My connection with Envy comes from having HBO in the home growing up. It was firmly in HBO’s rotation of movies shortly after its release in 2004, placing me in high school while it was rotating. I readily recall watching it a number of times, likely catching 20 mins of it here, and 45 mins of it there, as was the nature of movie channels. I’m sure I pieced together a handful of full viewings eventually.

Coming into this most recent watch, I was firmly familiar with the premise still and even a couple of scenes off the top of my head. As I went to insert the disc into the DVD player, I noticed the disc face right away. It was satisfyingly clean. Pretty strong execution for an element of the experience that I often overlook:

Before the title menu, I expected some trailers. I’ve never been the type to skip the trailers, even as a kid, so I had some genuine anticipation for what movie would be welcoming me to Envy.

Shrek 2. Hell yeah. It was coming soon to video and DVD. Watching a trailer for an older movie has a much stronger ability to transport back in time than just watching an older movie.

After being convinced to add Shrek 2 to my already extensive list, the DVD gives me a choice between widescreen and full screen. Of course, being the movie nerd that I am, watching fullscreen is like handing out apples on Halloween. I quickly chose widescreen.

The title menu was exactly what the fullscreen/widescreen menu teased: flashy!

The bright colors and funky design elements were lovely and fitting for what I remembered the content of the movie to be about. I don’t have a history of assessing DVD menus formally in this way before the launch of this column, so I can’t say right now if every DVD title menu ends up being a pointed and accurate tone-setter for all movies, but this one certainly was. I guess we’ll see over time as I review more if most menus do a solid job reflecting the film experience, but for now, this one certainly accomplished that goal.

As I started the movie, one of the most immediate things I noticed was the movie-specific background music. A mellow, unserious song immediately greets as the movie starts:

The lyrics quickly give it away as a song made for the movie, which felt like a bit surprising for a movie of this sort. The song, titled “Envy”, was written by Mark Mothersbaugh and performed by Dan Navarro. Mothersbaugh is a co-founder and the lead singer of the band Devo, of “Whip It” fame. I actually recognized the name from Rugrats, a show I watched a ton as a kid. He was the composer of the music for the whole series. He has quite a prolific career as a composer of film and television, check it out.

The movie is a bit of a slow burn, in that it isn’t a movie that’s just constantly gut busting around every corner. There are some slower, sort of filler scenes, but they still feel purposeful. Jack Black as Nick Vanderpark is pretty solid overall. He’s at the peak of his powers in this era, and it does show with some highlights throughout the film. Ben Stiller as Tim Dingman really shows good character development. You see him grow throughout the movie and for a black comedy of this nature, I can appreciate that element of storytelling being included.

When Tim finally dumps onto Nick about all of the envy he’s carried and all the guilt he’s had about killing his horse (which of course turns out was not his fault), it feels authentic. It’s a crescendo of genuine, relatable human emotion that comes out similarly to how many of us would: unorganized and somewhat desperate. And Nick’s response gives us a clear picture of the type of person he is. Despite the rapid success, the scattered brain, and the clear desire for flashiness, he is a simple man who just wants his family by his side and his best friend in his life. A black comedy about a spray that makes dog shit disappear possessing such strong doses of character development and humanity is admirable.

Rachel Weisz as Debbie Dingman was a little confusing, as it was kind of tough to get a read on her character overall. But I think she played a pretty narrow purpose in the film overall, and I suppose she did what she was written to do. Amy Poehler as Natalie Vanderpark felt a little restrained, but being the comedic stud Amy is, she was effective in her moments. They certainly gave her more leash than Rachel. This film came out early in her career expansion from Saturday Night Live to film, but there could have been a bit more given to her, particularly with Debbie’s run for public office. Even though the story centered around Nick and Tim’s friendship, I would have appreciated a little more mmph in how their wives were written.

