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.

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.

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.

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.

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.