I rarely watch sporting events- they make me crazy. Whenever I switch through the channels and stumble upon a football or basketball game on TV, my first impulse is to watch it. I check out the score, examine defensive and offensive setups... but the second I start to care about the outcome of the game, I have to leave. I have my favorite teams in the pros. I have my undergrad and grad school conferences that I could root for but really... it doesn't matter. Within minutes, I will find myself obsessing over strategy. If I am anywhere near an Internet connection, I'll start looking up teams on the Internet and examining their statistics and win/loss records.
I can't help it.
I don't know how people can bet on sporting events. I bet on my favorite team once when I was in Las Vegas and spent most of the day weaving from one casino to another, trying to get an update on the score. If I tried to regularly bet on sports, I'd die of an aneurysm on the first weekend. Though I love Bill Simmons as a writer, but I have absolutely no ability to connect with analysis of the over/under on sporting events. Maybe it's because he writes about sports all the time and it's a part of the culture. For me, sporting events are like high school. Rarely does any event affect my life in any way whatsoever, it always FEELS like the most Important thing in the World while it's happening.
My favorite sport is basketball. I had my favorites (Magic's Lakers, Clyde's Blazers) and my Mortal Enemies (Isiah's Pistons, Malone's Jazz). In 1998, however, I discovered that my mental investment was wildly out of proportion from my enjoyment of the spectating. I missed Michael Jordan's game-winning/series winning/dynasty-ending push-off and shot against the Utah Jazz in the final game of the NBA Finals. Two television timeouts earlier, I was so freaked out that Malone might win an NBA championship, I thought I was going to stroke... so I left the room. I sat down in front of a computer, opened three browsers, and looked up anything other than Sports. Fifteen minutes later, my girlfriend had to come tell me that the game was over and Jordan had won. I missed it.
Afterwards, I realized my inherent problem with being a spectator- it's passive. In the few, real crisis situations of my life, I have been focused and calm. It is because I knew that a decision had to be made- an action had to be taken- so I took it. With sporting events, I am stuck in a (self-perceived) crisis situation and can do nothing about it.
That is where sports games come into my life. The tension and enthusiasm is still there from the spectator sport. I still pitch fits and yell at my television, but now I can do something about it.
For Christmas, I obtained my first Playstation 2. In the video gaming world, sports games that cost $50 on their initial release can be purchased for $5 used after a couple of years because hardcore sports fans insist on playing with the most up-to-date rosters. Since I rarely follow sports on a daily basis, I don't care. So, a couple days after Christmas, I cruised into a Gamespot store and, for $20, I snagged copies of Tiger Woods Golf PGA Tour 2005, NCAA March Madness 06, College Hoops 2K6 and NCAA Football 06 and those will be my discussion topics over the next few weeks. I will be devoting articles on my experience with these games in future posts when I can sit down and get enough face-time with them.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Sunday, January 13, 2008
The Great Gaming Rationale
I'm 36 years old. Some might say that I'm too old for this.
To them, I say 'Fuck off'. It's an instinctual answer- I've done it all my life.
Still, as I sit in front of my television set and agonize over the drubbing my Ohio football team is taking at the hands of Buffalo, I have to wonder... why do I do it? It's not like this is a new experience for me. I've played MANY computer football games over the years.
It began before the heady days of console systems. I once commanded a little red dash down the football field with my ancient Mattel Football game. Later, Intellivision captured my imagination with it's numeric control pad and one of the earliest attempts at emulating a football field.
In college, I discovered the magic of Madden '93 football on the Sega Genesis and the satisfaction of crushing fellow dorm-mates (many college football players themselves) with Cincinnati's unstoppable, HB Option pass play. Madden was the first console game to really give a gamer a sense of playing real football.
Still, I'd be remiss to ignore the most popular game in my Senior-year dorm- Super Tecmo Football. Although Tecmo offered little in the way of naturalism, the over-the-top graphics and up-temp play made it perfect for tournament play and trash-talking amongst friends. It was also a good way to learn that playing computer games against track-and-field sprinters was a terrible idea (they REALLY don't like to lose).
