You know what I do when I’m struggling for inspiration? I
usually just sit and stare blankly. But sometimes I play video
games.
Or Snood.
Snood, for those of you who don’t know, is a computer game
I believe rivals AIM and cocaine in addictiveness.
But that’s another column. This column is about my
writer’s block and how I overcame it.
Knowing that my deadline for this column was fast approaching, I
unplugged the Nintendo (Remember the Power Pad? That was sweet …)
and hooked up the Xbox.
I loaded my NCAA Football 2004 dynasty (with UCLA, of course)
and realized I was playing San Diego State.
“Hey,” went my inner monologue, “UCLA plays
San Diego State for real this Saturday. Why don’t I take
notes on what happens in my Xbox game and use it for a
column?”
Wow, I’m a loser.
So there I was: pen, paper, Xbox and 50 Cent. Yeah, I threw on
the 50 Cent CD. Normally I would’ve been listening to a mix
of the latest pop hits (Hilary Duff, for sure) but I’m kind
of scared to download music. You just don’t know who’s
out there. And 50 Cent makes me feel tough.
So the No. 15 Bruins, coming in at 3-0, took the field at the
Rose Bowl.
Fresh off a stunning 14-7 victory over then-No. 2 Oklahoma, my
team was brimming with confidence.
“We were able to pull off the upset because we kept the
ball away from Antonio Perkins,” my coach said after the
game. “He’s a dangerous player.”
He didn’t really say that. But he was probably thinking
it.
I lost the coin toss, but my defense came in fired up. They
entered the game as the No. 1-ranked defense in the country; my
offense was ranked No. 113.
Sounds sort of like a team I know. But I digress.
After converting on two third-and-long situations, San Diego
State marched to a field goal and a 3-0 lead. This gave the touted
UCLA offense a chance to take the field. It’s a college game,
so there are no names, of course, but No. 14 got the start at
quarterback. No. 7 is the back-up on the game. Both players are
rated a 74 on overall ability.
No wonder we had a quarterback controversy in camp.
In honor of real life, I decided to employ some Dorrellian Logic
with the play-calling in my first series. After two failed runs up
the middle by little No. 2, I tried to go long. It didn’t
work, and I punted.
So much for that strategy.
San Diego missed a field goal on the ensuing drive, and the
powerful Bruin offense took over. After two dropped passes, one for
a sure touchdown (sound familiar?), I settled for a 42-yard field
goal.
The Aztecs got another field goal and led 6-3 at halftime. But I
didn’t panic.
No. 87 caught a touchdown just a few plays after No. 17 made an
interception.
As the PAT sailed through the uprights, “P.I.M.P.”
came on the stereo. Was it some kind of sign, a message from
above?
I doubt it. It was still pretty neat.
Before all was said and done, No. 17 had picked off another
pass, No. 24 had intercepted one, and No. 8 had caught
Olson’s second touchdown pass of the day. 50 had said,
“I love you like a fat kid loves cake.”
Poetic, 50. Truly poetic.
I won the game 20-6, although you couldn’t tell from the
stats. San Diego had 14 first downs to my 11. They had 268 yards to
my 147.
I know I suck. But my players didn’t help. All told, I had
nine dropped passes. That’s not going to get it done, in real
life or otherwise.
My players of the game were No. 17 (two interceptions), No. 43
(four sacks), and No. 7 (two field goals). That’s a kicker
and two defensive players. Wow.
But I have overcome. I remain undefeated in my imaginary world,
and I have a column in the real one.
Life is good.
E-mail Regan at dregan@media.ucla.edu.