Christopher Walken as J-Man was an absolute gem. Pure chaos, unpredictable, and a perfect fit for the tone of the movie. He was a primary source of the absurdity that is so prominent in the film. For whatever reason, this image was one that was burned in my memories and I recalled just as it was about to come up in the movie:

Post-movie, I moved to the special features:

Not the strongest set of special features, but there are still some notable quirks and fun additions.

“Best of Black” is pretty odd. It’s literally just scenes from the movie with Jack Black in them. I even watched a couple to confirm that it wasn’t anything more than that. Pretty underwhelming, but I will consider the context of the technology at the time. I’m sure the studio considered Jack Black a bright spot in the film, and the technology of being able to skip around from one scene to another was relatively new still, so I’m sure providing an index of the assumed funniest scenes was fresh enough to make some sense at the time.

The photo gallery is sick! Here are some of my favorites:

The production notes are pretty cool too, like a written “behind-the-scenes” feature. I was impressed by the length of it and how far they went with talking to various folks that were a part of the production. I’ve come to expect that many DVDs have footage of the making of the movie, especially for a movie with so many notable names, and even a notable director in Barry Levinson (Good Morning Vietnam, Rain Man, Toys). But I can certainly appreciate the effect of written word and photography to fill that expectation.

Overall, the film was fine. It benefits from embracing it for what it is instead of what you expect it to be. It’s bizarre and a bit against the grain, and it takes a bit to orient oneself to take it that way because of the expectations one would have based on the cast and the era. Once I pretended it was an Adult Swim show, I received it a lot better. The special features were different, but endearing and fulfilling. Another positive physical media experience!

Letterboxd Rating: 3/5

If you’re on Letterboxd, check out my account here and give me a follow! I’ll follow ya back!

The recent resurgence in physical media has reignited a longstanding love I’ve had for the intentional act of watching and listening deliberately, courtesy of a tape or a disc.

I grew up surrounded by VHSs and DVDs, with my parents always keeping movies on hand and regularly taking us on weekend trips to Family Video. I was spending my summers at my grandma and grandpa’s house, constantly diving into their impressive collection and repeatedly watching movies like The Fox and The Hound, Fantasia, The Mask and Men In Black. This adoration for physical media became much more than an afterthought of my upbringing, as it carried into my early adulthood; 15 years ago, before it felt like an act of rebellion, I was dropping $150 on a haul of movies from PrePlayed, a pre-owned media store in Ashwaubenon, Wisconsin. Those trips became the foundation to what is now a robust physical media collection, planted at my home with open arms, welcoming everything from all-time personal favorites to movies I’ve first heard of while on the hunt. My partner’s fandom of thrifting and garage sales has breathed even more life to the collection, allowing for additions that won’t set us back much financially (which means more money for those Criterion Collection DVDs, shoutout to the 50% off sales).

I have this long-developed love for possessing media tangibly, and while streaming has spotlighted the value of access, it’s been a different digital influence that has fed my love of late. Constant connection is exhausting. The relief of disconnection is maximized by browsing a physical library, grabbing a title, pondering on it for a second, and starting the experience with the act of engaging with an item in real life. Simple, yet so effective.

That brings me here. I am launching a new column titled Analog Cinema Experience (ACE). I want to share this love for physical media with others. Each contribution to the column will feature a movie from my collection and the experience I had engaging with it. The pre-movie experience (trailers and menu vibes), a movie review, the post-movie experience (special features) and any other noteworthy elements will be discussed. Sharing the general aesthetic of my experience, I’ll also include photos of the physical copy and screenshots of menus (if applicable). I’ll also toss in my Letterboxd rating and if I have a copy for sale (Physicalace on eBay).

Let’s take a ride through the world of physical media. I’ll try my best to be a proper tour guide for you.

This piece is a prime example of the underlying philosophy of Giving Flowers in action. The desire to give a bouquet of written flowers to players, moments and other entities of sports and pro wrestling that I feel do not get the love they deserve is rooted in a mature exhaustion with the mainstream sports media landscape. The primary traits of the landscape as it stands include takes that are right on the cusp of delegitimization of the deliverer, big personalities wading into subject territory that they simply are not properly informed enough to discuss, debate shows as far as the eye can see, and social media presence solely driven by engagement, at the expense of simply good content.

