Men and Grids of Iron (Keep Reading; You'll Get It)

Ghostface Killah: You chose wisely.

Iron Man not only lived up to the hype, it went beyond the hype. It took the hype, exposed it for the bastard-child it was, and replaced it with the legitimate prince of an opinion.

I kind of liked the movie.

Consider it this way: Was there ever a more perfect casting job than Robert Downey, Jr. as Tony Stark? Hmm, who should we get to play a womanizing, jet-setting playboy who eventually redeems himself to make good on the promise he had exhibited so long ago?

Right, other than John Travolta.

He’s at his funny and charmingest (it’s a word!) best, and for a movie that doesn’t actually have a lot of characters, he more than makes up for that. He’s slightly over-the-top portrayal is to the movie’s benefit, and combines well with a rather subdued Jeff Bridges, a pretty but rather replaceable Gwyneth Paltrow, and a take-it or leave-it Terrence Howard.

Too, for a comic book movie, there’s not a great deal of “action.” There’s a lot, but the actual scenes with Iron Man is pretty much limited to three. Everything else is Downey, and as cool as the effects for Iron Man are, I had no problem with this fact.

Okay, I’ll admit: I have a little man-crush on Robert Downey, Jr.

Clearly, by now, you probably don’t need me to tell you to go see this movie. You either already have, and loved it, or never had any desire to see it (to which I say: Pardon my French, but you’re an asshole).

But one thing that needs to get mentioned is the feel-good moment of the movie. No, it’s not when Iron Man saves the village in Afghanistan. Instead, it’s the moment when the oft-maligned robot helper finally redeems himself. Seriously. People clapped when this thing finally helps Tony instead of hindering him.

The best thing about this movie is that it’s not only one of the best comic book movies ever (up there with Batman, Batman Begins, X-Men, Sin City, and Howard the Duck), it’s honestly a very good movie. It holds a wide deal of appeal, is topical(!), and is well-written. Jon Favreau does a very good job directing it, and has a decent cameo role to boot.

Next up: The Dark Knight.

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I wrote a while ago about Michael Lewis’ rather seminal baseball book, Moneyball. Well, I just finished his most recent book, The Blind Side, where he tackles (oh, that’s awful) the evolution of the game of football (that’s not soccer, for all my European readers).

While perhaps not as important as Moneyball, it’s probably the more personal story, paralleling the burgeoning career of Michael Oher and how the game of football got to the point where the left tackle position became a skilled position on par with quarterback and running back.

The reason I say it’s not as important is because Moneyball described the revolution before it started (heck, people are still fighting the revolution), whereas The Blind Side is looking at the results of its sport’s revolution.

In this case, the revolution begins with Bill Walsh, the famous coach of the San Francisco 49ers. Like Billy Beane in Moneyball, the cause for the revolution was essentially trying to figure out how to win without being able to simply buy the best talent available. What Walsh discovered was that by utilizing the short pass and eliminating much of the decision making process of the quarterback, he was able to maximize his returns, no matter who was taking the snaps. So, although most people would consider Joe Montana one of, if not the, greatest QB of all time, when you look at the players before and after him, they were all able to perform at pretty much equally high levels. Now I’m not willing to say that Montana really isn’t as good as people say, but it is interesting how successful some of his no-name replacements were, when he got hurt.

This was what we know of as the West Coast Offense (or, rather, it’s how I’m very simplistically describing the West Coast Offense for the time being), and although it wasn’t necessarily exciting (oooh, another seven-yard pass!), it was fairly effective. What it meant, though, was that the offensive line was suddenly even more important than before, as pass protection was necessary to provide enough time for the QB to make his passes.

This, in turn led defenses to look for ways to get to these now pass-happy offenses, and the most dangerous weapon turned out to be the blind-side rusher, as exemplified by Lawrence Taylor (hence the title of the book).

Which brings us back to Michael Oher. Oher was a monosyllabic mountain of a mystery, who somehow found himself from being virtually homeless in poor, black Memphis to attending one of the wealthiest Christian schools and, ultimately, being adopted by an incredibly rich, white family. The reason he’s so fascinating to Lewis is the fact that he’s not only incredibly big and strong, but he’s also extremely fast and agile. He is, in other words, the perfect combination necessary to play the, now, super-important left tackle position – the man who protects the quarterback from being taken out from behind. As we follow Oher’s journey from the streets of Memphis to being wooed by every major college football coach in the nation, it’s a rather remarkable story.

What makes it really good, though, is Lewis’ access. He is somehow able to go deep into the minds of pretty much every person (and at every level), and yet stays remarkably objective in his viewpoint. For example, although he is sympathetic of Oher’s plight, he doesn’t hesitate to kind of paint Michael, as his fame grows, as a bit of jerk. Same thing with the family that adopted and accepted him, the Tuohys. None of that overshadows what is amazing about these stories – the sacrifice, the hard work, and personal growth – but it definitely grounds them.

I’m just surprised, after the way Billy Beane gets portrayed in Moneyball that people still agree to cooperate with this guy!

If you like football, or just sports in general, you’ll probably like this book. If, like me, you also really like the strategy of a sport, then you’ll like this book, too. But, just as important, if you want a pretty feel-good story, or an insight into race, class, and religion in Memphis, this might be the book for you, too. Lewis is a good writer, a “popular” historian who understands how to weave his narrative into the facts to make us enjoy the story. It helps that he writes about sports, which is one of the more universal languages, but I also happen to think he picks fascinating topics – and fascinating characters.

It is…ahem…a touchdown.

Commence hating of me now.