During the week of Jan. 16, I was stabbed through the heart twice by men named JJ. First, JJ Redick, a.k.a. the most annoying (and probably gay) basketball player in the world, three-pointed UVA to death in an otherwise decent Wahoo showing Sunday at Duke. Fine, I could deal with that, just as I had the six previous times. The more tragic of the two emotional assaults came from a rather unlikely double J -- JJ Abrams, the creator and producer of Alias.
My spirits fell as I watched the Jan. 19 broacast of "Ice," the first Alias episode in four seasons of existence to completely lose my interest before its conclusion (even the season 1 clip show had been quality television). Not only was the episode boring, but it confirmed my suspicions that ABC was willing to sell out Alias' longstanding fan base in order to dumb-down the show enough to make it accessible to new viewers. Gone was the concept of providing the series with a consistent and long-term enemy, and missing were any references to the mysteries that had developed over the past three years.
It's true that a full understanding of a new Alias episode once required having previously viewed each of the previous installments. A rich continuity had developed since the season premiere, and an individual episode served only as a small piece of a much larger and more complex storyline featuring the ancient prophecies of Milo Rambaldi and their ties to Sydney Bristow and her family. But just as this aspect of the show constituted a barrier to new viewership, it was also the glue that held the existing audience firmly to their couches every week. Complete stand-alone episodes like "Ice" compel little dedication to their viewing, as they feature villains and supporting characters who have no history with the show and are unlikely to play a role in its future.
Abrams now seems content to transform Alias into a CSI or Law and Order, easily digestible shows that can be seen on an ocassional basis or out-of-order without suffering a loss to their dramatic effect. While I'm sure the fans of these shows like watching them, the potential enjoyment one can obtain from a single, self-contained CSI cannot match the intrigue generated by the realization of a plotline that has been steadily brewing in Alias for years. A better solution for improving Alias' ratings would be to follow the pattern set by 24, wherein each season begins with a new story arc, but dangling plot threads from previous years are still addressed. With the advent of television on DVD, it isn't difficult for interested viewers to catch up with what they missed.
As troubling as the series current direction is, all hope is not lost. The Jan. 26 episode, while still self-contained, at least offered longstanding fans a few token references to events from seasons one and two, and it hinted at the development of a conspiracy brewing between Jack and Sloane.
Sunday, January 30, 2005
UVA Must Fire My Identical Twin
Few things make me angrier than those few UVA basketball anti-fans who attend games consciously hoping for a Cavalier loss, so as to expedite the firing of head coach Pete Gillen. In 2004, I found these traitors even more despicable than the obnoxious supporters of visiting Georgia Tech, UNC, Wake Forest, and Arizona, top-15 programs that Gillen knocked off to demonstrate that he was still the man to take the Hoos to national prominence. And while I still wish the anti-fans could be forever banned from University Hall, over the past few weeks I have regretably come to concede the validity of their central argument. Gillen must go.
It seems like ages since everyone thought PG was the leprechaun who would soon lead the Cavaliers to a pot of gold in the Final Four. In fact, it was only as far back as the 1998-99 season (Gillen's first) when he earned a surprising 4 ACC wins with a dismantled UVA team made up mostly of walk-ons. Within two seasons, he had transformed University Hall into one of the NCAA's most feared arenas, a place where fans would camp for days to see the Wahoos routinely arrest, convict, and execute members of the unholy triumvirate of Duke, Carolina, and Maryland. A friend of mine once agreed that Pete Gillen had reached demigod status in the Charlottesville pantheon (with Dave Matthews being one of its gods, and Thomas Jefferson, of course, being its Zeus).
But even those golden days had their signs of discontent. UVA could never manage to steal a quality win on the road, and it was a sure bet to flounder in the first round of any post-season tournament, whether it be ACC, NCAA, or even the lowly NIT. The problems became more apparent in later years. Home wins were no longer a guarantee, and even members of basketball's special-ed class, like Virginia Tech and Ohio, could give the Cavs a run for their money. Still, I could always come up with a legitimate, Gillen-unrelated excuse for these shortcomings. Keith Jenifer was an NBA level player in all areas but basketball-playing ability. Majestic Mapp injured his knee more frequently than Kim got kidnapped on 24. The refs were sexually attracted to Coach K.
