I haven't seen it yet, and might not have the temperament to sit through it when I have the chance. It is a sports documentary produced primarily by Jalen Rose of ESPN, who, along with Chris Weber, Juwan Howard, Jimmy King and Ray Jackson made up Michigan's famous 'Fab 5.' The Fab 5 (self-titled) represented one of the best recruiting classes in the history of NCAA basketball, if not the best.
Their fame came in large part from the way their respective styles influenced the game. They credit themselves with the advent of baggy shorts, trash-talking, shaved heads, black socks, hip-hop music in the locker room, and an air of indifference to their coaching. They were the self-appointed and self-anointed 'bad boys' of college hoops.
Of course, you can't be a bad ass bad boy unless you are calling someone a 'bitch' or an 'Uncle Tom', which is precisely what Rose did in the lead up interviews to the airing of the film. The targets for his assault were, naturally, the Duke players the Fab 5 faced in the early nineties, in particular, Christian Laettner, Bobby Hurley and Grant Hill. I have always had a problem with Duke Haters who know almost nothing about college basketball, but an even bigger problem with those who try to settle athletic contests verbally, as well as those who engage in 'blacker-than-thou' arguments. So Krzyzewski didn't recruit in the urban areas? Wrong again: Coach K does not suffer punks and jerks. If you aren't coachable, you don't get to play at Cameron Indoor Stadium.
Unlike their counterparts from Michigan, the Duke players held their tongues, and proceeded to kick the asses of the Fab 5, not once, not twice, but three times, the sweetest of which was a 71-51 shellacking for the national title in 1992. The following year, Chris Weber (who evidently had the good sense to distance himself from the documentary) committed what was possibly the most bone-headed mistake in March Madness history, costing himself and his team another national title in a contest against North Carolina.
I can't help but wonder about the relationship of the Self-congratulating Bad Boys of Michigan to a more recent image of Lebron James and his teammates weeping in the Miami Heat locker room after a fifth straight loss weeks after they threw themselves a victory celebration before the season began and had even played a game.
Call me old-fashioned but I do miss the days where the rule of thumb was "shut up, play hard, win, and,when you cut down the nets, talk all you want."
Monday, March 14, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Home to Roost at NPR
Despite an occasional ear to Car Talk, Prairie Home Companion, and Fresh Air, I stopped listening to National Public Radio several years ago. I quit because I was ... offended, something not easy to accomplish with me.
I was just south of Washington D.C. in one of Harold Ives' Mack trucks listening to All Things Considered. That day ATC had Janet Huckabee on as a guest when the Huckabees were still the first family of Arkansas. The topic under discussion was the triple-wide trailer placed on the lawn of the Governor's Mansion while renovations where underway inside the house.
I can handle heavy doses of sarcasm and irony, but the preening condescension of the interviewer was too much. Within seconds of the start of the interview, Mrs. Huckabee knew that she had been trapped in a conversation intended to humiliate and embarrass her with the meanest of intentions, as well as to poke fun of Arkansans in general and to depict us as redneck trailerpark trash. The snobbery dripped off the radio. Although no fan of the Huckabees, I thought this was one of cruelest 'gotchas' I had ever witnessed.
For most of my life I wondered why my parents, both natives of rural Arkansas, would let me see James Bond movies but forbid me from watching The Beverly Hillbillies (we lived in Ohio at the time of the show's debut). Their unusual restriction came into clear focus.
Racism is only one face of prejudice in this country.
My sensitivity to this came in large part because through some cataclysmic changes in my life and my circumstances I got to see both sides of a socioeconomic fence that is surprisingly high. I left an insulated white-collar world where I got respect and consideration I perhaps did not deserve and entered a blue-collar world whose minions are treated, for the most parts, as idiots. Those who honored me as a guest in their homes and at their tables and in their pulpits were the same who would now scarcely even notice my existence unless the lettuce at the salad bar was not as fresh as it was last week or the chicken looked a little brownish at Fresh Market.
