Benny Jay: You Shoulda Seen the 800

I drive all the way to Eastern Illinois University to see the boys high school track and field championship.

It's a three-hour drive -- all the way to Charleston, Illinois. Hit the road at 7, get there at 10. What can I say -- I love this stuff.

Bobby Gee, the track guru who knows everything about everything, tells me I absolutely, positively can not miss the discus. They got two behemoths -- Dan Block and Marcus Popenfoose -- battling it out.

I'm not really a discus guy, but the way he's talking about it, well, how can I resist? The problem is that the discus is held outside the main stadium for all the obvious reasons. I mean, those big boys throw it so far there's no way you can have it in the stadium without someone getting hit upside the head with a discus. And, man, that must hurt.

So I go over the schedule and I come up with a great plan: I'll miss the 800-meter run and check out the discus. That's my great plan.

I leave the stadium and join the crowd watching the discus competition. By the way, you'd be shocked by how many people were out there. I mean, there must have been -- I don't know -- over 200 people lined up around that discus field. And they were really into it -- never knew so many people were so serious about discus throwing. When a guy walks into the throwing ring, folks get really quiet, like it's a golf match and they don't want to disturb his concentration. And you could tell how far the throw goes by the crowd's reaction. If they go "aw" it's like they're disappointed and it means bad throw. If they go, "yeah," it's like they're all excited and it means good throw. Get it? And after every throw you got people marking the distance in their score books. I mean, keeping score at discus competitions -- who knew? Then they have all these incredibly intense conversations about each throw -- breaking down the approach, release, follow throw. I mean, to quote the great Brian Scalabrine: "This shit was ridiculous."

Anyway, I'm looking all around for Block or Popenfoose, but I can't see them anywhere. So I ask this girl, who's keeping score, and she tells me -- no, no, this is the 2A discus competition. You know, for throwers from mid-sized schools. And Block and Popenfoose are in the 3A competition -- for throwers from bigger schools.

"So I'm at the wrong competition?" I ask.

And just about as soon as I say it, I hear a roar coming out of the stadium like some major stuff is going down.

And instantly, I think: Uh, oh -- what did I miss?

Then these three kids from Oak Forest High School come racing up from the stadium, and they run over to their friends, who are standing by me. They're so excited, they're almost out of breath as they try to recreate the wonder they'd just seen.

"Oh, my God, you shoulda seen the 800...."

"It was fucking unbelievable, man...."

Turns some kid came out of the pack to pass the front-runner on the final stretch in record time.

And I'm thinking -- damn! There is nothing -- absolutely nothing -- more exciting than watching one runner come from behind a bunch of other runners to win the race down the stretch.

So I run back into the stadium. Not sure why. I mean, the race is over, what's the point? It's not like I'm going to see anything. They don't do instant replays on the giant screen. They don't even have a giant instant replay screen.

It's like -- I don't know, I just have to be where the action was. And sure enough as I reach the main field all the reporters and photographers are still buzzing about that 800.

"Oh, my God...."

"Amazing...."

"Best race of the day...."

And so on.

A coach asks me if I saw the 800 and I tell him that, no, I was watching the discus.

He looks at me like I'm an idiot and says: "The discus? Why would you be watching the discus?"

"I wanted to see Block and Popenfoose...."

"They're not up for another thirty minutes...."

So rather than repeat this conversation with everyone who asks "did you see the 800?" I start to lie. Oh, don't hold it against me. It's not really a lie. Cause I don't actually tell people that I saw the 800. What I do is -- I sort of muddy the waters.

They go: "Did you see the 800?"

And I go: "Amazing race...."

And so on....

By the way, I did see Block and Popenfoose throw the discus. And they were amazing, especially Block. He threw that sucker over 200 feet -- and that's a long, long way. It went so high -- I swear, I thought it vanished in the sun.

When it's over, I race back to the stadium to tell all the photographers and reporters: "Did you see Block throw that discus?"

Do you think they care? Hell, no. All they want to talk about is the 800. Block coulda thrown that discus all the way to Kankakee, and they're still gonna be talking about the only freaking race that I happened to miss.

Well, whatever. I drive home and Saturday turns to Sunday and next thing you know it's Monday morning and I have an appointment with my doctor, who happens to be a big-time track fan.

He gives me a checkup and tells me I'm doing fine. And as I'm about to leave, I mention I saw the boy's state meet.

And he says -- "oh, my, did you see the 800?"

I wince and then I say: "Amazing race...."

Okay, okay, so I didn't really answer his question. But give me credit -- at least I told the truth.

Benny Jay: Now, That's How You Kill Somebody

I'm in Charleston, Illinois for the girls high school track championship. Me and the gang: Bobby Gee, Casey, the CPA, and Caldow. Super track freaks every one.

We broiled for hours in the sun, watching the qualifying rounds and now we're at a restaurant for dinner. I'm famished. Eating like a buyer -- like I ran the races....

Caldow is talking about a track meet that happened two zillion years ago.

