In Memoriam...

Over the past couple days, a few people have passed away. That, in itself, isn't remarkable. What is is that so many notable legends did. Bergman and Antonioni, two icons of cinema. Tom Snyder, a man who hosted the first show later than Johnny Carson's Tonight Show (and who did a remarkable interview with Angelina Jolie before she became the uber-celebrity she is now...I still remember it). However, the most notable person, at least in my life, that died yesterday was Mr. Bill Walsh. As the coach of my fave NFL team, the San Francisco 49ers, back when I was learning what the hell football was, he was the first "coach" I knew. When I think what defines a coach, I think of Bill Walsh. Many of my all-time sports heroes (Montana, Rice, Young) owe something to Walsh. Oh, and he did coach my alma mater as well...

Here's to you, Coach Walsh...

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My Rockets Are Back!!

Over the past couple days, while I finished polishing my Veronica Mars spec script for a NBC diversity writing program I’m applying to, I was glued to my trusty Dell laptop (not literally) keeping track of the busy off-season my beloved Houston Rockets are having. For those who don’t know, I’m a NBA junkie, and, specifically, a Houston Rockets fanatic. Not fan (because I’m no bandwagoneer). A fanatic. I’m the guy who purchased NBA League Pass (the satellite service that allows you to watch all the games during the season) strictly to keep up with my Rockets. I DVR’d each game, avoided the results the entire day, and watched the game buzzer to buzzer. Dedication = Fanatic. So, after another disgraceful first-round exit this last playoffs, my Rockets have reloaded in a big way, culminating in yesterday’s signing of Stevie Franchise. To say I’m psyched for this upcoming season would be a vast understatement. Pencil me in for another NBA League Pass order Dish Network.

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Optimus Looks Really Good, John McClane Can't Die, and Rats Have Dreams

This summer has been a major disappointment in terms of the cinematic arts. Spider-Man 3 didn't live up to its prior entries in the series (too many villains, Tobey's emo haircut); Pirates didn't take us anywhere (surprising given its ungodly 2+ hour running time); Shrek isn't funny anymore (how many different ways can a film parody Disney films until it becomes the parody?); and Fantastic Four belongs on a comic book page and not on the silver screen (am I the only one freaked out by Jessica Alba's crystal blue eyes?). Jack Kirby just rolled in his grave.

Thankfully, the second wave of summer flicks arrived when it did. Transformers was not a disappointment. In fact, it was a visual extravaganza that actually made up for a lackluster and clunky plot, hot girls unbelievably cast as computer analysts and really goofy supporting characters (I love John Turturro, but do you really believe him as a secret agent?). This was a film that Michael Bay had to make, a pure fluffy movie that no one will really care about five years from now. Watching it definitely took me back to my youth filled with Autobots and Decepticons. Live Free or Die Hard was fun, although it felt like I was watching a generic action movie made 10X more watchable/enjoyable because of the presence of John McClane. Call me a traditionalist, but I missed the cursing, the bloody deaths, etc. that come with an R-rating. Finally, just saw Ratatouille last night (in perhaps the dingiest movie theater in Los Angeles), and, while it starts slow, Pixar's latest lived up to its pedrigree. It's not Toy Story or The Incredibles, but a truly magical film nevertheless.

Federer Is My Hero

It was last year when I dedicated an entry to Roger Federer, the greatest tennis player of all time. Well, 365 days and some change later, it's still the case. Sure, he hasn't beaten Rafa Nadal at Roland Garros, and, chances are, he'll never beat Rafa there. From today's match, it looks like Rafa is closer to topping Roger on Centre Court than Roger is at stopping Rafa in Paris. Still, I marvel at Roger's skills and abilities more than I have any other tennis player I've ever seen.

I loved Sampras, but there was a time that I rooted against him. He was imperfect. His backhand sucked, and all he had was his serve. And he had a level of arrogance that didn't sit well with me. Why? Because he didn't have all the shots. So, how can you deserve to be arrogant. With Roger, it's different. He's approaching history, and I want him to break every record because he deserves it. He's the best I've ever seen, and he's humble about it. Amazing. The history books need to declare Roger the greatest tennis player of all time. Better than Laver. Better than Sampras. Congrats, Mr. Federer.

26 is one more than 25

So, I've officially passed the quarter century mark of my life, and I have to say that it feels like the day I turned 16 (which was more important to me than turning 18). I'm not old enough to be considered middle-aged, and I'm not young enough to be considered a kid. But, I am old enough to rent a car...

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