If you've never heard this fine tune, it's the final song on Jethro Tull's "Aqualung," and it deals with the hypocrisy of people who wear their religion on their sleeves on Sunday ... but basically ignore it every other day of the week.
If you're looking one of the great social shifts in the United States of America in the 21st century, look no further than religion ... or, to be more specific, Christianity.
In 1966, John Lennon said the following: "Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink. I needn't argue about that; I'm right, and I will be proved right. We are more popular than Jesus now; I don't know which will go first -- rock'n'roll or Christianity. Jesus was all right, but his disciples were thick and ordinary. It's them twisting it that ruins it for me."
Now, it's quite possible that Lennon, since he was only 25 years old when he said these words, uttered them in a haze of human hubris. It's doubtful that Lennon had anywhere near the insight, at his age, and regardless of HOW much acid he'd ingested by then, to have been able to predict the controversy that religion has caused in this last decade.
In 1966, the western world was still predominantly, and smugly, Christian. People questioned it, sure. Time Magazine even had a cover story asking if God was dead. There have always been agnostics, athiests, and -- perhaps more important -- people who subscribed to other religions, and other forms of spirituality. But there is no doubt that, back in 1966, that people who argued against school prayer, for example, were clearly in the minority (and by school prayer, I think we can all agree that we were talking about Christian/Catholic school prayer).
I use 1966 is a point of demarkation here because that's the year Time asked if God was dead, and the year that Lennon said the Beatles were bigger than Jesus. Like most everything else about the '60s, attitudes about religion were being re-examined under a different microscope. Maybe, the examinations revealed, it wasn't such a good thing to marry government and religion as freely as we had in the precedingn decades. Maybe, the examination revealed, the first amendment that prohibited the establishment of a national religion REALLY meant that government couldn't coerce its citizens, either overtly or covertly, to subscribe to a specific religion ... and that MAYBE the umbrella under which the amendment protected religious freedom included the banning of school prayer in public schools.
Now, the more introspective Christians (and let's include Catholics here so we don't have to keep saying two words instead of one; Catholics often don't want to be associated with a lot of these right-wing nut Christian sects, even though they're not really bastions of liberalism themselves) among us understand this, and they're all right with it. They see that public schools in the United States, especially in the inner cities, are melting pots whose religions affiliations go in a thousand and one different directions.
The less introspective Christians (and thre are a TON of them!!!!) see this as an example of "Godless Communism."
Now, let's digress for a few minutes and discuss Godless Communism. And let me preface by saying that in no WAY to I think that came out of the Soviet Union after the Russian Revolution was in any way desirable, moral, or even workable (as history has ultimately proven). But I do understand the Soviet Unionn's feeling about religion. Christians don't like hearing this, but religion has been the cause of a lot of pain in this world, from the time of Christ all the way up to now. It causes divisions and rifts among people for no other reason than their chosen paths toward spiritual fulfillment, which is perhaps the WORST reason to divide people. At different times in world history, people have been slaughtered en masse because of religious differences, and the Christians are no less guilty of this -- over the long, long haul -- than the most radical Muslem.
So if the Soviets, in their effort to create a more balanced society, felt that religion unnecessarily divided people -- not to mention got them killed -- then it's certainly understandable. But all the Soviets really did, however, was create a state and it treated like a God, and that's really not much of a difference at all. You'd better not worship God, but you'd better worship the state. That's the worst kind of nationalism there is, and you can see where this system didn't even last through the end of the 20th century.
Back to the subject at hand. The Constitution prohibits the establishment of a national religion, but it doesn't say people cannot practice their religions -- either in their own homes or right out there in public. And while I can see the logic that causes citizens to complain about using public money to put a Christmas creche up in the town square, I cannot see the logic that allows them to complain, and picket, if a private enterprise wants to foot the bill for said creche. We still have religious freedom in this country, not to mention freedom of expression, and if the owner of a department store wants to pay to put a plastic Baby Jesus in a manger, and put it on the town common, well, don't be telling him he can't do it. That's going too far.
On the other hand, when some judge in Alabama, or Mississippi, wants to carve the 10 Commandments on a slate outside his courthouse, that's a not-so-tacit crossing of the line between church and state ... and CLEARLY must be prohibited. Whatever laws we deem to follow on this country, we follow because they're ethically inspired, not religiously inspired. And even if, oftentimes, they're one and the same, that's not the point.
Most of these arguments were in place, and very much in the field of play, when George W. Bush was elected president (well, to be more accurate, was handed the presidency by the U.S. Supreme Court), and brought his born-again philosophy to the White House. Under ordinary circumstances, the excessive tendencies of zealots were to be watched, for sure, but there were all probably deemed harmless in comparison to other issues that greeded the president in 2001.
But then came September 11, 2001. Everything changed. And among the great changes that swept across the country were attitudes toward religion. There were people who dug in, and saw this as the resurrection of an ancient battle between the Moslems and Christians (if you go to Wiki and look up Muhammad, it'll tell you that the Moslems consider themselves the purest form of God's teaching, and that all the rest of the religions are infidels). The more radical Moslems consider it their duty to weed out the infidels (a polite way, I suppose of saying "kill them,") so that the purity of Islam can flourish once again.
