No, this isn't a post about an interesting ballgame I took in one evening ...
On November 21, I saw the film Twilight on its opening day. I have not read the book, though I do have it (as well as the entire 4-book series) on my list of books I’d like to read. So, while I knew elements of the story, I didn’t know a lot going into the film. My wife, on the other hand, has read all of the books in the series and is much more of an expert on them.
While I found the beginning a little too teeny-bopper in its presentation (an aspect that my wife confirms is not representative of the book), I generally enjoyed the film, especially once the relationship between the two main characters got going. It was interesting to see the filming quality that they used—one that I think is meant to relate to contemporary teenagers and young adults. The entire film kind of felt like a two-hour Evanescence video.
What perhaps interested me the most, though, was the prominence of baseball, which plays at least two roles in the stories: (1) the main character’s father appears to be a pretty diehard (or is that Twihard?) Seattle Mariners fan (2) and the vampires in the story like to play baseball. Given my interest in the ways that baseball (as well as sports in general) is used and referenced in texts that otherwise are not about baseball (or sports in general), this particularly grabbed my attention. According to my wife, baseball plays the same kinds of roles in the books. Add that to my reasons for wanting to read the books because I’m now wondering what this suggests about the social meaning of baseball.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
My Contradictory Fandom
On Friday, the football team from the high school that I attended won its fifth state championship. (The first four came in 1997, 1998, 1999, and 2005.) The game was televised in my area and I watched the second half of it on television. While I was not really vocal about it, I was inwardly rooting for them to win and, then, I was subsequently happy to see them win. Yet, I recognize that that happiness is a very contradictory kind of happiness in two ways:
First, that I should root for a team to win its fifth championship in twelve seasons isn’t particularly consistent with my view of parity in sports (a view that I have discussed, to some extent, here and here), particularly when there are scores of teams playing in the same division and playing for the same championship as the high school that I attended. I tend to think that New York Yankees fans, Ohio State football fans, Detroit Red Wings fans, New York Yankees fans, Duke basketball fans, Los Angeles Lakers fans, New York Yankees fans, New York Yankees fans, and others who expect championships every year are being egregious in their desires. Yet, here I was rooting for a team to maintain a very similar kind of dominance, as if it deserved to win so many more championships than everyone else.
Second, I hated my high school when I attended it. At one point while I was there, the parish (it’s a Catholic school) held a rally to support the school because there were concerns that it might have to close. Not only did I not attend the rally; I openly wished for the place to close. So, it’s kind of strange for me today to root for the football team from that place.
I think these contradictions point out a couple of things about sports identifications. First, we find ways to justify the identifications and rooting interests that we have, even when they contradict our own ideological perspectives. Because of that, I can find myself rooting against parity in one instance, even as I espouse the desirability of parity in so many other instances. Second, we become branded with these identities strongly when we are young and that branding is hard to break. I think this is similar to how individuals find themselves rooting for their home country in the Olympics, even if they have good reasons why they might not want to do so. Similarly, connections to local communities die hard, even when people have denounced or, at least, moved on from those communities.
In the end, I think this potentially illustrates how significant sports identities are—at least in the United States and, I suspect, in many other parts of the world as well. There are times when individuals who otherwise divide themselves based on race, social class, gender, sexuality, religion, etc. find themselves bonded (at least temporary) by sports team identification. To be sure, these are commercialized, branded identifications, like identifications with musical artists, television programs, and soft drinks, among other things. And like these other brand identifications, part of understanding the significance of sports, I believe, is recognizing the deep-seated ways in which these identifications work and affect people’s lives as identities, like race, social class, gender, etc., do. Just as we become branded to think about racial identities, gender identities, national identities, sexual identities, religious identities, and other identities from young ages to the point that, as we grow older, it becomes harder and harder to examine our own assumptions along each of these lines, I think that we become branded in connection with sports and sports allegiances from young ages to the point at which it becomes much harder to look at the politics of sporting practices. If we’re going to get at the politics of sport, fuller recognition of the deep workings of sports identities seems to be a very important step to take.
First, that I should root for a team to win its fifth championship in twelve seasons isn’t particularly consistent with my view of parity in sports (a view that I have discussed, to some extent, here and here), particularly when there are scores of teams playing in the same division and playing for the same championship as the high school that I attended. I tend to think that New York Yankees fans, Ohio State football fans, Detroit Red Wings fans, New York Yankees fans, Duke basketball fans, Los Angeles Lakers fans, New York Yankees fans, New York Yankees fans, and others who expect championships every year are being egregious in their desires. Yet, here I was rooting for a team to maintain a very similar kind of dominance, as if it deserved to win so many more championships than everyone else.
Second, I hated my high school when I attended it. At one point while I was there, the parish (it’s a Catholic school) held a rally to support the school because there were concerns that it might have to close. Not only did I not attend the rally; I openly wished for the place to close. So, it’s kind of strange for me today to root for the football team from that place.
I think these contradictions point out a couple of things about sports identifications. First, we find ways to justify the identifications and rooting interests that we have, even when they contradict our own ideological perspectives. Because of that, I can find myself rooting against parity in one instance, even as I espouse the desirability of parity in so many other instances. Second, we become branded with these identities strongly when we are young and that branding is hard to break. I think this is similar to how individuals find themselves rooting for their home country in the Olympics, even if they have good reasons why they might not want to do so. Similarly, connections to local communities die hard, even when people have denounced or, at least, moved on from those communities.
In the end, I think this potentially illustrates how significant sports identities are—at least in the United States and, I suspect, in many other parts of the world as well. There are times when individuals who otherwise divide themselves based on race, social class, gender, sexuality, religion, etc. find themselves bonded (at least temporary) by sports team identification. To be sure, these are commercialized, branded identifications, like identifications with musical artists, television programs, and soft drinks, among other things. And like these other brand identifications, part of understanding the significance of sports, I believe, is recognizing the deep-seated ways in which these identifications work and affect people’s lives as identities, like race, social class, gender, etc., do. Just as we become branded to think about racial identities, gender identities, national identities, sexual identities, religious identities, and other identities from young ages to the point that, as we grow older, it becomes harder and harder to examine our own assumptions along each of these lines, I think that we become branded in connection with sports and sports allegiances from young ages to the point at which it becomes much harder to look at the politics of sporting practices. If we’re going to get at the politics of sport, fuller recognition of the deep workings of sports identities seems to be a very important step to take.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
An Hour of Hell, Boy?
I thought this story on CNN about a judge who is sentencing noise violation offenders to an hour of music is kind of interesting for its popular culture value. Since the point is to deter these folks (mainly young men and women) from violating the noise ordinance again, I assume these songs are meant to be annoying or boring ... or both. What's telling is that this might serve as an indication of how United States society views the musical interests of teenagers and young adults as well as how U.S. society views the social meaning of the likes of the Barney theme song, Patti Page, and the Platters.
I'd think, though, that Southpark's Eric Cartman singing Styx's "Come Sail Away" would be appealing to this crowd. I'd also think that the Barry Manilow selection might have some appeal as well, after this memorable scene from one of this past summer's big film releases.
I'd think, though, that Southpark's Eric Cartman singing Styx's "Come Sail Away" would be appealing to this crowd. I'd also think that the Barry Manilow selection might have some appeal as well, after this memorable scene from one of this past summer's big film releases.
Friday, November 7, 2008
The Social Significance of Star Wars
By now, I suppose many folks have heard about CNN debuting its election coverage holographic technology on election night. CNN correspondent Jessica Yellin was holographically projected from a tent in Chicago to the CNN studios in Atlanta. Video of it can be seen here.
There are multitudes of aspects involving this development to look at and think about, but as a bonafide Star Wars geek, I was especially taken by how it serves as the latest in the long line of ways in which Star Wars has influenced language and culture (with perhaps one of its most notable influences being Ronald Reagan's proposed missile defense program in the 1980s that was called "Star Wars"). In this instance, the reference to Star Wars came when Yellin said, "it's like I follow in the tradition of Princess Leia." CNN needed a special tent with 35 filming cameras to send Yellin as a hologram, so this was a far cry from R2-D2 recording Princess Leia on one little camera, but it's certainly a step in that direction and the aura around Yellin as she appeared in holographic form is incredibly similar to the one that appeared around Princess Leia in the 1977 film. Meanwhile, this once again reinforces the cultural significance of Star Wars, while also illustrating the ways in which the entertainment business--or, as the Frankfurt School called it, the culture industry--significantly influences how we see and think about the world.
Additionally notable is how Wolf Blitzer over and over again refers to Yellin being "beamed" in, which, of course, draws right out of the Lexicon of Star Trek--something that is pointed out in one segment of the film Trekkies.
There are multitudes of aspects involving this development to look at and think about, but as a bonafide Star Wars geek, I was especially taken by how it serves as the latest in the long line of ways in which Star Wars has influenced language and culture (with perhaps one of its most notable influences being Ronald Reagan's proposed missile defense program in the 1980s that was called "Star Wars"). In this instance, the reference to Star Wars came when Yellin said, "it's like I follow in the tradition of Princess Leia." CNN needed a special tent with 35 filming cameras to send Yellin as a hologram, so this was a far cry from R2-D2 recording Princess Leia on one little camera, but it's certainly a step in that direction and the aura around Yellin as she appeared in holographic form is incredibly similar to the one that appeared around Princess Leia in the 1977 film. Meanwhile, this once again reinforces the cultural significance of Star Wars, while also illustrating the ways in which the entertainment business--or, as the Frankfurt School called it, the culture industry--significantly influences how we see and think about the world.
Additionally notable is how Wolf Blitzer over and over again refers to Yellin being "beamed" in, which, of course, draws right out of the Lexicon of Star Trek--something that is pointed out in one segment of the film Trekkies.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
More on English with Lou Dobbs
A couple of months ago, I wrote about Lou Dobbs’ coverage of a case in which a school in Kansas has made it against the rules to speak English. Soon after, I wrote to Mr. Dobbs to share with him what I wrote. I have never heard back from him regarding the issue, which is fine. I’m sure he is inundated with numerous comments and messages from people around the country and outside of the United States and he does not have time to respond to all. However, for someone who promotes himself as an independent thinker and whose website seems to want to encourage open debate and discussion by asking viewers to get involved, he seems to have a very narrow position on this and he certainly has not responded to the kinds of concerns that I (and I’m sure others) have raised regarding English-only policies.
I have been checking transcripts of his show since I emailed Dobbs and, finally, on October 22, Dobbs took up the subject of requiring English within institutions and forums again. This time, he addressed the issue with Missouri Governor Matt Blunt, in connection with discussion of a ballot measure in Missouri that would require all public business to be done in English. Video of the exchange can be found here.
It’s obvious that Dobbs supports this measure. Indeed, Dobbs seems downright indignant toward any who would oppose making English the official language of public business. This indignant tone is perhaps most notable when Dobbs says, “the idea that we're having these discussions in 2008 is mind boggling that there should be any division at all over this issue.” On the one hand, I feel compelled to agree with Dobbs on that particular statement … though for quite an opposite reason. How can we, in 2008, after all that has been recognized about how excluding languages reinforces racism and takes away from democracy, be so narrow-minded as Dobbs as to think that English should unquestionably be the official national language? On the other hand, I’m happy to keep having the discussion, especially since it’s obvious that plenty of folks like Dobbs and Governor Blunt still have some questions to address in relation to their positions vis-à-vis racism and the real practice of democracy. So, once again, I am posting my concerns about the positions that Dobbs is advancing and I will be emailing him to invite him to discuss the matter with me.
Furthermore, I want to recognize one other aspect of this issue that seems particularly significant in relation to the positions that Dobbs advances. Time and time again, Dobbs appears to be a proponent of free enterprise and private ownership and rights. This is evident in his argument about the school board in Kansas adopting an English-only policy, with his claim that individuals bringing a suit against the school “completely forget 200 years of history and ideals and values that have made this liberal society available to them.” It seems the history of a liberal society to which Dobbs refers could be taken to mean the rights of private institutions and organizations to enact whatever policies within their groups that they wish. This draws upon the public-private split that has been central to much of United States society since its inception, that has been a hallmark of the theories of liberalism to which Dobbs refers, and, that seems to be the only ground upon which he might have a case in railing against those who challenged the school’s English-only policy (i.e., the school, since it is private, has a right to enact its own rules within its organization). I’m not sure I entirely agree with that case, but I think that’s the only viable case he has here. Yet, he clearly then has a double standard when he is discussing the institution of English as an official language, as in the case of the proposition in Missouri. Here, we are certainly not talking about a private institution or organization; this is very much the opposite—the public forums of public administration. When Dobbs then says that we should require the language of one group to take precedence over others within that forum, he has now advocated the private takeover of the public good and, thus, he has muddied the water of the very public-private split that he as held up as so sacrosanct. At the same time, for one who spends much time vigorously arguing against elitists who are imposing their wills on the United States’ people, he is now doing the very same thing that he has been so vociferously against. He is advocating for the imposition of the will of whites of European heritage who have held power in this country since its inception to maintain and reinforce their own power and privilege against others.
Lou, you can’t have it both ways like this. Well, I suppose you can, but it is not "intellectually honest," which is a quality that you hold up in this very segment of your program as important, and it exposes a number of unexamined assumptions of significance that inform your positions. And so, in the same way that you have issued challenges to others, I challenge you to take a much harder and deeper look at the ways in which your own cultural biases are influencing your positions and blinding you to aspects of racism that are embedded within those positions.
I have been checking transcripts of his show since I emailed Dobbs and, finally, on October 22, Dobbs took up the subject of requiring English within institutions and forums again. This time, he addressed the issue with Missouri Governor Matt Blunt, in connection with discussion of a ballot measure in Missouri that would require all public business to be done in English. Video of the exchange can be found here.
It’s obvious that Dobbs supports this measure. Indeed, Dobbs seems downright indignant toward any who would oppose making English the official language of public business. This indignant tone is perhaps most notable when Dobbs says, “the idea that we're having these discussions in 2008 is mind boggling that there should be any division at all over this issue.” On the one hand, I feel compelled to agree with Dobbs on that particular statement … though for quite an opposite reason. How can we, in 2008, after all that has been recognized about how excluding languages reinforces racism and takes away from democracy, be so narrow-minded as Dobbs as to think that English should unquestionably be the official national language? On the other hand, I’m happy to keep having the discussion, especially since it’s obvious that plenty of folks like Dobbs and Governor Blunt still have some questions to address in relation to their positions vis-à-vis racism and the real practice of democracy. So, once again, I am posting my concerns about the positions that Dobbs is advancing and I will be emailing him to invite him to discuss the matter with me.