Did I tell you I love talkers? Well, I do. I'm drawn to them like a moth to a flame. I'm thinking of getting them together for a party. You could charge people to attend, it be so entertaining. Just off the top of my head I'd have to invite Daddy Dee, Alonzo, Johnny (the black Forest Gump), and Lavinia's Uncle John. And Caldow -- gotta have Caldow. Of all the talkers, he may talk the most. I think the man was born talking....

Afterwards, we head over to Wal-Mart to by some stuff. I'm wandering around the big, old store with Bobby Gee and Casey.

Casey says: "I need a pillow...."

This being a Wal-Mart, there's about a million to pick from. She can't make up her mind.

Bobby Gee plucks one from the pile and says: "Get this one. It's only five bucks -- plus it's red...."

I don't have anything to buy. But I pass the school supply section and I see they have notebooks on sale. They're the little, itty-bitty flip-over kind that fit into your back pocket. It's like four for $1.29. I can't resist. I buy three packets. Then I see a pack of pencils. I don't need pencils. I don't even use pencils. But, there's twenty-five to a pack. Plus, they have all sorts of brightly colored erasers. Again, I can't resist. I take a pack.

We go to the self check out line. I'm not sure what to do. I'm standing at the machine, looking at it. Big Mike was right -- I have this phobia about machines. I have this fear that if I make the wrong move something terrible will happen. I make a mental note to myself: Gotta get some psychological assistance for this machine thing....

But Jamika, one of the girls on Bobby Gee's team, steps up to show me how to use the machine. She wipes the notebooks and pencils across the scanner. Pushes the right buttons. Inserts credit card. The whole thing. The girl's a freaking genius. Just call her Wilma Gates....

I'm so grateful I give her a pencil. Throw in an eraser too -- you know, as a bonus.

We're in the car, backing out of the parking space. Bobby Gee says: "Let me know if I hit anyone...."

"Just a small child," says Jamika.

I'm really impressed. First the machine. Now comedy. The girl's got jokes. Who knew?

I wind up with Caldow in Bobby Gee's dorm room -- yes, we're staying in a dormitory -- watching a movie on Bobby Gee's computer. It's the movie "Taken," starring Liam Neeson. Here's all you need to know about "Taken." It's really stupid. I mean, really, really, really, really stupid. Neeson plays this super-strong, super-smart ex-CIA agent whose 17-year-old daughter gets taken (hence the title) by a bunch of Albanian thugs who plan to sell her as a sex slave. I'm not making any of this up.

Did I tell you the movie's really stupid? Well, it is. But here's the thing. I get into it. I mean, way into it. I can't help myself. It moves really fast as Neeson goes after the bad guys to save his daughter. And here's the best part of all. I got Caldow doing the commentary. Everything that happens he's got something to say. Neeson shoots someone, Caldow says: "Those CIA guys are good shots. That's all they do -- practice shooting all day."

Neeson kills a guy with a karate chop, Caldow says: "Now, that's how you kill somebody. Crack. Split their neck. It's over...."

This bad guy drives a car into a bridge that knocks his head off his neck, and Caldow says: "You're dead. Next...."

Neeson kills a ton of bad guys while trying to save his daughter. Caldow's got something to say about each death. I never knew the guy knew so much about murder.

Plus, he's giving Neeson advice -- like the guy, you know, can hear him. Stuff like: "Look out." Or, "his gun needs a silencer. Use a silencer." Or, "duck." Stuff like that.

The climactic scene occurs on a boat that's running down the middle of the Seine. It's not really a boat so much as a super big yacht that's owned by this sheik who has a thing for virgins. So the movie boils down to this: Can Neeson save his daughter before the sheik deflowers her?

There's got to be -- oh, conservative guess -- fifteen bad guys protecting the sheik. Each one has at least two guns. Neeson doesn't even have a pistol. Yet he manages to mow them all down. He kills a guy with a karate chop, takes the dead guy's gun and shoots the other bad guys. You get the idea.

Eventually, it comes down to Neeson and the sheik, who has a knife to the throat of Neeson's daughter.

Bam, Neeson shoots him. The bullet whizzes past his daughter's head to splatter the sheik's brains. "I told you those CIA guys can shoot," exclaims Caldow. Like what we saw, you know, really happened.

The daughter hugs Neeson. But Caldow's one step ahead of us. "Look out," he says.

"What?" I ask.

"Who's driving the boat?"

"Huh?"

"They killed everyone. So who's driving the boat?"

"You're right," I say. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Cause you're not Yoda," he says. "The all-powerful one...."

Apparently the movie maker felt no need to address the all-important question of who's driving the boat. Because the movie ends a few minutes later and they never tell us how they got off the boat.

"Neeson must have killed two dozen people," I say.

"Let's count `em," says Caldow. He starts tallying up the carnage, scene by scene. The guy's like a machine. He remembers murders from the movie that I had long forgotten. He's breaking them down by categories: decapitations, shootings, blows to the brain and so forth.

He loses count at twenty-something. But it's late. We're tired. We go to bed.

The next morning at breakfast, we're feeling refreshed. Caldow and I pick up where we left off, trying to count up exactly how many bad guys Neeson killed.....