My NCAA football playoff geekdom runneth over

I don't doubt the two best schools, poll-wise, will play for this year's NCAA Division I football national championship. But yet, how we arrive there -- in relation to other schools and where they belong or don't -- again is a source of frustration. I speak of course of The Bull Crap Series, errr, umm, Bowl Championship Series.

Auburn and Oregon played solid football all year, particularly down the stretch, impressively beating their foes. Yet look elsewhere. So, Connecticut ties West Virginia and Pittsburgh for the Big East championship. UConn beat the other two to end the three-way tie and gets to play in a so-called BCS bowl, which somehow is seen as a holy grail even outside of the national title match itself.

Yet, West Virginia finishes 9-3 overall and No. 22 in the AP poll. UConn, at 8-4 overall, ends up No. 25 in the AP poll and OUT of the top 25 BCS final standings…huh, what, am I missing something? Don’t get me wrong. I’m a booster for the little guy. The supposedly “little” (relatively speaking) schools that could defy the odds and upset the college football elitists over the last years, such as Boise STATE, TCU, Cincinnati, Utah and UConn.

I’m sure you’d say, well, Connecticut gets the automatic qualifying bid from a BCS conference. Someone how has to be there in a BCS bowl, even if some conferences (even some BCS conferences) are, ahem, inferior. I get the idea of auto qualifiers, which assures supposedly premier conferences get good play in notable bowl games.

But if these teams are such quality programs, why need this AQ process to begin with? In the greater scheme of things, do you think UConn deserves to play in a BCS bowl game when Boise State, even with their kicker screwing the pooch against Nevada, nearly ran the table and ends up in the Las Vegas bowl, a non-BCS contest?

As the Bleacher Report points out in one article, “since the BCS began its system of bowl determination, there have been six teams with three losses that won a spot at the big kids’ table. Only one team had gone to a BCS bowl with four losses: the 2005-2006 Florida State Seminoles.

The Bleacher Report article by John Krenek continues: “To further the point, each one of those three-loss teams, and FSU, gained entry via the ‘conference champion’ clause. What's more, each one of those teams was never ranked higher than 10th, and that was a Kansas State team who beat Oklahoma in the Big 12 championship game, only to see OU play for the national title. Talk about your muddied waters. Do teams outside of the top 10 really have any business playing in games that were meant for the "best of the best," as they [the BCS powers that be] say?”

And I find it interesting that some who back “smaller schools” all year, honks for the likes of Boise and TCU who said their program deserved a shot at the national title game if either were to run the table, also endorse an inherently broken BCS system that’ll pretty much ensure smaller, lesser schools will only sniff but not touch a national bid…even if they truly deserve the top rankings. (Just to think how in 1984, freakin’ BYU won a national title in a Holiday Bowl by knocking off a questionable Michigan squad. This scared the bejeezus out of the powers that be.)

Those “powers that be” are primarily television executives and power conference presidents who only want to see and sell sex when it comes to bowl games. They'd rather arbitrarily pair two traditional powerhouses via a computer rather than let rising star schools settle such questions where it truly counts: on the playing field. Just like virtually every other level of sport. Wow. What a startling concept. Even the Kazahkistani kick-goathead league has a playoff. I’ve won money there. Without the NCAA basketball tournament, schools like George Mason and Butler likely would have never made it to the Final Four. You see Gonzagas and Marquettes make their mark on the national scene. Without the College World Series, schools like Cal State-Fullerton and Long Beach State -- not so much a Texas or USC -- get to shine and quite often.

Well, we won’t waste further time going into the minds of those myopically opposed to a NCAA Division I tournament of some kind. Even the “bowl games are a tradition” and “schools will lose money” and “you can’t make the student-athletes play that long or late into January” philosophies. None of those arguments really work. Never did, never will. Some say the BCS isn’t perfect, but that it’s a start.

