This time of year always reminds me why I don’t spend more time covering sports.
Like millions of Americans, I filled out a bracket for the NCAA basketball tournament that started last week. Actually, I filled out four. Each one was slightly different, and yet, improbably, after just four days of games each one was somehow equally wrong. I picked upsets that didn’t happen and didn’t pick the ones that did. I picked a team for the national championship game that lost in the first round. I’m not sure how it happened, but I think I might have picked one team that didn’t actually make the tournament and another school that I don’t think even has a basketball team.
None of it was pretty, but none of it was particularly surprising. I have a history of poor performance in tournament pools. My family has held a friendly competition since 1993. I have won just once, and I have the lowest cumulative score over the 14 years of the competition. And while my brother holds the honor of recording the lowest single-year score, I have the next-lowest score. And I’ve gotten it twice.
(A quick side note here: I just rattled off a whole lot of statistics about a competition that has been going on since I was in high school. I am able to do this because my father has tracked every year’s bracket in an Excel spreadsheet. He can tell you how any individual family scored in a given bracket, how many points a family member scores on average, even, I think, what each family member tends to eat while watching games. My dad’s kind of a dork.)
I’ve developed a reputation over these years of competition. It’s what my brother, as he looked over my picks for this year, called my “crazy-ass” upset pick. It’s a proud tradition that dates to the year, early on in the competition, that I picked Ball State to go to the Final Four. For the record, this year’s “crazy-ass” pick was 14th seed South Alabama over third seed Florida. For the record, Florida will come to the Metrodome this weekend to play in the Sweet 16. For the record, South Alabama won as many games this year as Ball State did the year I picked them. In other words, the Vegas sports books are not clamoring for my services, although they might like me to place a few bets.
I don’t know how to explain such consistent poor performance. I try to pay attention to college basketball. It’s one of the few sports in which I have more than a passing interest. I consider the brackets carefully. I try to play things safe with the occasional crazy-ass exception. And yet, year after year, I end up with a bracket that might as well have been filled out by a blind hermit who has never seen a basketball game and is unfamiliar with the entire bracket concept. Even the year I won my family pool was one of the worst years for scoring overall. This might start to get discouraging after a while.
There’s always next year, though, and I can feel my luck starting to turn around. I think South Alabama is going to bounce back strong.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
The journalism game
I never studied journalism formally, but if I’d known there might be opportunities to play video games, I probably would have given the idea some more serious consideration.
The University of Minnesota’s journalism school recently turned a heavily modified version of the online role playing game Neverwinter Nights into a teaching tool for its students. Early on, students in the U of M’s Information for Mass Communication class played through a scenario that still had lava pits, editors who looked like ogres and librarians who wore breastplates, but more recent versions feature a version of the typically medieval-themed game updated to look like a modern city. In it, students must gather information about a train crash and hazardous chemical spill in the fictional city of Harperville. There are dozens of characters to interview, and a library filled with online resources.
"We know that students today are used to interactivity and that they don't like to sit still in lecture classrooms being 'fed' information," Kathleen Hansen, a U of M journalism professor, said in an article posted on the school’s web site. "What we don't know is if educational gaming is going to be an effective method of enhancing conceptual mastery of subject matter or complex processes.”
When conducting interviews with characters ranging from retired railroad engineers to hospital workers, in-game reporters can choose from four conversation options, each with a different level of assertiveness. Come off as too much of a jerk, and the subject will end the interview.
Some people might think it’s strange using a fantasy-based game to teach future reporters real-world skills. But when you consider how many people think journalists make up most of their stories, it starts to make a little bit more sense.
At least one other part of the simulation seems to fit well with the public’s opinions of journalists, too. Scenario designers had originally wanted to have a crowd of characters hanging around at the scene of the accident, but a bug in the program meant that any time the reporter approached a group of characters he was immediately attacked and killed. And people wonder why reporters drink.
Using computer games for something other than simple entertainment is not an entirely new idea. When I was in high school we used a flight simulation program that consisted solely of planning a destination and picking a route, then watching to make sure your never-seen plane didn’t crash. It was really boring, but it taught me ... actually, I have no idea what it taught me. Or what it was supposed to teach me.
There are more successful examples, though. More sophisticated flight simulators are used to train real-life pilots, and the United State’s military uses versions of popular first-person shooting games to help train soldiers in tactics. There are plenty of other options, too. For example:
• There are several good Indiana Jones games out there. These seem like ideal training tools for budding archaeologists?
• The two main characters in the Super Mario Brothers games are plumbers. Couldn’t these games be useful to a trade school somewhere looking for a way to teach its students how to deal with the killer turtles and walking mushrooms found in sewer pipes?
• There is a game out there called Crazy Taxi. This seems pretty self-explanatory.
