In my mid-twenties, I was married for about a year. My ex-wife and I had dated for a while, all the way through college. Coincidentally, we were also one of the first couples I knew to meet online. Here’s how long ago this shit happened: we met in a chat room. Not a Discord chat or a forum or social media. A chat room back when it was called a chat room. It was for lonely people in our age group, and we began to talk and then talked more and began to date. We shared a common interest in wanting to find someone who shared any common interests.
The majority of our relationship was long-distance; we went to different schools that were far away from each other. Sometimes it was intense. Sometimes it was not. Long-distance relationships are a lot like German board games: you tell yourself it’s going to be easy, but the logistics take as much time as the fun.
Yet as it went on, both of our parents seemed eager to see us get on with our lives and marry. So that’s what we did. I meagerly proposed in a crab restaurant, the other diners watching us to see if she’d make the wise decision to say “No,” “Absolutely not,” or “You’re really proposing while wearing a Star Wars shirt?” I was excited but also kind of worried? I was at a point in my life when I was somehow still struggling to understand how to live in a society. I realized as I proposed that I was changing two people’s lives. This is something I should have respected but that I was not ready to do.
To be fair, planning the wedding was surprisingly easy, and the event itself was actually fantastic. Despite the quick end to the actual marriage, there was very little drama when it came to the special day. Nobody flipped out at someone else. Nobody had a meltdown. We got married at a bucolic, old mansion in New Jersey that had been converted into an event space. The ceremony took place in a massive, lush backyard. The weather was sunny, not a cloud in the sky. Some of my closest friends were there, who I should probably talk to more, but I’m more of a person who’s meant to die alone. She had far, far more friends at the wedding because she also had far, far more friends than me.
As my ex stared in horror and both my family and hers were radiating fury, my brother stayed the course. He was a hero that day.And, dear God, I apologize, the wedding was kind of Super Mario-themed. We didn’t go all out, don’t worry. This was my fault; she is a regular person. It was weird, but it wasn’t weird-weird. She wore a normal dress and looked lovely. I wore a normal tuxedo and looked like the Penguin. But our exit music as we walked down the aisle was the underwater stage music from Super Mario Bros., so that gives you some idea of the level of nerdiness I was shooting for. I wanted it to be fun without people feeling a vague sense of pity. I bet they shot straight to pity.
We also had two cakes: a traditional one and a Mario one. Our little table treats were also Mario-themed chocolates molded in the shape of coins and stars, cupcakes decorated to look like mushrooms from the game, question blocks filled with candy. One of our better ideas was setting up stations around the reception room with TVs and different video game systems. Bored kids played Mario Kart, which really helped us do well with the under-thirteen demographic. I could not name half of the people who were at my wedding, so there was a lot of calling everyone “buddy.” I’m just glad that the people who are usually most bored at events—kids—had something to do.
Eventually, it came time to give speeches. My brother had struggled for days leading up to the wedding. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to say it. My family does not express love very well. If this was a speech about what I had done wrong as a brother, that would be easy. But a speech that’s supposed to be nice and inspiring? For someone in our family? He asked for my advice.
I could’ve said “Speak from the heart” or “It doesn’t need to be long, just give it your best.” Instead, I told my brother to watch some movie speeches. I figured that he could get some inspiration from a dramatic monologue—maybe even from a wedding scene in a movie—and then he could figure out what he wanted to say.
Now, before I continue, let me say that my brother is the funniest person I know. I’m friends with a fair number of comedians, so this is saying something. My brother might have the most raw comedic talent of anyone I’ve ever met. Dan, if you’ve read this far, I’ve got a message: you did good. You did real good. I’ve worked on award-winning comedy shows, and I’ve been honored to meet some of the world’s greatest living writers, but nothing tops what my brother did here.
After I gave him some advice, my brother went to work. Little did I know that, over the next few days, Daniel would watch a lot of movie speeches. Especially dramatic sports movie speeches like the one in Little Giants. My brother and I still say, “One time!” quoting that speech, so I get where his mind was at when he began planning out what he was going to do.
When it came time for toasts, my ex’s maid of honor went first and gave an extremely kind talk about their friendship and the importance of their lifelong connection. It was well thought out, well written, and deeply personal. They were like sisters and had gone through the good and the bad. Tears were shed, and not just by people on her side of the guest list. My ex’s best friend gave a great speech. If the wedding had stopped there, everyone would have remembered that part.
But then it was my brother’s turn. He was my best man. Because he’s the best man I’ve ever known. After taking the microphone, my brother unfolded multiple typed pages. (The maid of honor went straight from memory.) By the smile on his face, I knew that whatever he was about to do would cause a reaction.
That’s not actually true. Sorry, Dan. The best man I’ve ever known is probably Weird Al. That’s not a joke. I would take a bullet for that man, whereas with my family, I’d probably max out at shouting, “Hey, watch out for that bullet!”
He started, “I don’t know what to say, really. Three minutes till the biggest wedding of our professional lives all comes down to today. Now, either you marry as a team or you’re going to crumble, inch by inch, play by play, till you are finished.”
If that sounds a little familiar, it’s because that is based on the start of Al Pacino’s speech in the football movie Any Given Sunday. This is a bit of a monologue where Al Pacino’s character reviews how he wasted his life and ruined any chances at happiness while telling his team to focus on what’s most important: winning. My brother proceeded to give that entire speech—while mixing in a few elements of Friday Night Lights—the whole time replacing the words football with marriage and losing with divorce.
