I’d Rather A&E Hadn’t Ducked the Issue

So, in the last couple of days we’ve witnessed arguments from various sides after the suspension of Phil Robertson from the A&E television show Duck Dynasty following a set of remarks he made about sexuality (and, by the way, let’s not forget the deeply problematic things Robertson said in regard to race as well.)

I don’t regularly watch Duck Dynasty.  I don’t care much for most reality television, and the little bit of Duck Dynasty that I have seen reconfirmed the reasons I don’t watch reality television shows.  Additionally, what I have seen in terms of the marketing of the show and the use of the show by its fans suggests that I don’t align personally or ideologically with a significant amount of what the show represents.

As part of that, I don’t agree with Phil Robertson’s characterization of sexuality.  The more I have studied and learned about sexuality, the more complex and nuanced position I have developed of it; the more I have come to see that ideas suggesting heterosexuality is natural are socially, historically, and politically constructed; and the more I have come to see the value of a society celebrating a diversity of sexual identities and forms of expression.  Phil Robertson’s position on sexuality does not suggest that he has truly spent time learning about sexuality.  Still, he can think and say what he wants; that would seem to be part of democracy.

Yet, his views contain significantly contestable, if not downright flawed, elements to them, and if he is going to voice them publicly, then he should be prepared for public response.  Indeed, what would seem consistent with democracy is that various views enter into dialogue with one another in a deliberative fashion.  And, with that in mind, I would caution folks (particularly, though not exclusively, on the liberal political side) who are offering arguments in support of A&E’s decision to suspend Robertson.  These arguments do have a correct point in combatting other arguments that use the language of rights.  Technically, Robertson’s rights have not been violated.  The government has not sanctioned him for what he said. His right to say it has been maintained.  Rather, an organization with which he works has exercised its right to suspend its working relationship with him because of the comment.  Simply put, A&E made a decision regarding their affiliation with Robertson after he said what he did.

Yet, here is where I would caution those who not only make, but also defend that distinction (like here).  Consider the world we are creating when organizations have this kind of power.  Actually, more to the point, consider the world we are perpetuating since organizations already do have this power.  On this particular issue, perhaps one may disagree strongly with what Robertson said, and thus one may find A&E’s decision more acceptable.  Imagine, though, if this were a situation in which you said something that an organization with which you are affiliated found objectionable or controversial, and you were dismissed or suspended because of it.  Indeed, consider what’s going on in higher education in Kansas over a tenured professor posting online something deemed objectionable.  Additionally, consider that most of us do not have the amount of financial resources that Robertson has, meaning this kind of action would have a much more significant and devastating effect on our lives.  Again, we’re not talking technically about the right to express these things or not, but we are talking about how freedom of expression can be impeded by the power that organizations have and wield.  I’m thus concerned with arguments justifying A&E’s actions based on their right to act in what they perceive as their own interests.

Meanwhile, arguments defending Robertson (particularly, though not exclusively, on the conservative political side) have their own set of problems.  I’ll use Glenn Beck as an example here.  He equates what A&E has done to fascism, and indeed, the connection may have some value.  However, his articulation of the connection is sorely lacking, namely because if there is fascism here, that fascism is fueled by the same system that he himself arduously defends – a capitalist, market-based economic system.  In capitalism, organizations seek to make profit, and they make decisions based on appealing to customers, not on the basis of what necessarily promotes greater freedom of expression or democracy.  Sometimes those objectives may align, but often they do not.  The example of A&E’s decision regarding Phil Robertson is right in line with the capitalist system Beck and many other conservatives who are complaining about Robertson’s treatment vehemently defend.  In an effort to manage their public image so that they might remain profitable, A&E has made a decision about their association with Robertson.  A&E is not the root of the fascism here, and neither are GLAAD or the gay rights movements.  Both have, quite conservatively in this case, worked within the market system.  GLAAD pressured A&E with threat of losing business; A&E responded in an effort to maintain business.  If there’s fascism here, we find it in the capitalist system in which these organizations work.  If Beck is really that concerned about free speech and fascism, he ought to examine much more fully his own commitment to capitalism.

Meanwhile, let’s remember here that many of the same conservative folks arguing that the treatment of Phil Robertson is an impediment on free expression of views on sexuality are the same folks who actually do advocate a system that limits free expression of views on sexuality on the level of rights.  They oppose many efforts to provide for and protect the rights of folks who do not identify as heterosexual.  This includes opposing gay marriage but also goes much further than that to include many other political positions such as opposition to anti-discrimination efforts in areas such as housing, healthcare, and employment.  Again, if these folks are so committed to free expression, they ought to consider much more fully how their own political commitments regarding sexuality work against free expression and democracy.

In the end, I don’t find A&E’s decision regarding Robertson to be too consistent with a society that seeks democracy.  I think a much more effective way of handling this would be to place Robertson into a position in which he has to confront folks who hold opposing opinions and who identify differently from him in terms of sexually.  (This is the kind of thing that caused me to see greater value in what Russell Brand represents, because it’s exactly what he did with members of the Westboro Baptist Church.)  If Robertson wishes to voice his views publicly, then democracy would have him confront opposing views.  A&E could facilitate that by making that confrontation happen – and by confrontation, I mean not in a violent and uncivil way, but in a nonviolent, empathetic way that makes Robertson have to come into contact, dialogue, and work with individuals whose views oppose his and whose sexualities differ from his.  Perhaps we could all learn something, and I think various sides of the political aisle appear to have much to learn.  Heck, for that matter, I’m sure I do too, and the opportunity to learn that would be the kind of thing that might get me interested enough to watch Duck Dynasty.

