The Rocky Factor

Later this week, my Dad and I will take in Saggy-Eyed Sylvester getting into the ring one more time.

I didn't ask for a fifth sequel to the low-key, well-acted Oscar winning original. The reasons behind it are simple: Stallone's star has fallen as his plastic surgery tab skyrocketed, he needs cash, and the last film, Rocky V, stunk ... horribly. Really, my life will go on without a senior citizen stepping into the ring in Rocky Balboa.

But I have no choice.

Getting nostalgic for a broke-down franchise would be hard, if this one had not stayed part of our vernacular for so long. I cannot estimate how many times I've been called a "jealous, lazy bum" (Rocky to Paulie, III) ; been called "the ultimate meatball" Thunderlips to Rocky, (III again); or haven been told in a Dolph Lungren monotone "You will lose" (IV).

Then there's always Thunderlips (Hulk Hogan) tossing Rocky around the ring in their charity match to the line, "It's all fake. It's all fake, meatball." Brilliant - Hulk Hogan owes his career to that film.

We've had our own brushes with Rocky-dom. My Dad once imitated Rocky jumping rope - without a jump rope. In copying the way Rocky thrashes the rope around when he's done, Dad managed to throw out his back just before a business flight to New Ulm, Minnesota. He had to take his own cab to the hotel, because he had to lie across the back seat to remain remotely comfortable (you can neither make these details up nor forget them).

On my wall at home, I have a collage of photos my Dad took as I ran up the steps at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, including the celebratory, raised fists shot with the skyline behind us. My Dad got praised for his unexpectedly strong photo skills.

Finally, as soon as I was old enough, Dad and I saw Rocky films in the theater; 15 years later, we must dust off the tradition.

So one more round, Rock. You owe us a better finale than a street fight with Tommy Morrison and a Don King facsimile.

"Aren't you gonna ring the bell?" Well, there I go again (III).