This is one attitude.
Others, and I kind of put myself in this boat, suggest that the purity of Islam has very little to do with what's happening, and that all of this terrorism is purely political, borne of the Moslem world's raging resentment over how it's been occupied and exploited by western powers for centuries. There's one thing about religious people that rings true again and again: the most zealous of them are gullible to ridiculous degrees. Tell them if they do this, or that, that they'll be saved for all eternity, and they're on board. Tell someone you're asking to martyr himself for a cause (that -- as any sensible person can see -- is more political and spiritual) that he'll be greeted by seven virgins in paradise, and if that's their ONLY formal education, they may buy into it.
I don't think the people who lead these terrorist cells are as devoutly religious as they are devoutly political. They use religion to twist people into doing their bidding for them the exact same way David Korech and Jim Jones did.
This is no big secret ... at least not to me. So when these hysterical people want to frame this debate as some monolithic religious struggle, I want to scream.
But there's been a curious backlash ... I think, anyway. And it's being borne out by reports, that just came out this week, that people are changing their religions more now than at any other time in U.S. history.
Why is this?
I think it's because for the first time in American history, we see the damaged, up close and personal, that radical religion can cause. There haven't been many times, in the history of this country, where religion has caused serious, historic tragedies. There have been the Jonestowns, and Wacos, and all of that, but these people have always been dismissed as the lunatic fringe. And while it's true ... they ARE the lunatic fringe ... we've always been able to smugly disassociate ourselves from the worst of it. That's not US. No WAY the local Episcopalian church at the corner would ever be on board for THAT. We need not worry. That'll never happen in Smalltown America.
Even after 9/11, as horrible as that was, we could at least say "that's those crazy Moslems. We should just carpet bomb every country over there and exterminate them. Then everything would be OK."
But would it?
I remember a few years ago when a soldier from Marblehead, Massachusetts was killed in Afghanistan, and this small sect called the Westboro Baptist Church, from Kansas, picketed his funeral because, to them, his death was God's way of punishing America for being tolerant of homosexuality.
It didn't surprise me that they picketed. it's America, and Lord knows there are crazies all over the place -- even in America. What bothered me was the stunning silence of more mainstream Christian groups who DIDN'T consider it their duty to set the record straight and say "hey, whoa! They don't represent ME, my CHURCH, or ANYTHING that I think and believe."
As they say, the silence was deafening.
Now, I thought it was every Christian's duty to set the record straight. And that really, really opened my eyes. There are times in this life when you have to set yourself apart from the thundering herd of Rhinoseri careening down the street (a tip of the cap to Eugene Ionnesco). And if there's that much hatred in this world, then if you consider yourself anywhere near a MORAL person, you have to stand up and be counted.
But fringe groups notwithstanding, there was the Roman Catholic pedophilia scandal in which the church was very slow to see what was happening, and even slower to respond. If one of the stated purposes of religion is to set the moral bar high, then how is that possible when your priests (or some of them, anyway) are molesting young boys and your organizational structure will not respond?
Finally, there's the 2004 election, in which the Republican party absolutely co-opted evangelicals all across America. It's one thing to be religious, and it's one thing to apply your religious beliefs to the way YOU live. But for a group of generally extremely right wing religious zealots is allowed to hold that much sway over a national election? That's downright scary.
So I think Americans now see religion with a much more cynical eye. I think people really, and finally, see why it's so important to keep religion out of government, and government out of religion.
Don't forget: the framers of the constitution were only a century and a half removed from persecuting "witches" in Salem, Massachusetts. They were only a century and a half of stockades, and other forms of public humiliation, for religious transgressions. They were only a century and a half of a puritan heritage that actually survives, in many quarters, TO THIS DAY.
There are all kinds of reasons to be concerned about the growing influence of the religious right in American politics, beginning with a general rush to judgment about how we live our lives up to, and including, hijacking Roe vs. Wade.
This examination is long overdue, as this is the single most unsettling development in this country's political history, probably, since the runup to the Civil War.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Make the break ... Bill Belichick must go
This is difficult. Bill Belichick is the author of perhaps the great run of success in Boston sports since Red Auerbach coached the Celtics to eight straight NBA championiships (and nine out of 10).
He's almost universally acknowledged, and rightfully so, as the National Football League's pre-eminent coach. The problem is, he's also almost universally acknowledged as the NFL's pre-eminent jerk.
Now, it's no big sin to be a jerk ... as long as you win. Red Auerbach wasn't exactly the most gracious winner in history either. Jeeezus, Red used to light up a cigar -- right there on the floor of the Boston Garden -- when he determined the game was over ... even if there was time left on the clock. Just that alone makes Belichick's one-second-early exit from the University of Phoenix Stadium in Glendale, Ariz., in Super Bowl XLII seem almost like a good will gesture by comparison.