So, what if a playoff system did exist for college football? My goodness, what fun that’d be. OK, let’s use BCS as a springboard. This is what I'd do. You start with automatic champions from 11 FBS conferences (regular-season champs and/or championship game victors). If there are co-champions, it’s up to the affected conference to determine who gets what we’ll call an FBS bid. You could combine the final regular season total average poll ranking with regular-season head-to-head outcomes for a tie-breaker. (Sound unfair? Good then. You get to retain some semblance of unfairness in the process of arriving at a final national champion)

You could average the rankings of the AP, ESPN, USA Today, Harris and Coaches' polls, emphasizing which schools get the most place votes and arrive at a final aggregate Top 25 poll (a de facto BCS without the computer interference). Those are arguably the strongest, long-standing, most popular and credible of Division I polls. And you get to a beautiful bracket like the one above (courtesy of NCAA). Isn't it gorgeous and awe-inspiring?

Here’s the final 2010 AP poll with related final 2010 BCS rankings:

1. Auburn (BCS No. 1 SEC champion-automatic qualifier)
2. Oregon (BCS No. 2 Pac-10 champion-automatic qualifier)
3. TCU (BCS No. 3 Mountain West champion-automatic qualifier)
4. Wisconsin (BCS No. 5 top co-Big 10 champion-automatic qualifier)
5. Stanford (BCS No. 4)
6. Ohio State (BCS No. 6 co-Big 10 champ)
7. Michigan State (BCS No. 9) (co-Big 10 champ)
8. Arkansas (BCS No. 8)
9. Oklahoma (BCS No. 7) (Big 12 champion-automatic qualifier)
10. Boise State (BCS No. 11)
11. LSU (BCS No. 10)
12. Virginia Tech (BCS No. 13) (ACC Champion-automatic qualifier)
13. Nevada (BCS No. 15) (WAC champion-automatic qualifier)
14. Missouri (BCS No. 12)
15. Alabama (BCS No. 16)
16. Oklahoma State (BCS No. 14)
17. Nebraska (BCS No. 18)
18. Texas A&M (BCS No. 17)
19. South Carolina (BCS No. 20)
20. Utah (BCS No. 19)
21. Mississippi State
22. West Virginia
23. Florida State
24. Hawaii
25. Connecticut (Big East champion-automatic qualifier)
Also, Miami, Ohio (Mid-American champion-automatic qualifier)
Also, Florida International (Sun Belt champion-automatic qualifier, beat Troy earlier in season)
Also, Central Florida (BCS No. 25) (Conference USA champion-automatic qualifier)

Ultimately, FBS automatic bids go to Auburn, Oregon, TCU, Wisconsin, Oklahoma, Virginia Tech, Nevada, UConn, Central Florida, Miami (Ohio) and Florida International.

You add the top independent team ranked high enough (overall in polls) for an FBS bid and/or four (or five) other highest-ranked schools (overall in polls). So this year these schools get an at-large bid: Stanford, Ohio State, Michigan State, Arkansas and Boise State.

The ultimate FBS tournament seedings in a 16 vs. 1, 15 vs. 2, 14, vs. 3, etc. format would be:

1. Auburn
2. Oregon
3. TCU
4. Wisconsin
5. Stanford
6. Ohio State
7. Michigan State
8. Oklahoma
9. Arkansas
10. Boise State
11. Virginia Tech
12. Nevada
13. Connecticut
14. Central Florida
15. Miami, Ohio
16. Florida International


Take into account the oldest, popular, most lucrative, traditional bowls and mix in some regional flair and considerate schedules. You can keep some of the best bowls. (I mean, really. The glut of bowls is ludicrous. More and more are added each year, some from inauspicious sponsors. Does anyone care to see the San Diego County Credit Union Poinsettia Bowl? Oooh, barnburner. Kraft Fight Hunger Bowl? Really? New Era Pinstripe? Good lord. Oh, we could so perpetuate the Poulan Weedeater FreeCreditReport.com Pomegranate Bowl joke.)

