I wonder if I'm the only person who still remembers, and for that matter constantly references, the classic Nike "Bo Knows" ad campaign of the early to mid-90s.
For those of you who have no clue what I'm writing about, the campaign was all about the monstrous, Heisman trophy-winning, NFL Pro-Bowler and MLB All-Star Bo Jackson and his ability to do basically anything. Nike would be like, "Bo Knows golf" then show him pummeling a 400-yard drive. That guy could do it all -- "Bo Knows crocheting," "Bo Knows interpretive dance" and "Bo Knows not to operate heavy machinery after drinking cough syrup" were definitely some of my favorites.
He was great at all of those things, but you know what Bo Jackson really knew? Bo knew how to run in a zig-zag pattern in order to avoid poorly programmed tacklers in Tecmo Super Bowl -- that's what Bo knew.
Anybody who questions Bo as the greatest video game player of all time is just crazy. Check out these stats from my past season: 2963 yards and 43 touchdowns. Also, that's through about four games, and on 90 carries. Unfortunately Bo was carted off the field a quarter into Week Five to the classic, ominous, Tecmo Bowl techno riff. I won't see him back in action until his triumphant run out of Tecmo Hospital while the nurses wave him off. The best part of seeing a player get out of the hospital is that he's already in his uniform and headed right for the stadium. I didn't know that's how it works in the NFL, but I guess it does.
I suppose it would be less heroic if the little figures ran from the hospital in one of those gowns with their asses hanging out. I vote for jerseys and pads, and I'll try never to talk about Nintendo characters' asses ever again.
I'm not sure if this is good or bad, but playing Nintendo makes me just as, if not more, happy than it did when I was about 8-years-old. I'd like to see who would win between me and my 8-year-old self in a Nintendo pentathlon consisting of Tecmo Super Bowl, Double Dribble, Bases Loaded, Track and Field and Burgertime. I think it'd be close, but the current me would squeak out a win because I've learned a lot about cheating in the past 12 years.
Also, the 8-year-old me just wasn't mentally tough enough to make it through the marathon-like Nintendo pentathlon. I'd just give myself the old "good game, you almost won" trick that my brothers would use on me when I, in fact, did win. This would lead to the inevitable "What? I won! Are you crazy? Look at the scoreboard! I won! I hate you!" outburst from the 8-year-old me followed by the hurling of a controller. Good times.
I can't write about football video games and not talk about John Madden at least a little. This guy is the most unintentionally enjoyable commentator in the world. Every game he comes up with a brilliant Maddenism like "Hey, the offensive linemen are the biggest guys on the field, they're bigger than everybody else, and that's what makes them the biggest guys on the field."
Ever since the early '90s, this guy has slapped his face on a video game, which has changed approximately one thing from the previous year and gotten me to play over and over again. It feels like one of those "It's a Wonderful Life" scenes in which an angel flies into the room and shows me what my life would be like if I had never played Madden is in order. I see the high school me sitting in my room, and instead of playing video games I'm, I can't quite make it out ... I'm reading a book? Yeah, I don't like this reality, and I extend a heartfelt thank you to the EA Sports family and Madden. After all "if you play video games, and you like playing video games, you're going to have fun playing video games because people have fun doing things that they like to do." That's a direct quote from John by the way. (Not really.)
I'd like to end this column with a little football conspiracy theory. Did anybody else notice that by the time anybody could get out of Scott Stadium after Saturday's game it was 12:05 a.m., five minutes after you are allowed to buy alcohol in this state? Did you also notice the suspicious delay caused by the "malfunctioning" of the stadium lights? Here's how I see it: The lights stay on, we get out of the stadium with enough time for everybody to buy a case of beer, the next morning Charlottesville looks and smells like a frat house basement. However, little blackout, 12:05 ending, Charlottesville stays nice. Clever little scam, but I refuse to let the public stay ignorant to the Scott Stadium lighting crew playing God.
Alright, that's all I've got this week. We must bask in the glory of this weekend's victory for a long time. Beating Tech and Miami wouldn't hurt either.
Eric Ast's column runs bi-weekly on Tuesdays. He can be reached at ast@cavalierdaily.com.
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