Skip to main content

Rocky Balboa and the Butler Bulldogs

So the Butler Bulldogs once again snatch victory from the jaws of defeat in another David vs. Goliath match up. If you're looking for serious basketball commentary, forget it. I'm officially a Fair Weather fan. The first Butler game I watched this year was during the tournament. BUT...that doesn't mean I can't see the glaring parallels between my favorite college basketball team and my favorite fictional character: Rocky Balboa.

The Butler Bulldogs and Rocky Balboa have a lot in common. They're tough, scrappy, and they don't give up. They're always the underdog but somehow, through sheer determination and grit, they come out on top.

I mean, time and time again Rocky Balboa came into the fight expected to be OBLITERATED. I mean, that was the plot of Rocky's I, II, and IV. The only one that broke the trend was Rocky which Rocky made the cardinal sin of forgetting his roots, and therefore got clobbered by Clubber Lang. He only succeeded by getting gritty again; by adopting a more rustic training regime than Creed's and re-gaining the "Eye of the Tiger."

So, it's obvious I know a lot more about Rocky movies than basketball. But what I know from my two seasons of (somewhat interested) Butler fandom is can NEVER count them out.

That said, I really hope we have to play Virginia Commonwealth University (who?) next week instead of the Kansas Jayhawks.


Popular posts from this blog

New Yorker Fiction Review #146: "Three Short Moments in a Long Life" by John L'Heureux

Issue: May 9, 2016

Story: "Three Short Moments in a Long Life" by John L'Heureux

Rating: $

Review: I feel like this is a somewhat tired technique, straight out of Creative Writing 101: write a story consisting of three or four different snapshots or snippets out of a character's life at different ages, sort of like a series of written photographs. Fun perhaps, but strikes me as a bit amateurish. However, I also think L'Heureux succeeds here by pushing it a bit further, playing with the character's tentative attempts at something close to faith -- in childish, adult, and mature adult ways -- and tying all three "Short Moments" together in a subtle and readily decipherable way.

L'Heureux's prose and his frank humor and his ability to glorify and find the meaning in the mundane events and thoughts of every day life, and thereby turn the life of an ordinary person into a drama with meaning and significance puts me in mind of John Irving. As well a…

New Yorker Fiction Review #151: "The Bog Girl" by Karen Russell

From the June 20 issue...

My loyal readers (if there are still any, which I doubt) will know I'm usually not a fan of Magical Realism, which, as you may also know, is Karen Russell's stock in trade. That said, there's nothing I love more than having my antipathy for magical realism shattered by an awesome story like "The Bog Girl."

Briefly, an Irish teenager discovers the body of a young woman who as been buried in a bog for over 2,000 years and begins to date her. What more do you need, right? If I'd read that one-line description somewhere else, and wasn't on a mission to review every New Yorker short story, I doubt I'd have read "The Bog Girl." But maybe I should start doing a George Costanza and do the opposite of everything I think I should do.

Where Russell succeeds here is in two main areas: 1.) Making us really love Cillian, the teenager who falls in love with the bog girl, and 2.) pulling the unbelievable trick making the characters…

Water Review: San Pellegrino 250ml Bottle

Damn you, tiny little bottle of San Pellegrino. So little. So cute. But what are you really good for other than to make me wish I had a full bottle of Pellegrino? 
Good as a palate cleanser after a nice double espresso, I will give it that. But little else. The suave yet chaotic burst of Pellegrino bubbliness is still there, but with each sip you feel the tragedy of being that much closer to the end of the bottle, that much faster.

This is a bottle of water made specifically for the frustrated, for the meticulous, for the measurers among us with a penchant for the dainty. This water does not love you in the wild, on a sunny porch or with the raucous laughter of friends. No...much the opposite. Whatever that may be.

Best drunk in tiny, tiny sips, while forcing oneself through an unreadable and depressing Russian novel one does not want to read but feels one should, on a cold, wet day in December that promises four months of gloom and depression...or in pairs or threes and poured over …