All joking aside, use 15 of those prestigious, richest, most famous (i.e. powerful, established) bowls as the FBS bowl matches. All other bowls… yes, even your precious uDrove Humanitarian, Beef O’Brady’s St. Petersburg, Little Caesars, GoDaddy.com… may remain independent and ongoing aside from the FBS contests. No changes needed there. (But tell me if there’s a difference between the Armed Forces and Military bowls.)

Rotate the FBS bowls as quarterfinal, semifinal and final games, all of which could retain and maybe even increase the number of ticket-buyers, TV viewers and payouts. One reason? There’s even greater incentive to play in such a bowl. Not just one bowl. But a series of true head-to-head games where all the conference champions (not just the typical, known powerhouses) and other top-ranked squads have a genuine (and fair) shot at an undisputed national title. Throw in serious regional consideration and voila. Imagine that!

The younger, Decemberish bowls host quarterfinals on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday:

December 15
Connecticut v. Wisconsin - Independence Bowl, Shreveport
Nevada v. Stanford - Insight Bowl, Tempe

December 16
Florida International v. Auburn– Chick-Fil-A (Peach) Bowl, Atlanta
Miami, Ohio v. Oregon - Sun Bowl, El Paso

Dec. 17
Virginia Tech v. Ohio State – Gator Bowl, Jacksonville
Arkansas v. Oklahoma - Alamo Bowl, San Antonio

Dec. 18
Central Florida v. TCU – Liberty Bowl, Memphis
Boise State v. Michigan State – Holiday Bowl, San Diego

Probable winners?
Wisconsin, Auburn, Oregon, Ohio State, Arkansas, TCU, Boise State, Stanford

More bowls in Thursday and Friday (or Saturday were it not for holiday) semifinals (lowest v. highest-seeded winners):

Dec. 23
Boise State v. Auburn – Capital One Bowl, Orlando
Arkansas v. Oregon – Cotton Bowl, Dallas

Dec. 24
Stanford v. Wisconsin – Rose Bowl, Pasadena (See? It still shakes out Pac 10 v. Big 10)
Ohio State v. TCU– Outback Bowl, Tampa

Probable winners?
Auburn, Oregon, TCU, Stanford

Final Four of sorts/Friday, Dec. 31
Stanford v. Auburn - Fiesta Bowl, Tempe
TCU v. Oregon - Orange Bowl, Miami

Probable winners?
TCU (yep, I’d go for them), Auburn

Championship game, Friday, Jan. 7
Sugar Bowl, New Orleans
TCU v. Auburn

I’d probably still back Auburn in this one, but would not be surprised if TCU gave them a great run. But I guess we’ll never know. I recall how a House subcommittee approved legislation in late 2009 aimed at forcing college football to switch to a playoff system to determine a national champion, over the objections of some lawmakers who said Congress had more pressing matters on its plate. To those naysayers, I say screw war, health care and jobs. Give us a playoff system!

Great Kitten Debate

Mindy has named our new kitten Sir Tubbington of the Fluffyshire, or Tubby/Tubs for short. But you see the tribble to the left. (Yes, I said tribble. As in Star Trek.) Don't you think Tubby is a tribble? Should be named Tribble?

You'll laugh, then you'll cry

Just want to pass this along

http://www.marketwatch.com/story/reagan-insider-gop-destroyed-us-economy-2010-08-10

An Ode to All Things "Lost"

A moment in the show "Lost" that prompted my undying allegiance, fittingly enough, came very early in its history.

The "gotcha" moment in for me, of course, came in the middle of the pilot episode. Two moments, actually. There's, first, this strange disturbance emanating from deep in the jungle, making this echoing "whoooosh" sound.

This thing, later, plucks the pilot from the cockpit of crashed Oceanic Flight 815 (briefly following his awakening from the crash impact the previous day) and makes mincemeat pie of the poor dude. But we don't know what this thing is. A dinosaur? A ridiculous bird of prey?

