Stilt Standing Tall

Roger Maris had his 61…eventually to fall to an overinflated slugger. Jerry Rice clings to 208 and Wayne Gretsky skates at 894. For now. Sports records are all but marks on the doorframe, holding a fleeting authority until the very next prodigy hits a growth spurt.

But history will always remember the 100-point night of Wilt Chamberlain, even if it wasn’t there to see it in person. Even if MJ had a bigger game, or Kobe shoots 54% from beyond the arc. Wilt will remain standing on his 100-foot stilts for the rest of basketball because of what it meant – and what it didn’t – for the whole world (not) watching when it happened.

On the 50^th anniversary of Wilt’s 100-point night, 18,000 fans filled the arena for Sixers-Warriors and they all got a piece of history – literally (each fan got a 2” x 2” piece of the floor from the famous game). Throughout the night, the stadium played clips from The Stilt’s last interview, showed stats and put on a small ceremony at halftime, and somehow it wasn’t hokey. For some reason, it wasn’t over-the-top and it wasn’t oversaturated.

Maybe it was because we are still trying to soak up as much as we can from that night. Maybe it’s because, 50 years later, we’re still thirsty for one of the most important games in sports history. We didn’t absorb it while we could so we’re guzzling it down after the fact.

On Wilt’s night, a little over 4,000 people were in attendance (average NBA attendance was around 13,000), and not a single TV camera was switched on. In fact, there were only two reporters, and one left at halftime. The same halftime that Wilt had 41 points. The AP photographer who snapped the iconic picture wasn’t there for work, but as a treat to his son. In fact, Wilt even shot 28 for 32 from the free throw line – which was amazing in itself for a man who averaged 51% - and he brought down 25 rebounds. It was game that was bigger for one man than any other game in NBA history. And no one really knew how to react, if they even thought they should.

So on March 2, 2012, the Sixers hosted the Warriors. Wilt’s second team hosted Wilt’s original team. The date of the game was exactly 50 years after Wilt’s game. And luckily, fate had it that the modern-day Sixers scored more than Wilt did (a collective sigh was quickly drowned out by the crowd’s cheers for a Big Mac).

The happy fans funneled out of the arena. They brought home their wood squares and shared the memory with their coworkers. And the next day, at least some of them claimed their free Big Mac, inadvertently giving up their ticket for 2 all-beef patties and some toppings on a sesame seed bun. But it didn’t matter, the historical game happened 50 years ago, and everyone already had their piece of the night.

After all, this was the kind of game that will always have its place atop history.

Nerding out over Levitation - yes, Levitation

Every once in a while you come across something like this and it blows your mind. Not always because of what it is but what it can be. How will we use this? How will it work? Monorails? Flying Cars? Those little hoverboards from Back to the Future II? Granted, I don't know much about Quantum Physics (read: anything), and even have a tough time understanding the magnets on the fridge, but the tiniest bit I can grasp of this I find amazing.

Now, I will stop talking and let you watch the video.

Isn't that nuts!? So I went on a Quantum Levitation website (which I recommend). I read, I studied, I spent hours awake at night scribbling on a chalkboard and I finally scratched the surface of how this works. This is no ordinary magnet repelling magnet, this is magnet locking superconductor into position. Whatever position it wants.

Here is where I attempt to explain this in the most ordinary way:

The puck is made of a relatively unexciting material (crystal sapphire) and coated with another unexciting material (ceramic yttrium barium copper oxide - whatever that is). However, when the latter is cooled to an outrageous temperature (by dipping it in liquid nitrogen), it becomes a superconductor.

"A superconductor conducts electricity without resistance, and with no energy loss"

The superconductor rejects the magnetic field. However, since the puck is so thin, a few "tubes" pierce through it while the rest of the field wraps around the outside, all locking it in place.
Imagine a donut placed onto a fork. Whatever position the donut is in, it will stay, it won't fall down on the fork because of the integrity of the delicious pastry, however it also will not teeter or fall off because the multiple prongs of the fork holding it in place.

So the puck is locked into space by its interaction with the magnetic field. And the best part? This works in every direction. That means levitation as well as suspension. That means, if the side of a building is coated with magnets, then Batman can drive his hovercar right up the wall to the roof. Duh.