Jerks abound in professional sports, and most of the time, the jerks coming out on the winning end of the final score. Just go through the list: Jimmy Johnson, Barry Switzer, Billy Martin, the aforementioned Auerbach, George Steinbrenner ... and that's just a small sampling. Until Herb Brooks coached the U.S. Olympic hockey team to a gold medal in 1980, he was a monumental jerk who, once, kept his team on the ice, skating up and down the ice, until everyone one of those kids was ready to vomit. And that was just after they'd played a game.
It's not such a good thing to be a jerk when you lose, however. Around here John McNamara springs to mind. Johnny Mac may have managed the Boston Red Sox to the 1986 pennant, but then Rich Gedman let the ball get past him, the next ball when through Bill Buckner's legs, and Sox suddenly became an international symbol for having a foreign object lodged in one's throat.
Johnny Mac never stopped being a jerk ... and he was fired a year and a half later. Good guy Joe Morgan took over and probably lasted a few seasons longer than he had a right to expect ... because he was the anti-jerk.
But name me a jerk ... from any era, any city, any sports, and I say Bill Belichick laps the field. Let's start with the obvious: Spygate. This is starting to sound like Roger Clemens (speaking of jerks) and steroids. Everything you hear is worse than the last thing you heard. I doubt Clemens has ever heard of Sir Walter Scott, but perhaps if he'd read a little bit by him he'd know the adage, "oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive."
Ditto Belichick. Way back in September, when this broke, Belichick -- if he had any sense of decency -- would have told NFL commissioner Roger Goodall "ok, you've got me," and taken his medicine. And that medicine should have been a suspension AND a fine.
If either Belichick or Goodall had acted with anything other sweeping this whole thing under the rug in their minds, we wouldn't be listening U.S. Senator Arlen Spector (what DO these people do all day long anyway??) treating this thing as if it's the Nuremberg Trials Redux.
(For that matter, had Clemens been equally forthcoming, he wouldn't have been dragged before Congress so that his stupidity could become an indelible entry into the Congressional record).
Now, if you believe the myriad of anonymous sources and apparent sleazeballs like Matt Walsh, there's so much illicit footage in the Patriots vaults they could make a miniseries out of it. By the time all this "spygate" drama truly unfolds, it's possible that all three Super Bowl victories could be irreparably tainted.
And while I couldn't care less about Belichick's reputation, I do care about Tom Brady's ... and Tedy Bruschi's ... and Adam Vinatieri's ... and Richard Seymour's ... and Mike Vrabel's ... and Rodney Harrison's (even if he DID use HGH ... at least he admitted it). They stand to get swept up in all of this too ... just by association.
"Spygate" is not my only grievance with Belichick (though it's certainly enough of one). He's also, quite simply, an embarrassment ... to himself and the organization he represents. The real tragedy here is that, apparently, he's a very intelligent, and very engaging person when he's among friends, and among people he trusts.
And that just makes his conduct in competitive moments even more puzzling.
I think we can all understand competition. I think we all understand that competitive people get into this "zone," where they're so totally focused that they allow nothing, or no one, to stand in their way.
And I admire that. I think it's great, for example, that David Ortiz can zone out 35,000 people screaming for him to get a hit and concentrate on his battle with the pitcher enough to be one of the best clutch hitters I've ever seen. I love the fact that Larry Bird could go into a hostile arena, with upwards to 18,000 people screaming at him, and sink the two game-winning free throws. And how can you not tip your hat to Brady et al. when they can go into a place like Pittsburgh, or Indianapolis, with all those crazy fans, and win.
But do you know what's greater about David Ortiz? When the Red Sox lose, and the game's over, he acts like a gentlemen. Larry Bird may not have enjoyed dissecting a game after the Celtics lost, but he did it ... and intelligently, too (this business about him being the hick from French Lick was so phony). Win or lose, Brady, Bruschi, and Harrison stand up and answer questionsn intelligently and civilly.
Even when the Patriots win, Belichick acts like you're trying to extract valuable information out of him. When they lose, he acts like Captain Queeg. You can almost see the ball bearings.
Well, you say, who cares about how he treats the news media? They're all out to rip him anyway, so why should he be civil to them? It's a point well taken. The media are frustrated when it comes to dealing with Belichick. It's not a very pleasant task. The media's job is to relay information to the fans who pay for tickets, buy merchandise, and whose interest in the team makes it worth what it is today.
There's no other way to get information. And while it's understandable that the Belichick doesn't want to give away the store, with regards to injuries, some of the questions he dodges, and the lengths to which he goes to dodge them, is absurd. And this was never more evident than it was last September when he flat-out refused to discuss the developing Spygate story.
Excuse me, Coach, but you don't get to make that decision. If you don't want to discuss the severity of Brady's ankle sprain (which was probably way worse than anyone let on, judging by the way he played in the Super Bowl), that's fine. But when you violate the rules and get caught -- especially by the guy who used to work for you (and, for all any of us know, did the dirty work himself back in the day) -- then you don't get to decide when the story's run its course. That's just arrogant.
But arrogant, thy name is Belichick. Let's talk about Eric Mangini. Apparently, Belichick didn't think Mangini was ready to coach in the NFL when the Jets approached him about taking the job. Well, isn't this just every office conflict that's ever come down the pipe? Isn't there always a boss, somewhere, who stands between you and advancement ... and for some ridiculous reason (such as "you're too valuable and I can't afford to lose you").