And yes. The polar bear. In a jungle. I'm sure he just wanted to greet the new arrivals, offer a friendly hello and see what was going on. But noooo. One wise-cracking, shifty-eyed passenger named James "Sawyer" Ford (having a classic bad day) pulls a gun from literally out of nowhere and shoots at the charging creature. The doped up rock star passenger Charlie Pace, at episode's end, verbally sums up our feelings: "Guys, where are we?"

"Lost" introduces itself to the world: "Hello, television fans. We're here to change the rules of serial dramas, break those rules and screw with your heads for the next six years. Please enjoy! Namaste!"

The recent finales of "24" and "Lost" weren't just the end to two once groundbreaking classic TV shows. They marked the end of an American era. When some writers and actors dared to push the envelope and fully engage the viewing public in a long-lasting (and not always nice) game of "are you with us so far?" Especially in a time when, ratings-wise, procedural police and medical dramas dominate TV with plots wrapped up nice and neat within an hour every week.

Think of memorable characters, plot developments, astonishing scenes, classic lines -- all part of the current popular lexicon. For their ratings success and spin-offs, I don't see "CSI" or " NCIS" or "Law and Order" (or never did see "ER") get "trended" each week on Twitter.

But "Lost" and "24"? Oh yes, very much so. Water-cooler shows like you wouldn't believe (and admittedly, shows that other people hated or could never learn to appreciate).

Ah, "Lost." Six years later and I hardly knew ye. You may love J.J. Abrams. You may hate him. There's no in between. But there's no dispute he created a masterpiece to last ages. It was a soaring sci-fi, fantastical, philosophical, spiritual, adventurous (and sometimes humorous) soap opera of epic scale, yet profoundly, down-to-earth human.

Sure, initially, I had doubts -- how could there be a long-lasting series about castaways on a mysterious island? Then there was fear that "Lost" could've spun wildly out of control with cheesy mayhem. It never did. It was a serious matter to be discussed around the water cooler, on Twitter or at the bar over several rounds of drinks.

Very few shows inspire not just idle chatter, but theorizing, arguments and agony. The finale, which will be debated for months if not years (like last spring's equally confounded "Battlestar Galactica" ender), may have not answered the infinite number of questions that the show sparked during its broadcast history: The pregnancy on the island issues simply died, the significance of Walt, why a psychic freaked out trying to see further into Claire's pregnancy, Egyptian mythology, among others). But THIS finale didn't have to settle everything.

Like "24" and "Galactica," ending an epic show like "Lost" was more about the journey than a final destination. It was more about closure and resolution for characters we had come to know and love (or despise) that plot loopholes.

Think of the characters, actions and lines that are now indelibly burned into our memory banks.

Hugo "Hurley" Reyes struck a chord with us because he was, in a sense, our subconscious reacting subtly not only to events on the island, but life in general. Sure, he was a slacker. But he was a good-hearted, sweet slacker who did want to find purpose in life, but wasn't sure to go about it. I'd be willing to bet quite a few of us would react with a "whoa" or "dude" to startling developments like Hurley did. Or better still, "So the hatch, like, blew off your underwear?” or the timeless "Dude, you’ve got some Arzt on you.”

In spite of his laid-back demeanor or superstitious notions, Hurley could be trusted and responsible. He may not have been the clear choice to become the next "Jacob" - guardian of the island, but it wasn't a surprise when he willingly accepted to become Jack's replacement/successor. And you thought, "Hurley would kick ass caring for the island."

Benjamin Linus is such a memorable character for all the wrong reasons. Here's a mostly intelligent, adept man who grew up on the island under unusual circumstances, under the belief of a higher power that he had to take extreme measures to protect the island. Unfortunately, extreme measures took the form of genocide of a people that tried to make sense of (and perhaps control) the island's metaphysical properties.

