The first lesson of Pokemon is that you've gotta catch 'em all. This is not debatable. It is right there in the chorus of the Pokemon theme song , aptly titled "Pokemon Theme."
In fact, you could argue that everything there is to be learned about Pokemon can be found in the first 45 seconds of the Pokemon theme song. It is a timeless song, in the sense that it feels like it easily could have been montaged in the "Karate Kid" (the original, but maybe also the one with Will Smith's kid).
The song's real strength is its clarity. The Pokemon theme song didn't come here to dance.
It begins: "I want to be the very best, like no one ever was."
Right away, parameters are established. Goals. Expectations. Failure is circling like vultures.
One of the best opening lines in journalism is from an epic Esquire profile of former Red Sox great Ted Williams: "Few men try for best ever, and Ted Williams is one of those."
Pokemon is another, and this cannot be forgotten.
Now, before we go any further, some of you may be wondering why you are reading about Pokemon. Or, just as likely, you've already rushed to the comments to express your displeasure by rhetorically asking, "This is news?"
So here's the news, such as it is: "Pokemon," that long ago video-game-turned-card-game-turned-TV-show, has made its comeback. A new app called "Pokemon Go" allows people to wander the streets in the real world and catch Pokemon on their smartphones.
If you live under a rock, this might be confusing, so let me clarify.
"Pokemon" started off as a video game in which you had to catch Pokemon, these part-animal, part-alien, part-human creatures with names like Pikachu, Snorlax and Jigglypuff. It then became a card game that allowed kids (and probably some strange adults) to collect Pokemon, and then a TV show in which you watched cartoon characters catch and battle Pokemon. It was all great. That is both where the theme song comes from and also the origin story of the "Pokemon Go" game.
The problem is that "Pokemon Go" generally requires people to be looking at their phones while walking, lest they miss a Pokemon "in the wild." This, of course, is an issue when it comes to crossing streets or walking in populated cities or, in the case of one Wyoming teenager, when looking for Pokemon near a river and instead discovering a dead body.
Anyway, the other less serious but no-less-real problem is that "Pokemon Go" is too popular, and so it has done the thing that popular things do on the internet: It has become all consuming and therefore insufferable. Snapchat, Facebook, Twitter, this wretched story I'm typing right now _ all "Pokemon Go," all the time.
Just a few days ago, it used to be quaint to see people walking with their head buried in their phone. They'd see you peaking at their screen, glance at yours and you'd both smile and nod, just like people who drive Jeeps. Now you see those people and you want to smash their phones.
I learned about "Pokemon Go" last Friday and selflessly pitched the idea of writing about it the next morning.
I became nostalgic when I opened the game for the first time. I, like so many others, wasted hours of my childhood collecting cards and playing the video game. I once learned the hard way that a holographic Charzard shriveled in the Kansas sun; I was devastated.
I hadn't thought about Pokemon in years, and then suddenly I was jumping right back into my childhood. I was excited, in that nostalgic kind of way, for all of about 10 hours.
It was exactly the worst time to make such a pitch because the wave of popularity had already reached its crescendo and was mere hours from crashing on my head; I was just too naive to see it.
That circles back to the Pokemon theme song.
In preparation for this assignment, I dutifully listened to the theme song on repeat, a song I had listened to hundreds of times and always enjoyed. It made me think of my friends' basements (or, more accurately, their parents' basements). The song's lyrics were familiar enough that I could sing them, but I realized I did not truly know their message. They were revealing in this new "Pokemon Go" world.
The second line: "To catch them is my real test, to train them is my cause."
This is factual. The first order of "Pokemon Go" is to catch Pokemon. The second is to train them and evolve them so they become more powerful, and so you, their trainer/owner, also become more powerful.
My first day I caught 16 Pokemon, collected 100 Pokeballs, killed my phone twice and nearly crossed the street without looking.
I was an innocent again.
Third line: "I will travel across the land, searching far and wide."
Literally, this is what you have to do. You can't be on a bus or in your car. You have to walk and stumble across Pokemon. Or you have to walk and find landmarks where you can pick up supplies.
This, on the surface, is a positive part of their game. More people walking, more exercise, etc, etc. But it's actually kind of depressing. I walked all over downtown Seattle: Pike Place, Pioneer Square and Belltown. I could not tell you where I went or what I saw. I had entered the world of half reality, where you are technically walking as a normal human but you're actually watching your little cartoon character walk the same route on your phone. Somewhere there's a metaphor about what we've lost to technology, but I'm not going to make it.
Fourth line: "Each Pokemon to understand the power that's inside."
I don't get this line, but because it's within the first 45 seconds of the Pokemon theme song and because I am a pro, I will connect it.
The whole point of this selfless self-assignment was to, maybe, sort of explain "Pokemon Go." Maybe if I got lucky I would find some meaning, some larger reflection of society staring back at me from within the app on my phone. I did not.
Chorus: "(Pokemon!). Gotta catch em all. It's you and me. I know it's my destiny (Pokemon!). Oooooh, you're my best friend in a world we must defend."
The chorus goes on for a while, but this is the meat of it.
It was not my destiny to play "Pokemon Go"; I quit after three days. I get the appeal. It's nostalgic and like a scavenger hunt. It requires little effort, but you still feel like you're doing something.
Years ago, I dutifully collected all of the Pokemon cards. I'd stuff them in laminated binders and organize them by importance; come to think of it, it's still one of the most organized things I've ever done. I thought they'd be worth something some day.
I just Googled "how much are Pokemon cards worth." The binders I kept them in are probably worth more. I'm not even sure I still have my cards, and that's OK.
Few men or women try to catch 'em all, but you gotta, it says so right there in the song. It was a fun idea to jump back into that old world, but it was a commitment I couldn't make again.