• Dancing games, in which players stop on specific parts of a floor mat at appropriate times, are very popular these days and seem like an ideal tool for training future generations of professional cheerleaders or possibly music video backup dancers.
• Classic game Burger Time could be useful to fast food workers everywhere — especially as portions get so large they might actually reach the point making a cheeseburger will involve running up and down ladders and jumping on top of giant hamburger buns.
• Tetris, the maddeningly addictive puzzle game that involves stacking falling blocks, could be useful for warehouse workers.
• And, of course, future spies everywhere could benefit from a few good games of Elevator Action.
The University of Minnesota’s journalism school recently turned a heavily modified version of the online role playing game Neverwinter Nights into a teaching tool for its students. Early on, students in the U of M’s Information for Mass Communication class played through a scenario that still had lava pits, editors who looked like ogres and librarians who wore breastplates, but more recent versions feature a version of the typically medieval-themed game updated to look like a modern city. In it, students must gather information about a train crash and hazardous chemical spill in the fictional city of Harperville. There are dozens of characters to interview, and a library filled with online resources.
"We know that students today are used to interactivity and that they don't like to sit still in lecture classrooms being 'fed' information," Kathleen Hansen, a U of M journalism professor, said in an article posted on the school’s web site. "What we don't know is if educational gaming is going to be an effective method of enhancing conceptual mastery of subject matter or complex processes.”
When conducting interviews with characters ranging from retired railroad engineers to hospital workers, in-game reporters can choose from four conversation options, each with a different level of assertiveness. Come off as too much of a jerk, and the subject will end the interview.
Some people might think it’s strange using a fantasy-based game to teach future reporters real-world skills. But when you consider how many people think journalists make up most of their stories, it starts to make a little bit more sense.
At least one other part of the simulation seems to fit well with the public’s opinions of journalists, too. Scenario designers had originally wanted to have a crowd of characters hanging around at the scene of the accident, but a bug in the program meant that any time the reporter approached a group of characters he was immediately attacked and killed. And people wonder why reporters drink.
Using computer games for something other than simple entertainment is not an entirely new idea. When I was in high school we used a flight simulation program that consisted solely of planning a destination and picking a route, then watching to make sure your never-seen plane didn’t crash. It was really boring, but it taught me ... actually, I have no idea what it taught me. Or what it was supposed to teach me.
There are more successful examples, though. More sophisticated flight simulators are used to train real-life pilots, and the United State’s military uses versions of popular first-person shooting games to help train soldiers in tactics. There are plenty of other options, too. For example:
• There are several good Indiana Jones games out there. These seem like ideal training tools for budding archaeologists?
• The two main characters in the Super Mario Brothers games are plumbers. Couldn’t these games be useful to a trade school somewhere looking for a way to teach its students how to deal with the killer turtles and walking mushrooms found in sewer pipes?
• There is a game out there called Crazy Taxi. This seems pretty self-explanatory.
• Dancing games, in which players stop on specific parts of a floor mat at appropriate times, are very popular these days and seem like an ideal tool for training future generations of professional cheerleaders or possibly music video backup dancers.
• Classic game Burger Time could be useful to fast food workers everywhere — especially as portions get so large they might actually reach the point making a cheeseburger will involve running up and down ladders and jumping on top of giant hamburger buns.
• Tetris, the maddeningly addictive puzzle game that involves stacking falling blocks, could be useful for warehouse workers.
• And, of course, future spies everywhere could benefit from a few good games of Elevator Action.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
An open letter to Bill Cosby
Re: Your sense of humor.
Mr. Cosby, you are undoubtedly a funny man. Your comedy routines about parenting and ... um ... Jell-o, I guess ... will go down as some of the greatest of all time. You have made great contributions to the history of television, from Fat Albert and his friends to I-Spy to young kids being coached to say slightly inappropriate things. Your "Cosby Show" allowed NBC to create the Thursday night Must See TV block that it uses to this day to shove crap like "Joey" or "Will and Grace" down our throats.
Actually, I have mixed feelings about that last one. I can't give you all the blame for "Union Square" or "Four Kings", but I feel like you deserve at least some of it.
Your movie career has been less distinguished, although no less notable. I don't recall hating Ghost Dad, although I admit I was young when I saw it and might not have known any better. In its defense, it appears to have been directed by Sidney Poitier. I'll admit I didn't see that coming when I looked the movie up on IMDB. They call me Mr. Ghost Dad.
I'm not sure I've ever seen Leonard Part 6. but I can't imagine it's as bad as everyone says. If nothing else, it has given us years of hilarious jokes. Seriously, what happened to parts 1-5? It never gets old!
