Damien Galeone

“Let’s find that pint, Lewis.”

For me, it’s always been television detectives. There is nothing quite as fun as watching a TV sleuth figure out a murder or catch a bad guy.

I think the whole thing started with Magnum P.I. Thursday nights between 8-9 were spent watching Thomas Magnum run around Honolulu chasing down thugs and ticking off Higgins. In college, Magnum was replaced by Columbo and Rockford, who I found in the wonderful land known as Rerunia. They were two totally different detectives: one was sly, clever, and purposefully disarming, the other rough, tough and gritty.

A thousand years later, aka 2010, Sherlock Holmes joined the ranks of my favorite TV detectives. I’d read all the stories, I found that a bowl of popcorn and the tiniest prospect of actually being able to deduce what was going on added to my enjoyment. While I have always loved Sherlock Holmes stories, they aren’t really detective stories since the reader has no way of figuring out the plot until Holmes reveals it all to the exasperated Watson on the last page.

Elementary, Watson, as long as you knew that in Urdu the man’s cousin’s dog’s name backwards reads bacon. Adding to that, of course, that bacon was the favorite breakfast meat of this man’s butler’s sister’s husband Smedrick, who resides in a place called Florida. Then it’s all clear…

But I digress. Back to detectives.

Enter Inspector Morse.

At first, I didn’t know what it was about Morse, why I liked him so much. But it was clear that he was something a little different. He had things in common with the other guys – bright and sharp, some degree of toughness, cool-headed. But Morse was different.

So I kept watching.

Morse lives alone, does crossword puzzles, and drinks. He drinks all the time. Every episode features Morse at a pub, a party, or drinking at home while listening to classical music. Almost every scene ends with him pulling his partner Lewis off to find a pint – “Let’s have a beer,” “We have some major thinking to do, Lewis, let’s find a pint,” “Pour us a couple, Lewis, you know where the beer is,” “How can I think, I haven’t even finished my first pint yet?” “Keep drinking, Lewis, the answer’s in there somewhere.”

He quickly became my hero.

But that’s not all. Morse is always wrong. He is constantly arresting the wrong people with absolute, total confidence, only to realize shortly after that he’s made a mistake. He apologizes more times during an episode than I do on a first date, and that is saying something.

I guess what I love the most about him is that Morse is a normal schmuck. He is not a tough guy, as he’s constantly getting his ass handed to him. He’s afraid of heights, he’s moody, and he’s always getting in trouble with his boss. And he is always, always falling for a lady and getting rejected.

And then I realized why I related so much with Morse – he is me.

It all made sense, too. As much as I loved the other detectives, I could never really relate to them. I don’t have the sly boots cleverness of Columbo, the toughness of Rockford, the casual swagger of Magnum, or the immeasurable brains of Sherlock.

But I can relate to Morse: a guy who’s awkward with women and who does his best thinking in a pub. A schmo who does crosswords, fears heights, and is always on the wrong side of his boss’ favor. A guy who confidently makes mistakes and then glumly apologizes, yep, this is a TV detective I can get behind. Maybe I missed my calling.

Which TV detective are you?