Furthermore, I want to recognize one other aspect of this issue that seems particularly significant in relation to the positions that Dobbs advances. Time and time again, Dobbs appears to be a proponent of free enterprise and private ownership and rights. This is evident in his argument about the school board in Kansas adopting an English-only policy, with his claim that individuals bringing a suit against the school “completely forget 200 years of history and ideals and values that have made this liberal society available to them.” It seems the history of a liberal society to which Dobbs refers could be taken to mean the rights of private institutions and organizations to enact whatever policies within their groups that they wish. This draws upon the public-private split that has been central to much of United States society since its inception, that has been a hallmark of the theories of liberalism to which Dobbs refers, and, that seems to be the only ground upon which he might have a case in railing against those who challenged the school’s English-only policy (i.e., the school, since it is private, has a right to enact its own rules within its organization). I’m not sure I entirely agree with that case, but I think that’s the only viable case he has here. Yet, he clearly then has a double standard when he is discussing the institution of English as an official language, as in the case of the proposition in Missouri. Here, we are certainly not talking about a private institution or organization; this is very much the opposite—the public forums of public administration. When Dobbs then says that we should require the language of one group to take precedence over others within that forum, he has now advocated the private takeover of the public good and, thus, he has muddied the water of the very public-private split that he as held up as so sacrosanct. At the same time, for one who spends much time vigorously arguing against elitists who are imposing their wills on the United States’ people, he is now doing the very same thing that he has been so vociferously against. He is advocating for the imposition of the will of whites of European heritage who have held power in this country since its inception to maintain and reinforce their own power and privilege against others.
Lou, you can’t have it both ways like this. Well, I suppose you can, but it is not "intellectually honest," which is a quality that you hold up in this very segment of your program as important, and it exposes a number of unexamined assumptions of significance that inform your positions. And so, in the same way that you have issued challenges to others, I challenge you to take a much harder and deeper look at the ways in which your own cultural biases are influencing your positions and blinding you to aspects of racism that are embedded within those positions.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Doubts on Droughts
Tonight, the Philadelphia Phillies will appear in the World Series for the first time since 1993 and will begin their attempt to win their second World Series, with the first one coming in 1980. The 15-season time period between World Series appearances and the 28-season mark since the Phillies’ last World Series championship have been characterized as droughts … as has the 25 seasons since any Philadelphia team in the four major sports leagues (MLB, NFL, NHL, and NBA) has won a title, dating back to the 76ers’ win of the 1983 NBA Finals. Yet, these kinds of characterizations remind me of a concern I have about the overuse of the word “drought” in professional sports and the deeper significance of this overuse.
I think the first step in addressing this concern is to establish some sense of what a “drought” is. Our easy-access Wikipedia definition tells us that a drought is “an extended period of months or years when a region notes a deficiency in its water supply.” A more authoritative source—the National Drought Mitigation Center (NDMC)—explains that “drought” is a difficult term to define; however, in its explanation of what constitutes a drought, the NDMC uses verbiage that is very similar to the Wikipedia definition, including a sort of summary statement that a drought “originates from a deficiency of precipitation over an extended period of time, usually a season or more.” The NDMC goes into more explanation of a drought, but, for the time being, I’m willing to take that statement as a working definition. At the very least, I think that’s enough to illuminate my concern.
Obviously, within that statement, we need to recognize the varied elements that contribute to a “season,” since the significance of a season without a championship in baseball is not the same as the significance of a season without rain (except for New York Yankee fans, I suppose). The closer comparison to a season without rain would probably be a season without a complete game by a pitcher or a season without a 20-home run hitter or, if you have weather like Seattle, a season without a home run or something like that. So, we do need to qualify the terms of “season” to begin with.
To qualify “season,” I think the world “deficiency” is key here. A deficiency is a significant lack. As the NDMC website states in continuing to explain a drought, “drought should be considered relative to some long-term average condition of balance between precipitation and evapotranspiration (i.e., evaporation + transpiration) in a particular area, a condition often perceived as ‘normal’.” So, the amount of deficiency to constitute a drought is below “normal” (i.e., deficient in the typical amount) and it is deficient against a “long-term average.” In other words, to constitute a drought, the thing being measured (whether rain or championships or something else) needs to be sufficiently deficient for a time period that is longer than normal.
Of course, this then begs the question “What is normal?” and I think this is also key for defining “drought.” It would seem to me that if a particular goal of a sports league is parity, then that might be a kind of measure of “normal” conditions. By that token, since there are presently 30 teams in Major League Baseball, if absolute parity (in terms of playoff appearances and titles, at least) was achieved, every team would win the World Series once every 30 seasons. Meanwhile, since there are currently 16 teams in the National League and 14 teams in the American League, in absolute parity, every National League team would make it to the World Series once every 16 seasons and every American League team would make it to the World Series once every 14 season. Cut those in half (to 8 and 7 seasons, respectively) for making it to the League Championship Series. Cut it in half again (so, rounding up for the A.L., every 4 seasons) for making the playoffs. The thing to remember, though, is that this is a bare minimum for thinking about conditions equaling a drought. Since a drought is characterized not only as below normal, but as below normal for an extended period of time, there’s a case to be made that while not winning a World Series in 30 years is below normal (again, defining normal as absolute parity), it’s not below normal for an extensive enough period of time to constitute a “drought.” The intricacies of that, though, is a subject for a more extended treatise than I currently have the time to consider (though, perhaps in future posts or on the message board …). For now, I’m willing to go with one season over the marks for parity that I have just described as constituting a “drought,” since I think this is enough, for now, to convey my point.
Defining “drought” in this way, the Milwaukee Brewers making it to the playoffs for the first time in 26 seasons certainly fits. So, too, of course, does the Cubs’ 100 seasons since a World Series win. The Brewers, I think, had a legitimate claim to have ended a drought by making the playoffs. The Cubs—especially because until 1961 there were only 16 teams, which meant that drought conditions could be met by an even smaller number of seasons between championships—certainly have plenty of room to claim a drought. Likewise, the Red Sox until 2004 had a similar claim. Meanwhile, Yankee fans can complain all they want about droughts, but 1 season without making the playoffs, 4 seasons since making the A.L.C.S., 5 seasons since making the World Series, and 8 seasons since winning the World Series are not droughts at all. Only the A.L.C.S. one makes it as close as half-way. The question, then, is what to make of the other teams in Major League Baseball.
By the above definition, of the 30 major league baseball teams, the following teams would be in a World Series appearance drought (the last year the team appeared in the World Series in parentheses): Baltimore (1983), the Chicago Cubs (1945), Cincinnati (1990), Kansas City (1985), the Los Angeles Dodgers (1988), Milwaukee (1982), Minnesota (1991), Oakland (1990), Pittsburgh (1979), Seattle (never in 32 seasons), Texas (never in 48 seasons, including their years as the Washington Senators), Toronto (1993), and Washington (never in 40 seasons, including their years as the Montreal Expos).
Meanwhile, the following teams would be in a World Series championship drought (the last year the team won the World Series in parentheses): the Chicago Cubs (1908), Cleveland (1948), Houston (never in 47 seasons), Milwaukee (never in 40 seasons, including their years as the Seattle Pilots), San Diego (never in 40 seasons), San Francisco (1954—as the New York Giants), Seattle (never in 32 seasons), Texas (never in 48 seasons, including their years as the Washington Senators), and Washington (never in 40 seasons, including their years as the Montreal Expos). I don’t count Colorado or Tampa Bay in this list because, while neither has ever won the World Series, neither has played the full 30 seasons needed for a drought.
So, where does this leave the Phillies? Well … until making it to the 2008 World Series, the Phillies had gone 14 seasons since their last appearance. That’s two below the 16 needed for this definition of drought. However, there are other mitigating circumstances here. When the Phillies began that period, after the 1993 World Series, there were only 14 National League teams. This would mean that the Phillies made it right on schedule, if we adjust to allow for the number of teams at that time (which is something we may or may not want to do … again, the subject of further discussion). On the other hand, how do we treat the 1994 season? With the stoppage of play, no one made the World Series. So, does that season not count toward anyone’s total or does it count for everyone? Again, I think that’s a further topic for discussion, but our answer does potentially drop the Phillies’ season number to 13, which would mean by either the 1993 definition or the 2008 definition of drought, they weren’t experiencing one.
In terms of the World Series, there is a similar case (and one that the Phillies share with the Pittsburgh Pirates). Through 2008, the Phillies have now played 28 seasons since they last won the World Series. By 2008 standards, that leaves them 2 seasons short of a drought. However, since there were only 26 teams in 1980, by that year’s standards, the Phillies are 2 seasons into a drought (or 1 season, if we discount 1994). In a similar case, since the Pirates are not going to win the World Series in 2008, they could be said to have just reached the drought plateau of 30 seasons. Conversely, they could be said to be 1 season short (if 1994 doesn’t count) or they could be said to be 4 seasons into a drought (or 3 seasons into it, if 1994 doesn’t count) by 1979 standards.
So, have the Phillies ended a World Series appearance drought by making it to the World Series and will they end a World Series title drought by winning a World Series? I think the answer is barely … and only if we cut them every break we can in defining a drought (at least when drought is based on parity). As for the city of Philadelphia, I think there is a case to be made for that being a drought, but the math of showing it would probably double the size of this blog entry and I’m not ready to go into that right now …
In the end, then, why does this matter besides the silly semantic musings of some guy who really has plenty of other things he should be doing? I think that this is a good example of how overusage of dramatic terms permeates everyday life. A drought is a serious deficiency when compared against typical (or “normal”) conditions. It is not a slight deficiency or even just a lack. If my climate calls for me not to have rain very often, then a few weeks without rain can be nowhere near a drought. The NDMC explains as much and I should know … I lived in the Phoenix-area for seven years and can remember times that we went months without rain, but it was not a drought because of the climate. Given the MLB climate, I would argue that 30 seasons constitutes a bare minimum by which one could define a drought. For other sports leagues, it’s based on the number of teams. To suggest otherwise potentially contributes to the trend of sensationalizing and overdramatizing what are not sensational and dramatic things … in the same way that people (especially women) who are not skinny are told that they are “overweight,” that children who do not restrain themselves as much as parents and teachers like are told that they are “hyperactive” and may need medication, and so on. “Overweight” and “hyperactive,” like “drought,” are conditions that do bear watching, but use of all of these terms when they do not apply can be dangerous. When talking about sports teams not winning championships, the danger is probably not anywhere near as great as the misapplication of terms like “overweight” and “hyperactive”—or, for that matter, the misapplication of the word “drought” in regard to atmospheric climate. However, the misapplication of “drought” in sports can help foster the kinds of attitudes the buttress use of terms in arenas that have more severe consequences, thus contributing to the maintenance of a deep communicative trend that bears significance in many of its manifestations.
I think the first step in addressing this concern is to establish some sense of what a “drought” is. Our easy-access Wikipedia definition tells us that a drought is “an extended period of months or years when a region notes a deficiency in its water supply.” A more authoritative source—the National Drought Mitigation Center (NDMC)—explains that “drought” is a difficult term to define; however, in its explanation of what constitutes a drought, the NDMC uses verbiage that is very similar to the Wikipedia definition, including a sort of summary statement that a drought “originates from a deficiency of precipitation over an extended period of time, usually a season or more.” The NDMC goes into more explanation of a drought, but, for the time being, I’m willing to take that statement as a working definition. At the very least, I think that’s enough to illuminate my concern.
Obviously, within that statement, we need to recognize the varied elements that contribute to a “season,” since the significance of a season without a championship in baseball is not the same as the significance of a season without rain (except for New York Yankee fans, I suppose). The closer comparison to a season without rain would probably be a season without a complete game by a pitcher or a season without a 20-home run hitter or, if you have weather like Seattle, a season without a home run or something like that. So, we do need to qualify the terms of “season” to begin with.
To qualify “season,” I think the world “deficiency” is key here. A deficiency is a significant lack. As the NDMC website states in continuing to explain a drought, “drought should be considered relative to some long-term average condition of balance between precipitation and evapotranspiration (i.e., evaporation + transpiration) in a particular area, a condition often perceived as ‘normal’.” So, the amount of deficiency to constitute a drought is below “normal” (i.e., deficient in the typical amount) and it is deficient against a “long-term average.” In other words, to constitute a drought, the thing being measured (whether rain or championships or something else) needs to be sufficiently deficient for a time period that is longer than normal.
Of course, this then begs the question “What is normal?” and I think this is also key for defining “drought.” It would seem to me that if a particular goal of a sports league is parity, then that might be a kind of measure of “normal” conditions. By that token, since there are presently 30 teams in Major League Baseball, if absolute parity (in terms of playoff appearances and titles, at least) was achieved, every team would win the World Series once every 30 seasons. Meanwhile, since there are currently 16 teams in the National League and 14 teams in the American League, in absolute parity, every National League team would make it to the World Series once every 16 seasons and every American League team would make it to the World Series once every 14 season. Cut those in half (to 8 and 7 seasons, respectively) for making it to the League Championship Series. Cut it in half again (so, rounding up for the A.L., every 4 seasons) for making the playoffs. The thing to remember, though, is that this is a bare minimum for thinking about conditions equaling a drought. Since a drought is characterized not only as below normal, but as below normal for an extended period of time, there’s a case to be made that while not winning a World Series in 30 years is below normal (again, defining normal as absolute parity), it’s not below normal for an extensive enough period of time to constitute a “drought.” The intricacies of that, though, is a subject for a more extended treatise than I currently have the time to consider (though, perhaps in future posts or on the message board …). For now, I’m willing to go with one season over the marks for parity that I have just described as constituting a “drought,” since I think this is enough, for now, to convey my point.
Defining “drought” in this way, the Milwaukee Brewers making it to the playoffs for the first time in 26 seasons certainly fits. So, too, of course, does the Cubs’ 100 seasons since a World Series win. The Brewers, I think, had a legitimate claim to have ended a drought by making the playoffs. The Cubs—especially because until 1961 there were only 16 teams, which meant that drought conditions could be met by an even smaller number of seasons between championships—certainly have plenty of room to claim a drought. Likewise, the Red Sox until 2004 had a similar claim. Meanwhile, Yankee fans can complain all they want about droughts, but 1 season without making the playoffs, 4 seasons since making the A.L.C.S., 5 seasons since making the World Series, and 8 seasons since winning the World Series are not droughts at all. Only the A.L.C.S. one makes it as close as half-way. The question, then, is what to make of the other teams in Major League Baseball.
By the above definition, of the 30 major league baseball teams, the following teams would be in a World Series appearance drought (the last year the team appeared in the World Series in parentheses): Baltimore (1983), the Chicago Cubs (1945), Cincinnati (1990), Kansas City (1985), the Los Angeles Dodgers (1988), Milwaukee (1982), Minnesota (1991), Oakland (1990), Pittsburgh (1979), Seattle (never in 32 seasons), Texas (never in 48 seasons, including their years as the Washington Senators), Toronto (1993), and Washington (never in 40 seasons, including their years as the Montreal Expos).
Meanwhile, the following teams would be in a World Series championship drought (the last year the team won the World Series in parentheses): the Chicago Cubs (1908), Cleveland (1948), Houston (never in 47 seasons), Milwaukee (never in 40 seasons, including their years as the Seattle Pilots), San Diego (never in 40 seasons), San Francisco (1954—as the New York Giants), Seattle (never in 32 seasons), Texas (never in 48 seasons, including their years as the Washington Senators), and Washington (never in 40 seasons, including their years as the Montreal Expos). I don’t count Colorado or Tampa Bay in this list because, while neither has ever won the World Series, neither has played the full 30 seasons needed for a drought.
So, where does this leave the Phillies? Well … until making it to the 2008 World Series, the Phillies had gone 14 seasons since their last appearance. That’s two below the 16 needed for this definition of drought. However, there are other mitigating circumstances here. When the Phillies began that period, after the 1993 World Series, there were only 14 National League teams. This would mean that the Phillies made it right on schedule, if we adjust to allow for the number of teams at that time (which is something we may or may not want to do … again, the subject of further discussion). On the other hand, how do we treat the 1994 season? With the stoppage of play, no one made the World Series. So, does that season not count toward anyone’s total or does it count for everyone? Again, I think that’s a further topic for discussion, but our answer does potentially drop the Phillies’ season number to 13, which would mean by either the 1993 definition or the 2008 definition of drought, they weren’t experiencing one.