Right.
The difference between you and Mangini, though, is that Mangini got an offer he couldn't refuse. And he took it. The problem is that while all this was going on, the Patriots were getting ready for the 2005 playoffs -- where they lost in the second round to the Denver Broncos. Mangini, or so the rumors say, tried to talk to potential Patriots free agents on his way out the door ... another thing that chapped Bill's buttocks.
So now it's 2006, and you have to drag Mangini's name out of Belichick as if saying it will mean instant death. He refers to Mangini as "the Jets' coach." THEN, the Jets beat the Patriots in Foxborough and Belichick doesn't even shake Mangini's hand.
Now Lord knows, this is not a requirement. It's not in the list of "thou shalts and thou shalt nots" governing the conduct of NFL coaches (the way filming defensive signals from the sidelines is). But it is accepted protocol, and it's widely practiced. Allowing yourself to be seen as a churl, on national TV, indicates a remarkable lack of respect for your owner ... the guy who's paying you all this money (we'll get to Bob Kraft in a minute).
The coda to this story, of course, is that the Patriots beat the Jets in the playoffs, and Belichick, so anxious was he to be seen as the ultimate gracious winner, bowled over a photographer (shoved him out of the way, actually) so he could offer Mangini a hearty handshake.
If that's not irony, I don't know what is!
Let's cut to San Diego, where some of the Patriots players displayed an uncharacteristic lack of class and stomped on the Chargers' logo after upsetting them in the divisional round of the playoffs.
Afterward, LaDanian Tomlinson -- clearly upset and stunned by the loss -- said that the Patriots players probably got their lack of class from their coach. I can't see how he could have POSSIBLY made that connection, can you?
Let's talk about this season.
After Spygate broke, Belichick apparently saw as his mission to humiliate the entire NFL as a means of payback. Week after week, the team went out and bludgeoned a series of hapless opponents (well not all of them were hapless; the Redskins, 52-7 losers, actually made the playoffs; and the Browns came close). The only close game was the 24-20 come-from-behind win over the Colts.
And you have to ask: Was all that bludgeoning really necessary? Did it serve any useful purposes, other than to make the Patriots the most hated franchise in the NFL? Did it help establish them as a superior team? Or did it result in having a bull's eye painted on their backs?
Whatever the psychological ramifications of those bludgeonings were, the PR effect was disastrous. The Patriots were seen as bullies, and Belichick came across as Dr. Evil with a hoodie. Except that Dr. Evil was funny, and Belichick isn't.
By the time the season ended, and the Patriots finally got roughed up a little, there was an air of vulnerability to them. They absolutely limped to their 16-0 regular season record, seemingly getting worse instead of better ... as is the usual formula for success in the NFL. If there was ever a team ripe to being upset by a hungry, nasty and motivated team like the Giants, it was the Patriots.
This of course brings up another absolutely unlikeable Bill Belichick trait: Hubris. This man wrote the book (or, at least, he co-authored it with George W. Bush, who seems to have an overabundance of it himself).
Hubris is basically an unjustified belief in yourself. It is not hubris, for example, to say "I'm a good enough coach, or a good enough player, that I'm capable of going out there on any given Sunday and winning the game." Why play at all if you think you're going to lose?
It is hubris, on the other hand, to say "I can strip mine my team yearly, let go of valuable free agents, bring in lesser players and teach them MY system ... but it's MY system, and not the athletes, who have won these three Super Bowls."
After all Adam Vinatieri did for the franchise, why is he playing for the Indianapolis Colts? After all Deion Branch did for this franchise, why is he with the Seattle Seahawks?
If Adam Vinatieri was so expendable, why is that Belichick was afraid to have Stephen Gostkowski kick a field goal on a fourth-and-13, from the 31-yard line -- IN A DOMED STADIUM, no less -- that would have given the Patriots a 10-3 lead in a game where points had been non-existant since the first quarter? Do you think he'd have snubbed Vinatieri in that situation?
When Belichick allowed BOTH starting receivers to walk after the 2005 season, that spoke volumes about how he treats loyal players. I'm not talking about either Branch or Givens. I'm talking about Tom Brady, who gave money BACK to the team when he signed his last contract so it could sign talented players and stay within the salary cap.
Belichick rewarded him by taking away his two best receivers and then replacing them with the likes of Reche Caldwell. I can still see Caldwell dropping a pass that would have been a sure touchdown in the AFC championship game in Indianapolis. Just about everyone else on the field was in Ohio. That's how wide-open Caldwell was.
These are small transgressions, and, taken separately, they're certainly not grounds for dismissal. Coaches have to make personnel decisions every day, and they're not all going to be strokes of genius.
And there probably isn't a coach out there who hasn't acted like an ass at least once ... unless it's St. Tony Dungy (let's everyone pause for a minute and genuflect).
But Belichick's hubris, arrogance, blatant disregard for even common civility, and -- of course -- his spectacular disregard for the rules of the NFL -- add up to a man who has overstayed his welcome here. If I were Bob Kraft, I'd be embarrassed beyond words by this guy. Sure, he's won Kraft three Super Bowls, but he's also left a ton of wreckage in his wake. If we were talking economics here, he's reached the point of diminishing returns.