Juan Williams forsook the narrative for a few moments of candor and got fired from NPR. The great Bob Edwards was dismissed for reasons that perhaps are similar. Ron Schiller got his walking papers when he became the victim of another piece of gotcha journalism for espousing the kind of prejudice NPR is supposed to stand against - he kind of 'outprejudiced the prejudiced.' Vivian Schiller read the tea leaves and skedaddled.
I don't know what energizes the Tea Party although I hear all the talk about personal liberty, smaller government, blah, blah, blah ... . I suspect a great part of their impetus is far more visceral and much less political than it seems - there are a whole bunch of people in our society that are tired of being treated like fools because of their jobs, their neighborhoods and housing, and where (or whether) they went to school.
In spite of my personal problems with it, I am vehemently opposed to defunding National Public Radio. But condescension is a real pisser, and, in this case, the chickens are coming home to roost.
I was just south of Washington D.C. in one of Harold Ives' Mack trucks listening to All Things Considered. That day ATC had Janet Huckabee on as a guest when the Huckabees were still the first family of Arkansas. The topic under discussion was the triple-wide trailer placed on the lawn of the Governor's Mansion while renovations where underway inside the house.
I can handle heavy doses of sarcasm and irony, but the preening condescension of the interviewer was too much. Within seconds of the start of the interview, Mrs. Huckabee knew that she had been trapped in a conversation intended to humiliate and embarrass her with the meanest of intentions, as well as to poke fun of Arkansans in general and to depict us as redneck trailerpark trash. The snobbery dripped off the radio. Although no fan of the Huckabees, I thought this was one of cruelest 'gotchas' I had ever witnessed.
For most of my life I wondered why my parents, both natives of rural Arkansas, would let me see James Bond movies but forbid me from watching The Beverly Hillbillies (we lived in Ohio at the time of the show's debut). Their unusual restriction came into clear focus.
Racism is only one face of prejudice in this country.
My sensitivity to this came in large part because through some cataclysmic changes in my life and my circumstances I got to see both sides of a socioeconomic fence that is surprisingly high. I left an insulated white-collar world where I got respect and consideration I perhaps did not deserve and entered a blue-collar world whose minions are treated, for the most parts, as idiots. Those who honored me as a guest in their homes and at their tables and in their pulpits were the same who would now scarcely even notice my existence unless the lettuce at the salad bar was not as fresh as it was last week or the chicken looked a little brownish at Fresh Market.
Juan Williams forsook the narrative for a few moments of candor and got fired from NPR. The great Bob Edwards was dismissed for reasons that perhaps are similar. Ron Schiller got his walking papers when he became the victim of another piece of gotcha journalism for espousing the kind of prejudice NPR is supposed to stand against - he kind of 'outprejudiced the prejudiced.' Vivian Schiller read the tea leaves and skedaddled.
I don't know what energizes the Tea Party although I hear all the talk about personal liberty, smaller government, blah, blah, blah ... . I suspect a great part of their impetus is far more visceral and much less political than it seems - there are a whole bunch of people in our society that are tired of being treated like fools because of their jobs, their neighborhoods and housing, and where (or whether) they went to school.
In spite of my personal problems with it, I am vehemently opposed to defunding National Public Radio. But condescension is a real pisser, and, in this case, the chickens are coming home to roost.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
No Shirt, No Shoes, No Narrative, No Service
I rarely join in the Truckers Roundtable. The Truckers Roundtable is the group of drivers who sits at the restaurant counter and systematically go through a series of recitations. It is a narrative ritual with strict guidelines. Far more talking takes place than listening. Next time you're in a truck stop sit close to the counter and listen for a bit.
Often it begins with a story about how the driver cleverly outwitted a state trooper or a 'diesel bear' (a commercial vehicle enforcement officer). In this part of the narrative, the lawman is backed down either by the driver's superior knowledge of transportation law and court procedure or by sheer force of will and an awesome execution of crafty intelligence. Then the narrative moves into how brainless a dispatcher he has, what an asshole his boss is, how he has been cheated out of numerous opportunities and great loads, how hopeless 'the new breed' is (anyone who is starting out in the business), how everything from diesel prices to Boston traffic is Obama's fault, and how wonderful it was back in the day. I'm sure your workplace has similar narratives playing in the background.