Losing College Football

As I write this blog post, the football team of my employer and first alma mater, Bowling Green State University, is beginning its Mid-American Conference championship contest against Northern Illinois University.  Meanwhile, tomorrow, the football teams of my other two alma maters – Michigan State University and Arizona State University – will play in the Big Ten and Pac-12 Championship games, respectively.  In previous years – before the 2012 college football season – this would have been a really exciting weekend for me, as I would have been able to see all three of my alma maters – and by virtue of that, the three teams I most rooted for in college football – play for conference championships.  I’m pretty sure that’s never been the case before, and it’s certainly never been the case with them playing at such high levels, particularly Michigan State, which is 11-1 heading into its contest against Ohio State.

Of course, if you’ve read this blog in the past, you know that this isn’t like years before 2012 because in 2012 I gave up college football.  So, I will be watching none of these games, and I will be rooting for none of these teams.  Subconsciously, I can still feel some internal rooting, and I can still feel the urge to watch, which is telling.  It means that I would like to watch these games and root for my teams.  Indeed, that I even know the situations in which these teams find themselves demonstrates that even though I’m not watching college football, I’m still following news of it enough to be aware of what’s generally happening.  And that’s true.  I do occasionally read news about it or look at standings or rankings.  It’s still hard not to watch sometimes.  And that’s unfortunate because I think there can be a place for football at college – though I am leaving aside important questions about the violence of the game in saying that – and if football had what I felt was an appropriate place in the organizational structure, I probably would still watch and pay more attention.  But right now, I can’t, and interestingly enough, a significant juxtaposition today demonstrates exactly why I have and maintain that commitment.

Today, several hours before BGSU’s football game kicked off, the Board of Trustees of the university held one of their regular meetings.  Over 100 faculty members attended the meeting holding signs and silently protesting the cutting of more than 30 faculty (on top of cuts of more than 70 faculty positions last May) on which the university has recently acted, effective this coming May.  More faculty members would have filled the room, but reports indicate that police officers had been stationed at the entrance and denied further admission of peacefully demonstrating faculty to the open-to-the-public meeting.

The juxtaposition here is that, amid budgetary concerns, while the university continues to pour money into a football program that costs university stakeholders money every year, the university’s administration cuts faculty to save money.  While administrators have claimed that this will not affect education at BGSU, I’m not alone in having a very hard time trying to figure out how the loss of more than 100 faculty lines (and even if we accept the university’s counterclaim about the addition of around 36 new tenure-track positions between last year and this year, we’re still at around 70 faculty lines lost) won’t affect education at the university. That just seems mathematically and logistically impossible. 

The university continues to prioritize football over faculty (and the education of the students whom those faculty teach), and that, to me, is not consistent with the mission of an educational institution.  If the situation differed, if football wasn’t outweighing faculty as it is, and if we didn’t have to choose one over the other, I would be much more willing to support the football team like I did before 2012.  But the university is making choices, and they’re putting me and other stakeholders into the position of having to making choices as well.  I’m simply not going to choose football over my colleagues and the education of the students who attend the place that I work and that I went to school.  So, as much as I find myself wanting to watch and follow football again, I can’t.  Whether they win or lose tonight’s football game, BGSU has already lost too much this football season.  And they’re not alone among colleges and universities.

A Special Message

I recently read this piece about how NFL football player Brian Holloway responded to vandalism of the home he has for sale by inviting the teenagers who vandalized the home to have a picnic and repair the damage that they had done.  I found the story compelling, and I saw value in the sentiments expressed, but then I got to this line:   “Instead of teaching your kids to work hard and earn things, you give a trophy to every kid in youth sports.”

That statement is another in a long line of jeremiads about the “problem” of teaching each child that he or she is special – the same kind of jeremiad expressed in another piece that made its way around Facebook recently, which suggests that the source of unhappiness for folks in Generation Y (a.k.a., the Millennial generation, consisting of folks born from around 1980 to the mid-1990s) is that they’ve all been told they’re special growing up, only to grow up and find out that they’re not.  Indeed, part of the author’s advice for finding happiness juxtaposes the “You’re not special” sentiment with the same value of hard work expressed in the piece I reference above.  The author states, “Stop thinking that you're special.  The fact is, right now, you're not special.  You're another completely inexperienced young person who doesn't have all that much to offer yet.  You can become special by working really hard for a long time.”

I guess to an extent I understand this sentiment, but I also think the sentiment and the corresponding advice are misguided.  I don’t think there’s anything wrong with telling folks that everyone is special and, as a component of that, telling each individual that he or she is special.  Indeed, democracy itself relies on acknowledging the particular contributions that each person can offer, valuing each of those contributions and providing both for the expression of those contributions and for the process of listening to those contributions.  In this regard, I rest on the fifth word of the definition of the word “special” that the second piece offers:  “better, greater, or otherwise different from what is usual.”  Each of us is different from one another, based on differences in cultural backgrounds, personal experiences, and more.  A working democracy recognizes those differences, calling upon each of us both to contribute our own perspectives and what we have to offer and to recognize the contributions of others.

So, I don’t think telling people they’re not special is the answer.  To do so suggests that folks don’t have contributions to offer.  Furthermore, when combined with the sentiment that one needs to work hard to make oneself special or to prove that one is special, it becomes a way of reinforcing the unearned privileges of those whose positions the structure of society has advantaged.  Indeed, this correlates with the kinds of sentiments that people of color, women, working-class individuals, the differently abled, and so on have had to deal with historically, wherein they have been told they just aren’t working hard enough to earn consideration, while white folks, men, the rich, those whose abilities serve as the basis for the structure of society, and so on have faced less laborious paths to the kind of “special” status that provides a basis for consideration of their contributions.  Indeed, this is why multiculturalism is so important in connection with democracy.  It asks us not only to allow, but to celebrate the diversity of cultures, peoples, and perspectives that all might contribute to the governance and richness of society.

