The Show Goes On

By The Common Man

The Common Man did not plan to buy MLB12: The Show this year. He bought and enjoyed last year’s version (when the Twins were much, much better), and didn’t see the need to shell out $60 to stop living with the lie that Vernon Wells is a good player and that Justin Morneau’s career wasn’t in jeopardy. Plus, there were some truly annoying features of the game that TCM had trouble ignoring. Namely, the baserunning in Road to the Show is incredibly boring, the Franchise mode is bogged down by tedious and mundane details, and the minor league system of having to continually re-sign players makes very little sense.


Then he started hearing good things. Namely, that Steve Berthiaume loved it. Bert is a good dude who, despite his well-documented weakness in picking NL Central champions, plays video games openly and unrepentantly. That endears him to me. He’s been addicted to The Show for years, and so was sent an early copy. He was ecstatic that,

“The game's programmers have completely replaced last year's code and thus changed the way the baseball behaves with what they call True Ball Physics, which uses actual math for a spinning baseball that ricochets off bases, the pitching rubber and other field surfaces. The spin of the baseball off the bat is now accurate with realistic RPMs and the ball gains or loses energy like a real baseball, resulting in more hit type varieties. Line drives rise or sink and infield chops quickly become difficult to handle.”

That sounded very promising. So, on Tuesday night, TCM stopped at Target on the way home and bought it, and over the last two nights, after washing the dishes and putting the kids to bed, TCM has played around with it in both Road to the Show and Franchise modes as an “experienced” player and using a standard controller (you can also use PS3 Move, if you have it). Here are the game’s features, and TCM’s reaction to them:

Maddening

It happened more than a week ago, but The Common Man didn't even notice. Once upon a time, he anxiously anticipated this day, standing outside the store, hoping to get in, out, and back home in record time. He's talking, of course, about the Madden release day. Every year in August, EA Sports rolls out its game, the gold standard (hell, now it's the only standard) of football games. Men drool and women go into mourning (for their lost men).

But this year, the release barely registered above a whisper. Maybe it's that the Madden commentary just gets recycled every year, making The Common Man feel like he's playing the same game every year, becoming more and more bland and cliched and nonsensical. Maybe it's that the game itself has finally gotten stale. Maybe it's that The Common Man's gotten so good he's not challenged anymore. Maybe it's that he turned 30, and thinks 30 year olds shouldn't be sitting 3 feet from the TV, punching buttons and pulling levers. Maybe it's that he stubbornly refuses to upgrade from his PS2 (a gift from when The Uncommon Wife was The Uncommon Girlfriend, does she ever regret that gift now).

The Common Man doesn't know, but frankly, for once, couldn't care less. He is just not excited. Not covetous. Not curious. He's over it. He doesn't even care that the Vikings are supposed to be very good this year (what with Adrian (Purple Jesus) Peterson at running back and the best defensive line since the Purple People


Eaters). Or that there's a new "adaptive difficulty engine" that automatically increases the game's difficulty according to your skill level. Or that Brett Favre is finally off the Packers.

And, frankly, that kind of makes The Common Man sad. Sad over his lost youth, when he could get really excited about a new video game. Sad over misspent time in his youth, playing Madden when he could have been reading or playing a sport or watching more bad movies. And sad that something that used to give him pleasure now gives him the "eh"s. But he also feels a little freer, happy he'll have additional time in a life that seems increasingly short of it. Still and all, The Common Man will have to find something to fill that hole. Probably booze. Maybe gambling. He'll let you know.