Because Belichick was much more interested in stonewalling, and since Goodall was equally interested in doing the same thing, this Spygate issue is not going to go away. It'll be like the drip, drip, drip of some bizarre water tortue drill (waterboarding in super-slow motion?).
And by the time it really explodes, Kraft may have no choice but to rid himself of the problem's head: Bill Belichick.
They all said Bobby Knight would ever get fired ... he did. The New York Yankees fired Billy Martin after he won a World Series. Woody Hayes was enabled by Ohio State so much that he apparently thought it was OK to punch an opposing player out after he'd intercepted a pass. That one got him canned.
Jerks whose surly behavior ultimately haunt their teams like a hulking ghost DO get shown the door. And perhaps it's time to point Bill Belichick in that general direction.
He's almost universally acknowledged, and rightfully so, as the National Football League's pre-eminent coach. The problem is, he's also almost universally acknowledged as the NFL's pre-eminent jerk.
Now, it's no big sin to be a jerk ... as long as you win. Red Auerbach wasn't exactly the most gracious winner in history either. Jeeezus, Red used to light up a cigar -- right there on the floor of the Boston Garden -- when he determined the game was over ... even if there was time left on the clock. Just that alone makes Belichick's one-second-early exit from the University of Phoenix Stadium in Glendale, Ariz., in Super Bowl XLII seem almost like a good will gesture by comparison.
Jerks abound in professional sports, and most of the time, the jerks coming out on the winning end of the final score. Just go through the list: Jimmy Johnson, Barry Switzer, Billy Martin, the aforementioned Auerbach, George Steinbrenner ... and that's just a small sampling. Until Herb Brooks coached the U.S. Olympic hockey team to a gold medal in 1980, he was a monumental jerk who, once, kept his team on the ice, skating up and down the ice, until everyone one of those kids was ready to vomit. And that was just after they'd played a game.
It's not such a good thing to be a jerk when you lose, however. Around here John McNamara springs to mind. Johnny Mac may have managed the Boston Red Sox to the 1986 pennant, but then Rich Gedman let the ball get past him, the next ball when through Bill Buckner's legs, and Sox suddenly became an international symbol for having a foreign object lodged in one's throat.
Johnny Mac never stopped being a jerk ... and he was fired a year and a half later. Good guy Joe Morgan took over and probably lasted a few seasons longer than he had a right to expect ... because he was the anti-jerk.
But name me a jerk ... from any era, any city, any sports, and I say Bill Belichick laps the field. Let's start with the obvious: Spygate. This is starting to sound like Roger Clemens (speaking of jerks) and steroids. Everything you hear is worse than the last thing you heard. I doubt Clemens has ever heard of Sir Walter Scott, but perhaps if he'd read a little bit by him he'd know the adage, "oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive."
Ditto Belichick. Way back in September, when this broke, Belichick -- if he had any sense of decency -- would have told NFL commissioner Roger Goodall "ok, you've got me," and taken his medicine. And that medicine should have been a suspension AND a fine.
If either Belichick or Goodall had acted with anything other sweeping this whole thing under the rug in their minds, we wouldn't be listening U.S. Senator Arlen Spector (what DO these people do all day long anyway??) treating this thing as if it's the Nuremberg Trials Redux.
(For that matter, had Clemens been equally forthcoming, he wouldn't have been dragged before Congress so that his stupidity could become an indelible entry into the Congressional record).
Now, if you believe the myriad of anonymous sources and apparent sleazeballs like Matt Walsh, there's so much illicit footage in the Patriots vaults they could make a miniseries out of it. By the time all this "spygate" drama truly unfolds, it's possible that all three Super Bowl victories could be irreparably tainted.
And while I couldn't care less about Belichick's reputation, I do care about Tom Brady's ... and Tedy Bruschi's ... and Adam Vinatieri's ... and Richard Seymour's ... and Mike Vrabel's ... and Rodney Harrison's (even if he DID use HGH ... at least he admitted it). They stand to get swept up in all of this too ... just by association.
"Spygate" is not my only grievance with Belichick (though it's certainly enough of one). He's also, quite simply, an embarrassment ... to himself and the organization he represents. The real tragedy here is that, apparently, he's a very intelligent, and very engaging person when he's among friends, and among people he trusts.
And that just makes his conduct in competitive moments even more puzzling.
I think we can all understand competition. I think we all understand that competitive people get into this "zone," where they're so totally focused that they allow nothing, or no one, to stand in their way.
And I admire that. I think it's great, for example, that David Ortiz can zone out 35,000 people screaming for him to get a hit and concentrate on his battle with the pitcher enough to be one of the best clutch hitters I've ever seen. I love the fact that Larry Bird could go into a hostile arena, with upwards to 18,000 people screaming at him, and sink the two game-winning free throws. And how can you not tip your hat to Brady et al. when they can go into a place like Pittsburgh, or Indianapolis, with all those crazy fans, and win.
