The parable of the Prodigal Son has never made sense to me. There are a few gaps in logic that seem to run contradictory to the rest of the New Testament. A quick recap for those of you who slept through Sunday School (read: the cool kids/erstwhile Atheists): It is a story of two men: the perpetual fuckup, and his moral, hard working brother. One day, the Prodigal Son (who was out doing God knows what in the land of milk and honey) returns home. The father is overjoyed and slaughters the fatted calf in celebration and there is much rejoicing.
What never made sense is why the good son gets skipped over. He's been a model citizen and never has there been a ritualistic slaughtering on his behalf. His consistent performance goes unrewarded by his father. The Non-Prodigal maintained a straight A average, but his college application doesn't look as impressive as the truant C student who gets his act together Junior year and starts getting A minuses. No matter how consistent his good works, the Non-Prodigal Son will never step out of his brother's degenerate shadow.
If that isn't the story of Emilio Estevez's life.
Recently, there was a marathon of all three Mighty Ducks movies on cable (which either classifies as Emili-overload or Excess-tevez). These are movies that I worshipped as a kid, a chorus of "Quack quack quack" running through my childhood; back when I dreamed romantic facts of musketeers and GoGurt seemed the greatest invention of the 20th century.
So as I'm watching these cornerstones of my youth, I notice that something is different this time. Maybe I got older. Maybe I'm deeper. Skin's thicker, instincts more developed. No matter what the cause, I found myself vehemently, passionately and violently rooting against the Mighty Ducks.
Now I have no problems with David vs. Goliath stories. I still cheer for Rudy, Rocky, the Rebel Alliance, and Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. But the Ducks have somehow become an unsympathetic hero who inspire nothing but annoyance and spite.
That's right, people. I'm still coming to grips with the increasingly inconsequential truth that I have finally passed into adulthood.
This is tantamount to realizing that your hero growing up was on steroids. Or learning that Samus was actually a woman (could never play Smash Bros the same way). Or the realization that Ferris Bueller isn't a freedom fighter, just a contemptuous self righteous midget who blames the white establishment for all his problems without ever having to suffer the ramifications of his actions, and all the while having an disproportionately hot girlfriend. In other words: this guy.
Let's go through the trilogy to see where it all went wrong. To see where the Ducks crossed the line from admirable underdogs to obnoxious, meddling kids.
The Mighty Ducks (1993)
Gordon Bombay, doing his best Rick "Wild Thing" Vaughn impression, gets hit with a DUI. He gets sentenced to community service, namely coaching a ragtag group of hockey players. The roster includes Charlie (played by a young Pacey), and Goldberg (sidebar: SPEAR!).
The District 5 Ducks are miserable, undisciplined, and show no hopes of improvement. Making things worse is that Bombay's old mentor is still around, coaching the opposition. The Hawks are diligent, surgical, talented, dedicated, and they only care about winning. Those bastards.
The Ducks need help. So what does Bombay do? He acquires stud prospect Adam Banks by means of a redistricting loophole. He gerrymanders his way into getting a prospect. For further reading, see also: Luke Cafferty.
Bombay teaches these scamps some hockey fundamentals, and sure enough, the Ducks beat the evil team in the end and there is much celebration.
Moral of the story? The team that has fun, dicks around during practice and treats their sport as nothing more than a diversion will always win. Not the disciplined team with the Puritan work ethic, waking up at 6am, running drills, eating a balanced diet, going to hockey camp every summer, staying away from girls to keep their bodies pure, etc.
Granted, the Hawks were douches spelled with a capital "BAG," but they got where they were for a reason. Their radical philosophy of "practice hard, run drills, win games" was working out just fine until Bombay decided that a more relaxed, nurturing, lackadaisical approach might be better.
Yep. Everybody gets a trophy in this world. The Prodigal Son strikes again.
