Sports Commentary

The Super Bowl this year consists of two teams headed by brothers competing against each other. Although Jane Austen doesn’t discuss or mention sports in her novels (most didn't exist as a popular organized sport while she was alive), I decided, just in time for the Super Bowl, to offer some sports commentary of my own. Those of you who know me personally and are currently scratching your heads in puzzlement, hang in there. This should be fun.

American football:

Though its precursor, rugby, may have been around during Ms. Austen’s time, American football was developed after her death (Wikipedia). This sport involves a complicated equation of yards, downs, tackles, defense, offense, passing, running, kicking, grabbing each other, and non-existent girlfriends. It is played by overpaid athletes who wear tight pants and so much padding it is difficult to see if they qualify as a “hot guy”, using an oblong shaped ball made of skin from dead pigs, presumably, since it is called a “pigskin”. Scoring is accomplished by making a touchdown, after which the man who made the touchdown dances, and everyone hugs and pats each other on the butt. I think, anyway, since I don’t watch much football.

Basketball:

Modern basketball was invented in 1891 (Wikipedia), which is about 70 years after Ms. Austen’s death. This game is played with a big round ball also made from animal skin, which is banged against the floor repeatedly in an action called dribbling. The game involves dribbling the ball down the floor to your team’s end of the court, blocking, trying to avoid traveling, passing, fouling members of the opposite team and (if it’s men’s pro basketball) excessive timeouts or breaks in the game due to referee calls.  It is also played by overpaid athletes, unless of course you are a female professional basketball player. Scoring is accomplished by putting the big round ball through a funnel shaped net placed over most people’s heads (especially mine), whether during play or free throws, after which hugging and patting each other on the butt ensues. I think, anyway, since I don’t watch much basketball.

Baseball:

The origin of baseball seems a little murky, and it may actually have been in existence informally during Ms. Austen’s lifetime. However, I rather doubt whether she paid any attention to a neighborhood sport making an appearance in the United States. This game is played with a smallish round ball currently made with cowhide, though until 1974 baseballs were made with horsehide, and were only switched to cowhide because the growing shortage of dead horse skin made it prohibitively expensive (according to Wikipedia and other various internet sites). Players use a thick stick tapered at one end to hit the ball as far as possible so that they will have time to run in a circle without a player from the other team touching them or the next base with the ball. Other equipment includes a cupped glove in which the ball is caught, if the player gets lucky. Scoring occurs when a player makes it all the way around the circle. Other action includes standing around the field or in the dugout waiting for the next time, if ever, a player hits the ball and runs around the circle. I think, anyway, since I don’t watch much baseball.

Hockey:

This last week John Cusack tweeted about how happy he was that hockey was back. Well, at least he isn’t reading this. This game is played on ice, though there is a version on grass called field hockey evidently. It involves a long thin, oddly curved at the end stick, which is used to slide a puck, a round flat hard object, around the ice. Scoring is accomplished by flinging said puck into a net, after which hugging, hitting each other on the shoulder, and patting each other on the butt ensues. Fighting during the game is also a possibility, which is the interesting part. I think, anyway, since I don’t watch much hockey.

Golf:

Golf evidently began in Scotland in the Middle Ages but didn’t spread beyond to the U.K. and outward until the end of the 19^th century (Wikipedia again), so even golf as a popular sport was after Jane Austen’s time. This game is played with a thin stick with a small growth at the end, which is used to hit a little hard round ball (which, according to the only trivia fact my mother seemed to know when I was a child, has exactly 365 dimples) across grass and other types of terrain to reach a small hole in the ground.  This is done solo, in front of a crowd and a bunch of cameras, so there is not usually anyone else around for hugging or butt patting. At least as far as I can tell, in the brief moments I catch a glimpse of golf while channel surfing. I don’t watch any golf.

Nascar (or auto racing in general):

Can’t they make these cars hybrid or something?

Anyway, Nascar/auto racing involves a bunch of men and a tot-sized small handful of females driving cars in endless circles around a track, or in short sprints, etc., depending on the type of car. This sport also involves frequent pit stops whose timing seems haphazard, where a highly skilled and trained set of techs perform car health care at lightening speeds.  As far as that handful of females goes, most people are aware of Danica Patrick, who is the most successful woman in the history of “American open-wheel racing” according to Wikipedia, and the first woman to lead the Indy 500 (Wikipedia.com, biography.com). Ms. Patrick is by no means the first female auto racer, however. She is the fourth woman to race in the Indy 500 (biography.com).  Plus there’s Shirley Muldowney, the "First Lady of Drag Racing", who was racing before Ms. Patrick was born, and who is memorialized in this complex little song by L7, included on their album Hungry for Stink and in the early Angelina Jolie and Hedy Burress girl power movie Foxfire, based on a Joyce Carol Oates book.