But do you know what's greater about David Ortiz? When the Red Sox lose, and the game's over, he acts like a gentlemen. Larry Bird may not have enjoyed dissecting a game after the Celtics lost, but he did it ... and intelligently, too (this business about him being the hick from French Lick was so phony). Win or lose, Brady, Bruschi, and Harrison stand up and answer questionsn intelligently and civilly.
Even when the Patriots win, Belichick acts like you're trying to extract valuable information out of him. When they lose, he acts like Captain Queeg. You can almost see the ball bearings.
Well, you say, who cares about how he treats the news media? They're all out to rip him anyway, so why should he be civil to them? It's a point well taken. The media are frustrated when it comes to dealing with Belichick. It's not a very pleasant task. The media's job is to relay information to the fans who pay for tickets, buy merchandise, and whose interest in the team makes it worth what it is today.
There's no other way to get information. And while it's understandable that the Belichick doesn't want to give away the store, with regards to injuries, some of the questions he dodges, and the lengths to which he goes to dodge them, is absurd. And this was never more evident than it was last September when he flat-out refused to discuss the developing Spygate story.
Excuse me, Coach, but you don't get to make that decision. If you don't want to discuss the severity of Brady's ankle sprain (which was probably way worse than anyone let on, judging by the way he played in the Super Bowl), that's fine. But when you violate the rules and get caught -- especially by the guy who used to work for you (and, for all any of us know, did the dirty work himself back in the day) -- then you don't get to decide when the story's run its course. That's just arrogant.
But arrogant, thy name is Belichick. Let's talk about Eric Mangini. Apparently, Belichick didn't think Mangini was ready to coach in the NFL when the Jets approached him about taking the job. Well, isn't this just every office conflict that's ever come down the pipe? Isn't there always a boss, somewhere, who stands between you and advancement ... and for some ridiculous reason (such as "you're too valuable and I can't afford to lose you").
Right.
The difference between you and Mangini, though, is that Mangini got an offer he couldn't refuse. And he took it. The problem is that while all this was going on, the Patriots were getting ready for the 2005 playoffs -- where they lost in the second round to the Denver Broncos. Mangini, or so the rumors say, tried to talk to potential Patriots free agents on his way out the door ... another thing that chapped Bill's buttocks.
So now it's 2006, and you have to drag Mangini's name out of Belichick as if saying it will mean instant death. He refers to Mangini as "the Jets' coach." THEN, the Jets beat the Patriots in Foxborough and Belichick doesn't even shake Mangini's hand.
Now Lord knows, this is not a requirement. It's not in the list of "thou shalts and thou shalt nots" governing the conduct of NFL coaches (the way filming defensive signals from the sidelines is). But it is accepted protocol, and it's widely practiced. Allowing yourself to be seen as a churl, on national TV, indicates a remarkable lack of respect for your owner ... the guy who's paying you all this money (we'll get to Bob Kraft in a minute).
The coda to this story, of course, is that the Patriots beat the Jets in the playoffs, and Belichick, so anxious was he to be seen as the ultimate gracious winner, bowled over a photographer (shoved him out of the way, actually) so he could offer Mangini a hearty handshake.
If that's not irony, I don't know what is!
Let's cut to San Diego, where some of the Patriots players displayed an uncharacteristic lack of class and stomped on the Chargers' logo after upsetting them in the divisional round of the playoffs.
Afterward, LaDanian Tomlinson -- clearly upset and stunned by the loss -- said that the Patriots players probably got their lack of class from their coach. I can't see how he could have POSSIBLY made that connection, can you?
Let's talk about this season.
After Spygate broke, Belichick apparently saw as his mission to humiliate the entire NFL as a means of payback. Week after week, the team went out and bludgeoned a series of hapless opponents (well not all of them were hapless; the Redskins, 52-7 losers, actually made the playoffs; and the Browns came close). The only close game was the 24-20 come-from-behind win over the Colts.
And you have to ask: Was all that bludgeoning really necessary? Did it serve any useful purposes, other than to make the Patriots the most hated franchise in the NFL? Did it help establish them as a superior team? Or did it result in having a bull's eye painted on their backs?
Whatever the psychological ramifications of those bludgeonings were, the PR effect was disastrous. The Patriots were seen as bullies, and Belichick came across as Dr. Evil with a hoodie. Except that Dr. Evil was funny, and Belichick isn't.
By the time the season ended, and the Patriots finally got roughed up a little, there was an air of vulnerability to them. They absolutely limped to their 16-0 regular season record, seemingly getting worse instead of better ... as is the usual formula for success in the NFL. If there was ever a team ripe to being upset by a hungry, nasty and motivated team like the Giants, it was the Patriots.
This of course brings up another absolutely unlikeable Bill Belichick trait: Hubris. This man wrote the book (or, at least, he co-authored it with George W. Bush, who seems to have an overabundance of it himself).
Hubris is basically an unjustified belief in yourself. It is not hubris, for example, to say "I'm a good enough coach, or a good enough player, that I'm capable of going out there on any given Sunday and winning the game." Why play at all if you think you're going to lose?