This season, no such excuse is to be found as ACC losses pile up. The Cavs have a pair of competent point guards, and had regained some momentum following a series of miraculous wins at the conclusion of last year. Yet, they still seem to lack discipline either on or off the court, and they've shown once again that they are unable to build on the successes of the previous year. Freshman players in the mold of Derrick Byars and Chris Williams show potential, then remain stagnant or get worse as time moves on. While the academic suspension of Jason Clark is currently giving UVA problems under the basket, the team had already fallen into a downward spiral before the big man's departure.
As long as it's taken me to say it, the best way for a loyal fan to support UVA basketball these days is to root for a new coach.
It seems like ages since everyone thought PG was the leprechaun who would soon lead the Cavaliers to a pot of gold in the Final Four. In fact, it was only as far back as the 1998-99 season (Gillen's first) when he earned a surprising 4 ACC wins with a dismantled UVA team made up mostly of walk-ons. Within two seasons, he had transformed University Hall into one of the NCAA's most feared arenas, a place where fans would camp for days to see the Wahoos routinely arrest, convict, and execute members of the unholy triumvirate of Duke, Carolina, and Maryland. A friend of mine once agreed that Pete Gillen had reached demigod status in the Charlottesville pantheon (with Dave Matthews being one of its gods, and Thomas Jefferson, of course, being its Zeus).
But even those golden days had their signs of discontent. UVA could never manage to steal a quality win on the road, and it was a sure bet to flounder in the first round of any post-season tournament, whether it be ACC, NCAA, or even the lowly NIT. The problems became more apparent in later years. Home wins were no longer a guarantee, and even members of basketball's special-ed class, like Virginia Tech and Ohio, could give the Cavs a run for their money. Still, I could always come up with a legitimate, Gillen-unrelated excuse for these shortcomings. Keith Jenifer was an NBA level player in all areas but basketball-playing ability. Majestic Mapp injured his knee more frequently than Kim got kidnapped on 24. The refs were sexually attracted to Coach K.
This season, no such excuse is to be found as ACC losses pile up. The Cavs have a pair of competent point guards, and had regained some momentum following a series of miraculous wins at the conclusion of last year. Yet, they still seem to lack discipline either on or off the court, and they've shown once again that they are unable to build on the successes of the previous year. Freshman players in the mold of Derrick Byars and Chris Williams show potential, then remain stagnant or get worse as time moves on. While the academic suspension of Jason Clark is currently giving UVA problems under the basket, the team had already fallen into a downward spiral before the big man's departure.
As long as it's taken me to say it, the best way for a loyal fan to support UVA basketball these days is to root for a new coach.
Eyes on The Kize
I like to call myself a writer, but, considering that I haven't written anything outside of an Instant Messenger away message in the past 8 months, I'm beginning to think that this designation is a bit hypocritical. So, in order to give credibility to that title, as well as to satisfy those of you addicted to the drug known as Chris Kiser's brilliant wordsmithery, I've created this blog.
During my year as a columnist for The Cavalier Daily, I donned the cape and cowl of conservatism and sought to strike terror in the hearts of UVA's liberals, an illogical and atheistic lot. Each week as I searched for a topic, however, I found myself really wishing I could write about sports and pop culture, the matters closest to my heart. While you may find the ocassional mention of George W's economic policy in these posts, you're more likely to run into a vigorous discussion of who's tougher: Jack Bauer or Jack Bristow. (Answer: It's the second one.)
If I had started this thing a month earlier, I'd have opened with a Best of 2004. In a nutshell, it would have looked a little something like this: TV Show - Alias; Movie - The Incredibles; Music - Franz Ferdinand; Comic Books - Y:The Last Man. Nothing good happened to any sports team I like in 2004.
Anyway, this blog ought to be a really exciting way for my friends to come see, in written form, the opinions and thoughts they've already heard me talk too much about.
During my year as a columnist for The Cavalier Daily, I donned the cape and cowl of conservatism and sought to strike terror in the hearts of UVA's liberals, an illogical and atheistic lot. Each week as I searched for a topic, however, I found myself really wishing I could write about sports and pop culture, the matters closest to my heart. While you may find the ocassional mention of George W's economic policy in these posts, you're more likely to run into a vigorous discussion of who's tougher: Jack Bauer or Jack Bristow. (Answer: It's the second one.)
If I had started this thing a month earlier, I'd have opened with a Best of 2004. In a nutshell, it would have looked a little something like this: TV Show - Alias; Movie - The Incredibles; Music - Franz Ferdinand; Comic Books - Y:The Last Man. Nothing good happened to any sports team I like in 2004.
Anyway, this blog ought to be a really exciting way for my friends to come see, in written form, the opinions and thoughts they've already heard me talk too much about.
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