I can't join the Roundtable because my narrative is all wrong. I drive for a great guy and have a wonderful dispatcher who does pretty much anything I want or need her to do. The cops with whom I have had dealings were, for the most part, good folks whose interest in the public good outweighed whatever ego issues they had to deal with. I remember what it was like starting out and how scary it was to face down rush hour traffic in Los Angeles for the first few times and how every time I tried to back up that damn trailer it wouldn't go anywhere close to where I wanted it to go. When I can I try to help, and when I can't I can at least shut my mouth and stay out the way. And, yes, I think Obama is a helluva president and a good leader in spite of the hysterical banshee cries from both left and right.
So I sit off to the side and eat my meal in solitude, check email, weather, routing and facebook on the laptop, and chat with Beth on the phone.
The groups we belong to, the churches we join, the parties with which we affiliate, the social networks we are part of - all these are defined and shaped by narratives - stories - which tell us who we are and where we come from and what we stand for and what is right and wrong and up and down, what is worth having and worth losing. Our narratives tell us how we got from there to here and where we may be headed next. Our narratives, although often unidentified, are at the heart of lives as families and persons.
Persons and institutions who can identify and adapt and modify their narratives survive and thrive. The ones who will not or cannot or do not don't. It is really kind of simple, but never easy. Change your story, change your life. The closer our narratives correspond to the real nature of our lives and our world, the better off we are, in the same way that a road map must accurately reflect the terrain to be any good.
Early last week Mike Huckabee went off the reservation for a moment and got off-narrative by saying some very complimentary things about the president and how he has handled the deluge of crises presented to him and his administration in the first two years of his term. But by late in the week, Huck was back on-narrative, that narrative being O.W.N.M.W. (Obama Wrong No Matter What). The president again was a mysterious, exotic 'Other,' somehow different from us real Americans, pro-Mau Mau uprising and anti-Boy Scouts of America. The Guv is no fool - he knows his fortunes as a politician and a broadcaster are tied to OWNMW, a narrative shared, interestingly, by those on both the far right and the far left.
Sticking to the narrative has made some people very powerful and very rich. It has turned the once clever and interesting into cowards and bullies, often with moronic results, including Newt's Patriotic Penis, Michelle Bachman's errie, trancelike recitations about Democratic malfeasance, NPR's bizarre dismissal of Juan Williams for committing the sin of candor, and the strong-armed institution of the right-wing agenda in Wisconsin disguised by the narrative of Budget Control. Say what you want about Boehner and McConnell and Walker - these guys are absolutely on narrative 24/7/365 and are unrelenting.
Before you indignantly remind me there is a similar narrative called O.R.N.M.W. (Obama Right No Matter What), I know... I know ... . Guilty as charged. That's not the point.
The point is this: slavish devotion to the narratives on either side of the spectrum has turned politics in this country into theater in which real discourse has vanished and we are left screaming at each other. The result is stalemate. The public is lost. The dominant narratives become calcified and dogmatic. Politics has always been a contact sport, but now it has become as clownish as WWE. Unfortunately real people with real needs are getting their teeth kicked in as the tangling narratives spill over into budget cutting measures which will accomplish exactly nothing.
Perhaps some new narratives are emerging. After the extremist narratives implode and their heralds make themselves obsolete through sheer ridiculousness (take a look at Glen Beck's declining market share, for example), better and stronger stuff will come out of the ashes. Every time Obama offers up a new narrative that is conciliatory, proactive and forward-looking, the pundits on left and right react like the panicked passengers in the movie 'Airplane!' when the stewardess tells them they have run out of coffee.
Maybe the next chief will get a better ear - maybe not. I sense we are all growing deaf to the dominant narratives, and scanning the landscape, hopefully, for new voices and new narratives, new ways of telling the story and framing our hopes and pointing us toward the future.
Often it begins with a story about how the driver cleverly outwitted a state trooper or a 'diesel bear' (a commercial vehicle enforcement officer). In this part of the narrative, the lawman is backed down either by the driver's superior knowledge of transportation law and court procedure or by sheer force of will and an awesome execution of crafty intelligence. Then the narrative moves into how brainless a dispatcher he has, what an asshole his boss is, how he has been cheated out of numerous opportunities and great loads, how hopeless 'the new breed' is (anyone who is starting out in the business), how everything from diesel prices to Boston traffic is Obama's fault, and how wonderful it was back in the day. I'm sure your workplace has similar narratives playing in the background.