I don't know what this means. I don't know how to apply this to greater technology. All I know is that this is a potentially life-changing discovery and I'd be excited to see how it becomes integrated into our daily lives - in about 44 years or so.

Good luck?

A bird pooped on my coat last week. Someone told me it was good luck if a bird poops on you. Three business days and a $31 dry cleaning bill later, I can't help but think it's not good luck at all but that's just something people say to make you feel better because you just got pooped on.

In fact, I'm starting to wonder who deemed it good luck. Who was the first bird poopee? Was it the optomistic friend of said poopee? Why was that deemed good luck but stubbing your toe still means nothing? Getting an eyelash in your eye? Papercuts? All nothing?? Psh, I'm going to start buying lottery tickets whenever something bad happens. The way I see it, I'm probably due for something good sometime soon anyway.

The Supershow

It's amazing how one event that has become so iconic to modern American life has also changed so dramatically since its inception. Aside from the tickets costing over ten times the original price and parking spaces going for $1000, the spectacle of it all has launched into the stratosphere, settling somewhere alongside Celebrity Big Brother and 2 Fast 2 Furious. And leave it to Jerry Jones' mammoth golden football calf to host the most recent and most extravagant version of The Big Game. Hell, they even sold tickets to stand outside the stadium. But I guess that beats buying a ticket for a seat you can't sit in, right? Right.

This year's game still maintained most of its tradition and history, however, thanks in part to the two steadfast franchises that competed for the title. The contest itself, in this writer's opinion, was fantastic - football at its finest. It was evenly matched and well-balanced, neither a shootout nor a defensive grind. The players played hard, the hits were big (and clean) and the mistakes were sparse but significant (Green Bay went three-for-three touchdowns per turnovers).

Plus, the headlines of the preceding week were never too annoying, and allowed for everyone to focus on the matchup of 55-ringed steel Goliath (as opposed to a 3-ring, foot-related circus.) vs. the artist formerly known as the Brett Favres (that so desperately needed to make a name for itself). The storylines were set, as was the proverbial stage.

And unfortunately, the actual stage. Whoever thought it would be a great idea to revert back to the Janet Jackson/MTV era of halftime shows must not know the difference between a recording artist and an actual, talented musician. When the best features of your performance are the guest stars, it's clear this year's halftime experiment has failed. It's time we go back to the classy lineup of the past few years, if for no other reason than to avoid saying "oh thank God, it's Usher" ever again.

All in all, it was a good game with excellent teams led by relatively classy players. If next year's matchup is as good as this year's, we'd all find it easier to overlook the terrible, terrible Pepsi Max commercials.

Repent! It's the Ape-ocalypse!

There are some eerie things going on nowadays. I don't know if it's life imitating art, art imitating life, or life striking out on its own just to show that it can, because after all, it's life. But regardless, certain events have had me wondering what apocalypse film we are extras in, because these news stories are pretty much the first five minutes of every one.

The birds. I'm not going to get into it too much because it's old news by now, but ever since taking a Hitchcock class in school, I've been creeped out by a flock of anything. I don't like birds. When they figured out that dinosaurs might've had feathers instead of scales, everyone sighed - but I cross the street when I see a pigeon staring me down. I'm kidding, I still run directly at them, but honestly, could you imagine a turkey vulture the size of a T-Rex knocking down trees as it chases you? Hell, even a turkey turkey that size would be terrifying, but alas, I'm getting off-topic.

The point is, I only heard about the birds in Arkansas and the fish in SomewhereElseTown, and as a typical nothern snob, I figured it had something to do with instant grits and John Deere hats. Then I heard that it wasn't just the south, and it's not just birds. I'ma go read the Bible.

Well the Bible gets really angry at the end and talks about the destruction of all the birds of the sky and the fish of the sea and the beasts of the land, etc. That's a scary thought, but if Catholic school has taught me anything (and it hasn't), it's that God doesn't close a drawer without opening a cabinet. So if we're all going to be washed away in floods, someone is going to have to take over, right?

Then, I stumbled across this very un-Bible-friendly story. As it turns out, there's a family of apes, most notably their father, who walk upright with shoulders back. He is filmed carrying a log like a briefcase as if he's on his way home from selling banana insurance (video below). Aside from imagining what such an insurance company would be like, there's something I'm dying to take away from this - are we evolving again?

