Take as a legendary example of “fail” the death of William the Conqueror, a.k.a Duke William II of Normandy, the guy responsible for that predictable question about 1066 on the history test. Remember that history lesson and the test question about 1066, the year Billy conquered England by defeating King Harold Godwinson at the Battle of Hastings (actually, it wasn’t at Hastings, but that’s a graduate school test question)? Anyway, William conquered a goodly portion (Doth that sound Medieval enough?) of Merry Olde England (Ye probably dust tyre of this).
Back to the “fail.” William was a successful conqueror (That’s probably why he got the moniker). Conquests can breed overconfidence and arrogance. Overconfidence and arrogance can breed “fail” or make any stumble seem significant. Conquering puts one in places that other people once owned. Overconfidence distracts one from little details that can accumulate to become a big detail. Arrogance obliterates the sense of mortality. In 1087, back on the continent, William attacked the French at Mantes, where, good rumor has it, his horse stumbled on burning rubble in the very destruction that William had caused, throwing Will hard against the pommel like a skateboarder failing on a handrail. Epic fail, but no video. Days later, William, about to expire, made his peace, probably pleading, as in the words of the Norman (not from Normandy) Greenbaum song “Spirit in the Sky”: “Oh set me up with the spirit in the sky.”
Back to the “fail.” You’ve seen dozens of “fails” on TV and YouTube. And you keep asking yourself, “What was he thinking? Why didn’t he stop before…?” Twenty-one years after conquering England, there was William on the continent engaging France’s King Philip I’s forces. According to all reports the Conqueror was in later life a rather pudgy (Is that okay to say nowadays?) fellow who lost the spring of youthful muscles on a once strong body. But yes, there he was, less than physically fit, waging war from the saddle in the midst of destruction. And then his horse stepped on a burning ember, tossing William the Conqueror up and allowing gravity to do its work—as it does in almost all epic fails—to bring him down hard on that pommel. Before we leave that image, let’s refine it. The imaginary IPhone is in the hands of a French soldier who just lost the battle but who is hiding in the ruins as the great “conqueror” passes by. The battle is over. William seems relaxed in the arrogant overconfidence that he has won. And then, through a somewhat shaky video, we see the horse step on a burning board. Frightened, the horse rears high, leaps, and sends the “conqueror” into the air momentarily. His body lifted by the force of the horse’s rising back, the king grabs for the reins, the mane, the pommel itself, but instead falls hard on the metal pommel abdomen first. Epic! Hit the play button again. Watch the pudgy guy get thrown and come down hard. Epic! A voice from behind the camera says, “Oui.”
“Fails” occur to everyone, but some people go out of their way to make “fails” more likely. Some go out of their way to make them even more spectacular. William’s forces destroyed and burned the very building whose ember caused his horse to stumble. When one, regardless of past success, is bent on destruction, even someone else’s destruction, a “fail” is more likely.
Back to the “fail.” William was a successful conqueror (That’s probably why he got the moniker). Conquests can breed overconfidence and arrogance. Overconfidence and arrogance can breed “fail” or make any stumble seem significant. Conquering puts one in places that other people once owned. Overconfidence distracts one from little details that can accumulate to become a big detail. Arrogance obliterates the sense of mortality. In 1087, back on the continent, William attacked the French at Mantes, where, good rumor has it, his horse stumbled on burning rubble in the very destruction that William had caused, throwing Will hard against the pommel like a skateboarder failing on a handrail. Epic fail, but no video. Days later, William, about to expire, made his peace, probably pleading, as in the words of the Norman (not from Normandy) Greenbaum song “Spirit in the Sky”: “Oh set me up with the spirit in the sky.”
Back to the “fail.” You’ve seen dozens of “fails” on TV and YouTube. And you keep asking yourself, “What was he thinking? Why didn’t he stop before…?” Twenty-one years after conquering England, there was William on the continent engaging France’s King Philip I’s forces. According to all reports the Conqueror was in later life a rather pudgy (Is that okay to say nowadays?) fellow who lost the spring of youthful muscles on a once strong body. But yes, there he was, less than physically fit, waging war from the saddle in the midst of destruction. And then his horse stepped on a burning ember, tossing William the Conqueror up and allowing gravity to do its work—as it does in almost all epic fails—to bring him down hard on that pommel. Before we leave that image, let’s refine it. The imaginary IPhone is in the hands of a French soldier who just lost the battle but who is hiding in the ruins as the great “conqueror” passes by. The battle is over. William seems relaxed in the arrogant overconfidence that he has won. And then, through a somewhat shaky video, we see the horse step on a burning board. Frightened, the horse rears high, leaps, and sends the “conqueror” into the air momentarily. His body lifted by the force of the horse’s rising back, the king grabs for the reins, the mane, the pommel itself, but instead falls hard on the metal pommel abdomen first. Epic! Hit the play button again. Watch the pudgy guy get thrown and come down hard. Epic! A voice from behind the camera says, “Oui.”
“Fails” occur to everyone, but some people go out of their way to make “fails” more likely. Some go out of their way to make them even more spectacular. William’s forces destroyed and burned the very building whose ember caused his horse to stumble. When one, regardless of past success, is bent on destruction, even someone else’s destruction, a “fail” is more likely.
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