Today, the landscape doesn’t have room for general appreciation. It doesn’t have room for poetic interpretation. It doesn’t have room to be retrospective. The landscape wants us to get riled up in the comment section. It wants us to send a link to our group chat because views aren’t less valuable just because it’s a hate watch. It doesn’t necessarily care about providing ONLY top tier content. It first relies on the action on the field, the court, or the pitch to be engaging, then the goal is to make supplementary content that will simply get us to interact. Retrospective, poetic appreciation doesn’t get the people going, according to the suits.

But just because the suits say it does make it true. All of us sports fans light up when we can look backwards and remember fondly. Just take 82-0, the NBA lineup game that has crossed over into other popular sports now. There’s a reason it’s taken off. It’s because so many of us have a soft spot for retrospection, and the mainstream sports media landscape neglects it.

Coverage of Giannis Antetokounmpo is a prominent recent example. Sure, I get it, the full reports surrounding his departure are all pointing to a pretty strained relationship between him and the Bucks organization for a range of reasons, so it may be imperfect context for poetic retrospection from mainstream sports media. But for someone who did so much for 1 of the 30 NBA franchises, someone who will go down as a first ballot hall of famer, and is probably working his way into being a top 20-25 player of all time as of now, to not even sniff some accomplishment acknowledgement is disappointing, even if it is expected.

So I’m here with a bouquet.

Through the bulk of Giannis’s time with the Milwaukee Bucks, I wouldn’t describe myself as a Bucks fan, despite being a born and raised Wisconsin sports fan. The Bucks had me fed up as an 11 year old. I was a full blown Bucks fan as a kid, from the days of the Tim Thomas double headband. I had total belief that we could make a run to the Finals in 2001 and have the honor of losing to the Shaq and Kobe Lakers, which would have been supremely satisfying. But the league had other ideas:

The Bucks quickly fell apart after that run, and upon trading Ray Allen two years later for a disinterested, fossilized version of Gary Payton, I was out. I stopped being a fan of the team. They proceeded to make my case for me for the next 15 years or so, floating in underwhelming mediocrity and contributing little excitement material to the fanbase outside of Michael Redd’s time as a Buck, Brandon Jennings 55-point game, and, for a brief moment, Jabari Parker.

But Giannis sparked a flicker within me. His trajectory was simply undeniable for a curmudgeon ex-Bucks fan like me. His development into a superstar, along with his infectious personality was enough for me to soften from my longstanding status as a skeptic looking the other way with a cold shoulder and arms folded. From Most Improved Player to perennial All Star to Defensive Player of the Year and MVP, the accomplishments and the way he reached those accomplishments, with awe-inspiring domination and off-the-chart levels of effort, led me to a state of active admiration.

Then during the summer of 2021, with COVID still lingering around and hindering a full blown return to normalcy, the flicker became a sustained flame. Sitting in firm COVID unemployment, I had nothing else to do besides tend to the fire as the Bucks set themselves up for a real run. The season-long expectations were coming to fruition; the stars were aligning for Giannis to carry us to the promised land.

Bucks fans’ ride to glory that postseason included a dismantling of the Heat, an absolute war with the KD-Kyrie-Harden Nets, and a gutsy series win over an overachieving Hawks team, without Giannis for the last 2+ games after a terrifying knee hyperextension. The only thing between the Bucks and the top of the mountain was Chris Paul, Devin Booker, and the Phoenix Suns.

After defying medical science by returning for Game 1 of the Finals, he looked like himself again. 3 big wins following a 0-2 series deficit, with his signature moment coming as a clincher to the third win:

The iconic camera staredown. Notable enough to be played in every NBA intro package alongside Jordan over Russell, the Kobe to Shaq alley-oop, Kevin Garnett screaming to the sky, and LeBron blocking Iguodala.