In terms of the World Series, there is a similar case (and one that the Phillies share with the Pittsburgh Pirates). Through 2008, the Phillies have now played 28 seasons since they last won the World Series. By 2008 standards, that leaves them 2 seasons short of a drought. However, since there were only 26 teams in 1980, by that year’s standards, the Phillies are 2 seasons into a drought (or 1 season, if we discount 1994). In a similar case, since the Pirates are not going to win the World Series in 2008, they could be said to have just reached the drought plateau of 30 seasons. Conversely, they could be said to be 1 season short (if 1994 doesn’t count) or they could be said to be 4 seasons into a drought (or 3 seasons into it, if 1994 doesn’t count) by 1979 standards.
So, have the Phillies ended a World Series appearance drought by making it to the World Series and will they end a World Series title drought by winning a World Series? I think the answer is barely … and only if we cut them every break we can in defining a drought (at least when drought is based on parity). As for the city of Philadelphia, I think there is a case to be made for that being a drought, but the math of showing it would probably double the size of this blog entry and I’m not ready to go into that right now …
In the end, then, why does this matter besides the silly semantic musings of some guy who really has plenty of other things he should be doing? I think that this is a good example of how overusage of dramatic terms permeates everyday life. A drought is a serious deficiency when compared against typical (or “normal”) conditions. It is not a slight deficiency or even just a lack. If my climate calls for me not to have rain very often, then a few weeks without rain can be nowhere near a drought. The NDMC explains as much and I should know … I lived in the Phoenix-area for seven years and can remember times that we went months without rain, but it was not a drought because of the climate. Given the MLB climate, I would argue that 30 seasons constitutes a bare minimum by which one could define a drought. For other sports leagues, it’s based on the number of teams. To suggest otherwise potentially contributes to the trend of sensationalizing and overdramatizing what are not sensational and dramatic things … in the same way that people (especially women) who are not skinny are told that they are “overweight,” that children who do not restrain themselves as much as parents and teachers like are told that they are “hyperactive” and may need medication, and so on. “Overweight” and “hyperactive,” like “drought,” are conditions that do bear watching, but use of all of these terms when they do not apply can be dangerous. When talking about sports teams not winning championships, the danger is probably not anywhere near as great as the misapplication of terms like “overweight” and “hyperactive”—or, for that matter, the misapplication of the word “drought” in regard to atmospheric climate. However, the misapplication of “drought” in sports can help foster the kinds of attitudes the buttress use of terms in arenas that have more severe consequences, thus contributing to the maintenance of a deep communicative trend that bears significance in many of its manifestations.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Moyer of a Reason to Care
I was feeling pretty blah about the prospect of the Philadelphia Phillies being in the World Series, but reading about this being the first World Series appearance for Jamie Moyer helped me feel a bit better about it ...
Yeah, I know .. I'm sure Ernie Banks, Ryne Sandberg, Ron Santo, et al. feel downright giddy about this.
Yeah, I know .. I'm sure Ernie Banks, Ryne Sandberg, Ron Santo, et al. feel downright giddy about this.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Joe the Plumber
Ah … the joys of being in one of the swingiest of swing states (Ohio, which is probably right up there with Florida as the most swinging). … First, you get inundated with more campaign ads than anyone (oh, joy!). Second, you’re bound to be connected to some sort of national news every presidential election …
Make it two in two weeks for northwest Ohio. Last week, ABC News broadcast from Bowling Green State University and Charles Gibson watched the debate with a group of BGSU students. This, week, Joe Wurzelbacher of Holland, Ohio, which is a suburb of Toledo, made national news after being mentioned, apparently, 26 times during the presidential debate on Wednesday night. (I wouldn’t know, but for the fact that I’ve been told so by news sources; I finally lived up to my credo and didn’t watch the debate.) Wurzelbacher apparently spoke with Barack Obama the other day while Obama was visiting the Toledo area and that discussion on taxes provided fodder for McCain and Obama last night.
In keeping with my ongoing interest in the passing references to cultural phenomena that people make, I found part of one interview with Wurzelbacher kind of interesting. Just before the 3 minute mark in this phone interview with Katie Couric of CBS, Wurzelbacher makes such a reference, by referring to Sammy Davis, Jr. Specifically, Wurzelbacher states that in asking Obama a question, he hoped to “really corner” a presidential candidate and “get them to answer a question for once instead of tap dancing around it.” He then goes on to say, “Unfortunately, I asked a question, but I still got a tap dance … almost as good as Sammy Davis, Jr.”
The thing that strikes me about this reference is why he referenced Sammy Davis, Jr. I don’t know if Wurzelbacher intended any kind of symbolic association of Obama with Davis, other than that Davis was a tap dancer and Wurzelbacher was talking about tap dancing. Perhaps that was the extent of his conscious connection. Or perhaps he saw more of a connection. After all, Davis was, like Obama is, African American. Perhaps Wurzelbacher did not consciously make that connection as he spoke. Or perhaps he did and thought it was funny. The point is that, within larger cultural discourse, the connection involving race exists and it does mean something, particularly when a white guy from suburban Ohio, using the connection to invoke a sense of critique about Obama, makes the reference. It evokes—and, thus, reflects and potentially reinforces—a larger cultural stereotype of black men as “shifty,” in line with the coon caricature that has been a prominent part of American representations of black men. Indeed, the argument can be made that the stereotype is so engrained in white understandings of black men that the connection of Obama to Davis seems “natural” to folks like Wurzelbacher, without conscious recognition of the underlying implication.
It seems to me that this is a good example of the need for recognition of social position. When, for instance, white people want to argue things like “Why can a black person use the word ‘nigger,’ but it’s not okay for me to do it?” I (along with plenty of others) argue that a major part of that is social position. A white person occupies a more privileged social position in the racial power structure of American society than a black person and, so, use by a privileged person of a term that has historically been a mark of imposition of power means something very different than use of that term by a person who has had power enacted against her or him through that term. As such, all individuals should be wary of their positions within power structures and should strive for greater and greater awareness of how those positions influence the meanings circulated by the things they do or say. It’s similar to the controversy earlier this year involving golf report Kelly Tilghman saying that other golfers should lynch Tiger Woods. Whether or not Tilghman meant to invoke the historical connotations involving race that are associated with the word “lynch,” her use of the word, particularly because she is white, does invoke those historical connotations. Similarly, a white man saying that Obama is tap dancing and referencing a prominent black tap dancer as a kind of (unneeded) aside to emphasize the connection seems to me to invoke a fair amount of historical connotation involving race as well.
Make it two in two weeks for northwest Ohio. Last week, ABC News broadcast from Bowling Green State University and Charles Gibson watched the debate with a group of BGSU students. This, week, Joe Wurzelbacher of Holland, Ohio, which is a suburb of Toledo, made national news after being mentioned, apparently, 26 times during the presidential debate on Wednesday night. (I wouldn’t know, but for the fact that I’ve been told so by news sources; I finally lived up to my credo and didn’t watch the debate.) Wurzelbacher apparently spoke with Barack Obama the other day while Obama was visiting the Toledo area and that discussion on taxes provided fodder for McCain and Obama last night.
In keeping with my ongoing interest in the passing references to cultural phenomena that people make, I found part of one interview with Wurzelbacher kind of interesting. Just before the 3 minute mark in this phone interview with Katie Couric of CBS, Wurzelbacher makes such a reference, by referring to Sammy Davis, Jr. Specifically, Wurzelbacher states that in asking Obama a question, he hoped to “really corner” a presidential candidate and “get them to answer a question for once instead of tap dancing around it.” He then goes on to say, “Unfortunately, I asked a question, but I still got a tap dance … almost as good as Sammy Davis, Jr.”
The thing that strikes me about this reference is why he referenced Sammy Davis, Jr. I don’t know if Wurzelbacher intended any kind of symbolic association of Obama with Davis, other than that Davis was a tap dancer and Wurzelbacher was talking about tap dancing. Perhaps that was the extent of his conscious connection. Or perhaps he saw more of a connection. After all, Davis was, like Obama is, African American. Perhaps Wurzelbacher did not consciously make that connection as he spoke. Or perhaps he did and thought it was funny. The point is that, within larger cultural discourse, the connection involving race exists and it does mean something, particularly when a white guy from suburban Ohio, using the connection to invoke a sense of critique about Obama, makes the reference. It evokes—and, thus, reflects and potentially reinforces—a larger cultural stereotype of black men as “shifty,” in line with the coon caricature that has been a prominent part of American representations of black men. Indeed, the argument can be made that the stereotype is so engrained in white understandings of black men that the connection of Obama to Davis seems “natural” to folks like Wurzelbacher, without conscious recognition of the underlying implication.
It seems to me that this is a good example of the need for recognition of social position. When, for instance, white people want to argue things like “Why can a black person use the word ‘nigger,’ but it’s not okay for me to do it?” I (along with plenty of others) argue that a major part of that is social position. A white person occupies a more privileged social position in the racial power structure of American society than a black person and, so, use by a privileged person of a term that has historically been a mark of imposition of power means something very different than use of that term by a person who has had power enacted against her or him through that term. As such, all individuals should be wary of their positions within power structures and should strive for greater and greater awareness of how those positions influence the meanings circulated by the things they do or say. It’s similar to the controversy earlier this year involving golf report Kelly Tilghman saying that other golfers should lynch Tiger Woods. Whether or not Tilghman meant to invoke the historical connotations involving race that are associated with the word “lynch,” her use of the word, particularly because she is white, does invoke those historical connotations. Similarly, a white man saying that Obama is tap dancing and referencing a prominent black tap dancer as a kind of (unneeded) aside to emphasize the connection seems to me to invoke a fair amount of historical connotation involving race as well.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Time After Time ...
... Cyndi Lauper finds ways to impress me. The latest can be found here.
Lauper's breakthrough album was She's So Unusual. On the one hand, I think the album title is perfect. I think Lauper's music is one of the closest things to original (and, thus, unusual) to be found in popular music. On the other hand, I think the album title is unfortunate in at least one way. I think it's unfortunate that Lauper's kind of approach to art, music, life, and humanity is not more common.
Lauper's breakthrough album was She's So Unusual. On the one hand, I think the album title is perfect. I think Lauper's music is one of the closest things to original (and, thus, unusual) to be found in popular music. On the other hand, I think the album title is unfortunate in at least one way. I think it's unfortunate that Lauper's kind of approach to art, music, life, and humanity is not more common.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Simple Men and the Simple Pleasure of a Simple Alum
I may be the mayor of simpleton,
But I know one thing,
And that’s I love you.
-- XTC
Apparently, I’m lying when I say that I don’t watch presidential and vice presidential debates, because, after watching the Palin-Biden debate the other day, I watched the last 15-20 minutes or so of the McCain-Obama debate Tuesday night. I only, though, tuned in to this portion of the debate for one reason: my alma mater (and current place of employment) was featured on ABC’s World News with Charles Gibson Tuesday night, as he broadcast World News from the campus of Bowling Green State University and then discussed the debate with a group of students from BGSU. It was kind of fascinating to see the stage for World News being set up on campus on Tuesday and I was tempted to stick around to be in the audience, but decided that I was better off going home and getting work done. Besides, I had my “Hey, Mom, I’m on TV” presidential debate moment four years ago, while I was at Arizona State University. One of the Kerry-Bush debates took place at ASU and I stood in the crowd while Judy Woodruff, then on CNN, broadcast from the library lawn. I managed to get to the front of the crowd during the program and, of course, used my cell phone to call my mom, who turned on CNN and saw me on television. I figured one time was enough for that; I’d leave this one to other folks. Anyway, that aside, the more important point here is that this was a nice little piece of national attention for BGSU that I’m hoping helps the university. I’m finding myself to be a rather loyal alum who thinks quite highly of the institution, particularly given its outstanding programs despite being relegated, along with other state universities in Ohio, to underclass status to that pompous institution in Columbus that has the gall to refer to itself as “The” Ohio State University.
So, I enjoyed seeing my alma mater featured on ABC and I’m grateful to Charles Gibson, ABC, and World News for coming here. On the other hand, I did not enjoy the candidates’ answers to the last question of the night, which asked what they did not know and how they would go about finding out what they don’t know. Both seemed to give essentially the same answer: I don’t know everything I would face as president and here’s what I do know ….blah blah blah … I’m this, I’m that, etc. Unfortunately, given the cultural milieu of not only contemporary politics but much of contemporary American culture (and I suppose the same could be said for many other cultures as well), there is more emphasis on stating assertions as knowledge rather than building policies from a position of recognizing what one does not know. Time and again candidates are asked to say what they will do and they happily oblige. In that regard, I do appreciate the statement by both McCain and Obama that no one knows what a president will face, since that statement reflects at least some recognition that they don’t know everything they’d do as president. However, when that then turns to more of the same indication of what they do “know” and what they will supposedly do, the candidates (along with the system that forces them to engage in this practice) drop the ball, particularly since many of us recognize that the president alone doesn’t get to determine everything that will be done and that, since we can’t know all that will develop, we can’t know what we’re going to do. This becomes even more problematic, I think, when applied to truth claims like one “knowing” when life begins or when it doesn’t begin, like one “knowing” what marriage is and what constitute “natural” sexual relations, like one “knowing” what needs to be done for the economy (especially when the most experienced and studied experts claim not to know and those experts disagree on what to do), like one “knowing” what “evil” is enough to apply the term to a country like Iran or Russia (despite the fact that many of the choices made by leaders of those countries are as much a product of contemporary politics as the choices of leaders of the United States), and so on and so on and scooby dooby dooby … I suppose that the thing that I appreciate most about Barack Obama is that he seems to do less of this kind of ideologically-charged know-it-all talk than other candidates and that strikes me as a mark of forthrightness and intelligence. I’d even argue that John McCain does less of this than other candidates … or, at least, that he did so before becoming a presidential nominee and changing his style (though even his answer tonight of “maybe” in response to the “yes or no” question of whether Russia is an “evil empire,” along with his explanation of the limitations of a “yes” answer and a “no” answer, seems to show elements of the kind of nuance I’m looking for). Indeed, that I see both of these candidates this way plays a large part in determining why I have tended to feel like I actually have two decent choices this year (as opposed to 2004). Joe Biden seems to fit right in with this. I have seen interviews with him—one in particular a couple of years ago on The Daily Show—in which he impressed me with a kind of candor that I’m not used to seeing from national politicians. Unfortunately, it does not seem to me that Sarah Palin can be characterized like these other three. That is why, while McCain as president doesn’t scare me, Palin on the ticket with him does. And, again, that is one more reason why I dislike debates, political campaigns, campaign ads, and the whole nine yards.
