The fog of Star Wars: Why Rogue One is the most realistic (and perhaps greatest) of them all

Disney's resurrection of the Star Wars franchise that so many of us fell in love with as children, and grew disillusioned with during George Lucas' forgettable prequels, has been astonishing. Last year's "The Force Awakens" was a triumph, and this year's standalone spinoff, "Rogue One" is, in my opinion, maybe the greatest movie in the franchise's history. That's because it's the most realistic in capturing the moral complexity, dark reality and often-conflicting judgments of warfare, something Robert McNamara, the architect of America's regrettable foray into Vietnam, famously referred to as the "fog of war."

One thing that marked the original Star Wars movie in 1977, and probably explained its unprecedented popularity, was the simplicity, and inspirational quality, of the basic battle between good and evil it captured. It was crystal clear to everyone who watched the movie that the Luke Skywalker- and Princess Leia-led rebels were good and noble and morally justified in all their actions to overthrow the oppressive, evil Empire. There was no questioning their tactics or the wisdom of their decisions. It was a refreshing journey into fantasy in the wake of the Vietnam War, a supposedly similar conflict between good and evil that quickly became mired in myriad complications and questions about not only whether the United States was wise but right in its actions. What had seemed to many a noble Cold War enterprise quickly became lost in McNamara's fog of war.

In "Rogue One," which sets the stage for the original "Star Wars: A New Hope", it is again clear that the Empire is fundamentally evil and that a group of brave Rebels is trying to do something about it. But where things change, and where the movie, in the view of the 45-year-old writing this blog rather than the 6-year-old who was mesmerized by the original film, truly achieves new depth and greatness is where it gets into the messy details of fighting that war.

Far from the resolute and decisive, if undermanned, force we see in the original film, the fledgling rebels of "Rogue One" are disjointed, splintered and confused. They spend about as much time arguing among themselves as plotting to overthrow the Empire. Much of the time, they have no idea who are their friends or their enemies. At first, they plot to assassinate the man who holds the key to destroying the vaunted Death Star, and who actually wants to help them. One radical rebel leader decides to torture a defector from the Empire who has vital information to share. When things start to fall apart, they seem on the verge of throwing in the towel and running for the stars, until the daughter of the man they wanted to assassinate, and inadvertently kill anyway, comes up with a better idea that they initially reject, forcing her and her newfound friends to go "rogue." It's fitting that one of the few characters who seems to clearly see through the fog is a blind monk-like figure who combines martial arts skills and his devotion to The Force to devastating effect.

It's a movie that captures how wars are typically fought: messy, confusing, beset by morally questionable decisions, in which a lot of innocent people die, either collaterally or intentionally, no matter which side you're on. And yes, as in the case of World War II, sometimes they are necessary to preserve freedom and liberty, but that doesn't eliminate the moral complications of firebombing civilian populations in Tokyo or Dresden, dropping an atomic bomb or two, or partnering with a ruthless Russian murderer (not Putin but Stalin) and trying to humanize him with the moniker "Uncle Joe."

For those of us Star Wars nerds, the paradox of Star Wars has always been clear. While these are movies about wars in space, their point is never to glorify war or the forces that lead to such death and destruction (as Yoda put it so well, "Wars not make one great.") The mystical Force that binds the galaxy together is fundamentally a force for peace. But when it's manipulated by evil, then violence, death and destruction ensue. That has always been the overarching message.

The brilliance of "Rogue One" is that it adds a totally new dimension to that message. The original trilogy was more about the internal struggles of the individual characters than it was about the galactic civil war. The prequels tried to wrap themselves in political intrigue but got lost in bureaucratic minutiae (and terrible storytelling). "The Force Awakens" brilliantly pushed the original family drama forward in a whole new direction but ultimately left us with more questions than answers.

"Rogue One" is the first Star Wars movie that is truly a war movie. It's about noble intentions compromised by misguided decisions; moral righteousness colliding with military expediency; determination clouded by confusion; and heroism that ultimately leads to self-sacrifice and newfound hope. And it teaches us in a way that none of the other seven movies ever did that, no matter what the galaxy, war is a terrible, terrible thing.

Bill King: The childhood friend I never knew

At long last, legendary Bay Area sports radio announcer Bill King received his due earlier this month--induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame. King's voice is associated with some of the most memorable moments in Bay Area sports history -- football, baseball and basketball -- and for me, his voice will always be associated with some of my most vivid childhood memories.

As Vin Scully wrapped up his 67-year broadcasting career with the Dodgers this year, many reflected about growing up listing to Scully's voice over their transistor radios, sometimes sneaking them under the covers on a school night.

For me, Bill King was Vin Scully, only times three. I grew up listening to him call Raiders, Warriors and A's games, and all these years later, his silky, conversational and dramatic voice still echoes through my childhood memories.

I recall discovering the Raiders as a 6-year-old hearing King's voice call a 1977 game (I think it was against the Jets) in the car on a family day trip. I remember sitting on a boat, I think it was 1978, on Lake Berryessa on a warm September day as he described an early season Raiders game.

I remember getting a pair of bulky radio headphones (a staple of the 1980s) as a Christmas present one year, and breaking them in listening to King's voice bring a Warriors game into my living room. I remember my uncle turning down the volume on the television during a 1980s Raiders game so that we could listen to King's voice instead over the radio.

I remember turning on one of those Warriors television simulcasts and seeing his handlebar mustache, silver beard and long, skinny microphone come across my television screen from courtside in Seattle. You just knew that those dreadful early '80s Warriors were destined to go down to defeat by 25 points to the Super Sonics, but with King's voice bringing every moment to life, I would stick with the game to the end.