I think the answer, rather, is that while we’ve found ways to tell people they’re special, we have not done a good job of including the other side of the “Everyone is special” message—namely, that everyone else is special, too.  In other words, each of us should be told that we are special because we are—we each have something to contribute, and we should contribute it—but in doing so, we must also take care to remember to accept, consider, and celebrate the contributions of each of our fellow members of society.  And, in doing so, we must seek to understand, empathize, and respect others even as we do that for ourselves.  It’s the kind of thing that many colleagues and I teach about in communication courses:  For as much as expression is a fundamental part of communication, listening remains half of the process as well, and to be good communicators (and, by extension, I would suggest good citizens) we must work not only on expressing ourselves well, but also on listening well to others.

Yet, in a society such as the United States, we have the economic imperatives of a capitalist system that teach a competitive rather than cooperative ethic, thereby creating “winners” and “losers” by which to declare some folks special and others not special.  Meanwhile, we also have the political imperatives of a republic that ask us to judge individuals as more or less representative of classes of groups and the concomitant overgeneralizations about those groups, thereby promoting a society based on demography and not democracy.  These imperatives provide means for teaching the message that a person is special, but they struggle with providing the means for teaching the corollary message that everyone else is special, too.  And, so, when we start to see problems with the “You’re special” side of the message, we turn the wrong way, toward “You’re not special,” rather than toward the much more hopeful and affirming message of “And don’t forget that everyone else is special, too.”

How about this time we eschew the discouraging message of the former path and instead give that more encouraging latter path a better try?

A Big Opportunity

Three years ago, I started watching the television show Big Brother.  Before that I had seen part of an episode or two, at most, and what I had seen did not interest me.  In 2010, though, I knew one of the contestants on the show (Ragan Fox), so my wife and I started watching ... and we got hooked.  We've watched every season since, and we're watching the current season of the show.

Even if you don't watch Big Brother, you may have heard about it in the news this summer for the racist, homophobic, and misogynistic comments that some of this summer's contestants have made.  At first, as people began to comment on the contestants' comments, the comments had not appeared on the actual show.  Rather, viewers who had been watching the 24/7 live feed of the houseguests and/or watching Big Brother After Dark, which runs for two hours every night on the channel TVGN, had witnessed the comments and began to discuss them publicly.  Some called for the producers of Big Brother to air and address the comments on the actual show.  Among those making such a call was Ragan himself, who penned an open letter to the show's producers in which he stated, among other things, "What’s the point of casting racial, ethnic, and sexual minorities if production’s going to edit out the racism, ethnic discrimination, and homophobia that these people encounter inside the house?"

Over the past week, Big Brother did air and address some of the comments.  First, the show aired some of the comments this past Sunday.  Then, last night, the show aired a segment in which one contestant, Amanda, addressed the situation with Aaryn, who is the contestant who, while not alone in making racist comments, has been identified as the largest and most egregious culprit.  Amanda sought, extremely diplomatically, to advise Aaryn not to make such comments any more, but Aaryn was uninterested in reconsidering her actions.

Kudos to the producers of Big Brother for showing and addressing this on the show.  There are some critiques to be had of the way that they did, but I think there is some value to them having aired and addressed it as they did.  That said, I'd like them to take at least one more step.

Last night, Big Brother After Dark featured a very profound discussion between the show's two African-American contestants, Candice and Howie.  After having been a have-not this past week (a situation in which select houseguests must sleep, shower, and eat in uncomfortable ways), Candice was looking forward to sleeping on a regular bed and, because houseguests at this stage in the game must share beds between two and/or three people, had agreed that she would share a bed with Howie.  Yet, when she tried to use the bed, she could not escape continued comments from other houseguests who were using beds in the same room.  Then, after she returned from a show event that had called all houseguests to see the "HOH" room of the new Head of Household (a position of power in which a contest-winning contestant gets to choose two contestants who are up for eviction over the next week as well as enjoy some other perks), other contestants had flipped over the mattress on Candice and Howie's bed so that those contestants would not have to sleep on the same side of the mattress as Candice and Howie.

When Candice vocally addressed this and tensions mounted, Howie carried her into the Have-Not Room (the room in which the have-nots must sleep, which this season features airplane chairs as beds), and the two of them discussed the situation.  Their conversation was perhaps the most poignant moment I have seen on the show.  It demonstrated in specific and real detail the kind of dilemma that African Americans face in dealing with racism (and the same would go for additional groups who have faced oppression).  As Candice stated explicitly, all she wanted to do was lay down in her bed, but she could not do so without racial harassment.  She wanted to fight against the harassment, and she was asking Howie to return to the room as well so that they could verbally rebut the harassment.  Howie, though, did not want to go to the room and was willing to sleep without a bed if it meant not having to be subject to the direct harassment.

Their conversation articulated the depths of their no-win situation.  On the one hand, as Candice suggested, if they did not go back to the room, they were depriving themselves of things, such as a bed and use of the room, that they, as contestants, could reasonably expect to have.  Additionally, by not rebutting the harassment, they were allowing the perpetrators of the harassment to continue unabated in their racist practices.  On the other hand, as Howie suggested, if they did go back to the room and rebut the racism, it would stoke their own emotional reactions to the comments and potentially affect their ability to play the game.  Meanwhile, it would provide material for Candice and Howie to be characterized and potentially ostracized as overly dramatic and aggressive.  Both choices had advantages and disadvantages, and both reinforced their marginalization.  (For some brief descriptions of key events in this situation, see here.)

To go back to the question from Ragan that I quoted above, part of showing racism is showing the very real dilemmas into which it places individuals who have been subjected to it.  With that in mind, I think it would behoove the producers of Big Brother to show the situation with the mattress and some of the conversation between Candice and Howie.  This is a chance to show, very explicitly and profoundly, the kinds of Catch-22s that racism creates for those who experience its oppression, and I really hope the producers of Big Brother take this opportunity.

UPDATE:  Just after posting this, I found that TMZ.com has commentary on and video of the situation.  To see it click here.

