Pokémon Was/Is Kind Of A Big Deal To Me

I'm not exactly prompt with this blog, but after getting past a bunch of work-related stress and Giant Bomb-related obligations, I was able to do something I have been meaning to do for about a month: sit down and watch the Pokémon anime. It might not seem like something an average thirty-something should have on their to-do list. Still, as someone who grew up in the nineties and with Pokémon a part of my daily video game and media diet, I felt like recent events and news warranted me coming out of my Pocket Monster multimedia retirement. While I habitually adopt every other game in the mainline series into my library, the animes and movies slid out of my prevue around the time I entered middle school. You know, that awkward period when it was okay to like things that were "nerdy" in private, but the minute people found out about it publicly, all Hell broke loose, and your social life was over. None of this preamble is to suggest Pokémon media was NOT an essential part of my upbringing. I spent an ungodly amount of time and money in the trading card game, waited with bated breath when new TV series episodes aired, and even stayed in line during a chilly morning when the first movie was released.

Nonetheless, "lapse" is the best way to describe my relationship with anything marginally connected to the non-video game Pokémon empire Nintendo built once I erred towards my latter tween years. Even though I still managed to qualify as an alternate for my region's TCG junior tournament, around 12, I finally decided to "grow up" and move away from the show, card collecting, and games. I think everyone has that moment at least once, but with different media. It's that awkward moment when you need to walk away from something before you want to because you think you'll get in trouble for liking something you worry others perceive as being beneath you or your age. For me, it was Pokémon, but maybe for you, it was Barbie, The Muppets, He-Man, G.I. Joe, Transformers, The Smurfs, Sesame Street, etc. I have no idea if this phenomenon has a name, but I doubt regardless of gender, race, religion, or creed, you'll meet a single person that hasn't walked away from something significant to their childhood when they didn't want to. Part of the reason for that stems from most children's media rarely making any platitudes or recognition that adults can like their content or, as is the case of Pokémon, that people who were there when the franchise started are now adults.

Now, yes, Pokémon has eschewed things slightly in that regard. Nintendo knows people like you and I play the games. Hence, the DLC and content patches for any modern title bearing the namesake consider our input. But the shows and films have always been an on-ramp into the games and other merchandise and rarely if ever, made motions of wanting to be cognizant of time. Sure, some characters came and went, and even Ash fell to the wayside occasionally to make way for other characters that could better represent new and emerging worlds, locations, and upcoming games. Still, there was a core that persisted for nigh thirty years, and before this year, all signs pointed to the television show trudging on no differently than The Simpsons, South Park, or SpongeBob. And yet, 2023 proved otherwise. Admittedly, it was announced in 2022, one month after Ash became "World Champion," that the final episode of Pokémon Ultimate Journeys: The Series would mark the last time Ash would be the protagonist of an episode of the anime. All future series would feature new characters at the helm, new locals, and accompanying monsters. The final episode of this season, in which the series and audiences bid Ash farewell, is a beautiful send-off. As the title of this blog might suggest, I even got a slight bit emotional when things finally came to an end. If you wish to avoid spoilers, I'll segregate an episode summary in the next section of this blog, allowing you to skip ahead.

The Final Episode Is Beautiful

Before we get into what happened in the episode, let's make one important note. Ash did not retire and is still a figurehead, though in a reduced capacity in future seasons of all non-game Pokémon media. He sets off on a new adventure, and it's all but assured he'll continue to pop up from time to time when duty calls. This fact has led some to say that the announcement that the show is moving on from him was simply a marketing gimmick similar to when Transformers: The Movie (1986) killed off a whole slate of beloved characters only to replace them with new ones so kids would buy new toys. While my heart tells me to put up a vehement defense of the new direction in the final episode, there's no denying the corporate underpinning that has defined Pokémon since its inception. Putting a new set of fresh faces at the front of posters and media is meant to onboard new prospective consumers into the Pokémon media empire. If we continue to ride this train, that's just cake for the people in charge of the future of the television series.

However, the real point I want to make about Ash not fully retiring is that his final episode was refreshingly "understated." He and Pikachu end up where they started and start the proverbial process of reuniting with every character that defined their journey from beginning to end. Whether it be Gary, Misty, Professor Oak, or Ash's Mother and her Mr. Mime, everyone is there and has something to say to him to make him think about his present standing in the world. The first part of this process that honestly "got me" is when he definitively says goodbye to Brock and Misty. There's no rigmarole of getting the team back together and going on one more great adventure. In a moment of stunning clarity, Ash recognizes that his former companions have settled down, and while he feels restless, he doesn't want to upend the lives of others for the sake of his well-being. He promises to revisit the two when possible, but as he continues to march forward, it's in the hope of meeting new people while not forgetting about others he has met in the past. Again, it's an utterly understated moment, and one only older Pokémon fans will notice, which is a defining feature of the entire episode. While I think some younger or more recent fans might find parts of it lacking the up-tempo pacing that practically defines the series, the episode's slower and more reflective pace seems tailored to those that may remember slogging down Gogurt or Lunchables while glued to a Zenith television. Ash realizes he's old and things are different. It only took him twenty-five years to admit it, but we finally see it happen.

To further the theme of identity wrangling, Ash talks to Professor Oak, where he re-encounters some of his older Pokémon and even Gary. The reflective exercise here involves whether or not being a World Champion makes Ash the "Pokémon Master" he dreamed about when we first met him. The conceit is one I think we can all relate to, at least conceptually. Sometimes the little victories that keep us going are fleeting, but not the successes we set out for our initial career aspirations. And how do we define "success?" Is it by a metric set by you or someone else? Is it the eye of the beholder, and whose eye is it? As an individual who has sometimes considered the directions I could have gone with my education and career, it's a familiar feeling. I know I'm good at my job and making some difference in the world here and there, but is it enough, and am I truly happy? The story juxtaposes one of its possible answers to that when it reveals that Team Rocket has reunited after a controversial breakup a few months prior. Despite an endless stream of failures, the three are as happy as can be and don't give a rat's ass that they have almost nothing to show for the twenty-five years they have been at it trying to steal Ash's shit. By most metrics, their team is an utter failure, but they don't care, and that's the point.