But Ben was more than a calculating villain. He was sniveling, misunderstood malcontent who thought he was destined for greater things. He had a penchant for sarcasm, making tragic mistakes or bluntly stating the obvious ("So, I guess this means I'm out of the book club"; "What, you mean my secreter room?"; "We have two giant hamsters running on a massive wheel in our secret underground cave...";

"If you mean time traveling bunnies, then yes"; “Destiny, John, is a fickle bitch.”

He was responsible for two "holy @&*$!" moments: When he told the crazed mercenary Keamy that his daughter Alex didn't mean anything. He called Keamy's bluff threat to kill her. And just when you thought it would be okay -- BLAM! Keamy shoots and kills Alex right in front of Ben. Damn!!

The other moment is one of the billions of times Ben "killed" John Locke/Jeremy Bentham/Flocke nee Man in Black/Smokey, specifically strangling him and leaving his body dangling from the ceiling light fixture of a motel room. Ben, in his cold, icy detachment from raw emotion, calmly says, “Goodbye, John. Sorry I made your life so miserable" and simply walks out the door. Wow. Even when Locke yells, "You just killed everyone on that boat," Ben shrugs, " …so?" It's those moments that made Ben Linus a mesmerizing figure.

Desmond Hume was the everyman that also connected with many people. Honest, good-hearted, hard-working, optimistic, brutha! He also happened to be, for some reason, extra special. As in able to withstand sudden tears in the fabric of space and time, and electromagnetic discharges. But what made us love him was this destined love between him and Penny Widmore. And when he finally reunited with her aboard her freighter, we pumped our fists into the air collectively.

John Locke, the paraplegic who came to believe in miracles and destiny, who came from a non-exciting life stateside, who inexplicably through death (and death and death) found "life," strength and purpose on the island. Albeit in the form of evil via the soul of an embittered sibling who had lived and died centuries prior following a Cane-Abel/Jacob-Esau conflict.

Even the ageless wonder Richard Alpert, and the "perfect married couple" that was Rose and Bernard, a sort of Greek chorus with an objective view and blunt assessments, perked up our ears. Was it any coincidence that so many of these characters possessed the traits, names or beliefs of real-life philosophers, spiritual leaders and notable figures in contemporary history and mythology? All part of the plan.

There are favorite whole episodes: The pilot; The Man from Tallahassee; The Incident, The Constant (perhaps THE BEST and MOST IMPORTANT); Man of Science, Man of Faith; Happily Ever After; Ab Aeterno; The Life and Death of Jeremy Bentham; and yes, dare I say, Across the Sea, only because it did provide plenty of crucial information albeit late in the game.

And all those little momentous images -- Goth Claire, Emo Charlie, Hurley first working, then owning Mr. Cluck's Chicken Shack, Jacob throwing his brother into the well of souls, Jacob/MIB's mom being rather psychotic, Smokey "judging" Mr. Eko by pounding him against a tree repeatedly; Kate and Juliet wrestling in the rain and mud; that first glimpse down into "the hatch."

Anthony Cooper tossing his son John Locke out of a window, John getting creamed what seemed like multiple times by a passing car, Ben getting his ass kicked by Desmond, Ben getting his ass kicked by Jack, a dying Juliet trying to detonate the nuke by bashing it against a rock, the time-traveling bunnies, the exploding freighter;

Ben turning the frozen donkey wheel to move the island, Charlie drowning yet showing Desmond the disturbing note written on his hand "not penny's boat, Sawyer and Kate getting it on in a cage, Michael killing Libby, Walt on the computer communicating with his dad Michael, Sayid slamming a guy backwards onto an open dishwasher door that happened to have a butcher knife POSITIONED BLADE UPWARDS (who does that anyway?);

Jin and Sun reuniting one last time only to die a short time later in a destroyed submarine, THE NUMBERS, the Dharma orientation video, the countless times we've seen Flight 815 break up in the air, when Ben proves Jack wrong when Jack says "the Red Sox will never win the World Series," when Hurley comes to the rescue his friends in an attack on The Others, Jack and Locke's final battle, Jack dying with Vincent lying by his side (an image that just killed me inside), inside "the church" in the final moments.

