David Fincher Nike Commercial.

Speaking of David Fincher, check out his new Nike commercial featuring two child athletes turned NFL football players - LaDainian Tomlinson and Troy Polamalu.

The music sounded familiar, but after doing some digging I found out it was a remix of Ennio Marricone's music from the classic Clint Eastwood spahetti western The Good, The Bad and the Ugly.



In any event, is this part two of a three-part Nike football series directed by famous film directors? I wonder who will be next? Quentin Tarantino perhaps?

Nevertheless, I'm still waiting for a series of Nike commercials highlighting the fascinating, fast-paced world of copywriting.

The Sears Catalog....My Christmas Bible.

It was a couple weeks before Thanksgiving in the early 80's. My dad, brother and I were outside playing Steelers football on a crisp, cool Saturday afternoon. I was John Stalworth. My brother Terry Bradshaw. I guess that would make my dad Chuck Knoll.

We kept replaying that scene in the fourth quarter of Superbowl XIV when Bradshaw took a snap, faked a handoff, and then threw a pass to Stallworth who, without breaking stride made a clutch catch in the middle of the field and took it all the way to the endzone for a 73-yard go-ahead touchdown.

The 'Stillers' (as we called them in the Ohio Valley) took the lead over the Rams and, ultimately, the Superbowl victory.

After going through that same exact play for the 100th time or so, a familiar green car came rolling down the hill and slowed down as it reached our house. We knew who it was. The country mailman.

When I was a kid, one of the most exciting things was getting the mail. In my opinion, when you're old enough to get the mail, you feel like you're contributing somewhat to the family. It's one of the special moments that makes you feel like an adult. But, not too much of an adult if you get my drift.

As the ball dropped from my hand, we slowly started walking over to the mailbox. Our mouths agape like zombie extras from Night of the Living Dead.

On this particular Saturday, the mailman was taking a little longer than usual, which could only mean one thing. He was packing our mailbox with a ton of extra goodies.

After he went on his way, the starting pistol sounded and the race had begun. Battling for space, my brother and I hightailed our way across the road to retrieve the treasure that lay inside our banged-up, black mailbox.

The handle was within my reach. But, as I grasped the handle, my brother pushed a hand to my face and belted in front of me. "Asshole," I yelled to my brother who returned my sour grapes with a shit-eating, Cheshire grin.

He opened the lid, reached deep inside the cylinderical, metal box and pulled out the pirate booty. A couple bills. A direct mail piece. Our country newsletter The Colerain Times.

It was a good haul by Saturday mail standards. Except, on this particular day, there was more.

"Look," I screamed at the top of my lungs. "You missed something."

Looking like Sam Jones sticking his hand into the alien rock pit in the movie Flash Gordon, I reached into the darkness of the mailbox and felt something big. Something important. Something fantastic.

As I hoisted the mysterious prisoner from its captivity, all was silent as we feasted our eyes upon:

The Sears Great American Christmas Wish Book.

It was 1,000 pages (or so it seemed) of Christmas possibilities published inside one dream catalog.

Now, before the internet. Before thousands of television channels and commercials. Before strip malls. Even before Walmart and Toys R' Us, The Sears Christmas Wish Book was our only Christmas link to the outside world of toys and fun.

It was the only way could get our fix on the latest and greatest toys of the holiday season.

It had every new toy. Every piece of NFL clothing. Every Atari video game. Every outdoor sports supply incuding sleds, balls, bats and kickballs. Basically, it had everything a kid could possibly wish for under the tree.

This book would be our Christmas Bible for the next month or so. We would eat dinner with it while sifting through the pages. We would dissect the latest and greatest new Stars Wars toys before school. We would take it into the rest room and read it for hours as we grunted and groaned on the toilet. In less than a week, it would have those white thumbprint smudges at the edges from turning the pages so much. We would circle, then recircle, every possible item that we wanted Santa to bring us under the tree.

On Christmas Eve, we would both finger through one last time before we went to bed, and pray to Santa Claus that our Toy Wishes would come true.

Which brings me back one particular Christmas involving NFL football and the Pittsburgh Steelers, which I'll talk about tomorrow.

Yes, It's Another Sports Rant!