Obviously, there's no stopping nature; evolution is constant. But what happens when a species evolves twice? Would it eventually turn out to be like in The Time Machine where there's two parallel species that are both drastically different yet fundamentally the same? I hope not, because if that book were true, we would live in constant fear of our evolutionary step-brothers who would try to drag us underground and eat us. Yikes.

On the other hand, if we all drown and freeze then I guess we have nothing to worry about. What seems more possible, though, is that while our human race might be in the process of mass extinction, another one might be on the verge of a breakthrough. So is a replacement species beginning to evolve just as ours is about to die out? Who knows. All I know is that I might just buy an SUV, a few dozen cases of bottled water, and enough aerosol and unbiodegradable styrofoam to keep me entertained while I wait to find out. Might as well, right? Right.

Halladay's Historic Hitless Hullabaloo

What can I say? The man hurls history into the softened leather memories of a zillion fans and I'm supposed to put it into words? All I can tell you is that being part of a moment like that - a moment that is bigger than this team, bigger than this city, bigger than the postseason itself - it's impossible to comprehend, even more impossible to describe. But I'm gonna have to try, because I was there to see it.

By the time it got down to the last three innings, no one really cared what the Phils did on offense, everyone just wanted to see Roy pitch. In fact, when Ibanez hit into the final out in the eighth there was really no reaction until the crowd roared once again in anticipation of the top of the ninth - I've never heard a crowd cheer after their offense was retired because they wanted to see their pitcher come out.

The playoff atmosphere in that stadium is overwhelming to begin with, but when you have an accomplishment like that building up throughout the game, it only gets louder as each moment gets bigger. There's not many ways to describe the feeling in that stadium - it was intense, it was thrilling, it was mind-blowing, and after you're done losing your voice and high-fiving 46,000 of your closest friends, your hands are still shaking with the eight dollars that you so desperately want to buy that game's program with, because you know you need proof that you saw it first-hand. You know you just witnessed something great.

It takes a long time for it to fully sink in how amazing that was, and I don't think it's been completely grasped, but eventually you'll realize that you saw something that will live on in Cooperstown. I know I'm gonna remember this for the rest of my life, but regardless of whether or not you're a Phils fan (i.e. whether or not you're getting into heaven), I think you gotta appreciate the significance of the event. This might not happen again in the next 50 years; hell, it might not happen again in our lifetime. Then again, the way Halladay plays, maybe it could happen again in Game 4*


*if necessary

The Decorators

On Disney property in Orlando, there rests a campground that is the epitome of quiet country living. Themed to the wild frontiers of the once growing United States, this resort/campground is aptly named Fort Wilderness. The simplicity of the life offers a serene backdrop upon which many imaginations come alive - maybe a little too much for some. See, there's a strange tribe of people that live in Fort Wilderness. They call themselves The Decorators.

Now, I've been staying at Fort Wilderness my entire life and never even knew that this was something people did. I've seen campsites with extra large Christmas lights, motor homes with mickey-shaped umbrellas, and golf carts painted to look like Tigger, but I never gave it a second thought. Why would I expect that there was a band of Disney nuts so profoundly fanatical that they would warrant a special on Bravo? Maybe I should have?

Maybe not. Maybe gawking at the motor home with the oversized porcelain Cinderella Castle and the overpriced Mickey, Minnie, and Pluto could've been enough, but I had to actually meet one of the Decorators to fully convince myself. Convince myself that these people indeed were insane.

She asked us if we had heard of "The Decorators" in a way that disregarded any opportunity to answer "no" - of course we had, and if we hadn't, we should've. She proceeded to tell us about her big flub-up, accidentally sending an email to Meg Crofton that she had been working on for a week while we proceeded to gawk at her arrangement.

It's The Decorators, her email asserted, that are a huge reason that people stay in Fort Wilderness during all the major holidays, and doggone it! They should get something in return, shouldn't they? After all, who would come to stay at Fort Wilderness if it weren't for this small clan of light-hanging, figurine-placing Disney zealots. The tourists come to see them she told us. Of course they do.

I mean, after all, who would go to Disney without taking into consideration what The Decorators have in store for that time of the year? They are indeed, a key feature of the Disney organization; and for all of the selfless service they have given the Disney resort, isn't about time they were compensated? Right? Guys?