It is from a similar state of mind that I often tell classes that I teach that I don’t know anything. At least in part, this is meant to be tongue in cheek. Of course, I believe that I know that something—that I have specialized knowledge of theories and methods involving the study of culture and communication. However, my comment is also meant to acknowledge that I think truth claims are very suspect. Meanwhile, I hope that the comment helps foster critical thought, particularly on how knowledge is constructed within systems of power that reinforce the idea that some people are better or more important than others. I may have specialized knowledge, but that doesn’t make me any more or less important than my students and it should not be used to attempt to dismiss the forms of specialized knowledge that various students have that I do not. As Jango Fett says in Star Wars Episode II, “I’m just a simple man trying to make his way in the universe.” I think the same of myself and so, too, do I think this applies to the presidential candidates. It is that ideological sentiment that informs many of my own positions and I’m sure that that sentiment also informs my distaste for the truth claims that I see so often advanced in these debates.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
One Shining Moment
I don’t usually watch presidential and vice presidential debates. I usually can’t stand them. I’m generally frustrated at all participants throughout most of the debate whenever I watch one. I become frustrated with the know-it-all responses, lack of answering questions, lack of asking more challenging questions, rehashing of tired clichés and uninteresting, overly generalized assertions and declarations. I’m someone who has a deeply developed postmodern sensitivity to the idea that none of us has truth. So, questions like “What is true and what is false about what we have heard, read, discussed, debated about the causes of climate change?” do little for me, as do responses that claim to articulate truth. Additionally, as someone who celebrates nuance, a statement like “Let's try to avoid nuance” positively sends me into fits. (Though, ironically enough, that statement was said tonight in conjunction with the issue that I probably see in the most black-and-white terms: gay marriage. Unfortunately, I find neither position articulated tonight fulfilling. As far as I’m concerned this crap about “traditional definitions of marriage,” etc. is exactly that—a large, heavy, smelly pile of crap that is perpetuating oppression on the basis of sexual orientation. … Like I said, that’s one position that I have that tends to lack nuance.)
I also find that these things confirm many of my worst concerns about the voting public of the United States. Throughout the vice presidential debate tonight, CNN ran a positive/negative meter that recorded the sentiments of undecided Ohio voters who indicated as they felt positively or negatively about what was being said. After the debate, one commentator on CNN noted that the positives went up significantly when Sarah Palin used “folksy” talk, like “darn right,” “god bless,” and phrases of similar ilk, particularly in a down-homey kind of tone of voice, while the reactions of the respondents became more negative when Joe Biden discussed specific amendments and policies. Is that really something to be proud of, though? Perhaps I’m misinterpreting it (and I suppose I really hope I am), but it really sounds like these voters saying they’re quite happy being uninformed—that they want happy-go-lucky-sounding niceties and they are uninterested in knowing or caring about the details of legislation or the complexities of issues. That strikes me as a sad indictment of many U.S. citizens as stubbornly proud of ignorance.
So, I have these huge reservations about these debates, yet I watched the vice presidential debate tonight and had the very kinds of reactions that I thought I would … with the exception of one moment. CNN titles it “Biden gets emotional” and it can be seen here. Perhaps this was really good acting on Biden’s part, but it seemed pretty spontaneous to me, particularly with the way that Biden seems to steel himself quickly, almost as if he flipped a switch in his head so that he could continue his sentence. This hit me as an instance that, if only for a fleeting moment, existed outside the competition and performance of the debate. Its very characterization by CNN as “getting emotional” reflects the ways in which U.S. culture defines “emotion,” as if a stolid lack of emotional display is not itself a type of emotional response. Yet, this instance also offers the potential to deconstruct the entire form of the debate and the election process in general. In particular, it suggests the possibility of a different way of engaging in public discourse. And while my postmodern sensibility cautions me against this, I have this overwhelming tendency to want to say that that seems like a much more humane possibility than the schlock that we now have … the same schlock that generally keeps me from enjoying and usually keeps me from watching these debates … the same schlock that I think tends to keep this country from addressing significant issues more effectively.
I also find that these things confirm many of my worst concerns about the voting public of the United States. Throughout the vice presidential debate tonight, CNN ran a positive/negative meter that recorded the sentiments of undecided Ohio voters who indicated as they felt positively or negatively about what was being said. After the debate, one commentator on CNN noted that the positives went up significantly when Sarah Palin used “folksy” talk, like “darn right,” “god bless,” and phrases of similar ilk, particularly in a down-homey kind of tone of voice, while the reactions of the respondents became more negative when Joe Biden discussed specific amendments and policies. Is that really something to be proud of, though? Perhaps I’m misinterpreting it (and I suppose I really hope I am), but it really sounds like these voters saying they’re quite happy being uninformed—that they want happy-go-lucky-sounding niceties and they are uninterested in knowing or caring about the details of legislation or the complexities of issues. That strikes me as a sad indictment of many U.S. citizens as stubbornly proud of ignorance.
So, I have these huge reservations about these debates, yet I watched the vice presidential debate tonight and had the very kinds of reactions that I thought I would … with the exception of one moment. CNN titles it “Biden gets emotional” and it can be seen here. Perhaps this was really good acting on Biden’s part, but it seemed pretty spontaneous to me, particularly with the way that Biden seems to steel himself quickly, almost as if he flipped a switch in his head so that he could continue his sentence. This hit me as an instance that, if only for a fleeting moment, existed outside the competition and performance of the debate. Its very characterization by CNN as “getting emotional” reflects the ways in which U.S. culture defines “emotion,” as if a stolid lack of emotional display is not itself a type of emotional response. Yet, this instance also offers the potential to deconstruct the entire form of the debate and the election process in general. In particular, it suggests the possibility of a different way of engaging in public discourse. And while my postmodern sensibility cautions me against this, I have this overwhelming tendency to want to say that that seems like a much more humane possibility than the schlock that we now have … the same schlock that generally keeps me from enjoying and usually keeps me from watching these debates … the same schlock that I think tends to keep this country from addressing significant issues more effectively.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Responses to Responses
Sorry ... little action on the blog lately. That's what having eighty-some papers to grade will do to a person. ... And still not out of the woods ...
I did, though, take a few moments last Wednesday to send comments to two individuals whose work I have engaged recently on this blog. First, I sent a comment to Le Anne Schreiber, the ESPN Ombudsman, expressing my gratitude for her continuing excellent work in critiquing ESPN. I also referred her to my blog entry in which I both express that gratitude and suggest the need to add further consideration to her treatment of "East Coast Bias." Then, I sent a comment to Lou Dobbs, the CNN program host, referring him to my blog entry in which I critiqued his treatment of the subject of English-only policies in schools.
I heard back from Schreiber on Friday in an email message expressing her gratitude to me for my message and the sentiment that comments like mine help in her efforts at ESPN. Thank you to Ms. Schreiber for her response. Her sentiments help me in my efforts as well, as it's nice to know that I may be contributing to the bettering of that which I am so often critiquing.
I have not heard back from Mr. Dobbs, though, which is not to say that I expect a response or wish to demand one. Rather, it is to say that I would welcome the response and I would note it here. I'll let you know if I hear anything ...
I did, though, take a few moments last Wednesday to send comments to two individuals whose work I have engaged recently on this blog. First, I sent a comment to Le Anne Schreiber, the ESPN Ombudsman, expressing my gratitude for her continuing excellent work in critiquing ESPN. I also referred her to my blog entry in which I both express that gratitude and suggest the need to add further consideration to her treatment of "East Coast Bias." Then, I sent a comment to Lou Dobbs, the CNN program host, referring him to my blog entry in which I critiqued his treatment of the subject of English-only policies in schools.
I heard back from Schreiber on Friday in an email message expressing her gratitude to me for my message and the sentiment that comments like mine help in her efforts at ESPN. Thank you to Ms. Schreiber for her response. Her sentiments help me in my efforts as well, as it's nice to know that I may be contributing to the bettering of that which I am so often critiquing.
I have not heard back from Mr. Dobbs, though, which is not to say that I expect a response or wish to demand one. Rather, it is to say that I would welcome the response and I would note it here. I'll let you know if I hear anything ...
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Jules Tygiel
Upon receiving my September/October newsletter from SABR (The Society for American Baseball Research) this weekend, I was incredibly saddened to find out that Jules Tygiel passed away at the age of 59 this past July.
Tygiel is most known for his book Baseball’s Great Experiment: Jackie Robinson and his Legacy, which was first published in 1983. I feel confident in saying that this is the most definitive historical account of the racial integration of Major League Baseball that has been published. I also think that this book should be required reading for anyone who is interested in the study of the history and social significance of baseball. On page 9 of the book, Tygiel argues that “the integration of baseball represented both a symbol of imminent racial challenge and a direct agent of social change. Jackie Robinson’s campaign against the color line in 1946-7 captured the imagination of millions of Americans who had previously ignored the nation’s racial dilemma. For civil rights advocates the baseball experience offered a model of peaceful transition through militant confrontation, economic pressure, and moral suasion.” In some of my own work I have suggested that the agency that Tygiel ascribes to integration in this work needs to be tempered with a fuller recognition of the politics of integration—i.e. that the way it occurred served to reinforce white privilege by consolidating control of professional baseball in the United States under white ownership. However, even as I have offered this suggestion, I have always claimed that we should not entirely discount Tygiel’s argument here. Integration as it proceeded had both its progressive and its conservative aspects. Based on other things I’ve read from him and from the one time that I spoke personally with him, I think that Tygiel would not disagree.
I met Tygiel once—at the NINE: A Journal of Baseball History and Culture conference in Tucson, Arizona, in the spring of 2004. He attended the panel on which I presented a paper based on interviews that I had done with folks who had been Dodger fans when the Dodgers were in Brooklyn. He participated in the discussion afterward and spoke with me personally after the panel had concluded. I thoroughly enjoyed the conversation, though I later regretted that I didn’t politely ask him one question for which I had wanted an answer for awhile: how to pronounce his last name. I had never met anyone else who, upon my asking, knew for sure how to pronounce his last name. Meanwhile, I had always felt a little embarrassed every time I had to say his last name while citing him in a presentation—which was often, since I’ve been studying the Brooklyn Dodgers, including their role in integration, for years—since I was unsure whether or not I was saying it correctly. That conversation in 2004 had been my chance to ask him directly and hours later I realized I had blown it. Unfortunately, it was his obituary in the New York Times that finally gave me my answer when I read it today.
Tygiel is most known for his book Baseball’s Great Experiment: Jackie Robinson and his Legacy, which was first published in 1983. I feel confident in saying that this is the most definitive historical account of the racial integration of Major League Baseball that has been published. I also think that this book should be required reading for anyone who is interested in the study of the history and social significance of baseball. On page 9 of the book, Tygiel argues that “the integration of baseball represented both a symbol of imminent racial challenge and a direct agent of social change. Jackie Robinson’s campaign against the color line in 1946-7 captured the imagination of millions of Americans who had previously ignored the nation’s racial dilemma. For civil rights advocates the baseball experience offered a model of peaceful transition through militant confrontation, economic pressure, and moral suasion.” In some of my own work I have suggested that the agency that Tygiel ascribes to integration in this work needs to be tempered with a fuller recognition of the politics of integration—i.e. that the way it occurred served to reinforce white privilege by consolidating control of professional baseball in the United States under white ownership. However, even as I have offered this suggestion, I have always claimed that we should not entirely discount Tygiel’s argument here. Integration as it proceeded had both its progressive and its conservative aspects. Based on other things I’ve read from him and from the one time that I spoke personally with him, I think that Tygiel would not disagree.
I met Tygiel once—at the NINE: A Journal of Baseball History and Culture conference in Tucson, Arizona, in the spring of 2004. He attended the panel on which I presented a paper based on interviews that I had done with folks who had been Dodger fans when the Dodgers were in Brooklyn. He participated in the discussion afterward and spoke with me personally after the panel had concluded. I thoroughly enjoyed the conversation, though I later regretted that I didn’t politely ask him one question for which I had wanted an answer for awhile: how to pronounce his last name. I had never met anyone else who, upon my asking, knew for sure how to pronounce his last name. Meanwhile, I had always felt a little embarrassed every time I had to say his last name while citing him in a presentation—which was often, since I’ve been studying the Brooklyn Dodgers, including their role in integration, for years—since I was unsure whether or not I was saying it correctly. That conversation in 2004 had been my chance to ask him directly and hours later I realized I had blown it. Unfortunately, it was his obituary in the New York Times that finally gave me my answer when I read it today.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Politics as Usual?
Count me among those who see the reasoning behind John McCain choosing Sarah Palin for his running mate in the 2008 presidential election. I’m not going to rehash all of the reasons for choosing her, since all of that can be found in the many accounts that have discussed the choice over the past week. Suffice to say that I see the logic of it and, while I’m not going to try to act like I know enough to say if she was the “correct” choice, I’ll say that I think Palin as McCain’s choice makes sense and, while I don't want to say I "like" the choice, since I tend to disagree with a lot of Palin's positions, I certainly see good reasons for choosing her. (Of course, what do I know? When George W. Bush was elected president in 2000, while I was an ardent supporter of Al Gore, I said that at least Bush wouldn’t screw up the country …)
Since McCain’s announcement of Palin as his running mate, members of the Republican Party have utilized the choice of Palin to attempt to align their party and their nominees with rights and opportunities for women. Indeed, it appears that that was one of the reasons why Palin was chosen and, in line with that, many attempts have been made, by Republicans and by others, to portray Palin as a kind of legacy of the women’s rights movement. We have even seen in the past week that, as a woman, Palin faces rather explicit sexism in the United States, as her ability to perform on the job when she has a number of children at home has been called into question in a way that is seldom asked of a man.
Yet, if we want to identify Palin with the women’s rights movement, we might examine the depth of her understanding of that movement and the way in which it proceeded. In particular, I would ask that we look more fully at the way in which her speech in accepting the Republican nomination for vice president characterized the role of community organizers. At a couple of points, Palin’s speech suggested that community organizers do little real work. This was obviously meant as a direct reference to Barack Obama’s experiences as a community organizer. Yet, to disparage the work of a community organizer is to deny what has been a very important role in many movements for equality throughout the history of the United States. Community organizers have been key figures in the development of many social movements, including the Civil Rights Movement, the gay rights movement, and the women’s rights movement. Indeed, if it wasn’t for many community organizers throughout the history of the women’s rights movement, Palin herself might not have had the opportunity that she accepted tonight. By calling into question the work that community organizers do, Palin has failed to recognize the contributions of many women and men who have helped her occupy the position she is in today. Additionally, by extension, Palin has called into question the women’s rights movement that has depended on these community organizers’ work.
I tend to think that Palin did not mean to disparage the good work of these people. Her reference seemed to be meant as one of the several sarcastic one-liners that were included in the speech in an attempt to create a usable sound byte that challenged the qualifications of her political adversary—in this case questioning Obama’s experience. These kinds of remarks are a convention of the genre of a campaign speech. They are, basically, a part of politics as it is played in America. We should though, make note of the hidden politics that are reinforced in the process of playing such politics. While sexism takes its more explicit forms in the kinds of remarks that Palin has had to face, it also takes its more implicit forms in the many other ways in which the contributions of women and the struggle for equality for women go unnoticed. With that in mind, I would ask Palin to reconsider her use of this particular one-liner.
Since McCain’s announcement of Palin as his running mate, members of the Republican Party have utilized the choice of Palin to attempt to align their party and their nominees with rights and opportunities for women. Indeed, it appears that that was one of the reasons why Palin was chosen and, in line with that, many attempts have been made, by Republicans and by others, to portray Palin as a kind of legacy of the women’s rights movement. We have even seen in the past week that, as a woman, Palin faces rather explicit sexism in the United States, as her ability to perform on the job when she has a number of children at home has been called into question in a way that is seldom asked of a man.