Here is Ms. Muldowney in action, accompanied by the song:

Beyond my knowledge of Ms. Muldowney through my favorite band, my only other exposure to Nascar/auto racing activities was when I was about 12 or 13, and my best friend’s father bought a monster truck. I traveled with them to some truck pulling events, at which there were also auto racing. At one of these events my best friend and I spent some time at an auto repair place with a young man of our age for some reason (I think the monster truck broke down or needed some tlc or something). Afterward, she told me he was interested in me. This was only the first incidence in my lifelong inability to read the confusing signals of whether a guy “likes me”.  But after the age of 13 or so, I really couldn’t say much about auto racing/Nascar. I don’t really watch it much.

Next time, I will be discussing soccer (football to the rest of the world), and the only sport for which I have watched an entire professional game in person: Australian rules football.

As for Super Bowl day, I'm sure there will be some sort of crime drama reruns like NCIS, Criminal Minds, or CSI on, or someone will be having an alternative Super Bowl event. If all else fails, I can go outside and watch the grass grow.

Prince Charming

We love the men in Jane Austen's books. That moment when Colin Firth looks at Elizabeth Bennet and says, "my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth"? Sigh. We have our favorite versions of them, also: though I still prefer Jeremy Northam's version of Mr. Knightley by a smidgen, Johnny Lee Miller's version has grown on me over the many, many times I have watched it. Evidently he was also Edmund in that horrible version of Mansfield Park which I watched once and then shoved to the very back of my DVDs. I prefer not to think about that.

And while it may have been a liberating concept back in Ms. Austen's day for women to marry who they wanted, for love instead of practical, financial, and familial reasons, it is also a concept that has spawned an entire industry of chick flicks, chick lit, and Disney films with rewritten, happy fairytale endings. We want that perfect Prince Charming.

But that isn't a Jane Austen man. The men in Jane Austen's novel are not Prince Charmings.

Take Mr. Darcy, for instance. He mellows a bit by the end of the novel, and Elizabeth also understands him a little better. But in the beginning of the book he truly is arrogant. Mr. Bennet, Elizabeth's father, makes fun of his wife. Mr. Collins... well, he is what he is. Mr. Bingley is the persuadable type, who listens to Mr. Darcy and Caroline Bingley about appropriate behavior and stays in London instead of pursuing Jane.

Mr. Knightley, while being one of my personal favorites, still sees fit to lecture Emma at times as if she is a child (though, to be honest, she is pretty clueless at times). Even Edmund Bertram falls for someone other than our female hero at first (charmed by a pretty face), before it is brought to his attention that the objection of his affections is not as worthy of them as he thought.

Edward Ferrars hides his engagement to Lucy Steele (in a time when hidden engagements was definitely not an upstanding action), forcing Elinor to learn about it in a most painful way, and thereby also forcing her to have to keep that secret herself. Captain Wentworth (this one pains me to admit), lets his hurt and pride get in the way of approaching Anne earlier, when if he had then they would not have had to wait so long to get back together.

The men in Ms. Austen's books who do come across as smooth, charming, and perfect are the worst: Wickham, who runs off with young unmarried Lydia and most likely would never have married her by his own volition; Willoughby, who is found out to have impregnated a young woman and then abandoned her, after which he leaves for London to find a heiress without informing Marianne of his intent; Frank Churchill, who hides his engagement to Jane Fairfax by flirting with Emma, and who is also shown to be pretty frivolous in Ms. Austen's eyes due to his going clear to London simply for a haircut; and Henry Crawford, he of the "lively and pleasant" manners, who flirts with both Bertram sisters and who, after being rejected by Fanny (the only one to see through him), runs off with married Maria for a short time, after which she is relegated to spending the rest of her days exiled with the horrible Aunt Norris.

