"It could have been worse [guys]...ALOT worse."

For no reason in particular, Nat and I recorded Jurassic Park after it ran several times on AMC. And, with Natalie passed out by about the time they feed the raptors with that unfortunate cow about a half hour in, I watched every. single. minute of the 1993 Steven Spielberg classic.

I remember this being one of my familiy's "movies," the ones you and your siblings watch over and over and memorize entire sequences and quote all of the time. Eighteen years later, I was nostalgic to watch it, but also anxious to see how it held up in the face of such massive leaps in special effects technology.

Does it hold up? Well, afterwards I arrived at a sort of meaningless mixed verdict of it does and/but it also doesn't.

With the glaring exception of the brachiosaurus scenes (particularly when Grant, Tim, and Lex are in the tree feeding it, and the whole scene has this sort of "Never Ending Story" with giant puppets quality to it), the dinosaurs actually look remarkably realistic. Word was that the combination of the tropical storm hitting the park and Dennis Nedry's little puppet show actually made for a frustrating T-Rex scene for Spielberg and co.-- the rain kept making the robotic dino glitch. If you're looking for it you notice, but it's not so bad you reinstate your disbelief.

What seems more unbelievable, actually, is the dialogue between the characters. Movie scripts of this era seem to have this unabashed on-the-nose quality, almost like they were originally written (in some spots) to be middle school plays. It is very obvious when we're supposed to laugh, when we're supposed to be in awe, etc. (Other examples include "A Few Good Men" and the entire first 3 seasons of "Frasier." Yes, I have watched both of these examples, since you asked.)

In "Jurassic Park," examples of this obviousness abound. How about when Grant and Sadler see the dinosaurs for the first time, and Hammond takes the opportunity to say, "Dr. Grant...my dear Dr. Sadler, welcome. to Jurassic Park..." ?

Or, for example, when Hammond is griping about how upsetting the initial tour went (2 dinosaurs weren't even visible from the cars, 1 was sick, and a tropical storm cut it short), and Samuel L. Jackson looks at him gravely/knowingly and says "It could have been worse, John...ALOT worse." Is that enough foreshadowing for you? And really, it's an odd thing to say because unless Sammy L. knew beforehand that Dennis Nedry was going rogue for a rival research firm and in order to do so was planning on shutting down the power to the park, releasing the dinosaurs to wreak havoc on everybody, then (really) the tour was actually going as badly as could be (at that point) imagined.

If you were going for maximum dramatic effect, when would the hiding raptor in the power compound pop out at Dr. Sadler? Would it be while she's walking through the compound in the dark, or while she's flipping on the circuit breakers? Or would you have the raptor reveal itself/its intentions of eating Dr. Sadler the exact instant after she's switched on all the power and has just said to Hammond via walkie-talkie: "Mr. Hammond, I think we're back in business!" Apparently the scientists at JP genetically engineered the dinosaurs with an acute sense of timing.

In a way, though, the dialogue is endearing. Like it's the perfect companion to such an outlandish, larger than life plot. And at least the acting is first rate, with career performances from Sam Neil, Richard Attenborough, and Jeff Goldblum. Rewatchability remains through the roof.

With so many older movies looking dated, and Jurassic Park closing in on two decades, honestly it could look worse...ALOT worse.

Ode to the I/O Forehand

Sport is full of beautiful "things." Karl Malone's high screen for teammate John Stockton, and then his subsequent roll to the basket was a beautiful thing. The 5-4-3 double play (where the grounder is fielded by the third basemen before being wheeled to second, then slung to first) is a beautiful thing. And a touchdown pass up the seam on 3rd and 17 is a beautiful thing.

Tennis, like all other sports, is full of such beautiful things, none more aesthetically striking than the inside-out forehand.