Should I go on? You see, "Lost" is never going to be "just another show." It was, as described by experts and fans alike, about faith and science, evil vs. good, fate vs. free will, redemption, about what you've done in the past and what you could do in the future to possibly bring about "progress."

It was about average, flawed people (with big-time daddy/mommy issues) who -- by fate -- were chosen by an extraordinary power to help hash out (in this current plane of existence) the latest battle between light and dark.

That made the finale even more explosive. Sure, it was flawed in some places. And it was bound to disappoint many people because, with such an epic, popular saga like "Lost" ending, legions of fans had their own theories of not only how it WOULD end, but how it SHOULD end. If even the slightest scene failed to meet someone's expectations in the finale, it was tantamount to failure.

The "Lost" finale was a risk one way or another, not unlike last spring's "Galactica" finale where the "it has happened before, it'll happen again" mantra was taken to extremes. But I agree with the consensus opinion, based upon Christian's final chat with Jack: Thank God, it wasn't all a dream. It wasn't a "Dallas" season finale or a "Newhart" finale. It didn't abruptly close out like "The Sopranos." It didn't wimp out absurdly like "Seinfeld."

"Lost" came full circle -- beginning with Jack's eye opening after the crash of Flight 815, and concluding with this eye closing in death (in the same spot in which had landed following the crash, no less). It had brought closure to our beloved characters who had indeed endured triumph, tragedy, rebirth, condemnation, division, reunion, betrayal, destruction and romance since the crash. There were time-travel, deadly battles, hatch buttons being pushed every 108 minutes, it all mattered toward the conclusion.

So as it seems, Jack was a reluctant Christ-figure, a non-believer at first, who practically had to be dragged into believing there was something bigger at work.

Like it or not (and Jack was kind of a jerk), he realized he had to be the savior, to find a way to slay the supposed Satan incarnate, prevent evil from escaping to engulf the world, protect the island and ensure that the "light" ("good") was not extinguish. But prior to that, he had to figure out what he kept doing wrong in his life -- the constant regret, the missed opportunities at self-improvement.

Jack realized he had put so much stock into trying, as a doctor stateside, to fix other people's lives that he first had to fix himself up. And so did everyone else. As the saying goes, "before you can love someone else, you must learn to love yourself." Or as Jack put it, "If we can’t live together, we’re going to die alone.”

Or as Jacob more or less put it, people kept coming to the island to try and make things right, over and over and over. Like the spinning record that was bound to hit a groove. Someone finally hit it right. So there was Jack, the Christ-figure ("Shepherd" was a dead giveaway from the beginning), lying de-energized after he had reactivated the light in the island's heart, with arms wide open and a spear ... oh wait...knife wound (foreshadowing in a previous episode) in his side.

Then, blood draining from his body, Jack goes to lie and die in the same spot where he first awoke from the trauma of the crash. He smiles faintly seeing another plane pass overhead, this time ferrying those who could willingly leave the island, knowing he had finally achieved his objectives.

He could let go of his regrets, his past life of inner suffering and pain...and there he was in the sideways flash/purgatory/afterlife that was mentally created by the memories of those souls who awaited him, their hero, their leader, to join them in eternity.

That's "Lost" in a nutshell: relationships. What's important in life is not so much how you live it as it is how you interact with your fellow human beings. These characters had gotten to know each other in such a close way that subconscious connections developed into the spiritual realm.

Those who died before Jack, those who died after him, they were all there in "the church" in such an emotional reunion/farewell that I won't forget for a long time. (Funny to see that Ben refused to enter the church, acknowledging his previous misdeeds awaited ultimate judgment.)

