The College Football NBA Cup 12 Team Playoff Presented by Dr. Emirates Pepper
A Pioneer Afternoon Delight
But first…
Introduction Paragraph
There’s an episode of How I Met Your Mother called “Mystery vs History”. I admittedly haven’t seen it in a while. But such as any episode of How I Met Your Mother, it is burned in my brain like a Billy Mays Oxyclean commercial. It’s probably the best episode from the show’s far more serious and inferior later seasons. I remember it being funny - which I cannot confirm due to the fact that I have not seen it in years. I remember it being smart - which I also cannot confirm due to what I just said. But most importantly - its central conflict sticks with me. The show has a tendency to do this. Such as season one’s “Nothing Ever Good Happens After 2 AM”, at first it feels quite trite and sitcommy, but soon it becomes far more existentially pressing than the CBS sitcom knows what to do with. As I recall, hopeless romantic Ted Mosby makes a date with a woman (I don’t remember their exact lay-cute) and tells the gang back at McClaren’s. Barney and Robin immediately jump into investigation mode on their nondescript Android smartphones. But Ted tells them he’s not interested. He wants his date to be a mystery and not know her history. We then smash cut into a montage of Ted aborting previous dates after phone calls from Barney and Robin, wearing Harper Stern deal boss headsets, giving Ted the lowdown…or the history, if you will. So Ted goes on the date. I forgot to mention this but his date is played by Tiffany Something. You know who I’m talking about. The actress who played Ice Cube’s daughter in 22 Jump Street. Remember her? Remember when SCHMIDT [knocked boots with] THE CAPTAIN’S DAUGHTER?
So Ted’s on a date with Tiffany Something and it’s going real well. That is until he gets a buzz from Barney. And then a buzz from Robin. They don’t stop texting. They’ve put together a background check on Tiffany Something. They tell him he legitimately NEEDS to read it. He refuses. But the phone burns a hole in his pocket. What’s wrong with this seemingly perfect soul across the table? The date is going so well that he must find out. So he checks! Guess what? Absolutely nothing is wrong with her. She legitimately is the perfect human being - that is according to her online history. She’s a Rhodes Scholar. Doctor. Athlete. Local hero. The whole nine yards. Scratch that. She’s 10 yards and then some. And that freaks Ted out. He can’t be himself. He’s too nervous now. Eventually, he lets it slip that he knows she’s Hot Ghandi. He doesn't say Hot Ghandi. That’s something I just did. Anyway, the date ends abruptly. Turns out it's hard for Tiffany Something AKA Hot Ghandi to meet an honest man in this little ol’ town we call fake New York City on the Fox lot in Century City. She really liked Ted because to him, she was a mystery. Episode over. Seems like a run-of-the-mill sitcom episode. Right? Wrong. I think about this episode of How I Met Your Mother all the damn time. How can you not? In the 13 years since it aired, its debate only grows stronger as mystery slowly merges with history. We’re all now far more advanced documentarians, self-historians, and digital curators. Job titles, alma maters, and travel locations are just the soups and salads. The real meat of digital investigation comes in the form of camera angles, caption syntax, and overall trend choices. Are they one of us? Does any of it even matter? I’m not sure. I constantly feel betrayed by the encounter with a real person based on the intricacies of their history. Maybe betrayed is the wrong word. How about surprised. Either pleasantly or not. Back in 2011, when How I Met Your Mother stumbled backward into an existential question as it sometimes did, the debate was far more honest. Our digital history existed as black and white bullet points. Life milestones and accolades. Pieces of information far easier to latch onto and make decisions with. Our histories now tell a more complex story. One that’s curated and self-mythologized, leaving little room for interpreted truth. The debate is no longer mystery vs. history. History is mystery. Mystery is history. The double edged sword of research has been dulled by the plethora of details. Warped by the constant posting of whereabouts. So how does one’s true history become less of a mystery?
Talking to them, you idiot.