Yet, if we want to identify Palin with the women’s rights movement, we might examine the depth of her understanding of that movement and the way in which it proceeded. In particular, I would ask that we look more fully at the way in which her speech in accepting the Republican nomination for vice president characterized the role of community organizers. At a couple of points, Palin’s speech suggested that community organizers do little real work. This was obviously meant as a direct reference to Barack Obama’s experiences as a community organizer. Yet, to disparage the work of a community organizer is to deny what has been a very important role in many movements for equality throughout the history of the United States. Community organizers have been key figures in the development of many social movements, including the Civil Rights Movement, the gay rights movement, and the women’s rights movement. Indeed, if it wasn’t for many community organizers throughout the history of the women’s rights movement, Palin herself might not have had the opportunity that she accepted tonight. By calling into question the work that community organizers do, Palin has failed to recognize the contributions of many women and men who have helped her occupy the position she is in today. Additionally, by extension, Palin has called into question the women’s rights movement that has depended on these community organizers’ work.
I tend to think that Palin did not mean to disparage the good work of these people. Her reference seemed to be meant as one of the several sarcastic one-liners that were included in the speech in an attempt to create a usable sound byte that challenged the qualifications of her political adversary—in this case questioning Obama’s experience. These kinds of remarks are a convention of the genre of a campaign speech. They are, basically, a part of politics as it is played in America. We should though, make note of the hidden politics that are reinforced in the process of playing such politics. While sexism takes its more explicit forms in the kinds of remarks that Palin has had to face, it also takes its more implicit forms in the many other ways in which the contributions of women and the struggle for equality for women go unnoticed. With that in mind, I would ask Palin to reconsider her use of this particular one-liner.
Monday, September 1, 2008
I Apologize in Advance for This One
While reading Jayson Stark's column from August 28, I discovered what Rick "Wild Thing" Vaughn from Major League did after his playing career ended: public relations for the Tampa Bay major league baseball club. Check out Number 2 here to see. From the California Penal League to public relations ... Wow!
Okay, I'm sure that guy gets this kind of joke all the time, but I couldn't help myself.
Okay, I'm sure that guy gets this kind of joke all the time, but I couldn't help myself.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
"Because she's a girl"
While we still have much to do to recognize the extent of gender-based discrimination in this country, you’d think that we would have at least moved past this. Inevitably, a major part of the discourse surrounding this case will be the difference between “public” institutions and “private” institutions. Even many folks who disagree with kicking this girl off the football team will concede that, as a private institution, the school has the right to do as it wishes. That was part of the debate over lack of female membership at Augusta National Golf Club a few years ago, it was part of how Lou Dobbs framed discussion of English-only policies that I wrote about last week, and it plays a significant role in many other cases that involve discrimination based on gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, religion, social class, nation of origin, etc. I have thought for some time that we may need to rethink the ways that the United States conceptualizes public and private, including both our cultural conceptualizations and our legal conceptualizations of this split. This instance just reconfirms that thought.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
The Road to Hell ...
… is paved with good intentions. So the old adage goes. I’m not really big on adages like that. If taken as literal truth, they usually oversimplify whatever they are describing. Still, sometimes they are useful for raising some kind of concern. I think this one applies to the following:
Two weeks ago, while flipping around television stations, I caught a few moments of Lou Dobbs’ program on CNN. During the segment that I saw, his guest was William Donohue, the President of the Catholic League. The topic was, as CNN’s caption at the bottom of the screen put it, “English Only: Fight over Language in School.” More specifically, Dobbs and Donohue were discussing a legal case in which a Catholic school in Wichita, Kansas, was being sued by three sets of parents whose children were kicked out of the school for refusing to sign a document stating that they would abide with the school’s policy by which only English could be spoken in the school. Here is a local news story from Wichita that covers the lawsuit (along with numerous comments by readers that are of interest as well). Here is another story that explains the ruling that U.S. District Judge J. Thomas Marten made in the case, which I think is also interesting on various levels.
Video of the exchange between Dobbs and Donohue can be seen here (and a transcript is available here). In watching this segment of Dobbs’ program, it seems fairly obvious that Mr. Donohue is disturbed by the case against the school. He sounds quite upset about it, judging by his tone and body language. Particularly when Donohue discusses his own personal experience helping a Hispanic woman and how that was “facilitated” by the fact that the woman spoke English, I think he truly believes that his desire for everyone in the United States to learn and speak English is out of genuine concern for the well-being of individuals who might otherwise not speak English—in this case, specifically, Hispanics. He appears to think that this is the appropriate path to fostering democracy and providing these people with opportunities in the United States.
At one point, Donohue indignantly declares “People ought to get their head straight,” seemingly out of frustration. I would indignantly declare back at Donohue … and Dobbs as well, particularly given the ways that he frames this issue … that if there is anyone who needs to “get their heads straight,” it is them. Specifically, their heads could do with a dose of American history, cultural theory, and communication and linguistic theory.
First there is the historical inadequacy of the positions being taken by individuals like Dobbs and Donohue. These positions are framed by the retelling of a version of American history that leaves out significant aspects of that history. Leaving aside for now the issues involving immigration to which their positions are connected, these individuals’ framing of American history would have us believe that English has been the native language of all native-born United States citizens. This is most explicitly suggested when Dobbs states that the individuals bringing the suit against the school “want … us to change the language of this nation, change our laws, change our rule, and completely forget 200 years of history and ideals and values that have made this liberal society available to them.” This representation of the United States is historically inaccurate. Notably, many Hawaiians and Alaskans were speaking languages other than English when these territories became states. Additionally, many of the inhabitants of Arizona, New Mexico, and parts of California, Texas, and Colorado were Spanish-speaking citizens of Mexico before suddenly becoming U.S. citizens after the United States gained these lands through war with Mexico. And let us not, of course, forget the many Native Americans who spoke various languages before Europeans claimed this land as America. So, to suggest that English is so monolithically the basis for the development of United States communities is flat out inaccurate.
Additionally—and this where we learn from cultural studies—such a suggestion is flat out racist. It denies the legitimacy of non-European American experiences, contributions, and perspectives, which have been significant elements of U.S. history and remain significant elements of U.S. culture. Additionally, the suggestion that others should be forced to learn someone’s language so that the two individuals can communicate—the very thing that Donohue sees as so unilaterally beneficial—places the status of one group above another. It suggests that one group needs to accommodate the other group and that the second group should have to do none of the work to make democracy happen. It’s akin to the various ways in which white Americans have systematically claimed that their ways of doing things are better than everyone else’s or simply that their ways of doing things are just “standard” for everyone and not a matter of race or culture. (See, for instance, the case of Thomas Benya, for a good example of how white practices of acceptable attire were characterized as a standard not based in cultural heritage (even though, in reality, they are), while non-white practices—in this case Native American practices—were seen as “cultural heritage.”) This connection to things being characterized as “culture” and not “culture” is most apparent in the clip from Dobbs’ show when Donohue, with a sense of disgust in his voice, calls some critics of what he’s defending “the multicultural left.” I’d be quite willing to assume that Donohue does not really know the goals and projects of multiculturalism, given the way he is referencing it here. The really disgusting aspect of this case, then, is that Donohue dares reference multiculturalism like he knows what it’s about when it seems apparent that he does not.
In the end, Donohue provides what is a typical racist response. As a member of the racially empowered group, he sees it as the responsibility of disempowered groups to take up the culture of the empowered group and he does not appear to see the practice of the empowered group—in this case, the practice of speaking English—as a culturally or racially based practice. He cites his good intentions as if these seem to absolve him from racism or from the need to examine his own assumptions about race. He may think he has good intentions; however, good intentions do not absolve us from our responsibilities to democracy. The unwillingness to examine one’s own race-based assumptions makes one complicit with the continuation of racism and, thus, at odds with the ongoing project of democracy.
Additionally, communication and linguistic studies show us that languages offer not just alternative means of expression, but also means of expression that sometimes are not available in other languages. Some expressions in Spanish or Chinese or Arabic do not have direct translations in English, and vice versa. So, when the speaking of a language is banned or punished, ways of expressing things and, thus, the potential for insightful perspectives go unheard. That would seem to be, by definition, at odds with democracy. What makes this even more reprehensible in the case of this school in Wichita is that the school has literally equated use of a language other than English with bullying, as if it is English that is threatened here and, as a corollary of that, it is English speakers (i.e., those who are already privileged in this country) who would be victims if the policy was not adopted. When Donohue starts talking about this aspect of his argument, I even start to wonder if he has the “good intentions” he claims to have.
For now, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and characterize him as uninformed instead of viewing him as just flat out mean. Still, being informed does not absolve him either. Donohue, Dobbs, and others of a similar mindset would do well to heed the words of Barack Obama when he said that “you need to make sure that your child can speak Spanish,” rather than characterize Obama’s statement as “an elitist mindset,” as is the case within a piece that appears on one website to which Dobbs’ own website offers a link. Indeed, if anyone is being elitist, it's English-speaking people who are demanding that others conform to their mindset.
This fall, I am taking Spanish 101 along with my wife because, for years (indeed, well before either of us knew who Barack Obama is), we have been saying that we think it would be good to know and we're finally getting a good chance to do it. Yet even as I’m doing this, I’m seeing a number of instances like this case in Wichita in which English-only is being adopted as policy … most recently in the LPGA. Rather than English-speaking folks getting disgusted by the use of other languages in the United States and subsequently banning the use of languages other than English, wouldn’t a much better approach—and a much more democratic approach—promote all of us learning multiple languages? I’d much rather see a curriculum that says all students will learn Spanish, English, and at least one other language (perhaps even some choice for a third) throughout their education than see the implementation of English-only policies.
Two weeks ago, while flipping around television stations, I caught a few moments of Lou Dobbs’ program on CNN. During the segment that I saw, his guest was William Donohue, the President of the Catholic League. The topic was, as CNN’s caption at the bottom of the screen put it, “English Only: Fight over Language in School.” More specifically, Dobbs and Donohue were discussing a legal case in which a Catholic school in Wichita, Kansas, was being sued by three sets of parents whose children were kicked out of the school for refusing to sign a document stating that they would abide with the school’s policy by which only English could be spoken in the school. Here is a local news story from Wichita that covers the lawsuit (along with numerous comments by readers that are of interest as well). Here is another story that explains the ruling that U.S. District Judge J. Thomas Marten made in the case, which I think is also interesting on various levels.
Video of the exchange between Dobbs and Donohue can be seen here (and a transcript is available here). In watching this segment of Dobbs’ program, it seems fairly obvious that Mr. Donohue is disturbed by the case against the school. He sounds quite upset about it, judging by his tone and body language. Particularly when Donohue discusses his own personal experience helping a Hispanic woman and how that was “facilitated” by the fact that the woman spoke English, I think he truly believes that his desire for everyone in the United States to learn and speak English is out of genuine concern for the well-being of individuals who might otherwise not speak English—in this case, specifically, Hispanics. He appears to think that this is the appropriate path to fostering democracy and providing these people with opportunities in the United States.
At one point, Donohue indignantly declares “People ought to get their head straight,” seemingly out of frustration. I would indignantly declare back at Donohue … and Dobbs as well, particularly given the ways that he frames this issue … that if there is anyone who needs to “get their heads straight,” it is them. Specifically, their heads could do with a dose of American history, cultural theory, and communication and linguistic theory.
First there is the historical inadequacy of the positions being taken by individuals like Dobbs and Donohue. These positions are framed by the retelling of a version of American history that leaves out significant aspects of that history. Leaving aside for now the issues involving immigration to which their positions are connected, these individuals’ framing of American history would have us believe that English has been the native language of all native-born United States citizens. This is most explicitly suggested when Dobbs states that the individuals bringing the suit against the school “want … us to change the language of this nation, change our laws, change our rule, and completely forget 200 years of history and ideals and values that have made this liberal society available to them.” This representation of the United States is historically inaccurate. Notably, many Hawaiians and Alaskans were speaking languages other than English when these territories became states. Additionally, many of the inhabitants of Arizona, New Mexico, and parts of California, Texas, and Colorado were Spanish-speaking citizens of Mexico before suddenly becoming U.S. citizens after the United States gained these lands through war with Mexico. And let us not, of course, forget the many Native Americans who spoke various languages before Europeans claimed this land as America. So, to suggest that English is so monolithically the basis for the development of United States communities is flat out inaccurate.
Additionally—and this where we learn from cultural studies—such a suggestion is flat out racist. It denies the legitimacy of non-European American experiences, contributions, and perspectives, which have been significant elements of U.S. history and remain significant elements of U.S. culture. Additionally, the suggestion that others should be forced to learn someone’s language so that the two individuals can communicate—the very thing that Donohue sees as so unilaterally beneficial—places the status of one group above another. It suggests that one group needs to accommodate the other group and that the second group should have to do none of the work to make democracy happen. It’s akin to the various ways in which white Americans have systematically claimed that their ways of doing things are better than everyone else’s or simply that their ways of doing things are just “standard” for everyone and not a matter of race or culture. (See, for instance, the case of Thomas Benya, for a good example of how white practices of acceptable attire were characterized as a standard not based in cultural heritage (even though, in reality, they are), while non-white practices—in this case Native American practices—were seen as “cultural heritage.”) This connection to things being characterized as “culture” and not “culture” is most apparent in the clip from Dobbs’ show when Donohue, with a sense of disgust in his voice, calls some critics of what he’s defending “the multicultural left.” I’d be quite willing to assume that Donohue does not really know the goals and projects of multiculturalism, given the way he is referencing it here. The really disgusting aspect of this case, then, is that Donohue dares reference multiculturalism like he knows what it’s about when it seems apparent that he does not.
In the end, Donohue provides what is a typical racist response. As a member of the racially empowered group, he sees it as the responsibility of disempowered groups to take up the culture of the empowered group and he does not appear to see the practice of the empowered group—in this case, the practice of speaking English—as a culturally or racially based practice. He cites his good intentions as if these seem to absolve him from racism or from the need to examine his own assumptions about race. He may think he has good intentions; however, good intentions do not absolve us from our responsibilities to democracy. The unwillingness to examine one’s own race-based assumptions makes one complicit with the continuation of racism and, thus, at odds with the ongoing project of democracy.
Additionally, communication and linguistic studies show us that languages offer not just alternative means of expression, but also means of expression that sometimes are not available in other languages. Some expressions in Spanish or Chinese or Arabic do not have direct translations in English, and vice versa. So, when the speaking of a language is banned or punished, ways of expressing things and, thus, the potential for insightful perspectives go unheard. That would seem to be, by definition, at odds with democracy. What makes this even more reprehensible in the case of this school in Wichita is that the school has literally equated use of a language other than English with bullying, as if it is English that is threatened here and, as a corollary of that, it is English speakers (i.e., those who are already privileged in this country) who would be victims if the policy was not adopted. When Donohue starts talking about this aspect of his argument, I even start to wonder if he has the “good intentions” he claims to have.
For now, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and characterize him as uninformed instead of viewing him as just flat out mean. Still, being informed does not absolve him either. Donohue, Dobbs, and others of a similar mindset would do well to heed the words of Barack Obama when he said that “you need to make sure that your child can speak Spanish,” rather than characterize Obama’s statement as “an elitist mindset,” as is the case within a piece that appears on one website to which Dobbs’ own website offers a link. Indeed, if anyone is being elitist, it's English-speaking people who are demanding that others conform to their mindset.
