20 year crush

Is it possible to have a retroactive crush on someone? The crush that could have happened, would have happened if the timing/circumstances/access to a cassette player had been right?

It all started innocently enough. I was rereading No News at Throat Lake, journalist Lawrence Donegan’s hilarious memoir of a year spent working at a newspaper in a tiny Irish village after fleeing the empty gentrification – and toasted pine nut salads – of London. I was deeply sympathetic, having reached a similar ebb in my feelings regarding DC.

Bonus attraction was that, before his career as a reporter, Lawrence had also played bass with Lloyd Cole and the Commotions. Contemplating a career change myself, I decided to investigate the author’s previous life even further. A quick search on Google and YouTube yielded pictures, lyrics, even music videos of the band. I watched and listened. The earnest words, turtleneck sweaters, and melodies that seemed to slide so easily into my head got me hooked. I was smiling before I knew it.

Fast forward 20-some years and Lloyd Cole, now a solo artist, sounds cantankerous and on occassion like a friggin’ stick in the mud in the “Ask Lloyd” section of his website, although I commend the willingness to interact with fans. Lawrence is once again writing articles, and not on the fringes of civilization in County Donegal. The guys aged decades within minutes. It was a shock to the system, seeing a career arc not in natural time, but in virtual time. One minute they were cute, soulful musicians of exactly the kind I would have crushed on if they were still making music.  Or if I’d been old enough to listen when they were – I wasn’t even in kindergarten when their first record was released. And then, I saw their real selves in the current year, far, far away from the “glum rock” and guitars of the 1980s.

Hanging pictures of the middle-aged Commotions on the walls of my apartment would be downright creepy (sorry, lads), but you can bet that I’ll be buying Rattlesnakes, if only for old times’ sake.

football for girls

“Graceful.” “Agile.” “Beautiful.” These are probably not words that most people would use when describing professional football players, but it is why I watch the game. The nuances of defensive strategy, the timing of plays, and whether or not its worth going for the two-point conversion are beyond me. I watch it because I like to watch grown men run, and run well.

Sunday’s Super Bowl was a gorgeous illustration of this. Simply put, it was a game well played. James Harrison’s stunning 100-yard run had me on the edge of my seat. I might have been screaming. I might have been out of my seat.  But there was only one thing on my mind, and that was watching the game. I hadn’t seen anything like it since Super Bowl XL, when Willie Parker sprinted up the field to set a then-record run.

Athletics aside, there’s something about seeing 250 pounds worth of happy that is irresistible. Hines Ward’s face lights up with a smile that is infectious. I have to smile back, whether I’m in the stands at Heinz Field, or watching on my pathetic television from my couch at home, or surrounded by screaming spectators around the bigscreen. He’s happy, I see he’s happy, and it makes me happy.

I played a game of touch football over the weekend (my first since college, when I had a short-lived career on a coed intramural team) and I slid into nostalgia along with the thick mud that covered the National Mall. The weather was warm enough to feel like spring, so just being outside sent a jolt of endorphins through my system. But it was being back at the game that provided the real high. I ran, I caught a few short passes, I talked smack to the opposing team. I was so out of my usual realm, and it was awesome. I wanted to hit the ground, I wanted to tackle, I wanted to play beyond the dainty rules of two-hand touch and get deep into this visceral sport that was about as far removed from my day-to-day existence as brain surgery.

I wasn’t anywhere close to being a hero that afternoon. But it made me wish that I was a heck of a lot better player than I was. And I really hope I don’t have to wait until next year to try.