That Slinky Won't Slink

It's amazing that this blog has been up-and-running for about five days, and I haven't yet written anything about football. That's about to change. Yesterday, my favorite team, the Minnesota Vikings, lost a game in particularly heartbreaking fashion, blowing a 15-0 lead, and losing 18-15 to the Indianapolis Colts. The Colts' winning points came on a field goal with only three seconds remaining in the game.

Now, in a season during which the Vikings were widely expected to make the playoffs, they have started 0-2. A season of great expectations seems headed down the tubes, almost as soon as it began.

As a fan, it is my obligation to assign blame. Why has this happened? How have things gone awry so quickly? The defense has played well, absent a couple of lapses, which are to be expected of any team. The offense has done a good job running the ball, which remains one of the team's strengths. However, the passing game has been dismal, much like it was last year. The problem, therefore, in my opinion, boils down to one man: Tarvaris Jackson, the Vikings' quarterback, known by many as "T-Jack."

Admittedly, the play-calling has been suspect, and the receivers certainly haven't helped T-Jack out. However, the quarterback is the most important player on the team, and when he's not playing well, the entire team suffers. We're seeing that right now with the Vikings.

T-Jack has been a terrible disappointment so far. Of course, he wasn't very good last year, either. However, along with so many other Vikings fans, I spent the entire offseason convincing myself that he would be much improved in 2008. He's very gifted physically, has a great work ethic, and as a young quarterback, entering just his third year in the league, all he needed was a little bit of experience. Now, it looks like we were wrong. He's terrible, and I'm beginning to wonder if he'll ever develop into a solid NFL quarterback.

I've been trying to determine the last time someone or something disappointed me as much as T-Jack. After much pondering, I had my answer:

Tarvaris Jackson is The Slinky.

Anyone over the age of 25 remembers the Slinky, one of the most popular toys of all time. It was a metal spring, which could do all sorts of things. Or so the commercial implied.

You remember the Slinky commercial don't you? For one thing, it featured a very catchy jingle, which went a little something like this:

Slinky, Slinky, what a wonderful toy,
Slinky, Slinky, it's fun for a girl and a boy.

...or something like that.

If this blog accomplishes absolutely nothing (a pretty safe bet) other than to ensure that anyone who reads this post will be hearing that Slinky jingle in his/her head on a constant loop over the next 24 hours or so, I will feel as though we have changed the world for the better.

Snappy jingle aside, the most powerful part of the commercial was the demonstration of the things that Slinky could do. While cute-as-a-button Jane and her little brother William looked on in wide-eyed amazement, the Slinky did all sorts of neat things, including walking down a flight of stairs.

This was amazing. I needed to have a Slinky. At the time, you could get the Slinky for about 79 cents. A pretty good deal. Of course, that can't compare to when my parents were kids, when you could get a loaf of bread, a dozen eggs, two gallons of milk, a newspaper and membership to a health club for the grand total of a penny. But, it was still a pretty good deal.

Slinky in tow, I set about trying to teach it all sorts of tricks. The problem was, my Slinky didn't do anything. It just sat there. By now, the commercials were even more amazing. The Slinky went down the stairs, and made its way into kitchen and over to the stove, where it prepared perfect sunny-side up eggs. Without ever breaking the yolk!

Still, my Slinky did nothing.

I decided that I probably just had a defective Slinky, so I tossed it in the trash and bought another one. At the time, my allowance was 50 cents a week (about $45,089 in today's dollars), so buying a new Slinky meant spending about a week and a half's worth of allowance. That was a lot of baseball cards. It was an early lesson in the important economic concept of opportunity cost.

Again, however, my Slinky did nothing.

Menwhile, the makers of the Slinky continued to up the ante with their commercials. Now, at approximately 5PM every day, the Slinky walked down the stairs, and over to the bar, where, just in time for cocktail hour, he prepared a scotch-on-the-rocks for Mr. Smith, and a perfect martini for Mrs. Smith. Sometimes, he would toss on his old Princeton sweater, and engage in light-hearted banter with the Smiths. ("Great martini, Slinky. And that sweater still looks fabulous. Why, it looks like you haven't gained an ounce since college. How do you do it?")

Meanwhile, I was on my fourth or fifth slinky by now, and I still wasn't getting any results. To make matters worse, I got my finger caught in the coil, and had to walk around with this thing dangling from my hand for a couple of hours.

Despite my terrible experience with it, the Slinky became even more popular, and was marketed to an ever-broadening audience. Originally marketed as a toy for suburban children (they generally have staircases in their homes), the Slinky now took on a more urban appeal. Soon, Slinkys were slinking down to the corner store, picking up 40oz. bottles of malt liquor. ("Yo Slinky, where my 40 at?"). There was even an unconfirmed rumor that a Slinky had been involved in a gang-related drive-by shooting in Los Angeles. I imagine that the conversation at the local LAPD precinct went something like this:

Lieutenant: So, detective, do you like anyone for that drive-by shooting in Watts last Thursday?
Detective: Yeah, actually, I've got a lead.
Lieutenant: Who is it?
Detective: A Slinky, sir.
Lieutenant: You think that a Slinky did this?
Detective: Well, I'm pretty sure he wasn't the trigger man. I just think he was there, is all I'm sayin'.
Lieutenant: Well, did you guys talk to him?
Detective: We did.
Lieutenant: And?
Detective: He ain't talking.
Lieutenant: Well, maybe you should head on over to his place, and try to get him to talk. Twist his coil a bit, if you know what I mean.
Detective: Sure thing, boss. I get you. We'll do what we gotta do.

Needless to say, I still wasn't having any luck with this thing. Things finally hit rock bottom when I bought a Slinky, and it got twisted inside the box, and I couldn't even get it out of the box. This was the last straw. I tossed the Slinky, box and all, into the garbage, and swore off that toy forever.

So, is T-Jack destined to become a modern-day version of the Slinky? I'm not sure, but things don't look too promising right now.

Looks like we're headed for a loooooong Fall.

However, hope springs eternal. I'm off to EBay, where I'm sure I'll be able to find a reasonably-priced Slinky. Maybe my kids can make it work.