Not Only Misguided, But Troubling

I really do not have a firm opinion on gun control, gun use, and gun ownership.  I think that bromides such as “Guns don’t kill people; people kill people” and “If we make guns illegal, then only criminals will have guns,” like most if not all bromides, are overly reductionist and simplistic.  I also think that hard line stances such as that vocalized recently by the National Rifle Association that seem unwilling even to consider and dialogue with different points of view don’t do much good.  On the other hand, I very much see room in that dialogue for some of the concerns vocalized by the most ardent supporters of the most expansive forms of gun rights.  There is at least something worth considering in the idea that if government agencies and administrations have access to particular weapons while citizens do not, then there is potential for violent oppression.  Also, while I think there are reasons to consider such things as mental health as conditions for gun ownership, there are important questions to ask about who gets to declare someone mentally healthy, how people get declared mentally unhealthy, and how the power to make such determinations might be abused.  One can, for instance, look at histories of male institutions’ treatment of women to see how declaring individuals mentally unfit has been used as a means of oppression.

I also think there is, as with anything in democracy, a need for recognition of a multiplicity of points of views on what guns mean.  I see guns as a means of injuring and/or killing others.  Such action might be justified at times in instances of defense, but it remains such action.  That said, I have to recognize that others might find additional meaning in guns, and democracy would ask of me not to dismiss those other meanings, even if they are not the meanings I would make.

So, I think I can understand and accept why people would advocate for broad and unrestrictive gun rights.  But then, when I see things like this “Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children” Facebook page (you have to login after clicking on that link or already be logged in), I think I am rightfully troubled, and I can understand why other groups would want to restrict rights to own guns and other weapons, especially for many of the folks expressing themselves on that “Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children” Facebook page.  Here’s why:

When I see this Facebook page, I do see all kinds of accounts, images, slogans, and comments advocating broad and unrestrictive gun rights.  However, many other accounts, images, slogans, and comments on this page offer some quite disturbing additional sentiments as well.  There seems here to be a real lack of interest in understanding what racism is, how racism works, and how we might seriously reflect on and work to eliminate racism.  Indeed, some things that appear on this page are overtly racist.  Additionally, there is clear expression of demeaning stereotypes and incredibly simplistic overgeneralizations of Muslims and Islam on this page.  Latino/a immigrants face similar treatment on the page.  The page also includes very anti-democratic and ahistorical sentiments about how everyone in the U.S. should speak English.  Meanwhile, many sentiments demand deference to military service and authority while openly mocking other forms that national service and authority might take, as if shows of force and violence are the only legitimate ways of protecting and serving.

When I see all of that stuff, I can very much understand why folks would want to keep guns away from such people.  Last winter, Wayne LaPierre of the NRA declared that it is “good guys with guns” who stop “bad guys with guns,” and that seems to correspond with the sentiments offered on this Facebook page.  Yet, when I look at the page, I see a lot of folks who are not “good guys” for the reasons I have outlined in the previous paragraph.

The overused Spider-man line is that “with great power comes great responsibility,” but it very much appears to apply here.  If you want to advocate for broad and expansive gun rights, there would seem also to be need to show that those rights will be used responsibly, reflectively, and thoughtfully, with a willingness to think about and seek to understand the complexity of your relationships with other people and other perspectives.  Democracy may very well involve freedom to own guns, but it also means the willingness to work to listen to and understand the other folks with whom one shares that democracy, even when their religions, backgrounds, and viewpoints differ from yours.

I want very much to include the folks expressing themselves through that “Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children” Facebook page in dialogue on how as a society we treat and/or legislate guns, but when I see what else is being expressed on the page, I’m not sure how to include them because there doesn’t appear to be the necessary reciprocation of inclusion.  So, then I think I could ignore these folks.  After all, there are ardent supporters of expansive gun rights who do seem willing to enter into legitimate and considerate discussion with other perspectives.  And I do think that the very hardline folks expressing themselves in such problematic ways at this “Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children” page are outnumbered significantly by more reflective folks of all sorts of positions.  Yet even that choice concerns me, and it does so because those folks on that “Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children” page seem to think that they are “good guys”—that their causes are right and that they have the right to defend themselves and their perspectives with their weapons.  When they’re combining their support of unrestricted gun rights in the name of defense with the articulation of the kinds of racist, anti-Muslim, Anglocentric stuff that I also see on that “Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children” page, I think I should be worried about how those folks will use their weapons and whom they will use them against.  And feeling like they are being ignored seems like it could fuel their fire, as they would insist that they must rebel and overthrow what they see as tyranny, even as they are unwilling to examine the forms of tyranny that they themselves espouse.

Think I’m overreacting to what I see on this Facebook page?  I hope you’re right.  Again, I want even the most ardent supporters of unrestricted gun rights to be involved in dialogue about guns and other weapons.  But go and look at some of the comments on the webpage about what folks expressing themselves there want to do to Muslims, Arabs, “illegal immigrants,” and folks who don’t speak English.  It is, to put it mildly, seriously misguided.  It is also quite troubling.

Oh Yeah ... Well, My Dad Can Hit a 1 Iron!

Every year, the final round of the U.S. Open men’s golf tournament is played on Father’s Day, and every year I roll my eyes when television announcers for the event make reference to how fitting it is or would be for someone to win because of some connection of that golfer to fatherhood.  I roll my eyes because it’s typically offered with a tone of serendipity even though it’s not serendipitous at all because the tournament’s final round is held on Father’s Day every year.  Yet, this year as I watch coverage of the event as I usually do, I’m recognizing a Father’s Day connection of my own that’s not so planned.

 

This year’s tournament is held at the Merion Golf Club, just outside of Philadelphia, and coverage of the event has featured, as coverage always does, pieces that discuss the history of the course that is hosting the tournament.  For Merion, the 1950 U.S. Open that it hosted figures prominently in course history.  Ben Hogan won the event less than a year and a half after a horrific automobile accident that almost killed him and that left doctors suggesting that Hogan might never play golf again.  Hogan’s shot with a 1 iron on the last hole of the championship became one of golf’s iconic shots—so iconic that a plaque on the golf course commemorates the shot.  In coverage of the event today, NBC ran a piece that looks at that shot and at the legacy of the club that Hogan used—a 1 iron.