A forehand is considered inside-out whenever it's struck from a player's backhand half of the court (ad if the player is a righty) and travels across the court to the opposing player's ad side.  So basically (if you're having trouble wrapping your mind around it), the person hitting an I/O forehand SHOULD have hit a backhand, but "ran around" the shot to hit it with his forehand (since most players get more stick (a.k.a. oomph) on their forehand shot than their backhand), and angled it steeply back to the opposite side of the court.

In order to get away with this, you've got to really pull the trigger, because running around the shot means you've moved so far off the court that anything coming back will be (most likely) for a wide open winner.

Roger Federer hits the most eviscerating I/O forehand in the history of tennis. See for yourself. My favorite part of this video is the awe that soaks all of the color commentary. E.g. at the 1:50 mark Fed plays a point against Marat Safin and, after a sizeable rally Safin makes the irreversible mistake of clipping the net, giving Roger a short ball to run around. The whole world knows what's coming--and so the commentator says (with 100% confidence, and more to himself than anyone at home, really) "see ya." It's phenomenal. Immediately afterwards is an apt tweety bird comparison.

Or how about at 2:59? When Federer (obviously zoning) runs around James Blake's SERVE (!) and murders it inside-out? It catches the commentator seriously off guard: "Oh look out!"

Videos like these are a lot of fun, especially watching the younger Fed in his prime, playing with a style that left the rest of the tennis world in absolute can't-find-the-words-shock. 

Is This Post Relevant to You?

Summer is not the best time for television. How do I know this? Well, Natalie and I have started watching, following, and anxiously anticipating every new episode of Master Chef. We cling to it like a shipwrecked sailor on a piece of drift wood. And actually (and this could be the lack of other programming/any other sport but baseball speaking) it's not half bad. I'd recap each episode if I was any good at maintaining a blog. But that's not what this post is about.

We still don't have a TV, and watch this, the most prestigious of all reality TV amateur cooking shows, on the internet. I'm sure many of you watch shows on sites like Hulu, Fancast, etc. And maybe you've also noticed the same thing that is starting to quite literally drive me half-way crazy during each of the advertisements you're forced to watch during the show.

It's in the upper right hand corner of the screen: A quick question and some buttons. "Is this ad relevant to you?" then "Yes" or "No."

What's even more striking about my dilemma regarding this question is how it started out in completely the opposite way. Let me explain.

You see, I first viewed the sponser placing this question as their ultimate blunder, resulting in their own demoralizing defeat. No! This ad is not relevant to me, thank you. I shall tell you as much and I will never have to put up with your attempts to get me to purchase your product. (Commercials have always been the whole drag associated with watching TV, am I right? I mean, that's why we all did the collective Macarena when Tivo was invented, yes?)

I still haven't been able to click that "No" button. Not once. I may never. It's driving me crazy. For example, an ad for a new Nissan sedan appears. I begin watching. Is this ad relevant to me? Well, in some ways I guess. I'm an adult with a drivers license. I depend on our car to get me to work everyday, to provide for our family.  I certainly don't think I'll be driving our Hyundai Elantra for eternity. In several ways this ad is very relevant to me.

Or how about anti-aging cream? My first thought is no, not relevant. But don't I deal with the same internal struggles associated with getting older? Can I not relate, in any way, to the desire to retain youthfulness and distract myself from the fact that life (partly) is a process of constant decay?

Relevance relevance and so on. 

And now, finding myself unable to view any ad as irrelevant, I begin questioning my entire (false?) perception of advertising in general. How can I be delighted to skip past things that are so seemingly relevant to me and my participation in the human experience? And simply saying, for instance, that since I don't want to buy a car at this very moment, this ad is not relevant comes across as very shortsighted.  Oh sure, I could say "skip past this M&Ms commerical, I'm not hungry for candy right now," but does that mean I might never be in the mood for sweets generally/M&Ms specifically? Of course not. As a human being with discretionary income, which sometimes is spent on food, not infrequently of the junk variety, Mars Candy informing me of their new pretzel M&Ms is particularly relevant, let's say. And if I back out of watching M&Ms ads am I somehow diminishing those employees of Mars Candy, who's livelihood and ability (in some part) to engage in the sort of consumer-based human experiences I'm finding are relevant, depends on whether or not I go out, convinced by their ads, to purchase their candy? What a freaking mess.