The College Football NBA Cup 12 Team Playoff Presented by Dr. Emirates Pepper
Not really sure where I’m going with this one. Such as John Woo’s Face/Off, I thought up that title before putting pen to paper. It began last night on the Bleacher Report Live hub within the Max app. I was watching the Knicks/Magic game. A Group A matchup for the Emirates NBA Cup. A matchup that also counts as a regular season game to qualify for the NBA Playoff, which then will be played for the NBA Championship presented by YouTube TV. It was the third quarter. TNT was cutting to their contractually obligated courtside shot of David Zazlav. The game was a blowout by that point. Karl Anthony Towns had just thrown a kinda dope but absolutely aura-less no look pass to Mikal Bridges for a spot up three. It didn’t go in. I went on my phone. Not for any specific task, of course, but I ended up looking through the College Football Playoff Rankings. Now a 12 team playoff for the national championship. Up from the four team playoff that existed for years prior. Up from the no team playoff that existed before that. And far from the no National Championship that existed for a 100 years before that. Back when a few fellas with notepads decided which school best grounded and pounded their fullback up the middle. Pause. Back to this year’s 12 team playoff. The 9-3 Alabama squad jumped Miami for the 11 spot. Controversial, I’m told. Is Miami still in the ACC? It’s hard to say but I think so. And Bama played an entire SEC schedule this year? With #2 Texas and Oklahoma now in the conference? Sure, let’s call that controversial. I think I realize just what the hell this is all about. It’s been a strange sports year for yours truly. I spent half my time re-signing into dormant apps with dormant cable subscriptions, hoping to avoid screen mirroring a computer stream off streameast.io. I spent the other half consuming just about everything but the games themselves. Collectively, I spent all of this time just trying to wrap my head around the near constant upheaval that seems to surround all of it. It’s becoming more complicated. The corporate re-labeling. The tournaments within tournaments. The regional conferences spanning two coasts. The transfer portal movement. The opt outs. All of it at a dizzying rate. I’m sure we’re in an American sports identity crisis. Unsure if the product is the personalities or the game itself. Or have the personalities always been the story? The romance of it all? (looks off into the distance taking a Swayze-level cig drag) I’m unsure. But I do know I have to keep re-explaining, to myself, the rules of games I was so sure I knew. I break them down like a grandson explaining the cable remote to his grandmother. Like a son explaining Youtube TV to his mother (something I did just this past weekend). Evolution is natural and healthy for sports. The forward pass and the three point line were amendments to their respective leagues. The Sean Avery rule used to just be a funny thing that happened. Pitchers used to hit (still wish that happened). But who knew so much would keep changing so quickly? It feels far #biggerthansports. It feels like #morethanagame. It reminds me of that time I was watching Drunk History and learned about Teddy Roosevelt saving college football from full scale violence (all of his work undone in one pepper spray-filled, flag planting weekend). Because these dizzying changes feel like a reflection of…AMERICA. A country never satisfied with the status quo. Fueled by the financial decisions of the few and powerful. Constantly redistricting, realigning, and amending common practice. Is this an original take? Definitely not. Just a reminder to stay informed and prepared for whatever may lie ahead. Bob Dylan once wrote these times are a-changin’. Ron Burgundy never heard that song. So while a Group A matchup of the NBA Cup Presented by Emirates available on the Bleacher Report Live hub of the Max app might sound like the most confusing sentence ever spoken, maybe one day it’ll make sense…
Actually, I take all of this back. It’s a mess.
Recs
Hall Pass (VIRAL SHORT FILM) - Big shoutout to friend of the newsletter, Marc Brockwell, on his new short film which I hope all of y’all click on right about now. I creatively consulted on it cause that’s a service I provide. Zoe Brown produced it cause that’s an actual job she does. Oh, and it has an absolutely loaded cast that might rival 2010s Valentine's Day. Will Peters, Eilise Patton, Brandon Crockett, Will Donnellon, and Jade Kaiser.
Landman/Lioness (TV DOUBLE FEATURE) - Taylor Sheridan is our modern day Shakespeare. That is if Shakespeare wasn’t such a damn snowflake. But in all seriousness, there’s no better one two punch on television. Far more thoughtful than you expect. Far more Michelob Ultras consumed by Billy Bob Thorton than you think possible.
Conclusion Paragraph
Schooner Scorer. Who are you? Where did you come from? Where do you source your fits? I ask, as you are one of the rarest of brainrot-fluencers. You elevate the genre all together. Your e-bike burnouts, your catchy EDM trumpet lick, and the schooners you score do not draw me further into the couch and distance me from what’s out there in the material world. Your scoring instead inspires me, Schooner. It influences me to put on slacks, a dope-ass knit cardigan, and quaff my hair. Your scoring invigorates me to charter an uber and set forth to a pub never ventured to before. Is it the music? The threads? The models and professional tennis players you surround yourself with? Or is it the locations? The pubs in London. The tapas spots in Barcelona. The luxury glamping tents in Botswana. I shall never know, dear Schooner. That is until you come west. To the rivers of Los Angeles. To the Hi Dives of Tiny. To the bungalows of Santa Monica. Only then shall I learn if you are truly who you appear to be. Not merely a creator of content nor a scorer of schooners in the digital world you conquer. But instead a promoter of good tidings and true banter in the material world within it.
Dang! Massive content this week. Lovin' the ramblin' Chevy Chase-esque feel to it!
Mom