I don't bring all of this up simply as an excuse to practice my linking skills. I bring it up because I'm concerned. When did the sense of humor disappear? When did you lose the ability to take a joke? When did you become the cranky old man yelling at kids like the people behind House of Cosbys to get off of your metaphorical lawn?
Granted, House of Cosbys is a silly little thing. It's sophomoric and stupid and crude. But it's also kind of funny. I mean, at least a little. I mean, seriously: a remote compound filled with superpowered Cosby clones? It's worth a chuckle, at least. And despite what you claim in your Cease and Desist letter it doesn't besmirch your name any more than "The Cosby Mysteries."
Is this really the way you want to be remembered? As the humorless old coot who can't take a joke anymore? As the formerly funny man who is now best known for drugging and assaulting women? Maybe it is, but before you answer I want you to ask yourself one thing, and I want you to consider it carefully: What would Mushmouth do?
I'll leave you with that.
Thank you for your time.
Nathan Hansen
Mr. Cosby, you are undoubtedly a funny man. Your comedy routines about parenting and ... um ... Jell-o, I guess ... will go down as some of the greatest of all time. You have made great contributions to the history of television, from Fat Albert and his friends to I-Spy to young kids being coached to say slightly inappropriate things. Your "Cosby Show" allowed NBC to create the Thursday night Must See TV block that it uses to this day to shove crap like "Joey" or "Will and Grace" down our throats.
Actually, I have mixed feelings about that last one. I can't give you all the blame for "Union Square" or "Four Kings", but I feel like you deserve at least some of it.
Your movie career has been less distinguished, although no less notable. I don't recall hating Ghost Dad, although I admit I was young when I saw it and might not have known any better. In its defense, it appears to have been directed by Sidney Poitier. I'll admit I didn't see that coming when I looked the movie up on IMDB. They call me Mr. Ghost Dad.
I'm not sure I've ever seen Leonard Part 6. but I can't imagine it's as bad as everyone says. If nothing else, it has given us years of hilarious jokes. Seriously, what happened to parts 1-5? It never gets old!
I don't bring all of this up simply as an excuse to practice my linking skills. I bring it up because I'm concerned. When did the sense of humor disappear? When did you lose the ability to take a joke? When did you become the cranky old man yelling at kids like the people behind House of Cosbys to get off of your metaphorical lawn?
Granted, House of Cosbys is a silly little thing. It's sophomoric and stupid and crude. But it's also kind of funny. I mean, at least a little. I mean, seriously: a remote compound filled with superpowered Cosby clones? It's worth a chuckle, at least. And despite what you claim in your Cease and Desist letter it doesn't besmirch your name any more than "The Cosby Mysteries."
Is this really the way you want to be remembered? As the humorless old coot who can't take a joke anymore? As the formerly funny man who is now best known for drugging and assaulting women? Maybe it is, but before you answer I want you to ask yourself one thing, and I want you to consider it carefully: What would Mushmouth do?
I'll leave you with that.
Thank you for your time.
Nathan Hansen
Friday, March 03, 2006
Isn't it romantic?
I’m not trying to suggest women’s ideas about romance are unrealistic, but have you seen romance novels lately? According to the Feb. 27 issue of Time magazine, the hot new trend in the genre is vampires. Apparently there’s a big crossover between fans of the X-Files and fans of poorly written, vaguely obscene literature.
I don’t know how to react to this. I could handle women getting excited about a shirtless Fabio. I could at least understand that, even if I didn’t understand his particular beefy appeal and happened to take great pleasure a few years ago when a goose smacked into the hunky Italian’s face as he rode a rollercoaster.
But this? If I’ve got this straight, the women of America are fantasizing in large numbers about men who are interested in sucking the life from their bodies. And despite what television sitcoms would have us believe about men being stupid and lazy, I’m not sure any of us is ready to go toe-to-toe with the undead in that department.
I’m not saying women should be fantasizing about plumbers or janitors or newspaper editors, but undying minions of evil? What’s the appeal?
“I think vampires are very dark, and women have a tendency to want to save them,” Christine Feehan, whose vampire romances regularly sell more than half a million copies, told Time by way of explanation. I don’t buy that. These are vampires we’re talking about. They don’t stay out too late or drink too much or forget to call from time to time. They plunge their teeth into people’s necks and turn them into bloodthirsty creatures of the night. That seems downright antisocial.
Meanwhile, in the real world, women get upset when men leave the toilet seat up.
It’s not just vampires, either. These books are also about shape-shifters and werewolves, even though I have to believe the shedding would be a major turn-off in real life.
There are all kinds of other unrealistic fantasies out there, too. A few years ago someone described to me a romance novel that involved a Viking warrior being transported forward in time – in the mouth of a magic killer whale, no less – and finding tender, passionate love with a modern woman. It’s a nice story, but I think it ignores some pretty commonly held wisdom about the general temperament and hygiene habits of the typical Viking. Not to mention the time travel ability of the common orca.