 

As NBC’s piece noted, 1 iron clubs are difficult to find, and they’re difficult to find because most golfers struggle to use them.  One of golf’s all-time greats, Lee Trevino, is quoted, after being hit by lightning on a course once, as saying that next time he played during a storm he would just hold up a 1 iron because “even God can’t hit a 1 iron.”  Yet, Ben Hogan could hit a 1 iron, and that’s just one thing that contributes to Hogan’s legacy.  Hogan is tied with Gary Player for fourth on the list of most men’s major championships won, with nine.  (Jack Nicklaus has 18, Tiger Woods has 14, and Walter Hagen has 11.)  He’s one of only five players (with Nicklaus, Player, Woods, and Gene Sarazen) to win each of golf’s four major championships—the Masters, the U.S. Open, the British Open, and the PGA Championship—at least once.  And he did that having only played the British Open once – in 1953, when he won it.  He also won the Masters and the U.S. Open that year, and he perhaps would have become the only golfer to win all four majors in one year, but because of overlap with the British Open at that time, he couldn’t play in the PGA Championship.

 

As much as Hogan is known for these career achievements, he’s also well known for his work ethic.  That work ethic involves accounts of the calluses that formed on his hands from so much practice, stories of golfers awoken in hotel rooms in the wee hours of the morning by the sound of Hogan practicing in the room next door, and the legend of how Hogan could tell you on which groove on a golf club he had hit a ball during a stroke.  That dedicated work ethic has led me to admire Hogan perhaps more than any other golfer.  I developed that admiration shortly after Hogan’s death in 1997 when, after hearing reports about him, I read Curt Sampson’s biography of Hogan, which continues to sit on my bookshelf in my office.  Though I have to give a nod to Nicklaus’ achievements, and though Woods and Hagen have also more majors, I’d likely make Hogan my choice as the best male golfer ever.  So, when stories of Hogan’s 1 iron in 1950 accompany the return of the U.S. Open to Merion, they resonate intensely with my golf fandom, and I owe that to my dad.

 

My dad has been a routine golfer for over 40 years.  He played for a while on the Suffolk County Community College team in the early 1970s, and he continues to play golf to this day, including a round this very weekend with my brother.  Though I don’t play very often, I really enjoy golf, and I watch it regularly on television.  I rarely miss watching the U.S. Open or the British Open, and I enjoy having weekly tournaments on my television in the background as I work on other things.

 

In the mid-1990s, around the same time that I developed my interested in Hogan, my dad gave me his old clubs, and while a graduate student at Michigan State University, I went through the period of perhaps the most golfing I had done in my life.  Mind you, this wasn’t anywhere near what avid golfers do, but it was more of a commitment than at any other time in my life.

 

A number of years later, after I had moved to Arizona, my dad came to visit, and on his visit he asked if he could have one of his clubs back.  It was a Ping 1 iron that had served him well over the years and that he missed having in his contemporary bag.  Since I wasn’t golfing all that much—though more than I do now—I gladly returned it to him, and he was happy to have it back.

 

Unfortunately, he hadn’t even had it back for a couple of days when he accidentally left it on the ground at a hole while playing a course in Arizona.  When he went back to look for it, he couldn’t find it.  His wonderful 1 iron was now irretrievably gone.

 

A few years later, my wife and I found a reasonable price on eBay for a Ping 1 iron like the one my dad had had, and we gave it to him for Christmas that year.  It’s probably one of the best gifts I’ve ever given my dad, and he still uses it today.

 

So, as I watch the U.S Open at Merion Golf Club on this Father’s Day, I’m reminded of my dad.  My dad is largely responsible for the love of golf that has me watching today.  And just like Ben Hogan did at the 72nd hole of the U.S. Open at Merion less than two months before my dad was born, my dad can hit a 1 iron.

The Hot 100 and Me

Exactly 25 years ago, I got my first copy of Billboard magazine, which featured charts for the week ending May 21, 1988.  That week, Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine resided at number 1 on the Hot 100 singles chart for a second week with "Anything For You."  One of my favorite songs of the time, George Michael's "One More Try," occupied the number 2 spot, poised to take over at number one the following week.  And down one notch to number 3, yet retaining its bullet, was Johnny Hates Jazz with "Shattered Dreams."  As Chart Beat told me in that issue, "Shattered Dreams" was the first song in some time to fall yet retain a bullet, which is the symbol used on the chart to mark singles that have the highest airplay and sales gains for the week.  Falling and retaining a bullet would become more commonplace in the 1990s, after chart methodology changed in 1991, but in 1988, it remained a rare occurrence.

Throughout the next year or so, I would periodically pick up an issue of Billboard every several weeks.  It was a little too expensive to buy every week, but I still wanted to keep track of more than what Casey Kasem offered on the radio on American Top 40 every weekend.  By the summer of 1989, though, I had taken the plunge and purchased a subscription.  At around a couple hundred dollars for the year, that was a pricey item for a 16-year-old high school student, yet I saw it as a worthwhile expenditure.  For three years -- until I finally let my yearly subscription lapse in 1992 -- I anxiously anticipated receiving the magazine in the mail, and I pored over the charts, especially the Hot 100, keeping precise track of the chart movement of all songs that hit the Top 15 and keeping my eye on the rest of the songs on the chart as well.  By August 1989, I had begun my own weekly chart -- a make-believe chart based on my favorite popular music hits -- originally consisting of my top 25 songs, though after just a few months taking a Top 30 chart form.  I would continue that practice until the spring of 1998, at which time my interests and the world of pop music had diverged enough that I saw value in ceasing the practice.

