The Hitcher and the New York Yankees
Monday, May 21, 2007
After a "quiet" bender on Friday night, I decided I needed to give my overworked liver a rest and spend the night in my apartment with the liquor cabinet dead-bolted - (by quiet bender I mean like a quiet scoring night for an NBA player. McGrady scores 32 while exhibiting the effort of a 17 point phone-it-in night. Somehow, without taking any shots, and without the express desire to get hammered, I ended up with spotty memories of at least two conversations I had that I was told lasted over an hour.)
Settling in for a flick seemed like the obvious choice of activities. I decided on "The Hitcher" (original, not the remake), but not before spending a solid 25 minutes reaffirming that even with The Premiere Package on direct TV, which offers over 600 channels, there is never anything worth watching on television.
The Hitcher follows a mid-twenties kid name Jim Halsey, played by C. Thomas Howell, as he is relentlessly stalked by an omnipresent, homicidal hitchhiker named John Ryder, played by Rutger Hauer. I actually enjoyed the film a lot. Though it may not be the greatest 105 minutes ever put on celluloid I couldn't help but chuckle with glee every time Ryder would impossibly reappear undetected at Halsey's latest stop and frame him for yet ANOTHER brutal multiple murder. I felt a little jipped by the promise of a "connection" between Halsey and Ryder that is never explained or even hinted to, unless of course you include the opening scene where Ryder gropes Halsey's junk in a gay charade to fool a cop at a roadblock, but other than that I give it a solid two dismembered thumbs up.
Which brings me to today. At 7:05 Eastern, the Red Sox open up a three game set against the New York Yankees in the Bronx. The Sox have been playing hardnosed, fundamentally sound baseball, tearing the cover off the ball, and making opposing teams look like they're up there swinging palm fronds. For this, they have earned sole possession of 1st place in the AL East by 10 1/2 games.
So why do I still feel like the Red Sox are Jim Halsey and the Yankees are John Ryder?
My friend Grasso answered thusly: "Because you're a worry wart." Never mind the fact that Grasso is the only person over the age of 10, and under the age of 70 currently using this term, he could still have a point. But more than likely he doesn't, and it's because I'm right. The Sox are Jim Halsey. We're 10 1/2 games up. We've won 5 of 6 heads up against the Yankees this season. So basically we've picked up the hitcher in pinstripes, he's held a switchblade to our throat, groped our crotch, yet we've managed to kick him out of our moving car and onto the highway. Unfortunately, he lived. Sure he's banged up, but he lived, and now he's pissed and looking for revenge, at which he has 13 more shots throughout the regular season. Starting tonight.
The Yanks, much like the hitcher only had a switchblade on them when we faced them the first six times. Their banged up starting rotation put them at risk, and we exploited this weakness each and every time out. Now they're a bit healthier, the road rash is starting to heal, and they no doubt have plans to drive a monster truck through a gas station, run us over, leave us covered in gasoline, and strike a match. We can't let them. Sports are about momentum. We have all the momentum going into this series, and a chance to put the bad guy down once and for all, or at least until they show up at the team hotel, kidnap our girlfriends and tie her legs to a wall, and her arms to a big rig, foot resting on the clutch.
The point is, in horror movies, as in sports, you gotta kick the bad guys while their down, because if history and genre convention have taught us anything, they will come back to get you. I want to see the Sox dial it up Jim Halsey third act style, right when her realizes that this will never end unless he takes matters into his own hands, and hijacks a couple of cop cars. This is the mutherfucker of mano-a-mano baseball battles. The rules are different. I say if you have to, have Tek punch A-Rod in his hyper-colored mug again. Even if it's completely at random. Anything to keep these guys the hungry, greedy, insatiable winning machine they've been all season. To hell with the people who say that this series lacks the drama of other Red Sox v. Yanks series. I submit that it's just as important, especially for the Red Sox.
It's not over.
We've only played 43 games this season, and while all of Red Sox nation SHOULD be pleased with the results SO FAR - John Ryder is still as homicidal and hell-bent on destruction as ever. Putting him down for good is the goal. 10 1/2 games is great. 13 1/2 is better, and if we don't get there by Wednesday, I'll be looking over my shoulder.