I'm not saying we have to settle for any Mr. Collins who arrives in our lives. We don't all have to be as practical as Charlotte Lucas. However, we should think about being a bit more realistic in our expectations. We want that Prince Charming so much that we become like that woman in a current toothpaste ad: she sees a strange man across a cafe, and starts thinking that he could be her soulmate while pics of him, her, and their children float through her imagination. All she has to do is get him to talk to her, and to do that all she needs are that particular brand of whitening strips. No matter how much we love that man in our life, and no matter how many times we watch The Beauty and the Beast, our love will not change a beast into a prince. We need to accept him as he is, much like a used car, and if his ways are just not for us, then we may need to alter our expectations or move on.

Jane Austen's men did not wave glass slippers around. I'm not even sure I want one. A glass slipper, that is.

My recent hitRECords

So I have been messing around on the site hitRECord.org as part of trying to be a little more creative this year (mentioned in my letter to Jane Austen post). Here are some of my recent hitRECords.

These are on hitRECord.org, so they are up for REMix or whatever on that site.

1. Dream keepsake box

"She stored her collection of dreams under the bed, in her grandmother's old keepsake box."

Based on a pic by hitRECord.org user Belcath1981, here. : http://www.hitrecord.org/records/1036850

2. Coffee Part 1

The day before the world was predicted to end, Celia and I met at a bookstore cafe for coffee.

"What's up with that?" I asked. "Who actually decided that tomorrow is the day the Mayans said the world will end, considering the different calendars?"

She laughed. "Not only that, but the Mayan calendar is circular: it just keeps cycling back around."

We simultaneously rolled our eyes, threw away the topic, and focused on our coffee and stacks of books.

If I had known what was going to happen the next day, I would have made sure to tell her, "I'm glad we could just sit together and have a good cup of coffee before the end."

(I haven't figured out what is actually going to happen on the next day, that's for Part 2).

Based on a pic by hitRECord.org user Christopher Harn, here. :

http://www.hitrecord.org/records/767003

 

 

3. Robbed

 

My apartment was completely empty when I arrived home, except for one thing: my MP3 player, playing disco music.

 

I knew immediately that the Boogie Monster had done it.

 

 

The Beginning (a very rough draft)

At one point Anne Elliot and Rick Wentworth were young, happy, and in love. Their connection was severed shortly thereafter, and some of those who actually knew about that connection, Rick especially, blamed that ending on Anne's Uncle Russell. Whether either could be considered happy or young any longer is questionable, but the bigger question is whether or not they could still be in love.


Of course, back in the time when the male main character could be sent off to sea and the female main character was restrained in the actions she could take to rectify the situation, it was easier to explain time spent apart and and the feelings that might still linger. Nowadays, males and females have more choice in the activities they pursue. It is perhaps best to not look too closely at the years between that separation and the current day. For our purposes, it will be sufficient to mention the activism of Rick Wentworth, the once struggling waiter/actor and current movie star, and the moments of quiet reflection when Anne Elliot wonders if, contrary to her family's oblivion and her Uncle Russell's opinion, continuing their relationship might have been more damaging to his career than to her happiness.


We are going to draw down the curtain, call "cut" on these scenes, and focus instead on the present day, when Anne Elliot and Rick Wentworth are due to meet again. The reader is invited to watch the show.

Jane Automatically the 2nd

A revision of the post from 11/13/2012, since I needed to add a number 4:



Having visited many more rooms than could be supposed to be of any other use than to contribute to the window tax and find employment for housemaids, "Now," said Mrs. Rushworth, "we are coming to the part of this blog where a list of things that are considered automatically to have something to do with Jane Austen is written."


1. John Cusack. My favorite actor. My favorite movie has not yet been made: John Cusack starring in a movie based on a Jane Austen novel. Probably would be better if it was a modern remake. I have a couple of ideas for scripts myself, but I'm not talking.

2. Any book I decide to review or discuss. My love of reading is tied up with liking Jane Austen's books, and my liking Jane Austen's books is tied up with my love of reading. So any discussion of a book is fair game.

3. Wonder Woman. Because I say so. Also, any news-making woman or woman from history that I choose to write about.

4. Any fictional work I create and decide to post here. The reasons are pretty much the same as number 2. Also, the fiction I post here is mine, unless I specifically state that I have also posted it on hitRECord.org, in which case it is available to REmix on that site (adding video, etc.).


Fanny:
"I am disappointed," said she, in a low voice, to Edmund. "This is not my idea of a blog."



Quotes (sort of) from Mansfield Park by Jane Austen. Everyman's Library version.