Over that decade between my first issue of Billboard and the end of my own chart, I had invested myself in the Hot 100 in additional ways.  My Honors thesis during the Spring 1994 semester at Bowling Green State University examined changes in the Hot 100 based on the 1991 methodology modification.  I looked at how the new methodology significantly altered song movement up and down the chart.  That paper stemmed from work I had done for a Summer 1992 Sociology course on Popular Music and Society that became the first paper I delivered at an academic conference -- "Achy Breaky Chart:  Changes in Billboard's Hot 100 Chart," which I delivered at the Midwest Popular Culture Association Annual Meeting in Indianapolis in October 1992.  A year later, at the Midwest Popular Culture Association Annual Meeting in East Lansing, Michigan, I would deliver a second paper -- "Achy Breaky II:  More Changes in Billboard's Hot 100 Chart" -- that focused on genre implications of the methodological change.

These research projects reflected the interest in studying popular music that was fundamental in directing me to the study of popular culture.  In more recent years, I've focused more on other aspects of popular culture, particularly sports, and my interest in popular music has veered away from chart analysis, as reflected in my co-edited book on the interpretation and significance of Don McLean's "American Pie."  Yet, the draw toward diligently following Billboard's Hot 100 chart played a very significant role in my development as a person and as a scholar.  That makes this a particularly important 25th anniversary.

A Majestic Message

My wife is a big fan of the television program The Walking Dead, and while I don't watch it regularly, I did watch its first season, and I'm not opposed to going to events connected to it. So, a couple of months ago, when tickets went on sale for "The Walking Dead Live: An Evening with the Cast & Creators of the Hit Show" at the State Theatre in Playhouse Square in Cleveland, I purchased two.  A little less than three weeks ago -- on February 14 -- the event occurred, and my wife and I attended.

Originally, the event was billed with appearances by executive producer Greg Nicotero as well as three actors from the show:  Lauren Cohan (who plays Maggie), Steven Yeun (who plays Glenn), and Norman Reedus (who plays Daryl).  In the end, Nicotero and Cohan made it, but Yeun was replaced by Michael Booker (who plays Merle), and Reedus was replaced by Laurie Holden (who plays Andrea).  I don't believe my wife was alone in her disappointment that Reedus didn't make it.  Audience reactions at the event -- in addition to, among other things, a particular Time Warner Cable commercial -- suggested that Daryl is one of the more popular characters from the show.  Meanwhile, audience reactions at the event also clearly demonstrated that, though one of the show's original characters, Holden's character, Andrea, is one of the less liked characters on the show.

Yet, in the end, in Cleveland I think Holden stole the show.

For the first half of the event, the four members of the cast and crew talked about the show with Cleveland radio personality Alan Cox.  Then, for the second half, the event opened up for audience questions for Nicotero and the three actors.  Amid all of this, Nicotero offered a lot of useful commentary on the making of the show, and Cohan chimed in likewise, though she seemed to participate less often.  Perhaps Cohan's smaller amount of participation can be explained by Nicotero's tendency to dominate conversation and by Rooker's performance.  While Rooker did have a few poignant moments, such as his last set of comments in which he eloquently explained the tremendous role that grief plays as the backdrop for the show, Rooker spent a lot of time goofing off during the event, which was funny the first couple of times but then seemed to detract from the more insightful discussion that could have been had.

Meanwhile, Holden's participation seemed a bit understated as well (perhaps for the same reasons as Cohan's was), but she produced arguably the best moments of the event.  First, with the audience clearly against such a defense, she was asked to defend her character Andrea's actions -- the very actions that have incurred the wrath of fans of the show upon the character.  Holden's defense was masterful.  By the time she had completed it, I felt quite a new appreciation for her character and why her character has taken the actions that she has.

Additionally, when a couple of young women who stated they are aspiring actresses asked the question that I'm sure actors tire of answering -- "What advice would you give to aspiring actors?" -- Holden took the lead with her answer of "get an education."  She proceeded to explain -- and I'm paraphrasing here -- how higher education broadens one's horizons and allows one to see the kinds of various perspectives that are useful as an actor for understanding and taking on various roles.

Of course, as an educator in the humanities at an institution of higher learning, this was music to my ears.  I think, though, Holden's advice was made all the more powerful by its coupling with her defense of her character.  She not only offered the advice; she modeled it by providing a compelling defense of the actions of her character to an audience that was already set against that character.

Many folks know of Holden as an actor from her recurring role on The X-Files -- a reference that was made during the The Walking Dead event in Cleveland, and a reference that Holden expressed gratitude that some fans knew.  Before The Walking Dead, I knew Holden best from her performance as Adele Stanton, the love interest of Jim Carrey's main character Peter Appleton in the film The Majestic.  I very much enjoyed The Majestic when I saw it, and I very much enjoyed Holden's performance at "The Walking Dead Live: An Evening with the Cast & Creators of the Hit Show" on February 14.  I'm very grateful for Holden's comments about education, and I'm impressed by how well she embodied those comments in what else she said that night.  When I do watch The Walking Dead, I will do so with much more of an eye toward understanding Holden's character of Andrea, and when I see Holden in any performance, I will do so with an eye toward acknowledging the sincerity and intelligence of her craft.   I'll also do so with a profound thankfulness for her public acknowledgement of the value of the humanistic components of higher education.

My Hypothetical 2013 MLB Hall of Fame Ballot

Results of Major League Baseball's Hall of Faming voting are scheduled to be announced tomorrow, and just like each of the past few years, I'm posting here my hypothetical Hall of Fame ballot.  In other words, if I had a vote, for whom would I vote.  If you've read any of those posts, you know that I have a rather inclusive set of standards for the Hall of Fame -- I'd assume among the more inclusive you will find.  So, consistently, I would want to vote for more than the 10 players to which one is limited.  Given the additions to the ballot this year, that limitation becomes even more pronounced, as I will demonstrate momentarily, and as Jayson Stark has noted and Jim Caple has discussed more specifically and fully.