But the embodiment of Giannis’s peak powers came in a game-clinching Game 6 performance that should go down in the NBA history books. 50 points, 14 rebounds, 2 assists, 0 steals, 5 blocks, 16-25 FG, 1-2 3PT, 17-19 FT.

But it wasn’t just the stats. It was the way he established dominance early on. The way that he still looked healthy throughout, despite that knee injury scare taking up residence in the back of every Bucks fan’s heads. The way that he willed an underwhelming franchise, starved for genuine success, to heights that no supporter besides those that qualify for a senior discount had ever soaked in firsthand.

When confronted by greatness, Giannis stepped up, looked it dead in the eye, delivered a firm handshake and introduced himself. He stepped into the moment with self-actualized focus.

And it just felt different than other championships. It wasn’t viewed as inevitable by the national media. It wasn’t Giannis’s destiny. It didn’t feel like it was solely due to talent superiority or tactical advantage or luckiness. It felt like Giannis put 50 years of mediocrity on his back and said “I got you.” It felt like Giannis would have died on that court for a ring. And in the context of a league full of passive satisfaction, tanking, and load management, that sort of emotional dedication is meaningful. Dirk, Giannis, Brunson, these are players whose rings simply resonate more than others.

As a fan that dedicates energy, support, and often money to our chosen team, we want the athletes on our squad to care as much as we do. We want to tune into dedication, passion, tenacity, composure. Man, if they bring that much, it’s hard to be mad. We can at least take pride in what we’ve chosen to support. Even with bad results. Just please don’t give us apathy or disengagement or low-effort.

Giannis did all that, and then some. Giannis got the championship payoff. He lifted an entire fanbase, an entire city, an entire state. He gave us everyday people a lifelong memory that we can cherish and share with some of our closest people. He crowned us all with satisfactory, future nostalgia. He created an eternal, rich connection with the people of Wisconsin.

I wish he was properly acknowledged on his way out. I wish the mainstream sports media landscape had room for such acknowledgement. But a flawed coverage model doesn’t take away how he made us all feel. Giannis Antetokounmpo will live in the hearts of Bucks fans everywhere. And if his departure video is any indication, the feeling is mutual:

I will forever hold deep admiration for the symbolic slice of humanity that is Giannis Antetokounmpo’s 2021 championship with the Milwaukee Bucks.

One of the key factors to the enjoyment of pro wrestling is believability. When you witness an exchange of blows, we know that they aren’t actually punching each other out, but we don’t want them to be completely whiffing on their strikes either. When we see a promo battle between two wrestlers, we know that they’re just playing their written roles, but it’s enhanced when we start to wonder if these two actually hate each other. When a wrestler leans into their character work, we know they’re not really like that, but the best ones make you believe every action they take and every phrase they utter. There are masters of believability, ones that have been convincing in every role they’ve played. The ones that help you subconsciously suspend disbelief. They maximize enjoyability and remind us why we love wrestling. Solo Sikoa is one of these masters.

Since his call up to the main roster, with a stinging debut at Clash at the Castle in 2022, which saw him steal the show from Drew McIntyre in his championship match against Roman Reigns, Solo has been in a variety of roles, covering just about every inch of the face-heel spectrum.

His first character was as a quiet enforcer, providing The Bloodline that extra muscle that took the group to yet another level. His physical presence was a primary part of his initial main roster iteration. He walked so Jacob Fatu could run (not really, because Jacob is his own beast who carved out his own vibe, but you know what I’m saying). He was described as mean, nasty, and a tank. The Street Champ was another characterization that was still used from his NXT days.

But the physicality wasn’t just for show. He was given a good run of matches without losing, which instantly established him. In fact, his first loss on the main roster was to Cody Rhodes on the Road to Wrestlemania 39. It took that level of momentum to cross his path before he was written to lose a match. And of course, it can’t be overlooked that he got his revenge on Cody at WM 39 when he delivered a Samoan Spike to him while Paul Heyman distracted the ref, serving as the catalyst to Cody coming up short to finish his story.