It is hubris, on the other hand, to say "I can strip mine my team yearly, let go of valuable free agents, bring in lesser players and teach them MY system ... but it's MY system, and not the athletes, who have won these three Super Bowls."
After all Adam Vinatieri did for the franchise, why is he playing for the Indianapolis Colts? After all Deion Branch did for this franchise, why is he with the Seattle Seahawks?
If Adam Vinatieri was so expendable, why is that Belichick was afraid to have Stephen Gostkowski kick a field goal on a fourth-and-13, from the 31-yard line -- IN A DOMED STADIUM, no less -- that would have given the Patriots a 10-3 lead in a game where points had been non-existant since the first quarter? Do you think he'd have snubbed Vinatieri in that situation?
When Belichick allowed BOTH starting receivers to walk after the 2005 season, that spoke volumes about how he treats loyal players. I'm not talking about either Branch or Givens. I'm talking about Tom Brady, who gave money BACK to the team when he signed his last contract so it could sign talented players and stay within the salary cap.
Belichick rewarded him by taking away his two best receivers and then replacing them with the likes of Reche Caldwell. I can still see Caldwell dropping a pass that would have been a sure touchdown in the AFC championship game in Indianapolis. Just about everyone else on the field was in Ohio. That's how wide-open Caldwell was.
These are small transgressions, and, taken separately, they're certainly not grounds for dismissal. Coaches have to make personnel decisions every day, and they're not all going to be strokes of genius.
And there probably isn't a coach out there who hasn't acted like an ass at least once ... unless it's St. Tony Dungy (let's everyone pause for a minute and genuflect).
But Belichick's hubris, arrogance, blatant disregard for even common civility, and -- of course -- his spectacular disregard for the rules of the NFL -- add up to a man who has overstayed his welcome here. If I were Bob Kraft, I'd be embarrassed beyond words by this guy. Sure, he's won Kraft three Super Bowls, but he's also left a ton of wreckage in his wake. If we were talking economics here, he's reached the point of diminishing returns.
Because Belichick was much more interested in stonewalling, and since Goodall was equally interested in doing the same thing, this Spygate issue is not going to go away. It'll be like the drip, drip, drip of some bizarre water tortue drill (waterboarding in super-slow motion?).
And by the time it really explodes, Kraft may have no choice but to rid himself of the problem's head: Bill Belichick.
They all said Bobby Knight would ever get fired ... he did. The New York Yankees fired Billy Martin after he won a World Series. Woody Hayes was enabled by Ohio State so much that he apparently thought it was OK to punch an opposing player out after he'd intercepted a pass. That one got him canned.
Jerks whose surly behavior ultimately haunt their teams like a hulking ghost DO get shown the door. And perhaps it's time to point Bill Belichick in that general direction.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Let's hear it for February!
The conventional wisdom in New England is that February is the worst month of the year. It's cold, stormy, and even though it's the shortest month of the year, it seems to take the longest to complete.
I would disagree with that. For whatever reason, March seems longer; and January is much colder, and much darker. Actually, as months go, December is probably the toughest one on me emotionally because the days get inexorably darker, whereas once you hit January, and especially February, things lighten up.
But this essay is on February. And while everything everybody says is true ... it's cold, it's stormy, and all that ... there are also aspects about it that -- to me -- make it go by faster.
Some of these things are local; some are national, and some, believe it or not, are meteorological. But put them together, and you have a month with plenty to look forward to.
First, the local. The first two Mondays of February feature the Beanpot Hockey Tournament. This is one of those parochial, local events that pits Boston's four Division 1 colleges -- Boston College, Boston University, Harvard and Northeastern -- against each other for the city championiship.
On one hand, the Beanpot has been a constant bane of my existance. I went to Northeastern (graduated in 1976) and while I was there, we never won it. In fact, we didn't win it for the first time since 1980 when Wayne Turner scored an overtime goal to beat BC. We won it three more times in the 80s (the last championship being in 1988) and haven't won it since.
Usually, Boston College or Boston University (mostly BU) win it. Now, before I go one, what -- you may ask -- is the difference between BC and BU? One's Catholic and one's not. That would appear to be it. They're both private institutions, both cost a fortune, and both award doctorates.
BC is, at the moment, the largest Catholic institution of higher learning in the United States. That is correct. It even has Notre Dame beat. There are two very large, and very prestigious, Catholic colleges in Massachusetts: BC and Holy Cross, which is in Worcester. Holy Cross is older, and at the time BC was established, Holy Cross was considered a school for elites while BC catered to the sons and daughters of Irish immigrants.
That's certainly not the case today. BC is every bit as elitist as Holy Cross. They're both extremely difficult to get into, and if you graduate from either institute, you're set for life unless you're the world's biggest moron. As with Harvard, you reap the benefits of at BC or Holy Cross education for the networking that results from it, if not the actual LEARNING.
Boston College is also an athletic factory -- at least in comparison to the other three. Actually, in comparison to other, REAL athletic factories in the United States, BC is probably a lot more responsible about its connection between athletics and academics. It has rigid standards for acceptance, and that includes athletes. Naturally, coaches complain about that, but I'm on the side of the school. If you've paid close to $200,000 -- by the time it's all said and done -- for a BC degree, you certainly don't want it cheapened by some idiot who can't spell Boston getting a scholarship.
