Fast Five: The First Five Days of the 2011 NFL Season

Pleasing movie audiences and NFL fans isn't too complicated.

This year’s best summer movie by far has been Fast Five, the fifth installment of The Fast and the Furious franchise. It’s not even close. That’s how bad this round of summer blockbuster movies has been. I hadn’t even glanced at any of the previous four before checking it out, and I walked away more satisfied with my investment than I did with anything else I dropped $40 on in the last three months (rough estimate of two movie tickets, popcorn and a Coke). Lapdances included.

I got what I wanted out of Fast Five; fast cars, explosions, bad acting and brief nudity. The best scene from the movie was when director Justin Lin panned into a shot of an underground drag racing spot in Brazil, and on his approach he follows two sets of beautiful Brazilian (I’m assuming given the setting of the film and the tone of the skin) feminine buttocks as they gracefully walk across the IMAX screen, the hind parts hardly concealed by the mini-skirt that rested upon the upper crest of each of the four cheeks. The fabric of the skirt rested there like the glow of the sun just before it goes out of sight behind the Rocky Mountains. It was a mastery in film-making (I cried), and is certain to land him an Oscar, or possibly an AVN award. My only regret was it wasn’t available in 3D. You rarely hear that said these days.

As Americans, the four truths of summer movie watching (fast cars, explosions, bad acting, and brief nudity) are as much a part of our inalienable rights as free speech and legal counsel. Most of the other attempted blockbusters that came out this summer (Hangover 2, Tranformers 3, Green Lantern) were either lackluster sequels, ridiculously lackluster trilogies, and/or starred Ryan Reynolds.

Sorry Harry Potter fans, this is a conversation for grown-ups.

The first five days of the 2011 NFL season have been just as satisfying to the league’s fans. Every day this week has had its own details that could be metaphored (not a word, I know) into a Hollywood big screen production.

Monday was your classic Hollywood melodrama. The news first broke on the previous Friday that the owners had agreed to a deal in principle that would put an end to the lockout, and that the players would need to agree vote on it by the following Tuesday in order for the season to start on time. As the story made the rounds over the weekend, some players began playing the “Nobody put’s Baby in a corner” card, and expressing dissatisfaction with the owners manipulating the media and the fans by publicizing the deal and putting the pressure of resolution squarely on their side’s shoulders. The media, being the conflict whores that they are, began to subtly play up this angle. Nameless player reps were quoted saying that the owners hadn’t provided the players with the proposal. As the weekend ended, hardcore NFL fans who live and die by Chris Mortensen’s hit-or-miss reporting, began to worry with good reason that the players wouldn’t agree, and the strike would be prolonged.

But word began to leak out early Monday morning that the war was over, that the player reps had voted, and that there would be a 2011 season. There would be a ton of things to figure out over the course of the week, but fans could rest assured that there would be a season. The final scene in this movie would be when Indianapolis Colts center Jeff Saturday and New England Patriots owner Robert Kraft, two people deeply entrenched in one of the greatest NFL rivalries of the past decade, shared a tearful embraced at the press conference where the labor agreement was announced. In that heartfelt moment, Saturday praised Kraft for continuing the negotiations despite the fading health of his dying wife, Myra Kraft, calling him the “(M)an who helped us save football and we’re so gracious for that, we’re gracious for his family and for the opportunity he presented to get this deal done.”

Cue the violin, pass the Kleenex, and roll the credits.

Still more drama played out during the remainder of the week, paralleling other Hollywood genres. Reggie Bush starred in a romantic comedy/chick flick where the main character breaks up with his longtime girlfriend (New Orleans) and moves to a new city (Miami) looking for love, acceptance, and whatever porn industry A-hole released the video of his first love having sex with an R&B singer. Nnamdi Asomugha was the main character in a movie that was part The Bachelor and part Tyler Perry Presents: The Decision Part 2.

Also, Carson Palmer and Mike Brown star in a philosophical mind bender where the viewer must decide what’s more important in life; your word, or your happiness? Think Kramer vs. Kramer but with same-sex parents.

As of the close of business today, Asomugha gave his final rose to the not girl from Philadelphia, the one without the traditional good looks, but is tons of fun in the sack (and if you know any girls from Philly, you know they are about that thiiiiiing), even though many felt like he should go with the younger and just-as-easy girl from New York with the green eyes.

Chad Johnson-Ochocinco (this needs to be resolved) and Albert Haynesworth moving to New England reminds me of Good Burger’s Keenan and Kel in terms of goofiness, but it can have a significant impact at the box office/win column.

The way Kyle Orton,whose thrown 41 TDs in the last two seasons, continues to be slighted and unwanted has a country western feel to it. He’s like Doc Holiday in Tombstone; a man without a home, roaming the country, shooting bad guys, saving damsels, gambling, and everyone disregards him because he looks weak, and we know he can never a leader in the traditional sense. His natural nemesis of course being Kevin Kolb, who the entire league fawned over and landed in Arizona with $22 million guaranteed, despite only having 11 TDs and a 73 career passer rating.

Plenty of viewing material for the NFL fan, who this time last week was seriously skeptical as to whether or not there would even be a season.