The 2010 version of “True Grit” starring Jeff Bridges as Deputy U.S. Marshal Reuben J. “Rooster” Cogburn is better than the 1969 version starring John Wayne as Cogburn, the role for which The Duke won his Academy Award.

Somebody had to have the guts to say it. DW is that gut.

The 1969 version is still on my Top 10 Westerns of All-time list. It’s just that now it has a little brother.

John Wayne is awesome as the “old, one-eyed fat man.” Robert Duvall = awesomeness. (“Lonesome Dove” is the only performance that seems as fun as his Lucky Ned Pepper.) And Strother Martin as the horse trader is as captivating a four minutes or so as you’ll ever see on screen.

But one reason the 2010 version is better is because Hollywood had 40 more years of experience by 2010. And back then, the Coen Brothers hadn’t been invented yet.

The main reason is the dialogue, taken straight from the short 1968 novel by Charles Portis. Ned Cheney is a murderer and simple-minded man who is shot, left stranded by his outlaw brothers and in a world of hurt and trouble when he says to Maggie, “Be still. I must think over my position and how I may improve it.” What? It sounds stilted and odd–it didn’t make the 1969 movie–but it’s more of the way people talked back then. There aren’t many contractions in the dialogue, (or, “there are not many contractions.”) Cheney sort of mumbles and it’s not really the way people talk but when you see it on screen, somehow it is perfect. People were less educated back then but, by all accounts, had better vocabularies than we do today. Even Cheney at least tried to talk right, although it turns out (spoiler alert) he didn’t get too much time to think over his position, as things turned out.

Anyway, some of my favorite Cogburn lines from 2010’s version:

When he is in the outhouse and hears a knock on the door: “The Jake is occupied, and will be for quite some time.”

After the initial meeting with the outlaws went very, very awry: “Well, that did not pan out.”

After very closely and at length inspecting a man who had just come crashing to the ground after being cut down from hanging in the top of a semi-high tree: “I do not know this man.”

(See what I mean about the dialogue? Do you?…)

After Lucky Ned gets away: “The trail is cold, if there ever was one. I am a foolish old man who has been drawn into a wild goose chase by a harpy in trouser (HA! “in trouser”!) and a nincompoop. Mr. LaBeouf, he can wonder the Choctaw Nation for as long as he likes. Perhaps the local In’jins will take him in and honor his jibberings by making him chief. You, sister, may go where you like. Our engagement is terminated. I bow out. I bow out.”

I bow out as well.

— Teddy Allen, Designated Writer

-30-

Whenever you need evidence that this is a great country, I’ve got two words for you: Joe Lunardi.

For one month a year — and particularly this week — he is seemingly the most important person in the basketball world. He has invented words and terms that people think actually mean something. Bracketology, Last Four In. First Four Out. And of course, his hole card …

The bubble.

Every announcer on ESPN takes Lunardi’s word as gospel. Sure, he’s crunched some numbers, but basically all of this is his opinion. What really matters is what the selection committee thinks, yet people think the little guy from Philadelphia who looks like he lives in his mom’s basement (have you seen his video feeds?) is calling the shots.

It’s all a way for ESPN to create buzz for the tournament which, by the way, they don’t even have on their network. Lunardi is like a weatherman; people hang on his every word and make plans based on what he says. But ultimately, what’s going to happen is going to happen no matter what Joe says.

I used to hate the conference tournaments because I thought they were just money grabs. They still are, but the games do have some urgency to them and the level of play is usually high. Either the small conferences are playing for that one shot at the NCAA Tournament or the big conferences are trying to make one final impression on the committee (not Lunardi).

But the talking points for the announcers during these game are all about the what the latest results in another tournament might mean to Lunardi’s projections. Joe? Joe, are you there? We must know!

It’s all Lunardi, all the time. And then Sunday comes along and you can’t find him with a GPS. Seriously, see if ANYBODY brings up Joe Lunardi starting Monday. He falls off the basketball map, if not the real one.

Back to his mom’s basement.