It's gotten to the point where I've come to the conclusion (through a logic chain so dense and questionable that I don't dare repeat it here) that advertisers have concocted the perfect question--one that has single handedly captured my still very begrudging attention to their attempts to get my money. I'm certainly not happy about it. But at this point I'm cornered. 

You win this round advertising.

2011 is the New 2006

It's almost midnight now, and in the words of David Foster Wallace, I'm trying to form a sort of "sensuous collage" of this NBA Finals experience. I'm not sure I'm able to process every aspect of it now, but I do know a few things. 

For instance, I know that this is more complex than just my favorite team making it to the Championship series, and then beating team x for their first NBA title. The attendant story lines are too numerous and complex.

I know that with Dirk now 32 years old, and playing uncommonly good basketball, this was perhaps his last chance at wiping away the 2006 Finals and finally being an NBA Champion.

I know that the Heat had more talent than the Mavericks, and that Dallas would have had to play ice cold basketball to win each of the four games required to clinch the series. (And actually, the real description of what the Mavs needed to do each game would be something closer to "hot ice." That's what they needed--to heat up the ice cubes. And they did.)

I know that Miami represents an evil empire of sorts. Less because of LeBron's decision, or their preseason pep rally, and more because they were evolving into an absolute juggernaut. Think New York Yankees of the mid to late 90s and early 2000s. It's difficult to imagine any team stopping them from winning three or four titles in the next five or six years. If Dallas couldn't succeed while the big 3 were still learning to play together their first season, it would have painted a bleak picture for all teams not from Miami.

I know that Dirk Nowitzki is my favorite basketball player ever. He played hurt, he played sick, he pushed through patches where his shot wasn't quite on, he rose above childish taunting from Wade and James, and absolutely owned the fourth quarter all series long. 

I know that I lost sleep in 2006. It was so devastating that I changed the way I rooted for my favorite sports teams. From that point on, I went into each postseason expecting teams to lose as a defense mechanism; winning in the playoffs only meant more opportunities to lose in the future, only with the circumstances even more heart wrenching. After being up 2-0 in '06, I was determined not to be fooled again.

I know that now, my outlook is much more optimistic. It's not always going to turn out badly. Sometimes, it turns out to be magical.

In a way, the Mavericks couldn't have asked for a better way for it all to play out--meeting the Heat again, Dwyane Wade again. Dropping the first game, stealing the second in historic fashion. Then, down 2 games to 1, they reel off three insta-classic victories to bury a more talented Heat team than their 2006 predecessor and vanquish the bad memories in the process.

Incredible. Unbelievable. And man, do I. Love. Sports.

Since You're Going to Do It Anyway, You Might As Well Know the Facts

I'm not sure what the obsession is with tennis fans and ranking the greatest of all time (oft times shortened to the unfortunate acronym "GOAT"), but in the wake of Roger Federer's loss to Rafael Nadal in the French Open Final on Sunday, there's no escaping the argument.  It's everywhere.  And the tide is shifting pro-Nadal. This is incomprehensible to me. (And in the first place, I think the debate itself is silly, designed to drum up conversation points and get people reading about tennis. To begin with, just try defining "greatest" exactly).

At this point, it's boiled down to two people: Federer 'cause he's been so dominant for so long, and Nadal since he always beats Federer. 

Now, you may be tempted to form your own opinions on this and engage in the debate. This is not advised. But if you're going to do it, here's what you need to know to make an informed decision. If my own bias spills through, forgive me.

--Rafael Nadal is 17-8 against Federer all time.

--Of these 25 matches 14 have been on clay. This is a lot of matches, and Nadal is 12-2 against Fed.

--On all other surfaces, Fed leads 6-5.

