THE BOOK OF TECMO

At long last, it's here. I truly feel as though I've given birth. Thanks for everyone who's stuck by me through the process, egged me on, offered advice and to those who have already gobbled up early copies.

Here is a quick FAQ if you've somehow stumbled here on your own.

Q: Why?
A: My first love, believe it or not, isn't Tecmo. It's writing. Whether it's the cold drivel I write for my job or fun, meandering fiction, I enjoy it beyond measure. For a long time, however, I've been stuck. For most of my life, strange and bizarre dreams have inspired my writing, but I'd been without these friends for a long time. Just a few days removed from Tecmo IX: Marino Royale, I had one of those dreams—which is believable, considering how much Tecmo ruled over the past week or so of my life. So I woke up, filled a cup of coffee, and began outlining this crazy story as it came to me from the muses in my own little dream-world.

Q: What?
A: Along with writing, I also do enjoy a game of Tecmo Super Bowl here and there. Never did I realize the amount of skills or knowledge that some people possess, however, leaving me light years behind. Still, I find the game captivating for the same reasons the veterans do; one of those being the characters (just look at the past 2 years of this blog). Now, of course, the characters in the game are based off of real people, but over the 20+ years the game has been around, they've almost taken on a life of their own. And so, even knowing I may have to lawyer up, I got to work on yet another video game novelization—this time, based on Tecmo Super Bowl.

And I sincerely hope you enjoy what I did with these characters that have been a part of your own lives for so very long.

Hard copies are available now right HERE. If you're a collector of rare artifacts, I suggest you buy one now. I'm in the process of editing noticeable typos and possible continuity issues for a 2nd edition, but I wanted to get up the un-edited versions now for those who wanted a little treat before Gannonball Run.

You can also get a Kindle version HERE.

I am forwarding any royalties to the different charitable organizations run by the players I mention in this book. Some people have asked me why I'm doing this. The purpose of this is two-fold: I don't feel I should make money on the backs of others, and I feel the work these guys do is far more worthy and important than me writing libel about them for fun. Plus, I don't really expect this to make the kinds of money that would make a difference in my life. It's just for fun, and to see a smile on the faces of people who've kindly let me enter their fold on the Tecmo scene.

Thanks again. Your resident Tecmo Bowl Writer,

Butt Douglas

The Book of Tecmo: Chapter One

Bernie

A layer of dust, thicker than normal, coated the bases of his trophies. Bernie swirled the cubes inside his tumbler of whiskey, his noticeably distorted face and eyes looking back at him from his reflection in the glass. It’s been awhile, he thought, longer than normal…

The voice trailed off.

But what’s the use? Another voice sprang up, more combative in tone. They’ll just continue gathering dust. We all gather dust, in a way.

Bernie sipped at his drink. The liquid burned running down his throat, clearing out his nostrils. “Fucking rubbing alcohol,” he muttered under his breath. But that’s all you can afford these days. And with that thought still echoing in the chambers of his mind, Bernie took another drink.

They were all still there. All-American in 1982 for Boardman High School. Share of the 1983 Orange Bowl title, along with MVP honors, in his freshman year at the University of Miami. He managed to crack a smile, thinking back fondly to the records he not only shattered, but still held over 30 years later. Of course, there were those first real tastes of disappointment the following year; the first real chinks in the young Ohio native’s armor. When you’re flying that high, it’s only natural that guys like Frank Reich and Doug Flutie would come gunning for you.

His time spent at the University of Miami, the ‘U’ as he’d called it amongst his peers, was just a microcosm of the life Bernie would find himself battling through. Missed opportunities, bad breaks, and simply bad timing. And, of course, there were always the naysayers. The haters. The ones that despised his success, and would do anything to tear him down. Like Reich and Flutie had done during that rocky year of 1984, so had the collectors and bankruptcy lawyers. If 1984 was a dark year for Bernie, then 2009 was black enough to suck in all existing matter around it.

But they didn’t take his trophies. The ones that existed behind that old pane of glass, inside that wooden cabinet collecting dust. And they couldn’t touch that part of him that still burned, like the embers in a campfire still glowing after sunrise.

As Bernie drained his glass, he thought of the empty spaces still inside the case. More specifically, he thought of that one bare spot he left open between the accolades he earned during Cleveland’s greatest seasons in the last many decades. That one glaring hole that he purposefully left open to reflect the one that still weighed heavily in his heart. The 1987 AFC Championship that he had promised his faithful fans, his team, and his family. It was still the only trophy missing from his case.