D2: 2 Mighty 2 Ducks (1994)
Part two is a relatively inoffensive sequel. If the Bad News Bears went to Japan, it's time to take the Ducks' loose canon, devil may care, shoot first ask questions never style of hockey to an international level. They play as Team USA in the Junior Goodwill Hands Across America, International Incident Games.
And uh-oh! What should we find but another highly talented, well coached, black jersey-ed squad in Team Iceland. Guess who'll be playing in the championship game?
So, it's time for the big Emili-motivational speech. And it comes with a big shot in the arm: He brings out brand new uniforms...featuring the Mighty Duck logo. They even go as far to announce that Team USA is now "The USA Ducks." Instead of chanting U-S-A, we get a resounding "Quack, quack, quack" from the bleachers.
Holy Huey Long! Either these junior athletes are Iranian sleeper agents or they don't understand that this competition is about a little thing called "patriotism." Are you playing for your country or your peewee hockey team from last year? What if any modern Olympic athlete did this? What if Michael Phelps swam the 400m freestyle in a Speedo that has "Subway Five Dollar Footlongs" printed across the front? National pride is sacrificed in favor of a marketable logo.
Undoing all the diplomatic advances made in Rocky IV, the team rabidly rips off their Team USA jerseys and pledges allegiance to the Mighty Duck. The Ducks then spit on Old Glory, punch Uncle Sam in the 'nads, barbecue a bald eagle over a burning American Flag, and work out to Jane Fonda aerobics tapes.
What does it say about these young athletes that they are more motivated by a duck wearing a hockey mask than the jersey of their homeland? National pride just isn't enough for some people. I guess the Ducks won't be stopping at the VFW during their victory tour.
It makes me wish that Bombay decided to expatriate to Iceland, marry that statuesque blonde goddess ("Sleeping with the enemy, eh Coach Bombay?"), and lead the diligent Nordic team to victory.
The athletes formerly known as Americans end up winning thanks to Kenan (no sign of Kel. Probably off freebasing orange soda on the Dance 360 set) switching jerseys with Goldberg (sidebar: WHO'S NEXT?) to trick the Icelandic defenders. Now, I don't claim to have read the most recent rulebook on international hockey, but that can't possibly be legal.
Imagine if we're in the Stanley Cup finals. "Bergeron to Krejci. Back to Bergeron...who passes it back to Tim Thomas. WAIT! That's not Tim Thomas! It's Chara! (*Insert Jim Ross voice*) Mah Gawd! That's Zdeno Chara! He's not supposed to be on the ice! GOAL!"
Over the course of part two, the Ducks move from lovable, poorly coached scamps into materialistic, anti-American cheaters. But that is nothing compared to their evolution in:
D3: Mighty Ducks with a Vengeance (1996)
Bombay pulls a few strings and gets the Ducks into the prestigious, Exeterian school: Eden Hall Academy. Athletic nepotism at its finest. How about they pull a Reggie Bush and buy Charlie's suffering mother a new house? Maybe Adam Banks will drive a brand new Nissan to his NCAA investigation.
Despite never having played high school hockey, the Ducks have been recruited to be the new JV team at Eden. And class, giving everyone an equal part when they're clearly not equal is called what?
They start to feud with the evil preppy varsity team, whose only sin is having money and winning ten straight state championships. Yep. They've got a bad attitude and an incurable addiction to putting banners up in the gymnasium. Fiendish, prep school athletes. The villains in every John Irving novel. The Winklevi on skates.
Needless to say, the Ducks are ready to show these upper class overachievers why their wretched style of results-oriented hockey is wrong!
The Ducks begin their new tenure under Coach Ted Orion (Yes. Ted Orion. Sounds like he should be coaching pyramid ball on Caprica). Immediately, there's a problem. See, Orion is of the Craig MacTavish school where defense wins championships. He also thinks that hard work is the key to success.
Ohhhh, the Ducks do not like this. "We're supposed to be having fun! Not running drills! I'm cramping up! Where's our team mom! We need Capri Sun and orange slices!"