--They've met in six grand slam finals: 4 French Opens, 3 Wimbledons, and an Australian Open. Nadal has won all of these matches except for 2 Wimbledons (2007 & 2008)

--Rafa has won 10 grand slam singles titles total.

--Roger has won 16.

--Nadal has had one great year (2008) where he won two grand slam singles titles, (Plus the gold medal, but come on.), and one out of this world year (2010) where he won three.

--Roger has won three of the four grand slams in the same year on three separate occasions.

--Federer made 23 (twenty-three!) consecutive Grand Slam semifinals. That's six years worth of major semifinals. He's also made 28 consecutive GS quarters. Both are records, the former a record by a mile.

--Nadal's semi/quarter streaks are not findable with a Google search.

I think that's a good start. Now, since you asked, here's what I take away from the above stats. (Full disclosure: Roger Federer is completely responsible for making me interested in tennis in the first place. He's my favorite player of all time, and watching him play is, I think, as near to watching Michaelangelo's David come to life and hurl a rock at Goliath as we may see in all of sport.) First, Rafael Nadal plays a particular brand of tennis that matches up extremely well against Roger. On top of that, he's really good, and is mentally very tough, and in each of their 25 encounters played very well on big points, including/especially all of Roger's break point opportunities. Also, 14 of their matches were on clay, and this is Rafa's favorite surface, and it highly favors his game. Plus, Nadal is five years younger than Roger and is in the fortunate position of "padding his stats" against the Swiss while they meet up in the descent of Fed's career.

Second, Roger Federer is the most consistently dominant player in the history of tennis. He's also won the most grand slams of any player ever. If somehow you've defined "greatest ever" to mean winning the most slams, or performed the most consistently for the longest time, then fine. He's the greatest. From 2004 to 2007, he could beat everyone badly on any surface except clay. On clay, he could beat everyone badly except one person, Nadal. Conversely, during the same three year stretch Nadal couldn't come close enough to consistently face Roger on any other surface that would have favored Roger and swelled his rivalry win total.

Fed's three year stretch of dominance is unlike anything the sport has seen. And actually, Nadal seems to be in the GOAT discussion less because of his own accomplishments in general, and more because of his favorable match-up with the most consistently dominant player to ever play. Without Roger's brilliant, sustained play Nadal would probably just be in the "good as Agassi/Borg" discussion. (Each of Borg/Agassi/Nadal's accomplish are very comparable.)

I guess my bottom line is this: Let's say (borrowing a very useful scenario from ESPN's Bill Simmons) that Aliens challenge Earth to a tennis match, losing planet's subjugation on the line. (I know, it's very Space Jam). My first question would be what surface is the match on. If it's clay, I'd pick Rafa from 2010. If it's any other surface, I'd choose Roger from 2006 and then laugh all the way to whatever intergalactic bank was brokering the planetary bet.

Ra-Ra-Roger

Al-right! Everybody feeling good yet? Roger Federer puts an end to Novak Djokovic's scintillating run and takes everyone on a stroll down memory lane in the process--this was the magical Swiss Maestro of old, in a Herculean performance that was just enough to derail the most dominating start to a tennis season ever.

What a match! Thanks to NBCsports.com I was able to catch it on replay after spending most of the afternoon scooping the court-cast on ESPN. So how, exactly, did Roger do it?

Well, it seems to have been a combination of what Roger did, and also what he didn't. What he did not do: Roger did not try and plant himself on the baseline and hit through Djokovic. It can't be done. Not by anyone playing today. Roger Federer from 2006 could do it. But in 2011, no one has the firepower to trade bombs with the Djoker.

Rather, what Roger did do was mix up his pace and spins, move Djoker around, and patiently wait for opportunities to strike. He also (and this is big) minimized his unforced errors just enough to come through. Lately, Roger's "demise" (and I would put that in double quotes if a) it didn't look so weird and b) I thought anyone would understand what I was going for) has been characterized by his ugly play. His movement seems there, but the errors were getting uglier and more frequent by the tournament. Not this time. It was vintage Fed. And Djokovic tried repeatedly to pick on his backhand, to no avail. Lastly, he finished the match in four sets--key since the longer the match went the more you had to favor the younger and better rested Serb (Djokovic didn't play a QF match because Fabio F0gnini's withdrew with an injury).