This fall, I am taking Spanish 101 along with my wife because, for years (indeed, well before either of us knew who Barack Obama is), we have been saying that we think it would be good to know and we're finally getting a good chance to do it. Yet even as I’m doing this, I’m seeing a number of instances like this case in Wichita in which English-only is being adopted as policy … most recently in the LPGA. Rather than English-speaking folks getting disgusted by the use of other languages in the United States and subsequently banning the use of languages other than English, wouldn’t a much better approach—and a much more democratic approach—promote all of us learning multiple languages? I’d much rather see a curriculum that says all students will learn Spanish, English, and at least one other language (perhaps even some choice for a third) throughout their education than see the implementation of English-only policies.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
In Memory of Rep. Stephanie Tubbs Jones
Yesterday, Representative Stephanie Tubbs Jones of Ohio passed away at the age of 58, after suffering a brain aneurysm while driving in Cleveland Heights the previous evening. I am saddened by the loss of a legislator for whom I had immense respect. Had she aspired for further or higher political office, such as the Senate or even the presidency, I would have lined up behind her. I felt that I would be remiss if I did not devote at least a short post in this blog to express my sadness over her sudden and untimely passing and my deep gratitude for her service to my country.
In doing so, I am also reminded of the fragility of life that has been so prominent in the lives of my wife and me this summer. The details of Stephanie Tubbs’ death – suffering a brain aneurysm while driving, passing away the next day, only in her fifties at the time of her death – mirror those of my mother in-law, who passed away in May. On a personal level, the sadness that I feel is magnified by the timing of Tubbs Jones’ death. She died on what would have been my mother-in-law’s 53rd birthday.
May you be remembered and cherished, Representative Tubbs Jones, for your profound commitment to democracy. I know I’ll remember you that way.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
East Coast Bias
In the time since she took over as ESPN ombudsman, Le Anne Schreiber has provided what I feel are excellent columns that offer important critique of ESPN’s practices. I often wonder about the degree to which the network is addressing the issues that she is raising and I wonder whether or not having an ombudsman who levels these critiques is just a way of attempting to pacify those of us who voice significant concerns about the network’s practices. I end up wondering if ESPN uses this as a cover, allowing themselves to say that they address this because they have a forum that does so, while in reality their practices see little change. Still, it is nice to have at least have someone stating some of the issues that Schreiber brings up. For an archive of her columns, see here.
In last week’s column, Schreiber examined bias—particularly East Coast bias—in ESPN coverage. Ultimately, she concludes that the bias is not so much an explicit bias toward the East Coast as it is a bias toward the continuing promotion of superstars. As Schreiber puts it, “To my mind, if there is collusion at ESPN across platforms and programs, it is in the creation, maintenance and promotion of superstars with the potential for crossover appeal among diehard and casual fans and followers of popular culture.”
I don’t disagree with Schreiber’s ultimate conclusion. I would, though, suggest that more needs to be said on East Coast bias in sports coverage (and perhaps in national news coverage outside of sports as well). Perhaps one of the reasons Schreiber’s analysis does not address this so fully is her specific focus on ESPN’s own practices, rather than on industry-wide practices within which ESPN works but that also apply far beyond ESPN. That’s fine, given that Schreiber’s mission in the columns is to look specifically at ESPN; although, in saying that’s “fine,” it is very important to acknowledge the context of her analysis and her column and, in the process, recognize the importance of looking beyond ESPN to the industry in general.
One such place to look to the industry in general would be to examine more deeply the politics and ramifications of what Schreiber calls the “‘best story’ factor.” We might look more fully at how industry definitions of what constitutes the “best story” have historically been defined (and subsequently taught to reporters, editorialists, and other industry professionals). As part of that process, we might look at the biases that are contained with those definitions—including any East Coast bias that may be a part of that. For instance, using the example of coverage of baseball (which Schreiber uses extensively in the column for the basis of her examination), any “best story” that is designated as such because it draws on historical rivalries is bound to have a bias toward the Eastern United States because until the 1950s, no baseball team existed any further west than St. Louis.
Additionally, one of the most fundamental places in which we see East Coast bias in sport is in how national outlets for sports news present the standings of the professional sports that they cover. On a local level, the division or conference of the local team is often featured first. So, for instance, in Ohio, Central Division standings often appear first in the standings in newspapers or other sports news outlets. Similarly, in Arizona, Western Division standings come first. (Though, notably, after putting the “home” division at the top, many of these local outlets revert to the national standard for the remaining divisions.) On the national level, divisions and conferences for professional sports are almost always placed from east to west, thus embodying the idea that the east comes first and that the further west you go, the less important you are in the hierarchy of sports news.
These two examples suggest that the issue of East Coast bias in sports coverage has a number of deeper levels that deserve fuller examination.
Yet, even as I have offered this critique of Schreiber’s column, I remain a big fan of her columns in general. I would encourage everyone who has an interest in sports to read her columns for the significant insights that they offer. I also do not argue against her claims about the role of promoting superstars in driving ESPN sports coverage … indeed, I think she has a very good and a very important point. However, I think the issue of East Coast bias needs more examination.
In last week’s column, Schreiber examined bias—particularly East Coast bias—in ESPN coverage. Ultimately, she concludes that the bias is not so much an explicit bias toward the East Coast as it is a bias toward the continuing promotion of superstars. As Schreiber puts it, “To my mind, if there is collusion at ESPN across platforms and programs, it is in the creation, maintenance and promotion of superstars with the potential for crossover appeal among diehard and casual fans and followers of popular culture.”
I don’t disagree with Schreiber’s ultimate conclusion. I would, though, suggest that more needs to be said on East Coast bias in sports coverage (and perhaps in national news coverage outside of sports as well). Perhaps one of the reasons Schreiber’s analysis does not address this so fully is her specific focus on ESPN’s own practices, rather than on industry-wide practices within which ESPN works but that also apply far beyond ESPN. That’s fine, given that Schreiber’s mission in the columns is to look specifically at ESPN; although, in saying that’s “fine,” it is very important to acknowledge the context of her analysis and her column and, in the process, recognize the importance of looking beyond ESPN to the industry in general.
One such place to look to the industry in general would be to examine more deeply the politics and ramifications of what Schreiber calls the “‘best story’ factor.” We might look more fully at how industry definitions of what constitutes the “best story” have historically been defined (and subsequently taught to reporters, editorialists, and other industry professionals). As part of that process, we might look at the biases that are contained with those definitions—including any East Coast bias that may be a part of that. For instance, using the example of coverage of baseball (which Schreiber uses extensively in the column for the basis of her examination), any “best story” that is designated as such because it draws on historical rivalries is bound to have a bias toward the Eastern United States because until the 1950s, no baseball team existed any further west than St. Louis.
Additionally, one of the most fundamental places in which we see East Coast bias in sport is in how national outlets for sports news present the standings of the professional sports that they cover. On a local level, the division or conference of the local team is often featured first. So, for instance, in Ohio, Central Division standings often appear first in the standings in newspapers or other sports news outlets. Similarly, in Arizona, Western Division standings come first. (Though, notably, after putting the “home” division at the top, many of these local outlets revert to the national standard for the remaining divisions.) On the national level, divisions and conferences for professional sports are almost always placed from east to west, thus embodying the idea that the east comes first and that the further west you go, the less important you are in the hierarchy of sports news.
These two examples suggest that the issue of East Coast bias in sports coverage has a number of deeper levels that deserve fuller examination.
Yet, even as I have offered this critique of Schreiber’s column, I remain a big fan of her columns in general. I would encourage everyone who has an interest in sports to read her columns for the significant insights that they offer. I also do not argue against her claims about the role of promoting superstars in driving ESPN sports coverage … indeed, I think she has a very good and a very important point. However, I think the issue of East Coast bias needs more examination.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Wrestling with Power
Among the many happenings at the Olympics this week, Swedish wrestler Ara Abrahamian was stripped of his bronze medal and disqualified from his event after the event had taken place because, at the medal ceremony, after receiving his medal, Abrahamian took off his medal, placed it in the center of the wrestling competition mat, and walked away. Here, from the story on NBCOlympics.com that reported on the event, is description of why Abrahamian objected to receiving the bronze medal as well as the International Olympic Committee’s reasons for taking actions against Abrahamian:
The IOC executive board ruled Abrahamian's actions amounted to a political demonstration and a mark of disrespect to his fellow athletes.
"It was felt that his behavior on the medal podium and during the medal ceremony was not appropriate," IOC spokeswoman Giselle Davies said. "His behavior was not in the Olympic spirit of respect for his fellow athletes. Whatever grievances you may have, this was not the way to go about it."
The IOC said no athlete will receive Abrahamian's medal because his disqualification was not connected to the competition itself, meaning there will be only one bronze medalist, Nazmi Avluca of Turkey. Normally, there are two at each weight class.
The 28-year-old Abrahamian had to be restrained from going after matside officials following his loss to Minguzzi. He stormed away from the area where interviews are conducted and slammed a door to the dressing rooms so hard it shook an entire wall. He weighed whether to skip the bronze medal match, only to have friends talk him into competing.
The IOC said Abrahamian violated two rules of the Olympic charter, one which bans any sort of demonstrations and another which demands respect for all Olympic athletes.
"The awards ceremony is a highly symbolic ritual, acknowledged as such by all athletes and other participants," the IOC said. "Any disruption by any athlete, in particular a medalist, is in itself an insult to the other athletes and to the Olympic Movement. It is also contrary to the spirit of fair play."
Additionally, the IOC has apparently asked the international weightlifting federation to consider imposing additional sanctions against Abrahamian.
I don’t want to say that the IOC should have no recourse for handling situations in which athletes act in what appear to be egregious manners, especially manners that in some way threaten or insult other competitors. I also, after some thought, think that Abrahamian having his medal taken away is probably not the biggest deal, particularly since it looks like he doesn’t really want it anyway. Rather, the big deals here are the implications of both the IOC’s response and the IOC’s characterization of their justification.
First there is the matter of Abrahamian’s actions constituting “a political demonstration.” Abrahamian’s actions do not seem to be consciously connected to a larger political cause in the way that, for instance, the black power salute of John Carlos and Tommie Smith in 1968 was (and, notably, Carlos and Smith are largely celebrated today for their actions, yet the Olympics continue to maintain and enforce the rule that was used to condemn those actions in 1968, making me, at least, wonder if the folks in charge have really learned anything in the last 40 years). Still, Abrahamian’s actions can be considered political in the same sense that all actions can be considered political, as they are connected to ideology as well as systems of exclusion and marginalization. Abrahamian’s actions could, at the very least, be said to be an objection to the politics of judging and scoring that he believed led to him being awarded the bronze medal and not the gold medal. As such, the actions could be characterized as political. However, the IOC might want to turn their eye on themselves as well. The awarding of medals is also a political statement, as it very explicitly promotes an ideology of celebrating the accomplishments of athletes who meet certain qualifications over the accomplishments of others. Additionally, even if one accepts the premise that the games will record those who were fastest, strongest, etc., the ceremony adds an additional level of politics to the mix. One can say one wants to record who finished first, second, and third in an event and not believe that there is need to take several minutes to celebrate these individuals’ accomplishments in such a very public manner. One might, for instance, argue that this breeds complacency, arrogance, etc. and, on those grounds, find it quite objectionable. That the IOC itself characterizes the event as “a highly symbolic ritual” reinforces that the event is deeply political. As semiotics (the study of signs—and, as part of that symbols) and cultural studies have told us for years, all symbols and rituals fundamentally carry with them the politics of their expression and usage. Even someone who does not want to acknowledge all of this would be extremely obtuse not to acknowledge that the playing of a the gold medal winner’s host country’s national anthem, along with the display of the flags of the nations for which the medal winners have competed, oozes with national and international politics. So, when the IOC suggests that the medal ceremony is not a space for “political demonstration,” the IOC is making the implicit statement that they are allowed to make all the political demonstrations they wish, couching them as apolitical in the process, while the athletes better not make their own political demonstrations, particularly if they are demonstrations with which the IOC disagrees.
Second there is the matter of Abrahamian’s actions constituting “an insult to the other athletes.” It does not appear that Abrahamian took these actions in order to insult or show disrespect toward his fellow competitors. Rather, if insult or disrespect was being expressed, it seems to have been directed at the judges of the competition, whom Abrahamian appears to think insulted and showed disrespect toward him. Personally, I’m not sure whether or not I see Abrahamian’s actions as the best way to go about expressing his feelings. That opinion would be based on thinking similar to the old “two wrongs don’t make a right” adage. However, I can certainly understand why this might seem to be the best course of action to take. How often do we see appeals of the sort he would have to go through to protest the judges’ decisions come to fruition and draw attention to abuses or mistakes within the scoring system? I can think of one: pairs’ figure skating in the 2002 Winter Olympics. And that was a case that was to a large extent willed into fruition by media appeals and the politics of international identifications with and representations of the countries for which the two sets of athletes competed. It’s quite reasonable to see how Abrahamian felt that no actions other than those that he took would give him any sense of satisfaction of feeling like he was legitimately heard. If he appeals the decision (and, in all likelihood loses his appeal), it all occurs quietly and he likely ends up feeling like no one listened to him. If he just accepts the medal—i.e. “like a good sport”—he implicitly agrees to allow the system to determine his fate, even if he disagrees with what occurred, and nothing happens to allow him to be heard. If, though, he makes a very public demonstration of his disapproval, resigning himself to the potential of being disqualified and losing his medal in the process, what happens? Well … it has become a widely reported story receiving prominent treatment within various media forums. For someone who really wanted the gold and not the bronze, this would definitely seem to have its appeal. Perhaps that even played a role in Abrahamian’s decision to compete in the bronze medal match so that he could make the podium and make his statement. Within that context, Abrahamian’s actions don’t seem so much to be an insult of the judges; rather, they seem to be an expression of his own sentiments about the results. And, for that matter, to connect to the politics discussed in my first point, couldn’t the public celebration of the first, second, and third place finishers be seen as a kind of insult to the other athletes who competed against them—a kind of rubbing their faces in the dirt and asking the public to forget their accomplishment of getting to the Olympics and the efforts that they put forth in order to compete?
Ultimately, these first two points also lead to a third “big deal” about these actions. Based on the hypocrisy that appears to belie the actions of the IOC, which suggest a “We can do it, but you can’t” attitude toward the competitions, the case of Abrahamian being disqualified and stripped of his medals potentially serves as one of the many, many examples in the contemporary world in which organizations hold significant power over individuals and often hesitate little to exercise that power over individuals, whether by firing individuals on spurious grounds, not providing due process to individuals, determining the conditions under which products are made available to consumers, using the efforts of individuals for the organization with little concern for the well-being of the individuals, and so on? In this case, the IOC, as an organization, holds significantly more power than Abrahamian, as an individual working within that organization. So, then, when the IOC doles out sanctions in ways that belie fundamental hypocrisies that exist between their characterization of individuals’ actions that draw the sanctions and their characterization of their own actions, including their actions of imposing sanctions, wouldn’t this be a pretty significant abuse of power? Additionally, in the sense that the IOC’s actions squash dissent and prevent voices and perspectives from being heard, isn’t this an insult to the “fair play” of international cooperation that the Olympics purports to uphold?
Friday, August 8, 2008
Oh ... and a little perspective, Mr. Costas?