Some nights, Bernie would wake up with an anxious feeling and race downstairs. He would shout through the floorboards at his former wife, Babette, telling her that something was wrong; someone had broken in and taken his beloved 1987 AFC Championship. Those were always the longest nights, where she’d hold him in her arms and vainly attempt to comfort him, help him remember. The 1987 AFC Championship wasn’t stolen, she’d tell him, because it wasn’t his to be stolen.

His house was empty now. There weren’t any arms to comfort him on nights like those. Babette was gone. She’d left him; filed for divorce right as his own bankruptcy battles loomed like Lovecraftian mountains on the horizon. It was reported in the media that she’d split because of his irrational spending, the fact that he was “giving his money away”. Bernie knew better, however. Sure, he’d tried his best in his post-NFL career to remain successful and wealthy, slinging his way into risky financial ventures the same way he’d riskily sling balls down the field. But the field was different; there, Bernie hardly missed his man. He’d set records for accuracy, both during the season and in the playoffs. Unfortunately for Bernie, the real world wasn’t full of the same tires to shoot balls through. These tires had rotating saw blades between them, ready to carve up any amateur investor that attempted to pass through unscathed.

The only thing he could attribute it to were his concussions. When he was on the field, his eyes were as sharp as a Great White’s. It didn’t matter if he was playing in the warm, early autumn air or in the throes of a famous Cleveland winter storm. He could always lock on his target, fire the ball at the necessary angle and velocity, and be sure that his man would come up with the rock. Now, his good days were when he wasn’t collapsing in agony or trying to fight out the increasing volume of ringing in his ears. The concussions were why he made those bad investments. The concussions were why he’d become so short with Babette in those final years of their marriage. The concussions! The concussions! The concussions!

It was getting bad again. Bernie backed into the nearest chair, his favorite: a dusty, brown recliner. Brown. He smiled, rubbing at his temples. The ringing was beginning to fade. He’d learned since how to cope with the headaches. With the dizziness. There were things he kept active with. Yard work, keeping up with his fans on social media, his children. Sara. Hopefully, one day, perhaps she’ll forgive me and stop doing that…stuff she does.

That wasn’t something he wanted to think about now. That was something he’d thought about enough already. He stood slowly, fighting the urge to look into his trophy case as he passed by, and brought his aching body back up the stairs to go to bed. It was 2:30 in the morning, after all.

Looking Ahead: Week Two

We've forged through one week of Tecmo football, which is already a good omen for the completion of this weblog on the 1992 NFL season. With excitement at a fever pitch, it's time to dive into the match-ups for Week 2 to continue our tradition of making completely baseless predictions on how the computer will simulate the winners. Game on!

1992: The Year Kosar Lost His Smile

Two of the games in this second week will feature teams that were strangely idle during Week One, due to the NFL still trying to iron out the wrinkles of having an even number of teams face off while also keeping the Patriots out of the eyes of its prospective fans. New England makes their Grogan-less debut, hoping to steal a win against the spiraling Los Angeles Rams. The Rams were a victim of their own horrid defense, but this week may look like an iron wall against Hugh Millen's limp noodle of an arm. Miami also makes their 1992 debut, starting their championship campaign against the Cleveland Browns. Cleveland experienced the double whammy of losing Kevin Mack and Mike Tomczak not getting hit by a double decker during the week, which means Miami's already off to a record-setting start.

The NFC Central continues its incestuous affair with the Vikings picking on the Lions and the Buccaneers entering as the underdog despite being ahead of Green Bay in the standings. Brett Favre hopes to put his 1st career start behind him, though if he continues to play the way he did in Week One, we see lots of CFL in this young man's future. Other games to watch include seeing if Pittsburgh kept their tank full for the New York Jets and whether or not Houston can get their first win against our upset pick in the early games, the Indianapolis Colts. And Dallas versus the New York Giants should provide no shortage of drugged up, hostile sociopaths, when the fans of either team engage in this battle of the 0-1 NFC East juggernauts.

The late games include the annual Tecmo Bowl pick, Buffalo versus San Francisco, and a key divisional match-up between last year's AFC West champion, the Denver Broncos, trying to make up some ground against this year's predicted crown-winner, the San Diego Chargers. Perhaps one of the more intriguing match-ups is between the Cincinnati Bengals and Los Angeles Raiders. The Bengals continue to make us eat our filthy, disgusting words by simply winning, while the Raiders looked like vicious monsters despite the noticeable absence of a man named Bo. The winner of this contest will go a long way in convincing us of their right to be noticed. Meanwhile, the upset pick of the late games will be Phoenix over the Philadelphia Eagles. We picked the red birdmen to only win 1-2 games this year, and we think they'll decide to get it out of the way early against a punchless Eagles team, inspiring Cunningham to lead his troops on a march to not make us look like ignoramuses.