So, to begin, let's revisit the ballot from a year ago.  Last year, the 10 names I would have chosen were Mark McGwire, Rafael Palmeiro, Fred McGriff,  Barry Larkin, Tim Raines, Jeff Bagwell, Jack Morris, Dale Murphy, Lee Smith, and Alan Trammell.  Had I had the option to vote for more than 10, I also would have included Larry Walker, Don Mattingly, Juan Gonzalez, Edgar Martinez, Bernie Williams, and Ruben Sierra.

Of those names, Larkin was elected last year, while Juan Gonzalez and Ruben Sierra failed to garner at least five percent of the vote on last year's ballot, so each is now removed from the ballot.  The other 13 remain, and they are joined by 24 new players who have reached eligibility.  The newly eligible players include a long list of heavyweights, such as Craig Biggio, Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Mike Piazza, Curt Schilling, and Sammy Sosa.  To me, all six of those players belong, and the only one about whom I might even entertain doubts Schilling, though those doubts would be very slight, as I looked at his case a few years ago and determined that I found him worthy.

So, I'm adding six names to a ballot that would already have nine holdovers, and that's not even counting the other four I would have liked to have included last year as well as others new to this year's ballot whom I would like to include but for whom I know I wouldn't have room.  In other words, if there was ever a case for the 10-player limit being a problem, this year seems to show it.  I fear a few players who might otherwise have garnered five percent of the vote will fall off the ballot and thus lose eligibility (until they become eligible for the veterans' committee years from now or until the rules change), simply because of the numbers game.  And that is a problem, because while some might say a 10-player limit is good because it forces folks to make difficult decisions, I would argue that it excludes some views of what constitutes a Hall of Famer, like my view, and I would think that the point of having hundreds of voters is that among them we would find a smattering of different philosophies that, put together, create a consensus.  When some philosophies are already excluded, though they needn't be, we fail in gaining an adequate consensus. You know, it's kind of like how democracy is supposed to work ...

All of that said, then, if I had a ballot and, regretfully, could only vote for 10 players, this would, in rough order of my sense of their worthiness for induction, be my ballot:

Barry Bonds
Roger Clemens
Craig Biggio
Mike Piazza
Mark McGwire
Sammy Sosa
Rafael Palmeiro
Fred McGriff
Tim Raines
Jeff Bagwell

Perhaps you may have already noticed that despite the fact that I mentioned earlier that I have determined Curt Schilling quite worthy, he's not on that list.  Simply put, there isn't room, and I couldn't justify him over any of the 10 names I've given, and there you go.  Someone I feel is very strongly worthy of induction would not even make my ballot.

Schilling would be number 11 on my list.  Numbers 12 and 13 are a bit heartbreaking, as number 12 Jack Morris came close last year and is in his next-to-last year of eligibility, and number 13 Dale Murphy is in his last year of eligibility.  Meanwhile, I would continue to want to vote for Lee Smith, Alan Trammell, Larry Walker, Don Mattingly, Edgar Martinez, and Bernie Williams, in roughly that order.  I now stand at 19 players for whom I would want to vote, and I still need to cover the remaining newly eligible players.

Among such players, the name that most jumps out at me is Kenny Lofton.  He's not a no- or little-doubter like the other six newly eligible players I've mentioned, but a look at his career numbers moves him quite comfortably onto the list of players for whom I'd want to vote, probably at number 14, right behind Dale Murphy.  So, that gives me 20 for whom I'd want to vote, with 17 more players to consider.

Among those remaining 17, two players who amassed more than 2,500 hits and whose resumes look otherwise good are Steve Finley and Julio Franco.  I'd put both of them in rather readily, and then we get to the hard part, and for that, I'd like to say that I erred a couple of years ago.  For the 2011 ballot, I indicated that Kevin Brown would be the first player off my list.  Soon thereafter, I changed my mind on that choice, and in retrospect, I think he belongs.  I say this now because in the end I think that Kevin Brown had a better career than the next player I'm considering, whose pitching career overlapped with Brown's quite a bit:  David Wells.  Wells for me is a very borderline case.  In a lot of ways, his career statistics aren't that far from those of Jack Morris, though I think things like more wins and lower ERA, among other factors, make Morris better, so I don't want to say Wells has as good of a case as Morris.  (For a glance at some of these stats as well as stats for everyone on this year's ballot, see here.)  In the end, the strongest things Wells has going for him are his 239 wins, his perfect game, and his persona.  I think it's just enough, though just barely, which puts me at a total of 23 players for my ballot.

The first one off the list this year is Reggie Sanders, who has some intriguing elements to his resume.  For instance, he's one of only a handful of players who both hit 300 home runs and stole 300 bases.  However, he barely crossed both of those plateaus, and with less than 1,700 hits and a batting average of .267, he doesn't make it.

Nor does Shawn Green, who inched over 2,000 hits (2,003 to be exact), drove in 1,070 runs, and hit more than 300 home runs in his career, all of which provided some basis for consideration but didn't add up to enough to make my list.

Sandy Alomar, Royce Clayton, Jeff Conine, and Ryan Klesko all also had resumes that provided the basis for a little bit of consideration.  So, too, did a trio of relievers -- Roberto Hernandez, Jose Mesa, and Mike Stanton -- who all had some interesting numbers and careers and for whom I did want to make an effort to consider because in general I think relievers are too easily overlooked and because in this particular case all three rank among the top 15 in MLB history in appearances, with Stanton second only to Jesse Orosco on that list.  Yet, in the end, none seemed to warrant inclusion.

Meanwhile, though I did glance at their statistics, Jeff Cirillo, Aaron Sele, Todd Walker, Rondell White, and Woody Williams received only very brief consideration before not making my list.