I remember sitting on the deck of my backyard on a Saturday afternoon, or on a weekday afternoon, listing to King set the stage for another A's game. These A's were similarly dreadful (I recall one painful game where talented but wild pitcher Tim Conroy walked one batter after another), but with Bill King at the mic, it never mattered. Another long-forgotten pitcher, Mike Warren, had thrown a no-hitter at the end of the 1983 season and was getting ready to make his first start of the 1984 season. King, setting the drama for what would be another forgettable game and season, noted that Warren was trying to become the first pitcher to throw consecutive no-hitters to end one season and begin another, or some such thing. That suspense ended a couple batters into the game, but again, it didn't matter.

Of course, King also called some of the most memorable moments in Bay Area sports history: George Blanda's miraculous Raiders comebacks ("George Blanda has just been elected King of the World!"), the Raiders' 1976 Super Bowl victor over the Vikings (a hallmark of NFL Films' Super Bowl Memories, "Old Man Willie is going to go all the way!"); the incredible Holy Roller game in 1978 ("Nothing in the world is real anymore"!); and Rickey Henderson's stolen base records.

Sadly, for me, I never got a chance to listen to King's most memorable calls live. I was either too young or watching the relevant game on TV. For me, it's the forgettable ones that live on in my child's mind -- a reprieve from the trials and tribulations of adolescence, when a bad day at school or at home could be salvaged by the company of King's comforting voice on the radio, no matter what the outcome.

Another Bill King moment surely only I can remember came early in the 1984 A's season. It was destined to be another losing season for the green and gold until the likes of Canseco, McGwire, Stew, Eck and Co. burst onto the scene a few years later. But the A's had signed seemingly washed-up slugger Dave Kingman early in the season, and Kong, as he was called, went on an early season home run tear that at least made the A's somewhat interesting.

We were on vacation at Clear Lake, sitting on our boat listening to Bill call a weekday afternoon game against a team I can't remember. I just remember him describing Kingman strolling to the plate with the bases loaded in the first inning, and cautioning us listeners that it was too much to expect Kong to go deep every time such a situation arose. Sure enough, Kingman proceeded to launch a grand slam a pitch or two later, leaving King beside himself. "Holy Toledo!" he roared through the radio with his signature refrain. "What a man!" As we splashed in the warm waters of the lake, my cousin and I took turns mimicking the call.

Years later, I found myself by chance in the press elevator with King and a few others at the Coliseum before an A's game. I looked upon the man I had spent so many afternoons and evenings with growing up, and simply smiled, unable to speak a word. I never had felt so close to someone with whom I had never spoken a word.

"What a man!" Yes, indeed. But it was you who were the man, Bill King, and now you're finally going where you deserve.

Remembering Pearl Harbor and the lessons that live on

For anyone who has ever visited the USS Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor, one of the most powerful sights is the steady drips of oil that continue to float to the surface from the sunken battleship. I first visited the memorial in 1997, and when I returned to it with my family this past summer, the thing I anticipated most was whether I would again see those tiny oil sheens drift to the surface. Sure enough, I did.

No one knows for certain when the final drip of oil will leave the Arizona. The drips are called by some the Arizona's "black tears," and legend has it that they will finally stop when the final survivor of the Arizona passes away and joins his sunken fellow sailors in the afterlife.

Drips of oil floating to the surface from the USS Arizona in August 2016

In addition to being a powerful reminder of what happened on the date of infamy 75 years ago today, I see those drips of oil as a living lesson for today's generation of Americans about our people's resilience in the face of terrible tragedy and adversity and capacity to overcome any challenge.

For many, the election campaign and results this year have brought on a sense of dread and despair about the state of affairs in America and what the future holds. While much of that angst is understandable and justified, it's also important to remember that it doesn't come close to what America faced in the aftermath of Dec. 7, 1941.

It's easy in retrospect to view America's triumph in World War II as inevitable, but that outcome seemed anything but inevitable after Pearl Harbor. America was a much weaker nation in 1941, still struggling to emerge from the blows of the Great Depression. Its military paled in comparison to the great European nations, and its Pacific naval fleet was in shreds after the disaster at Pearl Harbor. Hitler continued control much of the European continent. Japan's naval superiority meant it would spend months conquering the Pacific unimpeded, bringing it nearly to the shores of Australia.

In the months that followed Pearl Harbor, things would only get worse. There would be the Bataan Death March and defeats throughout the Pacific. It would be nearly a year before America could muster the strength to directly confront Hitler, and years before it would be able to launch the D-Day invasion that would ultimately lead to final victory in Europe. The great victory at Midway in 1942 would be the turning point in the Pacific, but three years of terrible island-hopping battles still lay ahead.

Whether are not you think that America is great today, it certainly did not look great in any way, shape or form on Dec. 7, 1941. But from the ashes of that tragedy arose the seeds of the "Greatest Generation" that saved the world from fascism and turned America into a superpower.

Of course, the lessons from World War II weren't all great. The internment of the Japanese-Americans was an injustice that continues to stain our nation to this day. My own relatives of Italian ancestry were also subjected to unjust discrimination, being forced to move from Alameda because of the Navy base there and fears of sabotage. And, of course, the unity of purpose that the Pearl Harbor attack created did not extend to African-Americans, who continued to be discriminated against and were victimized in the Port Chicago munitions disaster.

In the end, America would emerge from World War II a much greater nation than it was before but one nevertheless still flawed and beset by challenges and injustices. That is the story of our existence, a continual march toward a perfection that is always elusive. But as we look toward the challenges of today and decide whether to meet them with optimism or pessimism, let us also remember where we stood on Dec. 7, 1941 and how we met the grief and despair that followed Pearl Harbor.

America was great on Dec. 7, 1941. We just didn't know it yet.