The KingDome will be rocking in Seattle for Monday Night Football, when Dave Krieg returns to the city he put on the NFL map, now with the division rival Kansas City Chiefs. The Seahawks hope to bury Krieg on the same turf he picked out of his helmet for 11 years, though Stan Gelbaugh may have something to say about it. The Chiefs won't have Christian Okoye leading the way with the ball through most of the game, so it's up to Krieg and his gifted ability to not be Gelbaugh or any of the other 'platoon' of Seattle quarterbacks to pull out a needed win for Kansas City. The AFC West will continue to be winnable until Week 17, though in Seattle's case it'll only relate to them having the first pick of the division in next year's draft.

Ah, the glory days

Now look at these standings before we knock down your door and serve you with them.

***************************************************************************************

Football Night in America: New England vs. Cleveland

No, you can't see your family first, QB.
Stadium's THAT way

Tonight's game is a tale of two teams about to go in separate directions. New England is letting Steve Grogan keep a seat warm for eventual first draft pick in Drew Bledsoe, while Cleveland is still reeling from back-to-back losses in the AFC Championship and falling down fast. In the moment, however, both teams are at about as evenly stinky as Kevin Mack's jock and aren't fooling anyone into thinking they have a shot, even this early in the season. Even so, they must play on, and now that the Browns have their QB back, who apparently has healing abilities better than Wolverine, Mike Pagel will have more chances to try out some new headsets on the sidelines.




Quarter One
The Browns are the winners of the toss in this contest, and will start at the 39 yard line after a cute kick-off by Jason Staurovsky. Can they keep the streak alive of coin-toss winners in featured games? For the first time, I honestly have no idea. But even though Eric Metcalf takes three straight pitches for a total of only seven yards, I still think the probability of beating New England is present.

Come on ride the train, choo-choo ride!

It's New England's turn, and they take the punt for a touchback. During Steve Grogan's first appearance, he is promptly sacked for the first of most likely many times by Chris Pike. On his second appearance, he connects with George Adams for the first of most likely one time for a gain of 23. Grogan follows up his MVP-like pass with an even more MVP-like lob to a leaping Irving Fryar, who pulls down a pass and runs until he passes out for a 46 yard gain. Two plays later and it's 3rd and 6, and who else but George Adams runs around the top of the Cleveland defense for a 13-yard gain. On the next play, however, Chris Pike gets intimate with Grogan again for a loss of 5, and after the George Adams-led rushing attack fails in the next to plays, Jason Staurovsky is out to tack on the first three points of the game.

New England leads 3-0

Cleveland starts their next promising drive at the 30, and it gets decisively less promising when Ed Reynolds sacks QB Browns for a loss of 3. Already, the chants of 'PAGEL! PAGEL!' are incredibly audible from the Cleveland crowd. Browns decides to show off how fickle fandom can be when he dumps it off to Ozzie Newsome who sheds a few defenders and runs for a total gain of 50 yards as the quarter ends.

Quarter Two
Browns' next pass falls hopelessly incomplete. The Pagel chants immediately start up again, and so Browns uses that force to channel his inner Bernie Kosar and runs for a gain of 21 yards to the New England two-yard line. When he pitches it to Metcalf for a 2-yd touchdown run, the Cleveland fans collectively take the world record for most eggs on the most faces.

Cleveland leads 7-3

If you can spot the ball, you get a complimentary
"I <3 Lurching" t-shirt

New England gets good field position at their own 40 yard line, but it's even better for Cleveland when they force an Adams fumble during a blitz, and Mike Johnson scoops it up to run all the way back for a sweet Browns defensive TD.

Cleveland leads 14-3

Due to the NFL's attempts at being 'fair', the Patriots get another chance to score and start at their own 34-yard line. They soon face a 3rd and 9 situation after Adams takes two pitches for a half yard each, and Grogan uses his veteran-led brain to throw it to his best receiver, Irving Fryar, for another 50 yard gain. Chris Pike becomes enraged by this turn of events, and feeds some turf to Grogan on the next play. After a pass block, it's 3rd and 19. The Patriots' third-down success so far leads one to believe they're only one play from getting back in the game, but when that one play is an incompletion to Fryar, Staurovsky is on to kick a meaningless 43-yarder.

Cleveland leads 14-6

With 44 seconds left, a shockingly productive 36-yard connection to Ozzie Newsome gets the Browns into Greg Kauric position with time winding down. He nails a 43-yarder through the uprights to get the three points back heading into halftime.

Cleveland leads 17-6

Halftime - Browns 14, Patriots 6

Quarter Three
Sammy Martin, perhaps the bravest man on the Patriots roster, takes the kick out from the end zone and attempts to score. His attempt comes up just 87 yards short. During the inevitable 3rd and 9 situation, Grogan decides to skip the whole time-consuming punt process and lobs a ball over the head of Hart Lee Dykes right into the hands of highly-excitable strong safety Felix Wright, who immediately jumps out of bounds.