Had to mention ... Bob Costas just stated that it is "virtually universal" among Chinese citizens to think that hosting these Olympics is "the single most important event in the history of modern China." Dude ... I'm a sports fan and I'm someone who studies sport for a living and argues for the significance of sport, but isn't that statement severe overkill, even for someone as thoroughly embedded in American sports as Costas? Maybe I'm wrong ... While I read The Gate of Heavenly Peace years ago, I'm certainly not an expert on China and current Chinese discourse on the meaning and significance of the 2008 Beijing Olympics.
A note on the Olympic opening ceremony
I’ve been watching NBC’s coverage of the 2008 Olympics opening ceremony this evening as I’m working (and as I’m typing this blog entry). The United States contingent was just shown coming through moments ago. Something of note that I thought bore mentioning. The announcers have been quick to mention political issues involving many countries as they have paraded in, including references to international political connections to the United States. As I’ve noted before on this blog, I’m all for recognizing the intersection of politics and sport, so I’m happy to hear these issues at least being mentioned, even if they are often watered down, as the commentators mention them. At one point, as Iran was entering the stadium, one of the announcers mentioned that one of the things that China and the Bush administration agree on is that Iran should not have nuclear weapons. He mentioned that this was one more of the many connections between politics and sports that have been mentioned. Unfortunately, he then immediately issued an apology for bringing those connections up. Fortunately, the connections have not stopped.
UNFORTUNATELY, though, as the United States delegation walked through, the closest thing to a political connection made was simply showing Laura and George W. Bush waving to the athletes. Rather than mention of any political issues of relevance to the United States (such as the economic recession, the state of American foreign relations … heck, even mention of the upcoming election), we saw many celebrities (from Kobe Bryant to Lindsay Davenport to Jennie Finch) pointed out to us, we heard mention of hairstyles and fashion, and so on. Sure, the announcers have not mentioned politics for every country, but given the amount of time devoted to the United States, which is to be expected on NBC’s telecast, this seems disproportionate. I wonder if the latent message is that the capitalist system of the United States is with few if any flaws and that the United States has solved all of the problems that “ravage” other parts of the world. First, it is inaccurate to imply that all is peachy in the United States. Second, to suggest a society that exists without political disagreements would seem to run counter to the promotion of a rich, engaged public sphere of discourse.
UNFORTUNATELY, though, as the United States delegation walked through, the closest thing to a political connection made was simply showing Laura and George W. Bush waving to the athletes. Rather than mention of any political issues of relevance to the United States (such as the economic recession, the state of American foreign relations … heck, even mention of the upcoming election), we saw many celebrities (from Kobe Bryant to Lindsay Davenport to Jennie Finch) pointed out to us, we heard mention of hairstyles and fashion, and so on. Sure, the announcers have not mentioned politics for every country, but given the amount of time devoted to the United States, which is to be expected on NBC’s telecast, this seems disproportionate. I wonder if the latent message is that the capitalist system of the United States is with few if any flaws and that the United States has solved all of the problems that “ravage” other parts of the world. First, it is inaccurate to imply that all is peachy in the United States. Second, to suggest a society that exists without political disagreements would seem to run counter to the promotion of a rich, engaged public sphere of discourse.
Certainly not the first insightful connection by Jon Stewart
This past week, I had some thoughts on how various accounts, including John McCain's camp, made fun of Barack Obama mentioning how keeping one's tires inflated helps save gas, then, at the annual motorcycle rally in Sturgis, South Dakota, McCain called a bunch of idle engines revving "the sound of freedom." Fortunately, a forum with a much wider audience than this little blog took up the topic and voiced a perspective very similar to what I was thinking. You can find it starting at about the 5:30 mark here.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Gregg Doyel Update #2
For an update on my ongoing conversation with CBS Sportsline columnist Gregg Doyel, see here.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
There Are Too Many Flowers!
I’m reminded of a song from the good folks in Monty Python:
Every sperm is sacred.
Every sperm is great.
If a sperm is wasted,
God gets quite irate.
I’ve been meaning to complete this post for awhile and then when I read this piece by Hillary Clinton that discusses the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services taking action that could be seen as equating birth control with abortion, I felt compelled to get this post done a.s.a.p.:
There’s a car in my town that has a whole bunch of pro-life bumper stickers on it. I can only remember one of the car’s bumper stickers verbatim, but I can say with confidence that they largely consist of statements of pro-choice sentiment. The one bumper sticker that I do remember says, “Saying there are too many children is like saying there are too many flowers.” Since seeing this bumper sticker, particularly given its context, I’ve been bothered by its implications.
While I tend to define myself as “a big lefty” on a lot of issues, when it comes to abortion I’d say I’m a moderate who leans toward the pro-life side. That’s a position I’ve held for a number of years now after giving it a considerable amount of thought and changing positions on it several times. (I’m sure I’d be reticent not to mention that I’m sure my Catholic upbringing has influenced that position as well.) I’d be happy to explain why I hold the position that I do, but I don’t want to get bogged down in that right at this moment. Suffice for now to say that I think that both sides are right. I believe that this is, as pro-life folks say, an issue of how human life is defined. Yet, I also believe that this is, as pro-choice folks say, an issue of gender equity. I think more might be able to be done toward at least making this not so polarizing of an issue if both sides would stop digging their feet in the “I’m right; you’re not” dirt (which Clinton can be said to be guilty of doing to at least some degree in the piece that I read) and accept that the other side has a point as well. More both/and and less either/or seems like it could help in this situation. Indeed, my own position is not based on what I presume to know, but on what I suggest that I don’t know.
Given that take on issues of abortion, I tend to think a lot of abortion-related bumper stickers tend to be annoying anyway, since so many of them assert truth claims that I don’t think can really be asserted as truth claims … and I think many of the pro-life ones are some of most severe perpetrators of this kind of intellectual dishonesty. But even if I let that go momentarily as a necessary evil that tends to come with the kind of sound byte representation that goes into making bumper stickers anyway, I remain particularly upset with this car’s choice to juxtapose the other pro-life bumper stickers with the one that caught my eye. The context of this bumper sticker implies that saying “There’s too many children” is necessarily a call for acceptance of abortion. Yet, as someone who leans pro-life, I’ll attest that that statement does not have to mean that and that there may be nothing wrong with it as a statement. Indeed, I think the opposite sentiment (that there can never be too many children) is downright irresponsible. I believe that the soaring population of the human species is a large contributor to many of the most significant problems that we have today, most importantly as it is a major reason why we are overusing earth’s resources and hurting the planet (along with our ability to maintain our civilizations on this planet). So, I firmly believe that we should be limiting the number of children that we have so that we can keep from overrunning the planet. There are plenty of ways to do that without abortion (and, obviously, without more horrific things like mass killings), whether it be birth control, limited sexual activity, or other practices, depending on one’s views on each of those possibilities. The bottom line is that there absolutely can be too many children and I don’t want to jeopardize this world because people equate that sentiment with things that it doesn’t necessarily have to mean.
And, so, given all of that, especially as someone who has suffered from allergies, I am more than willing to declare that there are too many flowers.
Every sperm is sacred.
Every sperm is great.
If a sperm is wasted,
God gets quite irate.
I’ve been meaning to complete this post for awhile and then when I read this piece by Hillary Clinton that discusses the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services taking action that could be seen as equating birth control with abortion, I felt compelled to get this post done a.s.a.p.:
There’s a car in my town that has a whole bunch of pro-life bumper stickers on it. I can only remember one of the car’s bumper stickers verbatim, but I can say with confidence that they largely consist of statements of pro-choice sentiment. The one bumper sticker that I do remember says, “Saying there are too many children is like saying there are too many flowers.” Since seeing this bumper sticker, particularly given its context, I’ve been bothered by its implications.
While I tend to define myself as “a big lefty” on a lot of issues, when it comes to abortion I’d say I’m a moderate who leans toward the pro-life side. That’s a position I’ve held for a number of years now after giving it a considerable amount of thought and changing positions on it several times. (I’m sure I’d be reticent not to mention that I’m sure my Catholic upbringing has influenced that position as well.) I’d be happy to explain why I hold the position that I do, but I don’t want to get bogged down in that right at this moment. Suffice for now to say that I think that both sides are right. I believe that this is, as pro-life folks say, an issue of how human life is defined. Yet, I also believe that this is, as pro-choice folks say, an issue of gender equity. I think more might be able to be done toward at least making this not so polarizing of an issue if both sides would stop digging their feet in the “I’m right; you’re not” dirt (which Clinton can be said to be guilty of doing to at least some degree in the piece that I read) and accept that the other side has a point as well. More both/and and less either/or seems like it could help in this situation. Indeed, my own position is not based on what I presume to know, but on what I suggest that I don’t know.
Given that take on issues of abortion, I tend to think a lot of abortion-related bumper stickers tend to be annoying anyway, since so many of them assert truth claims that I don’t think can really be asserted as truth claims … and I think many of the pro-life ones are some of most severe perpetrators of this kind of intellectual dishonesty. But even if I let that go momentarily as a necessary evil that tends to come with the kind of sound byte representation that goes into making bumper stickers anyway, I remain particularly upset with this car’s choice to juxtapose the other pro-life bumper stickers with the one that caught my eye. The context of this bumper sticker implies that saying “There’s too many children” is necessarily a call for acceptance of abortion. Yet, as someone who leans pro-life, I’ll attest that that statement does not have to mean that and that there may be nothing wrong with it as a statement. Indeed, I think the opposite sentiment (that there can never be too many children) is downright irresponsible. I believe that the soaring population of the human species is a large contributor to many of the most significant problems that we have today, most importantly as it is a major reason why we are overusing earth’s resources and hurting the planet (along with our ability to maintain our civilizations on this planet). So, I firmly believe that we should be limiting the number of children that we have so that we can keep from overrunning the planet. There are plenty of ways to do that without abortion (and, obviously, without more horrific things like mass killings), whether it be birth control, limited sexual activity, or other practices, depending on one’s views on each of those possibilities. The bottom line is that there absolutely can be too many children and I don’t want to jeopardize this world because people equate that sentiment with things that it doesn’t necessarily have to mean.
And, so, given all of that, especially as someone who has suffered from allergies, I am more than willing to declare that there are too many flowers.
After All, He Would Know ...
I've never been much of a fan of President George W. Bush. The nice way to put my sense of him is that his idea of how America should work radically diverges from mine. Another way to put it would be to say that I don't trust that he's really ever had the best interests of either the United States or the world as the basis for his administration, policies, etc. However, occasionally, he throws me a curve and I find myself a little bit drawn to something he says or does. While reading CNN.com today, this happened. CNN's Jack Cafferty reports that at a closed Republican fundraiser in Houston, Dubya said of the nation's economy, "Wall Street got drunk – it’s one of the reasons I asked you to turn off your TV cameras. It got drunk and now it’s got a hangover. The question is: how long will it sober up." Sure, it's not a good, full explanation of what happened, nor do I think it's an effective expression of how to remedy it. I mean, it essentially implies do nothing but let the free market fix itself over time--i.e. as long as it takes to sober up--which I don't think is necessarily the answer. Still, I think Cafferty's sarcastic comment that "The depth of the intellect at the very top of our nation's government is staggering, isn't it?" is kind of callous. I personally thought Bush's comment was a funny analogy that, at least from one perspective (again, a free market apologist perspective with which I don't necessarily agree), does capture a way of seeing what's happened.
Besides, wouldn't being hungover be one thing that Bush is highly qualified to talk about?
Besides, wouldn't being hungover be one thing that Bush is highly qualified to talk about?
Saturday, July 19, 2008
The Best Ballplayer Few People Talk About?
Last night, Garret Anderson of the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim went 4-4, with a home run and 5 RBIs in helping to lead the Angels to an 11-3 win over the Boston Red Sox in what was a definite possibility for an American League Championship Series matchup. The Angels' win, combined with the Chicago Cubs' loss, momentarily catapulted the Angels into the best record in baseball. The game also reflected the ability to hit for someone who might be one of the most under-recognized players of his generation.
Now in his fifteenth season (all with the Angels), Anderson's numbers don't stick out as particularly extravagant. Going into play today, he's hit 266 home runs, driven in 1257 RBIs, and scored 995 runs. He's doesn't walk much ... only 387 walks over those fifteen seasons. He's also not particularly a base stealer, with 77 over his career, though he did steal 13 in one season and 10 in another. He is, however, a .296 career hitter and he has 2295 hits in his career. Injuries have limited him a bit over the past few seasons, driving down some of those numbers. Still, if he can continue to produce for several more seasons, he might be worthy of Hall of Fame consideration. He could push 3,000 hits and 1600 RBIs, both of which would put him into rare company. He certainly, though, has been and likely will be overshadowed by others his age. At 36, he is the same age as Manny Ramirez, Chipper Jones, and Carlos Delgado. A quick glance at statistics says that the first two of that list are clearly ahead of Anderson on the Hall of Fame list. Delgado is an intersting comparison--significantly more home runs and RBIs than Anderson, but significantly less hits and a significantly lower batting average. Anderson has also won a World Series (2002) and is on a team that perenially competes for and often makes the postseason. He probably reached the height of his popularity when he won the Home Run Derby in 2003, but that never turned into long-time superstar status. If we take the position of my previous argument about it being a Hall of Fame, Anderson wouldn't even be on the radar.
So, in the end, he might go the way of the likes of Dave Parker, Harold Baines, and so many others ... including, potentially, Fred McGriff (depending on what voters do) ... as really good players with very nice careers, but not quite enough for to be called a Hall of Famer. Still, I think he ought to be considered in the conversation ...
Then again, he was on my fantasy team during his years of greatest success (2000-2003), so I may be biased ...
Now in his fifteenth season (all with the Angels), Anderson's numbers don't stick out as particularly extravagant. Going into play today, he's hit 266 home runs, driven in 1257 RBIs, and scored 995 runs. He's doesn't walk much ... only 387 walks over those fifteen seasons. He's also not particularly a base stealer, with 77 over his career, though he did steal 13 in one season and 10 in another. He is, however, a .296 career hitter and he has 2295 hits in his career. Injuries have limited him a bit over the past few seasons, driving down some of those numbers. Still, if he can continue to produce for several more seasons, he might be worthy of Hall of Fame consideration. He could push 3,000 hits and 1600 RBIs, both of which would put him into rare company. He certainly, though, has been and likely will be overshadowed by others his age. At 36, he is the same age as Manny Ramirez, Chipper Jones, and Carlos Delgado. A quick glance at statistics says that the first two of that list are clearly ahead of Anderson on the Hall of Fame list. Delgado is an intersting comparison--significantly more home runs and RBIs than Anderson, but significantly less hits and a significantly lower batting average. Anderson has also won a World Series (2002) and is on a team that perenially competes for and often makes the postseason. He probably reached the height of his popularity when he won the Home Run Derby in 2003, but that never turned into long-time superstar status. If we take the position of my previous argument about it being a Hall of Fame, Anderson wouldn't even be on the radar.
So, in the end, he might go the way of the likes of Dave Parker, Harold Baines, and so many others ... including, potentially, Fred McGriff (depending on what voters do) ... as really good players with very nice careers, but not quite enough for to be called a Hall of Famer. Still, I think he ought to be considered in the conversation ...
Then again, he was on my fantasy team during his years of greatest success (2000-2003), so I may be biased ...