The final reflection in the episode is the most cathartic for those who remember the Pokémon phenomenon's origins. Near the end of the episode, Ash re-encounters the Pidgeot he released and promised to reconnect with from the original series. Before this encounter, Ash tries to settle down but fails because something doesn't feel right about stopping his march around the world, even though he's hoisted up a big fancy trophy. When he meets a bespoke forgotten friend, he realizes that even if you walk the same path a thousand times, you'll always have a new story to tell and people to meet. The difference this time is that Ash, like you and me, has experience and age on his side. And in a concession to those that might pine for the past, he declares that even with age, there are still adventures and journies for him to look forward to. It's a conclusion I honestly saw coming a mile away, but one I did not mind for a second. I think we, and even those growing up with Pokémon right now, as you and I did decades ago, benefit from being reminded that there's nothing wrong in retreading things from your past. You can still have adventures as you age, say goodbye to old friends, make new friends, and learn about new places and people, whether you are a kid or a senior citizen. No one other than you can tell you when to stop.

Why I Think This Is A Special Moment

The obvious point is that seeing everyone come together at least one last time with practically the same voices and faces when things started was comfort food. The endnote with Pidgeot has been an unresolved plot thread for nearly twenty-four years, and while some might consider it a cheap bit of fanservice, it serves an important message. Pokémon understands that the kids that first grew up with it exist. There's little doubt in my mind that the future of the television series will not be as forthcoming about wanting to pay tribute to the past. Still, this solitary concession made me recollect years of watching silly cartoons about kids bonding with monsters. That, at least to me, was worth the price of entry. We are getting older. While the show isn't always the best place to relive memories and croon about the past, it will continue to provide the same opportunities to learn about growth and friendship for new kids that some of us benefited from. Hell, some of you might be sitting down with your own children watching rehashes of stuff you remember falling in love with decades ago!

More suitable writers and intellectuals in the world of literature are better equipped to opine about the best conclusions in the realm of literature. I had a professor in college spend an entire three-hour symposium where all he did was try to convince every student in his American Lit. 202 class that it was Moby Dick. While he made a more than decent argument, I'm rather squeamish about delving into the muddy waters of histrionics. Nonetheless, two conclusions still stick out to me as my favorites. The first, The Great Gatsby, requires no introductions. Still, I hazard to say that it might be too "safe" and is possibly one that would net me more eye-rolls than nods of agreement. Some use the novel's status as required reading as a case study on everything wrong with secondary English literature education. My second pick, and the dark horse, is The Phantom Tollbooth. While a work of children's literature, the novel's final page perfectly captures that singular moment of transitioning from childhood isolation to teenage destination and experimentation—the evolution from being abstract to seeking experiential life lessons. Just as in Ash's final episode as the titular adventurer, Milo in The Phantom Tollbooth is forced to seek a new adventure with memories of the past and the ability to look at things through a new lens as his advantage. For those who might not know what I am talking about, I'll reference an excerpt from the book.

Milo walked sadly to the window and squeezed himself into one corner of the large armchair. He felt very lonely and desolate as his thoughts turned far away—to the foolish, lovable bug; to the comforting assurance of Tock, standing next to him; to the erratic, excitable DYNNE; to little Alec, who, he hoped, would someday reach the ground; to Rhyme and Reason, without whom Wisdom withered; and to the many, many others he would remember always.

And yet, even as he thought of all these things, he noticed somehow that the sky was a lovely shade of blue and that one cloud had the shape of a sailing ship. The tips of the trees held pale, young buds and the leaves were a rich deep green. Outside the window, there was so much to see, and hear, and touch—walks to take, hills to climb, caterpillars to watch as they strolled through the garden. There were voices to hear and conversations to listen to in wonder, and the special smell of each day.

And, in the very room in which he sat, there were books that could take you anywhere, and things to invent, and make, and build, and break, and all the puzzle and excitement of everything he didn't know—music to play, songs to sing, and worlds to imagine and then someday make real. His thoughts darted eagerly about as everything looked new—and worth trying. "Well, I would like to make another trip," he said, jumping to his feet; "but I really don't know when I'll have the time. There's just so much to do right here."

It's odd, but rarely do we see media establishments as codified as Pokémon make even the slightest effort to age with their audiences. To even marginally thank the people there when things first took off was comforting but also purgative. I will likely not touch another episode of the television show unless something demands it. I harbor no ill will or judgment to those that wish to continue with the series, and it would be hypocritical if I did, considering I continue to trudge along here when things are clearly changing, and many people I remember talking to daily find new mediums and chapters to their video game enthusiasm elsewhere. But that's the beauty of The Phantom Tollbooth and Ash's farewell. Both end with the same message. Where you end up in your next journey, whether it be somewhere new or familiar, if it's your path, that's all that matters. There will be some people who join you and others that will not. The point is to thank everyone that helped you along the way but keep persisting. Go out there and find new experiences where you least expect them. You're not bound to have the same friends or sensations as your first adventure, but that's precisely why you should do it.

I wonder if they'll pepper appearances from the old guard in, except Much Aged, from here on.

Very nicely written and I agree completely.

Beautifully written. Good stuff.

Great read and brought me back to my childhood as I had an extremely similar experience with the source material. I lowkey want to go back and watch the first season all over again.

Lovely piece, feels personal and heartfelt!