Guys in pink do it better

QB Browns gets the drive going quickly with a 14 yard scamper, and Richard Harvey isn't too pleased as he drops Browns for an 11-yard loss quickly thereafter. Still harboring some unhealthy pent-up rage, Harvey steamrolls the Cleveland front and eats up Browns for another 9 yard loss. When he gets his third sack in a row on 3rd and 30, however, people are starting to wonder if Harvey has some lingering resentment issues about having to wear pink on national television. Needless to say, the Browns are out of field goal range and on 4th and 42 are forced to punt it back to the New England Harveys.

Fryar pulls in the punt and gets out to the New England 28 yard line. While Marvin Allen loses three yards on first down, George Adams promptly gets them back. Grogan decides he wants in on the fun and runs for 3 yards himself, and then belatedly learns that they actually needed ten for the first down.

Cleveland starts at their own 25 after a Reggie Langhorne return, and QB Browns decides to celebrate the fact that Richard Harvey is on the sidelines of this play by lobbing up an interception to Fred Marion. Luckily for Browns, the interception is a wash when Marion fumbles it, although the Patriots pick it back up and Grogan gets the field back at the Browns 42-yard line.

A 12-yard scamper by Grogan is the final nail in this forgettable third quarter of play.

Quarter Four

A Grogan interception right at the goal line promptly puts a deservingly quiet end to a promising drive that started in Cleveland territory.

Could this pick have been thwarted if Metcalf wasn't
dozing behind the line of scrimmage? We may never know.

Harvey gets his fourth sack of the game on first down, but while he's still celebrating and flexing his muscles for the waterboy on the sidelines, Kevin Mack takes a run up the middle for a gain of 33 yards into Patriots territory. Metcalf takes the next play over the top of the New England defense for another 10-yard gain, and just when it seems the Browns are preparing to put this one away, Browns kills the weird mixture of excitement and boredom by throwing the fourth-combined (third-official) pick of the game, and second consecutive by Fred Marion.

Against the pleas and sadly desperate begging of the New England defense, Grogan takes the field with 3:29 remaining in the game. He has to shake off a David Grayson sack for a 6-yard loss, but apparently couldn't shake his color-blindness when he threw it to a wide open Felix Wright to keep the Interception Bowl's blood pumping as if Mike Ditka's own bratwurst-fed heart was pumping it.

The next three plays include a Browns incompletion, a Garin Veris sack, and another incompletion. Although the lack of an interception is a success for Cleveland's offense, it's a disappointment in the hearts of all stat-heads.

The only thing in front of Irving is the pink X he wasn't
standing on

The Patriots get another dying star of a chance at their own 20 after a touchback, with 1:47 remaining. The star is all but extinguished and folding into a black hole when Irving Fryar can't grab a pass with a wide open field in front of him. Adams is strangely involved in picking up a 6 yard gain, and though it's a bold move by the offensive coordinator, it still must be recorded as the first positive yardage for New England this quarter. Mike Johnson, who hasn't been spotted since wearing an oxygen mask on the sideline, erases that positive yardage with a sack. On 4th and 10 from their own 20-yard line, the Grogan-led Patriots are forced to go for it. The drive comes to a mournful end when Adams lets the ball bounce off his future unretired number of 33.

The Browns are now in prime position to score the first points of the half and put a loud exclamation point on their flawed but still dominant performance over the Patriots on a national stage. Instead, with 31 seconds left, the ever-humble QB Browns hands off to Kevin Mack three straight times, despite the Patriots knack for blitzing on three straight plays. Time expires, and so does my patience for watching not just any game, but a freaking Tecmo game where a team doesn't even score one measly point in two quarters of play.

Any MAN player would have their playing rights revoked for a screen print like this

Final: Browns 17, Patriots 6


If your mouth froths at displays of defensive dominance, you may have actually been of the minority that enjoyed this water-boarding level of torture. The Patriots failed to score a touchdown, and Grogan led the team with an astonishingly bad 14 yards of rushing, all the while lobbing up three more interceptions than touchdowns. A returning QB Browns was less than sharp with two picks of his own (despite one being negated on a fumble) and matching Grogan with his completion percentage. The Cleveland defense accounted for nearly half of their overall points, while Richard Harvey accounted for nearly half of New England's positive yardage with 4 sacks. I don't know that I can promise you, my faithful readers, that I will avoid my curiosity and keep from stepping into another snake pit like this game, but if I do you have to understand that even I can't always predict the suckitude of some of Tecmo's bizarre COM-COM simulated games.