Immediately, the table of my comedian friends at the wedding exploded. While I’m not a sports fan, they mostly were, and either way, all of us had seen this movie. They knew exactly what my brother was doing. None of them had witnessed anything like it. The longer my brother read off the pages, the more he committed to the bit, and the more my friends and I howled with laughter. As my ex stared in horror and both my family and hers were radiating fury, my brother stayed the course. He was a hero that day.
A few highlights:
“You find out life’s this game of inches. So is marriage. Because in either game, life or marriage, the margin of error is so small.”
“Now, I can’t do marriage for you. I’m too old.” (He was twenty-one.) “I look around. I see these young faces, and I think, I mean, I made every wrong choice a middle-aged man can make.”
“I’ll tell you this: in any fight, it’s the guy who’s willing to die who’s gonna win that marriage.”
You get the idea. He stayed in character the whole time. Never broke or laughed once. As I said, about 10 percent of the people at the wedding were crying-laughing. These were comedians who have gone on to run television shows and star in big Netflix stand-up specials. Up to that point, I had not seen any of them laugh as hard as they did at my brother’s speech. It was like we were all watching a rare, precious comedy moment that would never exist again.
And, as I also said, about 90 percent of the people were so, so, so very mad at my brother. After he finished his speech, he received applause and cheers from one and a half tables and dead silence from the rest. I had tears running down my face as I gasped for air. My ex was just happy it was over, her frown turning into relief once it was clear we could move on. And, so you all know, I didn’t want her to have a bad time. We just happened to disagree on the quality of my brother’s presentation.
If I get married again, I can’t do blue Sonic the Hedgehog cakes. I just can’t. But my brother can give any speech he wants.I’d later learn that, throughout the rest of the night, comedians approached my brother and told him that it was one of the greatest things they’d ever seen. Meanwhile, relatives and friends of the families approached him and scolded him for giving an inappropriate speech at a solemn occasion. One or two people told me they were sorry about what my brother had done, as if I’d be upset. I had to tell them that, buddy, I wasn’t upset, I was thrilled.
Apparently one family friend approached my brother and—God bless ’em—tried to give him tips on how to give a proper wedding speech. My brother responded, “I don’t tell you how to [do your job], don’t tell me how to do mine.” That family friend later complained to my dad, which is funny because everyone involved was a grown-ass man.
It took me a beat to realize just how shocked by this a lot of people were. They probably saw it as an inauspicious start to the marriage. Which I suppose it was. But my brother’s fucking speech didn’t cause that. My own immaturity and lack of direction caused that. I made family members fly to New Jersey and rent a hotel so they could see me cut a Mario cake and hear my brother talking about “pissing away” his life in a speech. Our registry had been for a honeymoon. At best, they probably felt like they got swindled into paying for a trip to London.
Either way, my ex and I got divorced a little more than a year later. We didn’t live together immediately, which itself caused friction. Neither of us were financially sound or ready, and I don’t think I was even mature enough to be in that type of relationship. Our honeymoon should have been a sign of things to come: we fought as often as not. I remember seeing Wicked in the West End, and I remember vehement arguments over where to get lunch, and that’s it. When we got back, the fighting continued, often followed by bouts of isolation.
I still hadn’t figured out what I wanted from life, and here I was, punishing another human being by locking them into it with me. I resented myself. To make a long story short (because this part has nothing to do with games and because I’m garbage), I fell in love with someone else and confessed this fact to my ex. We tried to make it work anyway and finally moved in together when I got a job across the country. By that point, our relationship was already broken. We barely talked. I was doing a speed run at failing in life.
In Washington State, you could file for divorce by mail if it’s not contested. We didn’t have kids or land or a shared account; there was nothing to contest. The most expensive thing we supposedly joint-owned was her car, and I didn’t drive, nor would any judge have handed me the keys. After we filled out and notarized the final paperwork, I simply left the apartment for two weeks, she moved out, we had a pancake breakfast at a nice diner, and we never spoke again. From what I understand, she’s since remarried and to a much, much better person.
Still, hey, I can’t deny it was a great wedding! I’ll remember seeing my ex in her dress. I’ll remember hearing the Super Mario Bros. theme music as we entered the reception hall. But without a doubt, what will always stick with me the most is my brother’s speech. It was one of the funniest moments of my life. I just fucking wish someone had recorded it. When I’m dying, hopefully one day very soon, of all the things I think about, of all the memories I’ll treasure, that speech is going to be at the top of the list.
On the other hand, please take one word of advice. If you have any doubts about your relationship, any doubts at all, please talk about it with your partner before getting married. It can save you both a lot of heartache. Actually, two words of advice: if you have any doubts about your relationship, do not give your wedding a video game theme. This is your one shot! You cannot do two video game–themed weddings if the first one doesn’t work. If I get married again, I can’t do blue Sonic the Hedgehog cakes. I just can’t.
But my brother can give any speech he wants.
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Excerpted from Good Game, No Rematch: A Life Made of Video Games by Mike Drucker. Copyright © 2025 by Mike Drucker. Published by Hanover Square Press, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