And the absolute final image of the wreckage on the beach only served as a reminder of what was truly left behind on Earth: material things that eventually will rust away and disappear. By comparison, those "Losties" memories and spirits will live on. (Except for perhaps poor Michael, who failed to see what was truly important in life. Apparently he was willing to do too much for his kidnapped son...a "too much" that turned him into a sort of Judas.)

Apologies for putting WAY too much thought into this. I blame "Lost." I didn't even blog nearly as much about "Galactica" or "24" upon their ends. But as you see, "Lost" was more than just your average TV show. It made me think, hope, fear and believe. I'm sure it did the same for you. See ya on the other side (or in another life), brudda!

The 25th Hour: A Tribute to the Sublime Insanity of "24"

A moment in the show "24" that prompted my undying allegiance, fittingly enough, came very early in its history.

"24" grabbed you right off the bat. Premiering a mere two months after 9/11, who could dare broadcast or watch a fictionalized serial about terrorism? Well, that question probably was easily settled within the first five minutes of the pilot episode.

That's when a woman many male fans would eventually come to affectionately nickname "Naked Mandy" gets on the Mile High Club with a photographer in a passenger plane bathroom.

The woman swiftly steals the guy's press badge (she just used him, c'mon!), then abandons all appearance of tact by jabbing the guy with a hypodermic, activates a time bomb, blows a hole in the fuselage wall, throws on a parachute pack and leaps into the air moments before the jet explodes over the California desert.

"24" introduces itself to the world with a quick kick in the ass. I think I'll stick around, I mentally told myself. I did. For eight seasons.

The recent finales of "24" and "Lost" weren't just the end to two once groundbreaking classic TV shows. They marked the end of an American era. When some writers and actors dared to push the envelope and fully engage the viewing public in a long-lasting (and not always nice) game of "are you with us so far?" Especially in a time when, ratings-wise, procedural police and medical dramas dominate TV with plots wrapped up nice and neat within an hour every week.

Think of memorable characters, plot developments, astonishing scenes, classic lines -- all part of the current popular lexicon. For their ratings success and spin-offs, I don't see "CSI" or " NCIS" or "Law and Order" (or never did see "ER") get "trended" each week on Twitter.

But "Lost" and "24"? Oh yes, very much so. Water-cooler shows like you wouldn't believe (and admittedly, shows that other people hated or could never learn to appreciate).

"24" was really a simple concept, yet exciting and hard to watch in execution each week, each year. But through it all, we learned to accept and champion Jack Bauer, a seemingly normal man with extraordinary dedication, perseverance and -- when the occasion called for it -- cunning skill and a pain threshold like none other.

A John McClane with a James Bond pedigree and a Jason Bourne improvisational existence. A man who has endured eight of the longest, bloodiest days, gone to extremes and made insanely difficult choices for the greater good -- to save the world.

Through it all, Bauer worked for a respected, strong elected president (David Palmer) and a sniveling, paranoid, ethically challenged president-by-chance (Charles Logan) who turned out to be a villain who more or less had a hand in three of those harrowing days.

Bauer had to kill or injure innocent people because he saw no other choice. He tortured many others because he saw little choice in extracting necessary information. He tried to walk away from the job so many times and yet begrudgingly returned either out of a higher patriotic duty or to settle a personal vendetta.

Two nuclear bombings on American soil, use of biological weapons, chemical/gas warfare (used and attempted), detonation of an electromagnetic pulse weapon, one president's assassination, the attempted killing of two other presidents, shooting down Air Force One, armed invasion of the freaking White House itself, oligarchic American businessmen, vengeful Serbians, doting Mexican drug dealers, Middle Eastern terrorists from fictional countries, angry Chinese government officials, dastardly Russian arms dealers. Bauer overcame them all.