Settling in for a flick seemed like the obvious choice of activities. I decided on "The Hitcher" (original, not the remake), but not before spending a solid 25 minutes reaffirming that even with The Premiere Package on direct TV, which offers over 600 channels, there is never anything worth watching on television.
The Hitcher follows a mid-twenties kid name Jim Halsey, played by C. Thomas Howell, as he is relentlessly stalked by an omnipresent, homicidal hitchhiker named John Ryder, played by Rutger Hauer. I actually enjoyed the film a lot. Though it may not be the greatest 105 minutes ever put on celluloid I couldn't help but chuckle with glee every time Ryder would impossibly reappear undetected at Halsey's latest stop and frame him for yet ANOTHER brutal multiple murder. I felt a little jipped by the promise of a "connection" between Halsey and Ryder that is never explained or even hinted to, unless of course you include the opening scene where Ryder gropes Halsey's junk in a gay charade to fool a cop at a roadblock, but other than that I give it a solid two dismembered thumbs up.
Which brings me to today. At 7:05 Eastern, the Red Sox open up a three game set against the New York Yankees in the Bronx. The Sox have been playing hardnosed, fundamentally sound baseball, tearing the cover off the ball, and making opposing teams look like they're up there swinging palm fronds. For this, they have earned sole possession of 1st place in the AL East by 10 1/2 games.
So why do I still feel like the Red Sox are Jim Halsey and the Yankees are John Ryder?
My friend Grasso answered thusly: "Because you're a worry wart." Never mind the fact that Grasso is the only person over the age of 10, and under the age of 70 currently using this term, he could still have a point. But more than likely he doesn't, and it's because I'm right. The Sox are Jim Halsey. We're 10 1/2 games up. We've won 5 of 6 heads up against the Yankees this season. So basically we've picked up the hitcher in pinstripes, he's held a switchblade to our throat, groped our crotch, yet we've managed to kick him out of our moving car and onto the highway. Unfortunately, he lived. Sure he's banged up, but he lived, and now he's pissed and looking for revenge, at which he has 13 more shots throughout the regular season. Starting tonight.
The Yanks, much like the hitcher only had a switchblade on them when we faced them the first six times. Their banged up starting rotation put them at risk, and we exploited this weakness each and every time out. Now they're a bit healthier, the road rash is starting to heal, and they no doubt have plans to drive a monster truck through a gas station, run us over, leave us covered in gasoline, and strike a match. We can't let them. Sports are about momentum. We have all the momentum going into this series, and a chance to put the bad guy down once and for all, or at least until they show up at the team hotel, kidnap our girlfriends and tie her legs to a wall, and her arms to a big rig, foot resting on the clutch.
The point is, in horror movies, as in sports, you gotta kick the bad guys while their down, because if history and genre convention have taught us anything, they will come back to get you. I want to see the Sox dial it up Jim Halsey third act style, right when her realizes that this will never end unless he takes matters into his own hands, and hijacks a couple of cop cars. This is the mutherfucker of mano-a-mano baseball battles. The rules are different. I say if you have to, have Tek punch A-Rod in his hyper-colored mug again. Even if it's completely at random. Anything to keep these guys the hungry, greedy, insatiable winning machine they've been all season. To hell with the people who say that this series lacks the drama of other Red Sox v. Yanks series. I submit that it's just as important, especially for the Red Sox.
It's not over.
We've only played 43 games this season, and while all of Red Sox nation SHOULD be pleased with the results SO FAR - John Ryder is still as homicidal and hell-bent on destruction as ever. Putting him down for good is the goal. 10 1/2 games is great. 13 1/2 is better, and if we don't get there by Wednesday, I'll be looking over my shoulder.
posted by Huff | 11:18 AM
3 Comments:
For the record, I was quoting and making fun of the other "Jack In the Hole" when I said "worry wart." I guess it was just another balk in my futile attempts to make a joke.
An unrelated side note - The Hitcher was the very first R rated movie that I ever watched. Ahh, fond memories.
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