Friday, July 18, 2008
Gin and (Cherry) Juice
Last Thursday, while in Traverse City, Michigan to attend the National Cherry Festival, I got to hear the Gin Blossoms in concert. Of course, it makes me feel old when a band that hit it big while I was in college is now classic rock headlining a festival. Still, it was a great show and it kicked off our vacation there on the most perfect note. They sounded great and my wife and I had an awesome time singing along to the many Gin Blossoms songs that we know. As lead singer Robin Wilson said at one point, "This is one of the most beautiful places we've played."
I'd have to agree with Robin. In 1998, I taught a summer course in Traverse City while I was working on my Master's degree at Michigan State. I'd spend the first few days of the week there, teach on Monday and Wednesday nights, and then drive back down to East Lansing for the remainder of the week and the weekend. For six weeks, it was wonderful.
I went back for the first time in nine years last year, as my wife and I spent one day in town toward the beginning of the National Cherry Festival. This year, we went back for the final two and half days, along with Monica's friend Sherry and her two daughers. From picking our own cherries and strawberries to driving out to the light house at the end of the peninsula to drinking cherry ginger ale at the Cherry Republic to swimming in the Grand Traverse Bay to eating ice cream at Moomers and pizza at Pangeas ... the list goes on and on ... culminating with watching fireworks over the bay with Pink Floyd music (from a tribute band called "Think Floyd"), it was an excellent time. The Cherry Festival is fun and worth a trip, but you don't have to go then to have fun in Traverse City. For me, it's one of the best places I know ... especially when a band from the town in which I met my wife (Tempe, Arizona) is playing the kind of music in which we share an interest. Ahhh ... it's moments like this that reaffirm how much I love my life.
Monday, July 14, 2008
A New Reason to Watch the Final Four
While so much sports news recently has centered on whether a certain supposedly retired Packer is coming or going, I was happy to see this story about another kind of Packer who is finally going. Billy Packer is leaving CBS men’s college basketball coverage, to be replaced by Clark Kellogg. For my taste anyway, this is a complete 180 degree turn for my sentiments about watching the lead team on CBS’s men’s college basketball coverage. I’ll go from having to endure a color analyst who annoys the hell out of me to listening happily to an analyst whom I enjoy.
Thank you, Billy, for packing it in.
Thank you, Billy, for packing it in.
Gregg Doyel Update
After I posted my entry about Gregg Doyel a few weeks ago, I sent him a message asking him to read the post. He did and he responded in his July 3 edition of Hate Mail, which can be found here. I've responded in turn and, among other things, let him know that my capacity for flagellation (and flatulation, for that matter) is quite high.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds
Picture yourself in a boat on a river
With tangerine trees and marmalade skies …
I don’t really want to turn this blog into a series of cat memorials … I mean, I’m actually allergic to cats … but in what has been a summer of rather profound loss, particularly for my wife, the death of another cat has impacted our lives. Lucy, one of the many cats of Monica’s best friend and maid of honor from our wedding, Sherry, died on Sunday when she was hit by a car in front of Sherry’s house. I certainly new Lucy much better than Mocha, though Monica new Lucy much better than I did and, since finding out about my allergy to cats a few years ago, I hadn’t pet Lucy. Still, she had been Sherry’s cat for a long time, dating back to when I first met Monica in the late 1990s. We knew Lucy was getting old and might not have a lot of time left, but wished for her to have passed away in her sleep or in the garden or the yard or the bushes. Certainly, just about anything would have been better than being hit by a car in front of her house … just like Mocha almost a month ago to the day. I know I won’t feel the depth of missing Lucy that Monica, Sherry, or Sherry’s twin daughters will, since I didn’t know Lucy as well, but I certainly am thinking of her and, as I do, I picture Lucy on that boat on the river, cellophane flowers of yellow and green towering over her head. I look for the cat with the sun in her eyes, but she’s gone …
With tangerine trees and marmalade skies …
I don’t really want to turn this blog into a series of cat memorials … I mean, I’m actually allergic to cats … but in what has been a summer of rather profound loss, particularly for my wife, the death of another cat has impacted our lives. Lucy, one of the many cats of Monica’s best friend and maid of honor from our wedding, Sherry, died on Sunday when she was hit by a car in front of Sherry’s house. I certainly new Lucy much better than Mocha, though Monica new Lucy much better than I did and, since finding out about my allergy to cats a few years ago, I hadn’t pet Lucy. Still, she had been Sherry’s cat for a long time, dating back to when I first met Monica in the late 1990s. We knew Lucy was getting old and might not have a lot of time left, but wished for her to have passed away in her sleep or in the garden or the yard or the bushes. Certainly, just about anything would have been better than being hit by a car in front of her house … just like Mocha almost a month ago to the day. I know I won’t feel the depth of missing Lucy that Monica, Sherry, or Sherry’s twin daughters will, since I didn’t know Lucy as well, but I certainly am thinking of her and, as I do, I picture Lucy on that boat on the river, cellophane flowers of yellow and green towering over her head. I look for the cat with the sun in her eyes, but she’s gone …
Thursday, July 3, 2008
A Lesson in the Confluence of Politics, Religion, and Sport
Appearing on the Mike and Mike morning show on ESPN radio, Bonnie Bernstein recently made some comments that have been taken as inappropriate by some—enough so that she even issued an apology, stating that she had learned a lesson by the reactions to the comment. As Bernstein explained it in her apology, “Lesson learned: Religion and politics have no place on public airwaves at a sports network. That's definitely a credo I will live by from this point forward.” While some have defended this as a good example of making a mistake, learning a lesson, apologizing, and moving on, this was entirely the wrong lesson to learn. I won’t go into too much detail about how horribly wrong of a lesson to learn this is; writing for AOL’s “fanhouse,” Michael David Smith does a good job of explaining why that lesson is so wrong. On that point, I agree with Smith adamantly. As I see it, if we stop talking about politics and religion and how they connect with sports, we may as well just give up any hope of democracy. Go see numerous posts on The Agon for some excellent discussions of some of the ramifications of not talking about how religion and politics intersect with sports.
Still, I disagree with Smith’s ultimate assessment as well. As Smith put it, “what's wrong is that Bernstein took such a serious matter as Palestinian suicide bombers and applied it so flippantly. And what's even worse is that she suggested that all Palestinians are taught that being a suicide bomber is something to aspire to, which is patently false. For that, she did not apologize. She should.” As I read what Bernstein was saying, I think there is the attempt to be sensitive to these issues; I really don’t read this as flippant at all, particularly as Bernstein said things like “I'm not making the comparison or the analogy.” To some degree, her attempts at this in the initial comments end up falling into a similar trap as her apology. She says, for instance, “I'm prefacing this by saying this is in no way an analogy to sports because I know we live in a hypersensitive society,” which suggests the reason to be cautious is not to make sure that the analogy is contextualized appropriately, but simply to make sure “sensitive” people don’t get offended by it. This just says not to say anything that might be controversial so as not to lose audiences (and, thus, customers, since this is a capitalist structure we’re talking about). To follow Smith’s advice, though, I think, would damn the comment to a problem that would be similar to that of proceeding with the idea that politics or religion and sport do not mix. It seems like Bernstein was making a connection that contained some potential insight. Much of the study of history, literature, sociology, and other fields in the humanities and social sciences ask us to see and articulate connections among various phenomena. Bernstein seemed to be doing just that in a way that had potential to point out the degrees to which individuals are raised in environments in which so many of the messages that they receive tell them something that they come to believe those messages—even if those messages convey something that’s not in their best interests or something that might not be a very good thing to believe. Thus, we need to recognize the role of these kinds of repeated messages when we look at why things are the way they are, whether it’s a lack of focus on education in lieu of false senses of the promise of sports or it’s a willingness to become a suicide bomber for religious convictions. Frankly, recognizing those kinds of connections seems to be a fundamental part of the study of things like culture, communication, and the structures of societies. To suggest that people not articulate these kinds of connections when they make them seems to stifle what can be productive discourse.
Rather, I would suggest that the lesson to be learned is to be more effective in articulating these points. Be more nuanced in the statements that one makes, articulating them in a way that more fully recognizes the complexities, as well as both the advantages and limitations, of one’s analogies. And when you add disclaimers, do so in a way that illustrates recognition of nuance, complexity and limitation. Otherwise, we have what so much of discourse today seems to be: a war between arguments that one shouldn’t have to be sensitive and arguments that one shouldn’t articulate connections that are potentially controversial because they might alienate people. Neither of these seems to be particularly useful for democratic dialogue. I tend to think that when people (usually from a conservative perspective, but not always) scream about “political correctness,” it’s a lazy excuse for not wanting to have to think about things and do the work to articulate oneself more effectively. They don’t want to have to deal with nuance. A case in point is that I’ve literally heard Rush Limbaugh explicitly suggest on his radio show that nuance is bad. Yet, if these folks have a legitimate point, it’s that the responses to them are usually overwhelmingly lacking. Responses tend to be reactionary, calling for people to be fired, to be censored, or to be in some other way made to feel like they should come to the same conclusion and take the same approach as Bernstein—i.e., just not talk about certain things anymore. When people feel like they just have to “shut up,” then I’d think democracy is definitely not being served. I think Don Imus is a good example. When, for instance, he made his comments about the Rutgers women’s basketball team, he lost his job when the media organizations for which he worked felt pressure to do something. Yet, this galvanized a whole group of people to yell about political correctness, it provided little forum to engage Imus’s comments publicly toward greater insight that might serve democracy, and it just allowed MSNBC and CBS Radio to steer away from any significant social issues this might bring up and, basically, stick their capitalist feet in the way of productive dialogue. A better course might have been to force Imus to devote an hour of his show to co-hosting with someone who is more sensitive to issues of race; the entire hour would be devoted to productive discourse about issues of race.
I suppose, though, that that course of action might not be seen as “good television” or “good radio.” Productive discourse doesn’t provide the drama of combatants holding to their black and white positions and duking it out like boxers to see who wins. To borrow a phrase from ABC’s Wide World of Sports and the late Jim McKay, nuance tends to lack “the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.” Drama and nuance tend to work as opposites and since so much of our media culture works on drama, nuance tends to be what goes by the wayside. And, so, we get dramatic declarations like Bernstein’s that politics or religion and sports don’t mix.
As Smith’s article reported, the National Arab American Journalists Association, which was among those who publicly criticized Bernstein’s remarks, responded to Bernstein’s apology. In their response, they “called Bernstein's statement ‘a genuine apology that expressed ESPN's and Dr. Bernstein's embrace of diversity and fairness’ and added Bernstein to its Honor List.” Oh, great. How, according to this response, does one embrace diversity and fairness and attain honor? By declaring oneself closed to looking at the politics of practices in places like sport. Hmmm … that sounds like the opposite of working toward diversity and fairness to me.
Still, I disagree with Smith’s ultimate assessment as well. As Smith put it, “what's wrong is that Bernstein took such a serious matter as Palestinian suicide bombers and applied it so flippantly. And what's even worse is that she suggested that all Palestinians are taught that being a suicide bomber is something to aspire to, which is patently false. For that, she did not apologize. She should.” As I read what Bernstein was saying, I think there is the attempt to be sensitive to these issues; I really don’t read this as flippant at all, particularly as Bernstein said things like “I'm not making the comparison or the analogy.” To some degree, her attempts at this in the initial comments end up falling into a similar trap as her apology. She says, for instance, “I'm prefacing this by saying this is in no way an analogy to sports because I know we live in a hypersensitive society,” which suggests the reason to be cautious is not to make sure that the analogy is contextualized appropriately, but simply to make sure “sensitive” people don’t get offended by it. This just says not to say anything that might be controversial so as not to lose audiences (and, thus, customers, since this is a capitalist structure we’re talking about). To follow Smith’s advice, though, I think, would damn the comment to a problem that would be similar to that of proceeding with the idea that politics or religion and sport do not mix. It seems like Bernstein was making a connection that contained some potential insight. Much of the study of history, literature, sociology, and other fields in the humanities and social sciences ask us to see and articulate connections among various phenomena. Bernstein seemed to be doing just that in a way that had potential to point out the degrees to which individuals are raised in environments in which so many of the messages that they receive tell them something that they come to believe those messages—even if those messages convey something that’s not in their best interests or something that might not be a very good thing to believe. Thus, we need to recognize the role of these kinds of repeated messages when we look at why things are the way they are, whether it’s a lack of focus on education in lieu of false senses of the promise of sports or it’s a willingness to become a suicide bomber for religious convictions. Frankly, recognizing those kinds of connections seems to be a fundamental part of the study of things like culture, communication, and the structures of societies. To suggest that people not articulate these kinds of connections when they make them seems to stifle what can be productive discourse.
Rather, I would suggest that the lesson to be learned is to be more effective in articulating these points. Be more nuanced in the statements that one makes, articulating them in a way that more fully recognizes the complexities, as well as both the advantages and limitations, of one’s analogies. And when you add disclaimers, do so in a way that illustrates recognition of nuance, complexity and limitation. Otherwise, we have what so much of discourse today seems to be: a war between arguments that one shouldn’t have to be sensitive and arguments that one shouldn’t articulate connections that are potentially controversial because they might alienate people. Neither of these seems to be particularly useful for democratic dialogue. I tend to think that when people (usually from a conservative perspective, but not always) scream about “political correctness,” it’s a lazy excuse for not wanting to have to think about things and do the work to articulate oneself more effectively. They don’t want to have to deal with nuance. A case in point is that I’ve literally heard Rush Limbaugh explicitly suggest on his radio show that nuance is bad. Yet, if these folks have a legitimate point, it’s that the responses to them are usually overwhelmingly lacking. Responses tend to be reactionary, calling for people to be fired, to be censored, or to be in some other way made to feel like they should come to the same conclusion and take the same approach as Bernstein—i.e., just not talk about certain things anymore. When people feel like they just have to “shut up,” then I’d think democracy is definitely not being served. I think Don Imus is a good example. When, for instance, he made his comments about the Rutgers women’s basketball team, he lost his job when the media organizations for which he worked felt pressure to do something. Yet, this galvanized a whole group of people to yell about political correctness, it provided little forum to engage Imus’s comments publicly toward greater insight that might serve democracy, and it just allowed MSNBC and CBS Radio to steer away from any significant social issues this might bring up and, basically, stick their capitalist feet in the way of productive dialogue. A better course might have been to force Imus to devote an hour of his show to co-hosting with someone who is more sensitive to issues of race; the entire hour would be devoted to productive discourse about issues of race.
I suppose, though, that that course of action might not be seen as “good television” or “good radio.” Productive discourse doesn’t provide the drama of combatants holding to their black and white positions and duking it out like boxers to see who wins. To borrow a phrase from ABC’s Wide World of Sports and the late Jim McKay, nuance tends to lack “the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.” Drama and nuance tend to work as opposites and since so much of our media culture works on drama, nuance tends to be what goes by the wayside. And, so, we get dramatic declarations like Bernstein’s that politics or religion and sports don’t mix.
As Smith’s article reported, the National Arab American Journalists Association, which was among those who publicly criticized Bernstein’s remarks, responded to Bernstein’s apology. In their response, they “called Bernstein's statement ‘a genuine apology that expressed ESPN's and Dr. Bernstein's embrace of diversity and fairness’ and added Bernstein to its Honor List.” Oh, great. How, according to this response, does one embrace diversity and fairness and attain honor? By declaring oneself closed to looking at the politics of practices in places like sport. Hmmm … that sounds like the opposite of working toward diversity and fairness to me.
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