So, in all, though I could only vote for ten players (and, of course, I can't actually vote for any), I would want to vote for 23 if I had a Major League Baseball Hall of Fame ballot.

Stressing Education

Apparently, some folks at CNBC have come to the conclusion that being a university professor is the least stressful job heading into the year 2013.  As the piece that reaches this conclusion explains, "If you look at the criteria for stressful jobs, things like working under deadlines, physical demands of the job, environmental conditions hazards, is your life at risk, are you responsible for the life of someone else, they rank like 'zero' on pretty much all of them! ... Plus, they're in total control. They teach as many classes as they want and what they want to teach. They tell the students what to do and reign over the classroom. They are the managers of their own stress level."

As someone who is a university professor and who has had other jobs, I can say that this is ludicrous, and it's made even more ludicrous by the inaccuracies in the description.  I don't get to "teach as many classes as [I] want."  While I do have some input into what I will teach, I do not get to teach whatever I want.  I do not "reign over the classroom"; I do set rules, but I'm also obligated to follow rules set up by my university and college, and I don't simply "tell the students what to do." 

Meanwhile, the piece's stated "criteria for stressful jobs" appear to have been applied inadequately to my job.  I have plenty of deadlines, so I'm not sure where that comes from.  While, yes, I don't do heavy lifting or other tasks often designated as "physical demands" for hours on end, there are physical demands in my job that often go overlooked (until, for instance, as happened to me a couple of years ago, one develops back pain that lingers several months after a session of sitting at one's desk grading papers ... to meet a deadline, by the way ...)  In terms of environmental hazards, between 2007 and 2012, my campus office was in a building that suffered and continues to suffer from strong, persistent mold problems.  Perhaps you might think that's an anomaly, but then we might look around the country at the number of faculty members with offices in buildings in various states of disrepair while universities build sports facilities, new amenities, and other structures servicing non-academic priorities.

I could go on, and other have, such as this blog post that addresses CNBC's claim.  I also want to be clear, as I'm sure that I have to be, that I am not complaining.  I'm not suggesting that I don't like my job and that I wish I was doing something else.  Not at all.  Rather, I am attempting to suggest the inaccuracies of the assumptions that appear to have contributed to this CNBC piece, and I am attempting to challenge the misperceptions that might accompany such assumptions.

And it's on that level of misperceptions that I want to focus a little more fully, with a goal of suggesting what this might demonstrate about how teaching is popularly represented in American culture.  Namely, one of the criteria mentioned in this piece is being "responsible for the life of someone else," with the indication in the piece that this criterion applies little, if at all, to university professors.  I assume that this means that university professors aren't associated with saving or protecting lives in crisis moments.  For instance, if I were an EMT who responds to an automobile accident or a fire fighter who rescues people from a burning building, I'd then rank high for this criterion.  There is a difficulty in that connection.  After all, haven't many teachers faced situations in which we have been in a position to respond to students needed counseling, and we have directed them to the appropriate entities at our institutions to do so?  Maybe there's a qualitative and/or quantitative difference between that and the EMT/fire fighter examples, but my question does still seem worth noting.

Meanwhile, the context of "responsible for the life of someone else" seems even more worthy of note.  Even as we hear consistent calls for "accountability" in education -- calls that often get answered by approaches that demonstrate inadequate senses of what education entails (you know, stuff like No Child Left Behind and Race to the Top) -- we continue to malign and devalue what teachers do.  When they seek to have some control over their working conditions and the standards by which they are evaluated, they are often portrayed as lazy miscreants hoping to live scot-free off others' money.  In prominent discussions of national security, tons of emphasis is placed on building weapons and using surveillance technologies, without real consideration of how better education systems might lead to a better and more secure society.  Recent discussions on guns in schools include proposals to arm teachers, put armed guards in schools, and the like, without adequate focus on helping our educational institutions have the means by which to help individuals of all sorts work within society rather than against it.

Hell, one of the most prevailing public perceptions is that teachers don't even do anything.  After all, as the saying goes, "those who can, do; those who can't, teach."  (And don't get me started on the problems of that particular bromide.)

What I'm getting at is that the CNBC piece suffers from what I think is a larger cultural problem in regard to education.  Rather than seeing education as vital to society -- as something that not only affects peoples lives, but does so in profound ways -- this piece, like so many other elements of contemporary U.S. culture, reflects a sense of education as a sort of easygoing, unstructured relatively low-impact set of exercises that might have a bit of value, but whose value is largely marginal.  Yet, education can do and mean so much more than that, and when we really invest ourselves in the process of educating, that meaning becomes so much more profound ... and, concurrently, so much more stressful.  After all, it now means something.  Why wouldn't it be stressful?

Perhaps there are university professors out there for whom this is a rather stress-free existence, but then again, there are likely EMTs, fire fighters, entrepreneurs, soldiers, athletes, appliance installers, and so on who fit that same bill.  Indeed, our culture is replete with examples of individuals in all kinds of fields -- even purportedly "stressful" fields -- who seem to have or take it easy in those fields.  Yet, for the many, many of us who take our jobs as university professors seriously, doing so also means quite a bit of stress.  How we structure a course might influence whether or not someone sees value in a field.  How we lead a discussion might help a student feel accepted and valued rather than marginalized.  How we offer comments on papers and how we cover course content might propel students to new insights and valuable connections or at least toward pursuing paths that might lead them to such insights and connections.

This can be -- and is -- wonderful, inspiring, rewarding, and all of those things, but in investing oneself into it in order to make that happen, one also realizes how much more it matters, and that means one acknowledges so much more the responsibilities one has in connection with the lives of others.  That, then, means stress.  And just as it seems so easy in contemporary U.S. society to recognize as leadership (rather than complaint) the soldier, the police officer, or the small business owner who acknowledges the stress of what he or she does, maybe it's time to do an even deeper job of recognizing the same about people who teach.  Unfortunately, this CNBC piece does just the opposite.