Doorman Diaries

False sense of sports prowess in video games

Wii need to have a talk.
Since you’ve come into my life, I’ve had to make a few changes. I know you mentioned in passing that my health and well-being are important you, but I didn’t think you were going to actually test me on it.
So, because of your influence, I strap on that deified alabaster device, clutch the nun-chuka-whatever-it’s-called controller, and do my best to make you shine bright amid my flabby attempt at physical fitness.
But my Wii age has been hovering at somewhere near my mid-20s, and yet I still find it taxing to walk briskly to the mailbox or make an attempt to swim the length of a pool.
As far as I can tell, I can hit prodigious home runs, golf at par, push my opponent around a tennis court at will, attack an opponent like a swash-buckling pirate of yore, and bowl a game worthy of PBA mention while barely breaking a sweat.
And yet, I’m still an aging buffoon flailing wildly at digital moves that 6-year-old chubby suburbanites find dismissively simple. Yeah, thanks for making me a college athlete turned worthless invalid in front of my family.
Honestly folks, take stock and realize that we’ve gone way past reality and moved somewhere near science fiction. Tubby, goofballs have actually started to believe that they can benefit cardiovascularly by winging a few pieces of tethered plastic at a pretend adversary.
Let me sum it up for you.
You can’t actually box. You can’t fight. At all. Never could, not even close. You’re a weenie who lives in your mom’s basement. Wii boxing would never, and cannot ever, determine your laughable pugilistic expectations. Google the term “conflict resolution.” You’re going to need it.  
You can’t actually golf. A flick of the wrist doesn’t mean you should spend $1,900 on a set of Callaway irons or fritter away six grand on a membership to Singing Hills country club. Strangely enough, Callaway is another term for a gullible, smooshy schmuck. If you do feel the need to golf, please do this first: Hit yourself in the head with a brick so that we can see you coming and let the rest of us move on by.
You can’t hit a baseball. Nintendon’t. Seriously. You can’t. You got cut from your high school team in every grade. Now, at age 43, you hit six straight home runs on your home gaming console and therefore feel that affords you a shot at professional or even batting cage glory. Really? Let me save you a lot of time, a sleeve of shiny misleading tokens, and your personal pride. If you couldn’t hit a baseball then, you can’t hit it now. Stop. Find another hobby.
You can’t actually play tennis. The Wii has misled you into believing that tennis requires no actual work. Nope, once again, you’re wrong. In a real game, you would be bandied across a court right and left, to the point of vomitous ecstasy by a third-grader with a wooden racket. So, good job on accomplishing that task. You’re the champ.
Before you wax poetic about the duality of man and machine, intertwined to make our lives better, need I remind you that it’s still just a video game.
It’s also sold by a company with millions of dollars to throw at marketing development firms aimed at making you feel better, be it mentally or physically, about playing video games as an adult.
And with that knowledge firmly stated, I don’t care in the slightest! Thank you and I can’t wait for Wii2!