...Homer Simpson, Smiling Politely

This post is not about football. But there is one football item I simply have to mention.

Ever have one of those moments where someone you typically think of as reasonably intelligent says something so profoundly stupid that you find yourself just staring off into space wondering when you were deposited in the Twilight Zone? Following a loss to the New England Patriots this past Sunday, Dallas Cowboys head coach Wade Phillips was asked what his game plan had been and what had gone wrong. Coach Phillips replied something to the effect of the following: “Our game plan was to shut down Sammie Morris and the New England running game and make Tom Brady beat us throwing the football.” What? Really? That was your plan? Seriously? Your defensive scheme was to focus your attention on the third string running back and let the three-time Superbowl champion quarterback and his Pro Bowl receivers roam free on the field? That’s like Lex Luthor saying, “you know what, I need to keep an eye on Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen, but heck, I’ll just let Superman do whatever he wants. What could possibly go wrong?” I wonder if that was the game plan when Wade’s San Diego defense met Brady’s Patriots in the playoffs last year? Might explain a few things. A word of advice to Wade Phillips. Get a new plan.

This past weekend I accompanied my wife to her ten-year high school reunion. Now, before I go any further I have to give kudos to my wife. I can be (and have been) a royal pain in the you-know-what when I’m forced to do something I have no interest in doing. But she dealt with me superbly – mostly by ignoring my complaints until I shut up – and even managed to have a pretty good time in spite of me. Anyway, back to the story.

The idea of the reunion is awkward for me – especially when that reunion isn’t mine. There are probably six people from my senior class that I’d like to see again. And inevitably those are the people who decide not to show up. This then leads to an eternal afternoon of fake smiles and tired waves at the host of others you wish had just stayed home. It’s bad enough standing around being judged by a group of people you barely remember and for the most part didn’t like, but who vividly remember how un-cool you were those four years. It’s something else entirely to stand around at the reunion of your considerably more popular wife, being judged by people she knows pretty well but you’ve never met, and in six hours will probably never see again. If you say something stupid and/or make a fool of yourself there’s no time to recover. They all go home thinking, “Gee, it sure was nice to see her again. Too bad she went and married that moron.”

Part of the point of the reunion is to find out how much everyone’s changed since the last time you saw them. The irony of course is that once everyone gets into the same room you realize that nothing’s all that different. The cool people then are still cool now, and while the geeks may have traded their glasses for contacts, they’re still geeks at heart. The stories may be new, but the cliques are the same. Sure, there’s always the exception to the rule - that one short, French horn playing, A/V club dude who’s now the dashing investment banker with the Aston Martin and the hot European wife. But for the most part, everyone is just an older (wiser?) version of who they were.

There were a couple bright spots though. I learned all about music recording and production from a former class officer who is now a sound engineer in Nashville. But more importantly I had the opportunity to spend some quality time in conversation with my wife’s best friend. I first met her when my wife and I started dating in college, and from our very first meeting I got the feeling she didn’t care for me all that much. Through the following years and her move to the East coast we barely had a conversation beyond courteous pleasantries, let alone anything meaningful. Even at our wedding where she was the maid of honor I always got the feeling that she really just tolerated me for my wife’s sake. True or false as that impression may have been, it’s always led me to feel – and therefore be awkward and uncomfortable around her. Well, for about 45 minutes last Saturday, while my social butterfly wife was off flitting from old friend to old friend, her best friend and I actually sat down and had a conversation. I don’t remember what we talked about, and I guess it doesn’t really matter. The conversation itself was the important part. Long story short, the awkwardness is gone, and it was nice to take a break from smiling politely to be real with someone.

So the weekend wasn’t a total loss. It could have been worse. They could have issued me a nametag as well. But it’s going to be at least fifteen years before I go back to another one – mine or otherwise. It’s going to take at least that long to come up with a clever story of what’s happened since the last time I flashed them my pearly whites.