Rocky, me and mine

"Rocky Balboa" opened today and did not disappoint this viewer. Without giving away any secrets, the film is much different than any of the prior six in the Rocky series, and not just because of the unlikely scenario of a 50-something ex-champ fighting the current champ – ever heard of George Foreman?

In this installment of the sports saga, the 54-year-old Balboa – still all heart and no head – is lured out of retirement for one final fight after a computer simulation claims he would beat the current champ, Mason "the Line" Dixon (Antonio Tarver).

I found it most like the original in that it’s a boxing movie that isn’t really about boxing. With declining degrees of success, II-V tried to offer a larger meaning, but that meaning was lost in the boxing or – especially in the case of Tommy Morrison in Rocky V – bad acting.

While Adrian has died of “woman cancer,” we’re reintroduced to Marie, the teenage-whore-in-the-making from the corner, and Spider Ricco, Rocky’s first victim, even before Apollo Creed. Both characters – and Rocky’s continued mourning for Adrian – tell us a lot about Rocky’s character and how he has remained true to himself after all these years.


This movie won’t win any Academy Awards – or Razzies, for that matter, though Mike Tyson’s cameo is worthy. But longtime followers of the Sylvester Stallone creation will find much more satisfying closure than would have been the case had it never been made.

"It nags me that I took the easy way instead of the high road," Stallone told Newsweek. "But everyone makes mistakes.”

One scene that spoke to me was when Rocky comments to Paulie that if you stay in one place long enough, you become that place. I could relate, having seen all six episodes – all on opening day, I believe – within a 30-mile radius of where I was born, raised, educated and have lived all but two years of my life.

Like Rocky and Philadelphia, me and Cedar Rapids have become one. That’s neither good, nor bad – just the way it is. There’s a certain comfort to it that naturally causes the aging hero in us all to wonder what might have been and what’s left to accomplish.

“I look around at people my age,” Stallone continues, “and I can see it in their eyes—a kind of bittersweet reflection: 'I didn't live the life that I wanted, and now I've got all this stuff I want to say, but nobody wants to hear it.'”

Then there’s the whole father-son struggle as I watch the film with my 13-year-old son. While I grew up with Rocky, he’s grown up with Brett Favre and Lance Armstrong – so he gets the whole role model/tragic hero attraction. Much like “Field of Dreams,” I’m sure we didn’t experience the film the same way, but it was good for my soul to be in the same theater with him.

“I was feeling that, and if you don't get it out, it can become a beast that tears you apart."

While I would have attended the opener regardless, credit my wife with insisting it be a family affair. She must have figured the film would give my kids a glimpse into what makes their dad tick. I don’t think our 10-year-old daughter got it – after all, she got lost returning from the bathroom during the training scene because she “didn’t know what the movie was called!” Recently freed of braces, popcorn was her only attraction.

I left work early so we could catch the 5:05 p.m. matinee. It was cool and rainy as I piloted the SUV (sue me!) to the theater complex, my frustration with traffic congestion abated by the knowledge I had pre-paid for tickets online. Couldn’t do that 16 years ago.

We loaded up on popcorn, nachos and soda – dinner for the night – and hurried to find a good seat. That was no problem, it turns out. There might have been 50 people in the theater that seated 300. “Stadium seating,” another recent theater enhancement, assured uninhibited view of the big screen.

I had inside knowledge (thanks to the Internets) and remained seated through the credits. You should too. That much, at least, my daughter understood.

In many ways, it was just like old times – just me and Rocky, no matter who I was with or how crowded the theater. This time, I wasn’t alone. And it felt good.