I can't join the Roundtable because my narrative is all wrong. I drive for a great guy and have a wonderful dispatcher who does pretty much anything I want or need her to do. The cops with whom I have had dealings were, for the most part, good folks whose interest in the public good outweighed whatever ego issues they had to deal with. I remember what it was like starting out and how scary it was to face down rush hour traffic in Los Angeles for the first few times and how every time I tried to back up that damn trailer it wouldn't go anywhere close to where I wanted it to go. When I can I try to help, and when I can't I can at least shut my mouth and stay out the way. And, yes, I think Obama is a helluva president and a good leader in spite of the hysterical banshee cries from both left and right.
So I sit off to the side and eat my meal in solitude, check email, weather, routing and facebook on the laptop, and chat with Beth on the phone.
The groups we belong to, the churches we join, the parties with which we affiliate, the social networks we are part of - all these are defined and shaped by narratives - stories - which tell us who we are and where we come from and what we stand for and what is right and wrong and up and down, what is worth having and worth losing. Our narratives tell us how we got from there to here and where we may be headed next. Our narratives, although often unidentified, are at the heart of lives as families and persons.
Persons and institutions who can identify and adapt and modify their narratives survive and thrive. The ones who will not or cannot or do not don't. It is really kind of simple, but never easy. Change your story, change your life. The closer our narratives correspond to the real nature of our lives and our world, the better off we are, in the same way that a road map must accurately reflect the terrain to be any good.
Early last week Mike Huckabee went off the reservation for a moment and got off-narrative by saying some very complimentary things about the president and how he has handled the deluge of crises presented to him and his administration in the first two years of his term. But by late in the week, Huck was back on-narrative, that narrative being O.W.N.M.W. (Obama Wrong No Matter What). The president again was a mysterious, exotic 'Other,' somehow different from us real Americans, pro-Mau Mau uprising and anti-Boy Scouts of America. The Guv is no fool - he knows his fortunes as a politician and a broadcaster are tied to OWNMW, a narrative shared, interestingly, by those on both the far right and the far left.
Sticking to the narrative has made some people very powerful and very rich. It has turned the once clever and interesting into cowards and bullies, often with moronic results, including Newt's Patriotic Penis, Michelle Bachman's errie, trancelike recitations about Democratic malfeasance, NPR's bizarre dismissal of Juan Williams for committing the sin of candor, and the strong-armed institution of the right-wing agenda in Wisconsin disguised by the narrative of Budget Control. Say what you want about Boehner and McConnell and Walker - these guys are absolutely on narrative 24/7/365 and are unrelenting.
Before you indignantly remind me there is a similar narrative called O.R.N.M.W. (Obama Right No Matter What), I know... I know ... . Guilty as charged. That's not the point.
The point is this: slavish devotion to the narratives on either side of the spectrum has turned politics in this country into theater in which real discourse has vanished and we are left screaming at each other. The result is stalemate. The public is lost. The dominant narratives become calcified and dogmatic. Politics has always been a contact sport, but now it has become as clownish as WWE. Unfortunately real people with real needs are getting their teeth kicked in as the tangling narratives spill over into budget cutting measures which will accomplish exactly nothing.
Perhaps some new narratives are emerging. After the extremist narratives implode and their heralds make themselves obsolete through sheer ridiculousness (take a look at Glen Beck's declining market share, for example), better and stronger stuff will come out of the ashes. Every time Obama offers up a new narrative that is conciliatory, proactive and forward-looking, the pundits on left and right react like the panicked passengers in the movie 'Airplane!' when the stewardess tells them they have run out of coffee.
Maybe the next chief will get a better ear - maybe not. I sense we are all growing deaf to the dominant narratives, and scanning the landscape, hopefully, for new voices and new narratives, new ways of telling the story and framing our hopes and pointing us toward the future.
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