The Enforcer of the Bloodline was established and convincing.

Then post-WM 40, after Roman’s years-long reign as the Undisputed WWE Champion came to an end at the hands of Cody Rhodes, the character presentation shifted. Solo began his takeover of The Bloodline, by turning on everyone involved to that point, right down to the wiseman Paul Heyman. He brought in Tama Tonga, Tonga Loa, and Jacob Fatu as replacements, written to have facilitated one of the biggest main roster additions of the last few years in Jacob. They wreaked havoc on the roster for the rest of 2024, leading to Solo engaging in Tribal Combat with Roman for the Ula Fala on the debut episode of Raw on Netflix.

The transfer of Bloodline power back to Roman in that match effectively ended that phase of the Bloodline story. When it was all said and done, Solo ended up as an essential part of the Bloodline storyline — the best pro wrestling storyline of the last 20 years. He was the catalyst to multiple massive checkpoints in the full narrative, from his debut as Drew McIntyre’s spoiler, to usurping Roman from his impenetrable standing, to Jacob Fatu’s debut.

Since then, the character evolution has continued. This turn from physical enforcer to faction-leading mastermind has gone up a notch, as he has leaned even further into this brooding, cerebral approach. When he first started on this trajectory, he was still showing the enforcer side, relying on explosive acts of force to make his point, such as disposing of Heyman. Post-Bloodline Solo has become a full blown architect, even reflecting the evolution in his in-ring approach, becoming a deliberate monster rather than someone solely reliant on imposing his physicality on his opponent.

What was unexpected in this evolution was the comedic element that emerged. This dude is genuinely funny? This video has plenty of favorites:

That sort of range is rare. To be able to go from quiet enforcer to full-on heel to ring leader with a comedic blend, and move through that evolution as seamlessly as he has, takes a special talent. I have to give full credit to a member of my wrestling group chat for a comparison and description of this sort of unique blend, “The guy who could always do funny shit but then turn it up to 11 and be a killer: Kurt Angle. Could be a complete joke the whole episode but then he gets in the ring and fuckin kills someone and you believe it, 100%”

That’s Solo. Kurt Angle levels of character work.

On top of the character work, his in-ring work is also strong, particularly in the signature WWE style. If he were in AEW, he’d still be a star, but he wouldn’t thrive the same way he does in WWE. That mid-match storytelling ability that made Randy Orton and Roman Reigns all-time greats, Solo is cut from the same cloth. I enjoy a goofy gimmick, some technical flashiness or a nutty spot, but nothing beats that extra layer of engrossing in-ring narrative. It elevates the viewing experience and maximizes personal investment.

Solo has had 3 different “characters” since coming up to the main roster: the Enforcer of the Bloodline, the New Head of the Table, and the Leader of MFT. If he went from all physicality as the Enforcer to a brooding mastermind as the Leader of MFT, then I’d say the New Head of the Table was the halfway point between those two iterations.

The character development that Solo has exhibited since his main roster debut deserves more love and recognition than he currently receives. When discussing the future of WWE and considering who is going to carry the company after the 40-somethings finally age out, Solo isn’t on the short list enough. Solo Sikoa’s mastery has been on display for years now. In each version of him we’ve seen, he has always nailed it. Let’s be clear about this: he possesses all the tools to be an all-time great.

Will Solo become that? Maybe. I wouldn’t be surprised. But either way, this dude is showing out for us, and he deserves love for that. Rarely out, rarely hurt, massive range, consistent execution. Just dedicated persistence to entertain. And he’s damn good at it.

To quote the wise, early iteration of Jacob Fatu, “I LOVE YOU, SOLO!”

