Coupeville Sports

A little piece of history, it is.

“What’s the plan, Uncle David?”

“We’re going to have more movies than Scarecrow Video!”

“But I thought you said they had like 120,000 titles…”

“They do.”

“And you have?”

“1,310 DVD’s and one VHS. Not bad for someone who had like five DVDs a month ago.”

“I’m going to tell mom you’ve lost it…”

“I’m sure she already knows.”

“And what do you mean we??”

“It’s the royal we, my lad. And by we, I mean less talking by you, and more crawling down in that dusty bin at the back of the thrift store and looking for the DVD’s hiding down there.

“We will find “Song of the South! Some day!!”

“Great … Uncle David is going to have a section devoted to racist cartoons…”

“Exactly. That’s why we need those Tom and Jerry ones!”

As I alternate between entertaining my nephews and causing them to arch their eyebrows at me like they’re old money country club lifers and I’m Rodney Dangerfield storming the castle, my most-recent detour into embracing my video store past is going like gangbusters.

All it took was one basketball coach doing some spring cleaning and offering free DVDs and I’m right back at it, crafting a tribute to Videoville in my side room.

Five movies here, 200+ there, me trying not to scream like a little girl who found a pony under the Christmas tree when I discover a Criterion edition of the French film noir Le Corbeau for $1.00 at the thrift store.

Or when I go through a donation from a former Videoville customer and find … Jaws! Tommy Boy!! Indiana Jones!!! Cry Baby!!!!!

It’s a work in progress.

I have Lawrence of Arabia, but not On the Waterfront.

Have Chinatown, but not The Right Stuff.

Have The Fifth Element, and (somehow) the first five Resident Evil movies (viva Milla Jovovich and my autographed photo!) but not Blade Runner or The Last Starfighter.

Or Shock Treatment, The Apple, the ’70s version of Gone in 60 Seconds, Bugsy Malone, or Reefer Madness: The Movie Musical.

Yet.

But I do have Bottle Rocket, Memento, Spirited Away, both the Johnny Depp and the Angela Lansbury(!) editions of Sweeney Todd plus Riverdance, which is a direct touchstone to my Videoville days.

And, as you can see in the picture above, I just got The Matchmaker, one of those films which evokes an enduring memory from my time behind the movie counter.

It’s a great little romantic comedy, but the reason it takes me back is this — there’s a crusty old coot in the flick who, in deep Irish accent, is prone to saying “fuchin.”

When you pronounce it that way, it seems somehow … more genteel. And slightly acceptable for saying in the store, as we did for many months after the VHS of the film hit in ’97/’98.

“You got some fuchin’ late fees here.”

“Did you just cuss?”

“Not likely. Just working on my Irish accent, you fuchin’ bastard.”

Ah, memories.

Now I just need to find a DVD for Margaret’s Museum, a lovingly crafted tale of Helena Bonham Carter collecting bits ‘n pieces from all the deceased coal miners in her small town.

“She put what in the jars, now?????”

“Oh yes, exactly what you’re thinking. But it’s a beautifully done movie … you fuchin’ bastard.”

“Not your cup of tea? Well, can I interest you in some possibly racist Tom and Jerry cartoons??”

PS — If you’re spring cleaning and want to help me marinate in the past, I’m accepting any and all DVDs and giving them a home with a view of Penn Cove.

You can find me at a Coupeville baseball or softball game or drop ’em on my porch at 165 Sherman.

If I had a warehouse, I’d take your VHS. But I don’t have a warehouse, so, unless it’s something that can only be found on VHS like the one below, I probably have to pass.

While crying tears of regret…

David’s one current VHS tape.