I have recently developed a strange and unexpected love for something I never imagined I would be interested in: The A-Team. What started as harmless curiosity suddenly turned into intrepid enthusiasm for a group of fugitive war veterans living as well-meaning mercenaries. Despite its apparent flaws, and my usual indifference to the action genre, the television series has established in me a level of fandom I usually reserve for science fiction.
It's rather difficult to explain. I started watching the show because, after watching the original series "Battlestar Galactica," I developed a man crush on Dirk Benedict. By which I mean I don't want to have his babies, but I think he's really cool and I want to be his friend. (Did you know he survived prostrate cancer in his twenties by isolating himself in a remote cottage and living on a macrobiotic diet he picked up in Sweden? Yeah. Seriously.) He wasn't even in the pilot. He replaced Tim Dunigan, who apparently was "too tall and too young." But by then I was hooked.
The show is by no means perfect, believability being the main issue. With all the explosions, gunfire, and excessive (albeit impressive) car crashes, not a single person has died. Although in my mind I prefer to put this down not to the miraculous constitutions of friend and foe alike, but rather the A-Team's dislike of killing since coming back from the war. They just rough people up a bit to fulfill their contracts. And they always seem to be one step ahead of Lynch or Decker or whichever MP happens to be on their tail. No one seems to think B.A.'s interest in children is creepy (even me, Mr. T being one of the most magnificent men on the planet), or questions the motives of the ordinary men who burn and beat up and break for the bad guy. And no one at the VA psychiatric hospital seems to remember Face whenever he comes to spring Murdock.
But there is something about it that I have hooked onto, something I have fallen a little bit in love with. Maybe it's the delightful dynamic of the group, the way they joke with each other in a spirit of lightheartedness contrary to the nature of their position. Maybe it's the way they don't always get along and are sometimes tested to their limits, yet never leave a man behind. Or the way they can always be trusted. Maybe it's even the cheesy MacGyver-like sequences where they build tanks and armored cars and bomb shelters out of whatever is lying around to the theme song that then always gets stuck in my head. It could be the reassurance of a group of people who have stayed together through years of hardship, and are always there for each other. Or maybe there's just something awesome about driving a car off the road in a helicopter. Whatever it is, I have developed a fondness for the A-Team I would never have expected from myself.
And now I spend my days in anxious anticipation of when I can watch the next episode. I merrily await to discover what disguise we'll next find Hannibal in, what con Face will pull and what girl he'll get doing it, what crazy antics Murdock has in store (oh, wonderful, ridiculous, lovable Murdock), and how angry it will all make B.A. Even Amy doesn't get on my nerves as much as I thought she would (though I have yet to meet her replacement in later episodes).
All in all, somehow and for some reason, a connection to this world has helped me through my final term. I have stayed optimistic. I have remembered how important friends are. And I have stuck to my guns and worked hard to get to where I am now.
I love it when a plan comes together.
Update: Ok, so I have met Amy's replacement, Tawnia. And I gotta say, she is really annoying, mostly because I don't think she's a very good actress. My consolation comes from the fact it appears the A-Team feels the same way about her as I do. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Amy.