This isn’t an isolated example, either. Apparently modern women are so fed up with modern men they have created an entire genre of time-travel romance novels. A woman named Tess Mallory has written a trilogy of novels about a Highland warrior transported backward and forward through time. I have no idea what else happens in the books, but I really enjoy the claim in one reader’s review of Mallory’s “Highland Dream” that “Another problem arises when Jamie shows the girls his ansestral (sic) sword.” Isn’t that always the case?
In another book, called “A Blast to the Past,” a modern American explosives expert is transported to 14th century Scotland by the explosion of an “unidentified device.” There, he is mistaken for one of Braveheart’s soldiers, finds love with a young, widowed healer and finds the ingredients to create black powder. According to a Booklist summary on Amazon.com, the book “will appeal to readers who can’t enough of romances set in Scotland featuring a protagonist from the present.” This is a demographic I worry about.
Actually, I think we should be encouraged in some ways by the ability of ancient people’s to so readily adapt to modern conveniences like electricity and flush toilets. Apparently, even when they find themselves in a strange place surrounded by cars and skyscrapers and McDonald’s apple pies they’re still all about finding a solid, long-term relationship. Love really does conquer all, I guess.
Earlier in this column I laid these romantic fantasies at the feet of women. I suppose it’s possible men read these books, but I doubt it. I don’t think men’s fantasies are ever that involved. All we need is a few risqué pictures of Jessica Alba and Scarlett Johansson and we’re set.
Now that’s realistic.
I don’t know how to react to this. I could handle women getting excited about a shirtless Fabio. I could at least understand that, even if I didn’t understand his particular beefy appeal and happened to take great pleasure a few years ago when a goose smacked into the hunky Italian’s face as he rode a rollercoaster.
But this? If I’ve got this straight, the women of America are fantasizing in large numbers about men who are interested in sucking the life from their bodies. And despite what television sitcoms would have us believe about men being stupid and lazy, I’m not sure any of us is ready to go toe-to-toe with the undead in that department.
I’m not saying women should be fantasizing about plumbers or janitors or newspaper editors, but undying minions of evil? What’s the appeal?
“I think vampires are very dark, and women have a tendency to want to save them,” Christine Feehan, whose vampire romances regularly sell more than half a million copies, told Time by way of explanation. I don’t buy that. These are vampires we’re talking about. They don’t stay out too late or drink too much or forget to call from time to time. They plunge their teeth into people’s necks and turn them into bloodthirsty creatures of the night. That seems downright antisocial.
Meanwhile, in the real world, women get upset when men leave the toilet seat up.
It’s not just vampires, either. These books are also about shape-shifters and werewolves, even though I have to believe the shedding would be a major turn-off in real life.
There are all kinds of other unrealistic fantasies out there, too. A few years ago someone described to me a romance novel that involved a Viking warrior being transported forward in time – in the mouth of a magic killer whale, no less – and finding tender, passionate love with a modern woman. It’s a nice story, but I think it ignores some pretty commonly held wisdom about the general temperament and hygiene habits of the typical Viking. Not to mention the time travel ability of the common orca.
This isn’t an isolated example, either. Apparently modern women are so fed up with modern men they have created an entire genre of time-travel romance novels. A woman named Tess Mallory has written a trilogy of novels about a Highland warrior transported backward and forward through time. I have no idea what else happens in the books, but I really enjoy the claim in one reader’s review of Mallory’s “Highland Dream” that “Another problem arises when Jamie shows the girls his ansestral (sic) sword.” Isn’t that always the case?
In another book, called “A Blast to the Past,” a modern American explosives expert is transported to 14th century Scotland by the explosion of an “unidentified device.” There, he is mistaken for one of Braveheart’s soldiers, finds love with a young, widowed healer and finds the ingredients to create black powder. According to a Booklist summary on Amazon.com, the book “will appeal to readers who can’t enough of romances set in Scotland featuring a protagonist from the present.” This is a demographic I worry about.
Actually, I think we should be encouraged in some ways by the ability of ancient people’s to so readily adapt to modern conveniences like electricity and flush toilets. Apparently, even when they find themselves in a strange place surrounded by cars and skyscrapers and McDonald’s apple pies they’re still all about finding a solid, long-term relationship. Love really does conquer all, I guess.
Earlier in this column I laid these romantic fantasies at the feet of women. I suppose it’s possible men read these books, but I doubt it. I don’t think men’s fantasies are ever that involved. All we need is a few risqué pictures of Jessica Alba and Scarlett Johansson and we’re set.
Now that’s realistic.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