Some thoughts on the hysteria surrounding the match:

It was a lot of fun to come home and see Twitter blasted with live match tweeting. Tennis fandom can sometimes be a lonely road, and when it takes center stage like this (and rightfully so with the level these two were playing at) it's a rare communal experience.

As someone who very nearly worships Roger Federer, it was particularly satisfying to see him in his element again. Here he was, if only for four hours, back to the magician that ruled the tennis world for so long. The movement was crisp, the forehand was eviscerating, and the backhand was dependable. His serve (which can be added to the list of things Fed did right today) was absolutely clinical and punishing--18 aces and who knows how many easy set-ups on top of that.

What was even more fulfilling was the way Fed carried himself during the match. I often theorize that Roger is so good he lacks mental toughness in tight matches. The list of evidence is long, and not worth getting into here, but this theory hinges on his superior talent being in some ways detrimental. This is because for most of his career he could just outclass everyone--in real knock down, drag out fights he tended to shrink, almost incredulous that his super powers weren't allowing him to just cruise on by.

But today? Fed provided us a rare mixture of his customary athletic poetry and street fighter instinct. Yelling during big points, loud "come-ons!" with every successful set point. It was a new Fed. One who didn't back down from a fight, but rather found his inner alpha dog and came out swinging. Djokovic has been compared, correctly, by a very good friend of mine, to the liquid-morphing, police-uniform-wearing terminator from T2: Judgment Day. He had been obliterating everyone in his path all year, on his way to winning everything. And Fed looked him in the eye before taking him apart.

He is the greatest tennis player to ever play. And it's fitting that he's the one to bring Djokovic's streak to a halt. It seems like only Roger, playing in this way, could have done it. I'm not sure anyone else has the skill set to beat someone playing as ruthlessly as Djokovic has been playing this season.

But most of all, for me, it was one more Federer moment. It has been painful to watch my favorite player start to descend the mountain top he owned for so long. The truth of it is, Djokovic is still the best player in the world. Probably the favorite for Wimbledon, and may only lose a couple more times this year. And sadly, I don't think Roger can win on Sunday either. Nadal has the blueprint for beating Roger, and their earlier meetings this year (they were bad) still demonstrate that. And I won't be shocked when he goes back to exiting from lesser tournaments in early rounds.

But, for one glorious moment, with the world watching, he ruled the court again with swagger. I saw him vaporize an ace down the T to win the match after dropping two match points. And I got to see him walk authoritatively to the net after that mammoth serve, smiling and wagging a knowing finger with the utmost perfect blend of confidence, satisfaction, and enjoyment.

So thanks Roger. And best of luck on Sunday.

Step One, Don't Say Anything

Since our TV in Provo was basically a glorified piece of garbage, Natalie and I left it behind when we moved to Houston. And in our short time in the 77021, we've done a lot and seen much. But buying said TV's replacement, we have not done.

This is why, for the first two games of the NBA finals, I've been huddled around our laptop listening to the live feed of ESPN radio's broadcast (Mike Tirico actually does a first rate job with the play-by-play). I have no words for what I heard last night. I have since seen the highlights. Still, no words.

That's why I'm not going to say anything about game 2, or any subsequent game, for the rest of the series. I was contemplating writing an extended piece about how Dirk is not Obi-Wan Kenobi following what I figured would be the Mavs' game 2 loss. I was planning on sharing all of the relevant comparisons that Ben Wagner and I had listed for this year's Finals, including Ben's latest comparing of Dirk to John Connor and LeBron to the Terminator. Let those analogies hence be outsourced to Ben, if the world is to ever hear them. For I will say nothing about this series until it is over. It means too much and my thoughts are too unprocessed.

Until that time, good night Mavericks fans. And good luck.