January 25
January 25, 1998
I grew up a huge fan of American football in general and the Denver Broncos in particular. Outside of playing music, football was my passion and defined how I spent my time and used my brain for most of my first three decades on the planet.
Super Bowl XXXII was the pinnacle of what this sport could mean to me, and that game - 25 years ago today - stands as my favorite sports outcome of all time.
My favorite team had made it to their fifth Super Bowl. They lost the first four. Their Hall of Fame quarterback, John Elway, made it to his fourth Super Bowl. He lost the prior three by 19, 32, and 45 points. The AFC, the conference the Broncos represented as the remnants of the old American Football League, had lost the last thirteen Super Bowls in a row. Try flipping a coin and getting heads 13 times in a row.
Their opponent was the defending champion Green Bay Packers, who were undefeated in their prior three Super Bowls and were the most decorated team in NFL history. The quarterback on the other side, Brett Favre, had just won his third straight league MVP award.
So the Broncos came in as two-touchdown underdogs and I was dreading another blowout loss.
The Packers got the ball first and promptly drove down the field and scored a touchdown. 7-0 Green Bay. Game over.
Except it wasn’t. The Broncos punched back, scoring a touchdown on their first drive, forcing two turnovers, and taking a 17-7 lead on the strength of a running game and their superstar Terrell Davis.
Terrell Davis gets kneed in the head. A migraine kicks in. He comes out of the game. The Packers storm back and tie the game at 17.
Davis returns to the game, and the Broncos go on an epic drive in the 3rd quarter. John Elway sells out on a dive to pick up a crucial first down. A few plays later, touchdown! 24-17 Denver.
On the ensuing kickoff, the Packers fumble the ball and Denver recovers. The Broncos go for the kill. Interception, Green Bay. The Packers get off the ropes and quickly tie the game up again, 24-24.
Fourth quarter of the Super Bowl. The Broncos are tied, not down by 30. Maybe they’ll pull it off? No. They can’t. This team always finds a way to choke when it matters most.
Except they don’t. Denver takes the lead with another touchdown to go up 31-24. Terrell Davis has been utterly dominant. 157 rushing yards and 3 touchdowns. He’s the best player on the field.
The Packers take one last shot at it but they can’t score. The Broncos hold and … wait a second … they just won?
The Denver Broncos have won the Super Bowl! John Elway has won the Super Bowl! The AFC has won the Super Bowl!
The Broncos would defend their championship the following year, and that was fun in its own right. But there was no topping what I saw on January 25th, 1998. It was a formative, core memory, and one that will always live with me.
January 25, 2018
Five years ago today, Celeste, one of my all time favorite video games, was released. In a medium often defined by cinematic storytelling - just look at the success of The Last of Us in its TV adaptation - Celeste defined the pinnacle in my mind of storytelling through interactive gameplay, not passive cutscenes.
It’s a strikingly beautiful, emotionally resonant experience and I thought today was an appropriate day to re-surface my original review of this classic game.
Originally published at uselessanalysis.com on 5/5/2018, lightly revised
Celeste is a game about climbing a mountain that isn’t really about climbing a mountain. Rather, it’s a story about a girl named Madeline, her defiant choice to climb Mount Celeste to overcome a rough patch in her life, and her internal struggles along the way.
During her adventure, she repeatedly runs into a man named Theo who helps her with her panic attacks, talks to her about life, and snaps selfies with her. Scenes with Theo can serve as serene and contemplative moments where Madeline opens up about her struggles with insecurity and depression.
Serving as a counterpoint to Theo is a physical manifestation of all of Madeline’s bad thoughts, doubts, and insecurities. Madeline first encounters her in a chase sequence within a dream, and she runs away.
The further up the mountain Madeline makes it, the more her struggle with herself escalates. Madeline continues to run away from her insecurities and leave them behind, telling her other half that she doesn’t need her. Eventually, near the summit, this backfires spectacularly and leads to a final confrontation.
Falling all the way back to the base of the mountain, Madeline finally acknowledges and deals with her bad feelings. She comes to the realization that she should not have been running from her problems and insecurities, but instead accepting them and every aspect of herself. And there’s an adorable reconciliation that also serves as a “power-up”, giving Madeline a double-jump superpower as she reaches her true potential.
Madeline is whole, and the main story of the game is complete. Now, the player gets the reward - the chance for an incredible climb back to the summit as superpowered Madeline.
This final level is on par with the greatest gaming levels I’ve ever played. It’s a true “final exam”, taking you through familiar settings and mechanics with brand new challenges that test your gaming mettle. An energetic, encouraging music track pushes you to keep going, even when you have died hundreds of times, are feeling exhausted, and are considering giving up.
Finally, you reach the home stretch. The game starts counting down the checkpoints for you, your heart is pounding, and you make it. You reach the top and you feel the greatest gaming rush possible, the same rush that Madeline feels. And all you want to do is bask in the glory of your accomplishment forever.
January 25, 2014
It’s a Saturday nine years ago. Our son is due to be born in two days. It’s our last weekend of freedom. Time to make some fun plans!
Except … the little one had plans of his own. My wife’s water breaks at 3 in the morning. Party over?
Not quite. No contractions. We have a few hours. We decide to go back to bed. The baby can be the next day’s problem. Good night!
Now it’s a more reasonable hour and we’re ready to face our new life. At least that’s what we tell ourselves.
We drive to see my wife’s doctor. Yep, the baby is coming. We head over to the hospital. It’s around 10am. They ask us if we’ve eaten. We say, um, no, we came straight here, like we were supposed to? The hospital makes it clear that if we check in now, my wife can’t eat anything until the baby arrives.
We turn right around, leave the hospital, and go to a diner across the street. My wife has an epic burger and fries. It’s maybe the most I’ve ever seen her eat. I’m impressed.
Okay, enough stalling. We get back to the hospital. Time to have a baby.
It’s not going well, though. Every time my wife has a contraction, the baby’s heart rate drops. The doctors worry that the umbilical cord is wrapped around the baby’s neck. We’re going to need to pivot to an emergency C-section.
We are now in a surgery room. My wife gets “the good meds”. I of course do not.
There’s a curtain dividing the two halves of my wife. I’m talking to her on my side of the curtain. I’m hearing a lot of things coming from the other side.
It sounds like body parts are being pushed and pulled and rearranged. There’s more force in these movements than I expected to hear. It’s not violent, but it’s not gentle. I’m thankful for the curtain. Surely I’d have passed out if I could see what is happening back there.
It all happens so fast. A few minutes in, we hear a baby cry. Then a doctor exclaims, “he pooped!” We think this is a good thing.
A few minutes later, I’ve been escorted into a recovery room. I’m all alone. Then my little one joins me.
It’s just us. Literally, just the two of us. I’ve never held a baby before in my life. Am I allowed to do this? Don’t I need adult supervision? Shouldn’t his mother go first?
No. She’s being reassembled right now. Remember the curtain, Ronjan?
Time to step up to the plate. You’ve wanted to be a father your whole life. Make the move.
I pick him up and have met my new best buddy. Welcome home.
