Effect and Affection

Why is it that some things that have no real bearing on our lives affect us the way they do? Take for example, the use of the words "affect" and "effect." Something affects you, or has an effect on you. It does not "effect you." And though your improper use of the word affects me in no meaningful way, it still has an effect on me, i.e. it makes my skin crawl with grammar hives. [They're real. Look it up.]

(Dude, does someone have a case of the Mondays?)

No. Say that again and I will show you my fair, Jennifer Aniston style. [Name the movie, receive two credits against the demerits you will inevitably receive at some point in the near future.]

I write this because two major events occurred this past weekend, neither of which should have any real effect on me whatsoever. My life is not particularly changed by the passage of these events, nor I am I affected in any physical way by what's occurred. Still, I feel affected just the same, and in very different ways. Let's start with last night's debacle (or triumph, depending on your sports affiliation) of a Super Bowl.

Touted as what would be one of the best Super Bowls in recent years, pitting the league's best offense against its best defense, the game itself turned out to be a super bore. Seattle ran away with the game early, creating disappointment for both Seattle and Denver fans alike. What was supposed to have been a battle to the end turned out to be nothing more than King Peyton and his knights of the round stadium riding up to the walls of the Seattle defense, only to have the Seattle defenders basically say "I fart in your general direction." [Again, name the movie reference, get credits. It's that simple.]

(It's just a flesh wound….)

I see what you did there. Well played.

Anyway, Denver got creamed. Do I really care? No. I had no money riding on the game [because that's illegal… *ahem*] and no real emotional investment in either team. Or so I thought. Until I saw Peyton Manning walk off the field, at which time I became affected.

(Why?)

I'm glad you asked. Peyton Manning is a true professional. He takes pride in his job, does it well, and is disappointed more in himself than anyone else should his team fail to fulfill expectations. Did he mope off the field though? Unlike some other NFL quarterbacks, no he did not.  *coughcoughTomBradycoughcough* Did he blame or cast aspersions like some others might have? No, no he did not. *coughcoughBillBelichickcoughcough* What did he do? He graciously answered questions, praised the other team and, according to a story on Yahoo.com, stopped and signed autographs after losing the most important game of the season in spectacularly craptastic fashion. Because he is that good of a person.

Something like that should affect you. Here is a guy who probably just wanted to crawl in a hole and disappear from the spotlight, yet he still took the time to be gracious. That, ladies and gentlemen, is class personified. That is something that should make you smile, because people like that so seldom exist anymore. Though he may not play for my team, Peyton Manning has a fan in me for life just for being, well, Peyton. And by the way… I'm not that big of a touchy-feely-emotion-monger. I was gleefully giddy by the fact that the Seahawk's Richard Sherman missed the finale of the game in the locker room with an injury. Karma's a b*tch, ain't she, Sherm?

So, on to event number two. On Sunday we learned that the evils of addiction stole from us yet another incredible talent, and a good man. Oscar-winning actor Philip Seymour Hoffman passed away from an apparently drug overdose at the age of forty-six. I did not know the man. I do not know his family. Yet his death affects me.

(Ok, we'll bite. Why?)

I'm glad you asked. Because, in my humble opinion, Mr. Hoffman was what every actor should be: talented, modest, devoted, down to earth, and, in a word, real. He made no apologies for his appearance, nor did he even take pride in his work. Read the articles. On many occasions he refused to call himself a star, saying only that he was an actor and was not always good.

(We beg to differ.)

Exactly. Humility in a profession of self-adoration. He was with his partner, the mother of his children, for fifteen years. He loved her, loved his children. Yet he clearly had an addiction, one which destroyed him. That saddens me. The world lost a genius, and yeah, that should affect us. For me it hits even closer to home – My father (now retired) was a teacher in Fairport, New York where PSH grew up. He was one of my father's students. I didn't know him personally, but I felt as if I did through the connection my father shared with this man, even if ever so briefly. Silly? Perhaps. Do I care? Not really.

Before you ask, I don't know what the point is of all of this other than to point of the obvious – we are affected by a great many things, whether closely personal or seemingly tangential to our lives at best. Let those things affect you. Be affected. Let the effect hit you head on. By for the love of sweet bejeebus if you are effected, I will find you and I will affect your forehead with effect of a flicking finger. Yeah, that's right.

(I… what??)

You heard me.

[Oh, and further by the way – Budweiser wins the advertisement war. Puppies and horses, man. Puppies and horses.]

© J.J. Goodman 2104. All rights reserved.