One of the most important elements of the full sports fandom experience is the role of the announcer. While many who fill the role do so admirably with a straight delivery, a tight cadence, and a steady state of mind, a few of the most memorable announcers decide to color outside of the lines. They approach the role creatively rather than structurally. Their presence feels more like walking through an art gallery with a friend and less like a meeting with your tax professional. There is a poetic and musical rhythm to accompanying viewers through a sporting experience, and it’s often our favorite announcers who embrace that. Executing that role so beautifully is no easy task. There are many ways that it can go wrong for an announcer, but for longtime ESPN staple Mark Jones, it all goes right. While his career spans coverage of multiple sports including the WNBA, college football, college basketball and even the NHL, this bouquet is being handed to Mark for his positive contributions to the NBA viewing experience.

Despite ESPN having a heavy presence in my childhood, I only vaguely remember Mark’s early work. I do recall him being around, but in those early days, some of the staples like Stuart Scott, Scott Van Pelt and Kenny Mayne caught my eyes and ears more. As the years passed, and he stepped into a prominent role as a play-by-play announcer, particularly as part of the No. 2 crew for ESPN NBA coverage, he became more notable and recognizable.

Mark’s signature style features tasteful linguistic flexing with timely energy distribution. His broadcasts sound like his pregame meal is a dictionary. Some of his most notable phrases (and some of my personal favorites) include:

• When a player exhibits some flash, “In his bag like the fries are at the bottom!”

• When a sequence becomes sloppy, “Looking like LA Fitness at 3 o’clock…”

• When a player goes on a scoring run, “Hotter than fish grease!

Before his final broadcast, the Inside the NBA team chatted with him about his time at ESPN, and we got some insight into what influenced his delivery style, the first moment he said “hotter than fish grease” and other lovely background information about Mark. Check it out here:

Mark says his approach comes from authenticity, from him just being himself on the mic. That authenticity became his prominent trait and the reason his broadcasts resonated with so many. It doesn’t take long to recognize Mark’s genuine love for what he does, and it’s damn contagious. It’s implied that by tuning into an NBA broadcast, there is some level of admiration, fandom, and intrigue present for the product. When the person responsible for dictating the game to us chooses to “let it fly” as he says, those feelings are sure to inflate and expand as we take it all in.

The way that Mark does his job, it moves past an essential role that becomes a basic expectation of a basketball viewing experience. He’s an enhancement. He’s a plus. He isn’t someone you zone out or tolerate. He’s a contributor to the spectacle. It’s like going to your favorite local food spot and getting seated in your favorite server’s section. You were already going to enjoy the dinner, but now the night just got an extra layer of satisfaction that further confirms why you continue to go there.

Mark’s signature style is also tailor made for the NBA product. The stars aligned for Mark to end up in the position he did just as the NBA continued its trend of growing skill, flash, and athleticism. Some may view his fittingly flashy announcing style as over the top, but so is the NBA product! Soak in the entirety of the modern NBA culture for just a week and you’ll find players arriving in high fashion, highlight reels full of plays that would make year-end lists 25 years ago, and colorful alternate uniforms and courts on any given night. We watch freakishly athletic physical specimens continuously exhibit sporting greatness, all while totally looking the part; we should not expect the orator of the viewing experience to remain rigid and unexcited. Mark is just doing the NBA justice.

Mark has come to have an extended career by now, but his high-energy delivery and continued high-level performance in his role would indicate that he’s not going anywhere yet, despite the decision to step away from ESPN. We can only hope he goes the route of Hubie Brown and decides he’d like to deliver big basketball moments for years to come. But however it plays out for him, I’m honored to have been able to tune into many of his broadcasts over the years, and I admire him and his work, here and now.

The modern National Football League has gotten to such a stage of athletic prestige that unprecedented territory seems to be revisited on an annual basis. There are freaks like Micah Parsons and Myles Garrett defying football logic weekly, there’s Derrick Henry still throwing grown men when he’s supposed to be aging, and then there is the very existence of Darnell Washington. Despite this ongoing athletic growth, we still had a grandpa QB that is damn near stationary in his old age rejoin the league in his mid-40s. And not only did he play, but he did not look like hot garbage in his return. Philip Rivers, dad of 10, grandfather, likely future Hall of Famer, just randomly decided to pop back into our lives in December 2025, and what a treat it was.