But there was more than the action sequences, some of which yielded "Oh $@&*! That just happened!" reactions. (A game-changer like the very end of the Season I finale when Jack's wife is murdered, sending him into a downward spiral.)

There was thankfully more than the sometimes-drab political dramas that played out at CTU (which is now a household word like FBI and CIA) or at the White House. There was enough to counter-balance the occasionally strained, convoluted dialogue or well-intentioned plot twist gone awry.

There were characters and actions you can't forget. "Dammit!" and "There's not enough time!" or "dammit, we're running out of time" were uttered by Bauer more times each season than I could count. We became fans of an African-American president named Palmer long before Barack Obama even got on our radar screens.

We had heroes in popular CTU agents Tony Almeida and Michelle Dessler whose no-nonsense attitudes in the face of mounting odds earned our admiration; Chloe O'Brien, a hopelessly awkward yet brilliant, blunt technogeek who grew to be Jack's closest friend and behind-the-scenes protector; Secret Service Agent Aaron Pierce, who gave the term "take a bullet" a whole new dimension; Renee Walker, who quickly graduated from a stubborn FBI agent to essentially a jaded, female version of Jack Bauer; and the mountain lion who stalked Bauer's beleaguered (and hopelessly hopeless) daughter Kim.

(I know. Many viewers wish the big cat had eaten Kim in Season 1, an act that would've spared us following years of Jack's daughter, who constantly made questionable decisions.)

We had guilty pleasures in characters like Palmer's wife, Sherry, a modern-day Lady Macbeth; Martha Logan, a First Lady whose mind wasn't the healthiest around; Ira Gaines, the first villain who really wasn't pulling the strings that initial season, but surely acted like he did; Victor Drazen, the first big-name villain played to a snarling “T” by Dennis Hopper with his best Slavic accent; Habib Marwan, the first major Middle Eastern villain who had a particular ruthlessness; and a subtle sub-villain in Christopher Henderson.

We had our share of jerk-off CTU directors and superiors, whiny CTU techs who proved Chloe's scientific and intellectual inferior; the CTU "mole" that became predictable and tiresome after Season 5 (Katie Sackhoff’s Dana Walsh took the cake this year); and treacherous White House aides and government officials with hidden agendas.

We had “decently played” villains performed by Jon Voight, Will Patton, Tony Todd, Joaquim de Almeida, and Sarah Clake, who as the original mole, Nina Myers, has her own “oh %#&@! moment when Jack (her former lover, murderer of his wife) puts a bullet through her head.

Then we have failed villains (after great expectations) in Julian Sands, as well as James Cromwell and Paul McCrane, whom played Jack's estranged father and brother. Talk about a troubled family -- Jack pretty much kills both of them. That story arc would've and should've deserved more fanfare, but so much of it shoved in half an already lame sixth season made it more irksome than anything.

But it was Gregory Itzin putting on another Emmy-worthy appearance of the smarmy, sneaky Logan, who kind of pulled Season 8 out of the doldrums late in the game, conjuring up the very worst things that Jack had spent the last several years fighting to the bitter end. (I mean, what president – former or current – goes as far as to have his Secret Service guys and personal henchmen go after Jack freaking Bauer with “kill on sight” orders? That’s how over-the-top Charles Logan was. And remember, he may have blown off his chin in the finale, Logan still lives. Hmmm….)

Yeah, there was the unbelievable, especially how could Jack endure such long, action-filled days without food, sleep or bathroom breaks? How is it that ANYONE could drive from one side of a big city (depending on your plot year – L.A., N.Y, D.C.) to another in less than 10, 15, 20 minutes, day or night?

Seasons 1 and 5 remain the best years while Season 6 remains an anathema to fans. It's no matter now. From L.A. to D.C. to N.Y., Bauer did what it took to beat the bad guys and to save the world. Truly, a man apart, Thanks, Jack. See ya in the movie version, which had better be more like "X-Files: Fight the Future" and less like "X-Files: I Want to Believe."