and I’d also like to mention how happy I am that Milan Michalek, my favorite Shark, just signed a six-year deal.