Even though Orion hasn't appointed a captain as of yet, Charlie insists that he's the leader and installs himself in the role. Insubordination at its finest. Stupid Pacey. God do I loathe this kid. I haven't felt this much hatred towards a teenager since the kid who wrote Eragon.
Sure enough, the Ducks are miserable on the ice and get decimated by the Varsity in every scrimmage. This eventually leads to the institution of a high school hockey mercy rule.
After a series of embarrassing performances by the JV, the dastardly Varsity squad insists that the Ducks haven't earned their respect. The Ducks respond with...some poorly rendered 90's yo mama jokes. "Yo Mama so rich, she drove you to school in a yacht!" Like Rose McGowan in "Planet Terror," they don't have a leg to stand on. Seriously, Ducks. What have you ever done, apart from abandoning your country in the third period of the Junior Goodwill Games?
But apparently it's the Varsity's fault for not knowing that the Ducks hail from a special land of Kindergarten Disney logic where everyone is considered a superstar until proven otherwise. Unless, of course, you happen to be a dedicated athlete with a proven track record. In which case, the Ducks are right to mock you for being uptight.
Then we get the big second act break conflict: The evil dean at Eden Hall wants to revoke he Ducks' scholarships (Stupid, lousy dean...)! Where would he get probable cause to do this, apart from their miserable performance on the ice and their incessant feud with the veteran athletes. But even though they have yet to win a high school game, they excel at friendship and teamwork and menstrual syncopation. Bombay turns into the white Al Sharpton and saves their undeserved spot at this elite bulwark of academic excellence with a closing argument that would make Alan Shore vomit in shame.
Time for the big JV/Varsity game, which now carries this stipulation: If the JV wins, the new school mascot will be the Duck, not the Warrior. Let's take two steps back from crazy town and examine this possibility. Eden Hall has been around since 1903. It has seen the administrations of two Roosevelts. It has thrived and probably produced more Fortune 500 CEOs/Skull and Bones members than any other school in the country. And we're going to chuck that history and tradition because Pacey has a chip on his shoulder? Besides, we all know that there is an easier way to change a mascot.
That must be one hell of an alumni news letter to get in the mail. "Dear Warrior Alums. Due to a ragtag group of 13 freshmen winning a meaningless scrimmage, our mascot is now the Mighty Duck. Enclosed is an envelope for your contribution to this year's annual fund. Quack quack!"
So who are you going to root for in this game: the upstarts who don't respect authority and play by nobody's rules except for their own...or the traditional moral values of the Varsity team who has won ten titles in a row? Are you going to cheer for the veteran leader or the rookie who punches him in the locker room?
One training montage later, and Orion has turned the Ducks into a capable unit that plays defense. Phew. I bet that all that hard work is going to pay off soon!
Time for the deciding game. Now that they (finally!) play two-way hockey, the Ducks are able to keep the game a scoreless tie. In the final minutes, Goldberg (sidebar: JACKHAMMER!) scores the winning goal. The school changes their mascot to the Duck and everyone is happy. Except for the varsity team whose tuition checks and charitable donations are paying for the Ducks' scholarships.
*********
Looking over this trilogy, the Ducks never act like true heroes, let alone likable teenagers. They whine. They complain. They are willfully insubordinate to their coach (because 14 year olds know better than a 20+ year professional). They just want to have fun rather than put in the necessary effort on the ice. They betray their country in exchange for cool new uniforms. They don't respect tradition. They insist that they deserve respect without earning it. They value fun over work, unearned ego over results. But it's okay. Hockey should be fun!
What sort of society fosters and rewards this kind of behavior? We should be promoting the sort of men who come to you with facts, proof and profit rather than faith, hope and charity.
Perhaps I'm now an old, jaded man and am viewing these movies through a new lens. Or maybe I was just too young, foolish and drunk to notice it at the time. Either way, I now know what I was for being misguided by these ducks: Quack. Quack. Quack.
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