With a resurgent Daniel Jones out for the season after an Achilles injury, their high draft pick Anthony Richardson recovering from a rubber band attack, and a playoff berth still well in-play, the Colts desperately needed a hand. When the initial rumblings started across the sports world interwebs that the hand that may be extended is one of a QB that hadn’t played in five years, sources were double checked far and wide. It felt like an Onion article that died on the cutting room floor. There’s no way that Phil was actually going to come in and take snaps. Maybe the Colts gave him a call out of proper due diligence, but come on.

Then the news hit and it became real. Old Man Rivers was really returning. Turns out he was meeting weekly with Colts HC Shane Steichen to implement the Colts offense for the high school team he was coaching in Alabama, which included one of his 10 kids. Phil and Shane go back to Phil’s Charger days, with Shane being his QB coach and offensive coordinator for a few years.

Now, the results did not come with the return. The Colts went 0-3 in his three starts, and Phil threw for 544 Yards and a 63% completion percentage with 4 TDs and 3 INTs. But it was still must-see TV. He showed flashes of his old self, with his placement on passes avoiding much decline. His wonky delivery remained intact, possibly even more pronounced in his older age. And most importantly to him and his teammates, he gave the Colts a chance.

But I think for the wide range of outcomes that could have emerged out of this story, from an absolutely dismal failure in which Phil looks every bit of someone who hasn’t played a game in 5 years to an immaculate return where he takes the league by storm and leads the Colts to a Super Bowl victory, the happy medium outcome that came to be was the most endearing.

If he would have fallen flat and looked terrible, it would have sucked the air out of the room. Steichen would have looked foolish and gimmicky, Rivers would have slightly tainted his rock solid legacy, and the Colts would be viewed as an unserious, misguided, and desperate franchise.

If Phil would have taken the Colts to the promised land, it would have risen above this Giving Flowers format and emerged as a once-in-a-lifetime, massive, all-time sports story, raising many worthy questions and unforeseen complexities about aging and professional sports in the process.

But the outcome wasn’t either extreme. He looked fine. The age decline he showed was charming, not sad or unreal. The leadership he showed was fascinating, not baseless or historic. The return was justifiably admirable, not ill-informed or jaw-dropping.

The return of Philip Rivers to the Colts brought a nostalgic tide that washed over many of us. His return, exactly as is, maximized that feeling. Just good enough to be familiar, but just aged enough to properly (and positively) place him. We can view Phil with mellow reverence for his return. And that’s a pleasant place to reside as a sports fan.

The NFL has always been a space that embraces the outlier characters that have passed through the league over the years. Fans love to get that little extra out of the players and coaches involved in the sports we consume. And Phil is one of the most eccentric we’ve had the pleasure of enjoying. We’re all so lucky to have gotten a chance to see him give us a “dadgummit” and sling the pigskin around the yard one more time.

For better or worse, our technological evolution has led us to a place in which anyone with a device that connects to the Internet is able to express an opinion on a public platform for other connected users to agree or disagree with. As such, topical consensus, debate, and ongoing discourse is limitless. And along this ride of collective assessment, there are entities and happenings that are too frequently omitted from our appreciation rotation.

That mid-card wrestler that quietly carved out an impressive resume and some sustained longevity. That fan favorite NBA player that walks to the beat of his own drum both on and off the court. That underrated great that comes up just short of the all-time discussions, but still did their thing at a level worthy of extra attention.

Join me on this personal quest to give love to the undervalued and unappreciated in sports and pro wrestling culture. Whether we look back for some retrospective revisitation or recognize what is still unfolding, let’s deliver bouquets to those that haven’t received enough of them.