Fifteen years have passed since those all-nighters with no girlfriends in sight. Now, I am married. I have a job. I have cleared the age of 35. Growing older has made me acutely-aware of time... particularly the wasting of it. Days and months rush beneath me and here I sit, in front of a television with a game controller in my hand. The controller has 6 times the number of buttons and two extra joysticks, yet the goal is the same- winning football games. What's more, I can see that I am amassing the sort of skills that shall serve me nowhere else in my life.
Yet, I play on. I growl and bark at the screen. I slam controllers into the carpeted floor in front of me. My audience has no idea what I'm doing or why I would willingly subject myself to such trauma.
Maybe it's because it's a puzzle I can solve. Unlike my life, I can tell when I'm winning or losing from one instant to the next. I know what success and failure mean. I can rant and rave in one instant, but the problems on this virtual football field are solvable. I can figure it out. My life, on the other hand, is not so cut-and-dry. My wins and losses are primarily attained through hindsight. I can't pitch a fit when the moment of failure happens. Such revelations are made hours, days or even months after they occur.
The second Bowling Green unleashes a 50 yard bomb against my weak-ass cornerback, I know that I made a bad decision to blitz the front line and call a 5-2 defense against superior wide receivers. I secretly long for a moment in my life when I know exactly the moment I fucked up a major decision in my life or can revel in a pivotal upturn in fortunes. These triumphant wins or grinding losses anchor me against the uncertainties that plagues life.
At least, this is what I tell myself as I exhaustively weigh the statistical abilities of my running backs and tweak my offensive audibles for the umpteenth time.
Fortunately, the loved ones around me have been patient.
**Many thanks to Moby Games and Wikipedia for their links and pics
To them, I say 'Fuck off'. It's an instinctual answer- I've done it all my life.
Still, as I sit in front of my television set and agonize over the drubbing my Ohio football team is taking at the hands of Buffalo, I have to wonder... why do I do it? It's not like this is a new experience for me. I've played MANY computer football games over the years.
It began before the heady days of console systems. I once commanded a little red dash down the football field with my ancient Mattel Football game. Later, Intellivision captured my imagination with it's numeric control pad and one of the earliest attempts at emulating a football field.
In college, I discovered the magic of Madden '93 football on the Sega Genesis and the satisfaction of crushing fellow dorm-mates (many college football players themselves) with Cincinnati's unstoppable, HB Option pass play. Madden was the first console game to really give a gamer a sense of playing real football.
Still, I'd be remiss to ignore the most popular game in my Senior-year dorm- Super Tecmo Football. Although Tecmo offered little in the way of naturalism, the over-the-top graphics and up-temp play made it perfect for tournament play and trash-talking amongst friends. It was also a good way to learn that playing computer games against track-and-field sprinters was a terrible idea (they REALLY don't like to lose).Fifteen years have passed since those all-nighters with no girlfriends in sight. Now, I am married. I have a job. I have cleared the age of 35. Growing older has made me acutely-aware of time... particularly the wasting of it. Days and months rush beneath me and here I sit, in front of a television with a game controller in my hand. The controller has 6 times the number of buttons and two extra joysticks, yet the goal is the same- winning football games. What's more, I can see that I am amassing the sort of skills that shall serve me nowhere else in my life.
Yet, I play on. I growl and bark at the screen. I slam controllers into the carpeted floor in front of me. My audience has no idea what I'm doing or why I would willingly subject myself to such trauma.
Maybe it's because it's a puzzle I can solve. Unlike my life, I can tell when I'm winning or losing from one instant to the next. I know what success and failure mean. I can rant and rave in one instant, but the problems on this virtual football field are solvable. I can figure it out. My life, on the other hand, is not so cut-and-dry. My wins and losses are primarily attained through hindsight. I can't pitch a fit when the moment of failure happens. Such revelations are made hours, days or even months after they occur.
The second Bowling Green unleashes a 50 yard bomb against my weak-ass cornerback, I know that I made a bad decision to blitz the front line and call a 5-2 defense against superior wide receivers. I secretly long for a moment in my life when I know exactly the moment I fucked up a major decision in my life or can revel in a pivotal upturn in fortunes. These triumphant wins or grinding losses anchor me against the uncertainties that plagues life.
At least, this is what I tell myself as I exhaustively weigh the statistical abilities of my running backs and tweak my offensive audibles for the umpteenth time.
Fortunately, the loved ones around me have been patient.
**Many thanks to Moby Games and Wikipedia for their links and pics
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