Just wanted to touch base on a couple sportscentric rants running around my brain:

New England Patriots
Well, here I thought the pussification of man came down to men shopping at Pottery Barn. But, when you have coaches and players bitching that an NFL team is running up the score on your NFL team, well I think the Pussification of Man starts....right.... now. Even though I'm not a fan, I love the fact that the Patriots are making every NFL team their proverbial whipping boy this season. I think this is exciting for football. Plus, it puts a gleam in the eye of football-playing kids around the United States. I mean, do you know how many kids are completing Brady-to-Moss pass patterns in their backyard as we speak? This brings back memories of when I was 13-years-old and the 1985 Chicago Bears dismantled the competition all the while singing the Superbowl Shuffle (and that was even before they made the playoffs!). That's why I think it's amusing that 250-pound football players are whining because the Patriots are running up the score. Boo Freaking Hoo. Next thing you know NFL teams, coaches and players will start to sue other teams for running up the score. Is all of America turning into a bunch of fucking cry-babies? Wahhh. Wahhh. Wahhh. You know what I say to all those cry-baby millionaires? Shut the fuck up, toss the loss in your memory banks and kick their ass next year. Oh yeah, and why don't you play fucking better football, you pussies.

2007 World Series
After watching the Boston Red Sox humiliate the Colorado Rockies in a 4-0 World Series sweep last night. (Okay, truthfully I didn't watch it. Did you?) You wonder what the Cleveland Indians would have done with this creampuff of a team. And to think that the Injuns were only one game away from winning it all.

Ohio State Buckeyes
Well. Well. Well. Looks like everyone is starting to talk about the Ohio State/Michigan game once again. Not me. Because as I've stated before in previous rants, I knew all along how important this upcoming game was going to be. And, even though there's a couple more games to play, I'm still sticking to my guns, suckers. Ohio State has a couple big games down the stretch (Illinois and Wisconsin), but it's all going to come down the noon kickoff on Saturday Nov. 17 at the Big House. With Carr's future on the line, not to mention Buckeyes bragging rights, it's going to be a barn-burner. Ech! I can't believe I said that.

Pittsburgh Steelers and Fantasy Football.
Like an idiot I benched Hines Ward this week in favor of Santonio Holmes and Antwaan Randle El. It almost cost me a win. Lesson learned. In my opinion, the Steelers only have two big games before they clinch a playoff berth - this week against Baltimore and next week against Cleveland. Sure the Browns are okay this year and it's fun to watch them win for once in a blue moon. But let's be honest, they're not as good as Big Ben, Holmes, Ward, Miller, Parker and the 'Stillers' solid D. I'm looking for two more wins in two more weeks.

National Basketball Association and King James
Even though I live in Cleveland, I'm not even remotely excited for NBA basketball. The season is too long. The postseason is even longer. And everyone up here in Cleveland thinks that Lebron is the cat's meow, which gets a little annoying. There's a little game I play every NBA season up here in Cleveland. And no, it's not BALLING. From now until the end of the season, how many times can you spot a picture of Lebron James in the Cleveland Plain Dealer. It's amazing how many times he's in the paper up here. Boring. Boring. Boring.

Next!

Electric Football
When I was ten years old, I begged and begged my parents for an official NFL Electric Football game for Christmas. Well, my wish was their command and, on December 25th, Santa Claus answered my persistent whining with 100 miniature yards of green shining silver, complete with Eagles and Steelers painted players and a plug. By the end of the week, it joined the other Misfit Toys in the closet right next to my Electronic Battleship and Light Bright. The very next year, we tossed it in a Toys-for-Tots bin at the mall. To this day, I picture some poor kid sitting next to his Charlie Brown Christmas Tree opening up his Toy-for-Tots present and then laying his eyes on my used, slightly scratched, electronic football game with a Ziploc bag full of plastic football players duct-taped to the back. I betcha he still remembers that Christmas as one of his worst. The poor fella.

Big Ten Network Still Sucks
By the way, this Saturday I won't be watching the Buckeyes battle Wisconsin due to the sucky Big Ten Network airing the game. So, instead I'm making my Game Of The Week #5 Oregon vs. #4 Arizona State Saturday night at 6:30 p.m.. Thanks a fucking lot Big Ten Network. You and your stupid network can suck my big, fat hairy balls.