BC borders Boston's suburbs of Brookline and Newton. It's on a nice piece of land, with a beautiful campus. On a picturesque autumn day, it's postcard perfect.
Boston University is a city school, as is Northeastern. Acutally, they're not that far apart, nestled in the bowels of Boston's Back Bay (on either side of Fenway Park). BU, in its own right, is a very prestigious university -- every bit as academically challenging as BC. Tuition at the two schools is comparitively similar. The only thing it really lacks is the sports pedigree BC has. The two schools are rivals only in hockey, where BU has poured virtually ALL of its athletic money. When the U.S. Olympic hockey team won the Gold Medal in 1980, four of its players -- including captain Mike Eruzione -- were BU graduates (so was goalie Jim Craig, as well as Dave Silk and Jack O'Callaghan).
BU and BC are the only schools that, year in and year out, can compete with the Minnesotas, Wisconsins and North Dakota States of the country.
Northeastern has worked awfully hard to re-establish itself as an institute of serious learning, and seems to be getting there. For a while, it was definitely No. 4 out of 4, with a huge gap between itself and No. 3. When I went there, it as old, bloated, and -- I think -- out of touch with the city and academia in general. To give you an example, three of these four schools had extensive plans on how to celebrate the country's bicentennial in 1976. Northeastern had to be dragged kicking and screaming into doing something.
Now, there's less of a gap academically. NU and BU contain two of the best journalism schools in the Northeast (right up there with Syracuse and Columbia Universities). BC and Harvard are more business and law oriented.
Of course, there's Harvard. It's not REALLY a Boston school, per se, as most of it is in Cambridge (with parts of it that spill over). Like BC and Holy Cross, the biggest advantage in going to Harvard is the opportunity to network. Graduate from Harvard and you've got it made. It is also one of the better schools athletically ... not so much for the power rankings of its teams, but for the fact that Harvard treats athletics as something to do to round out your education. The school does not award scholarships based solely on athletic ability (though if it finds a kid who can play quarterback, it'll certainly HELP him). All of its teams compete in the Ivy League, which will never be compared favorably to the Big Ten.
As it so happens, there is only one sport in which these four schools are equally competitive, and that's hockey. BC surpassed the rest in football and basketball years ago, and BU doesn't have football or baseball programs. Hockey is the only sport that unites these four schools.
So each year, on the first two Mondays of February, we have the Beanpot Hockey Tournament ... and every year, Northeastern loses (which it did this past Monday -- one day after the Big Super Bowl El Foldo by the You-Know-Whos).
February is especially interesting this year because it's a presidential election season. Ordinarily that means nothing in Massachusetts, but this year it actually did. First, Mitt Romney is not wildly popular in Massachusetts, even if he was our governor for about a minute and a half. A lot of Massholes (like me) took out Republican ballots at last Tuesday's primary and voted for McCain just so we could case one FINAL vote against Mitt).
That's the Republicans. As for the Democrats, Hillary Clinton won our state and it's significant because both she and Obama need every vote they can get to stay afloat. Rarely in this political culture is Massachusetts ever a player in the elections because a) it almost always goes Democrat (remember "Don't Blame Me, I'm From Massachusetts?); and b) by the time our primary takes place, there's usually a clearly-established front-runner and we just hop on board.
That wasn't the case this time. There is no Democratic front runner, and perhaps there will not be one until the summer. All of which makes every primary from hereon out crucial to both Clinton and Obama. So it was refreshing, for a change, to be in a political atmosphere that radiated excitement instead of resignation.
Valentine's Day falls right in the middle of February. Now don't look at ME if you're trying to find some hopeless and helpless romantic who sees Valentine's Day and gets all kinds of lumps in his throat. It's definitely a Hallmark Holiday.
But it falls RIGHT SMACK in the middle of the month, and in my mind, anyway, once Valentine's Day passes, I consider it the turning point of winter. It's all downhill from here, baby.
This doesn't necessarily mean winter's over. But in most years, the worst of it is over. Not always. But usually. Besides, by February 14, the sun's higher in the sky, the days are longer, and whatever snow you DO get melts faster.
Which brings me to another thing about February that people tend to forget. Unless it's snowing, or unusually cold, you get spectacular weather in February. It's great month of you're an outdoors person of any kind. You get crisp, clear days, all the fresh air you could ever want, and they last right on through the work day (as opposed to December and January, where it's dark by 4 p.m.). And this is going to sound absolutely perverse, but there are years (and many of them, too) where the weather's better in February than it is in April.
Finally, and this is strictly local, the high school winter sports tournaments begin in February. If you do what I do, this is the most fun you have all year. Throw a pro sports event at me, and the tournament has it beat. It's three weeks of absolute madness, and by the time it's over, we're on the threshold of spring.
I don't know whether it's because these games are indoors, which rachets up the intensity, or what it is. But all I know is that there's nothing quite as exciting as seeing a bunch of boys and girls playing for the honor of their school. In many ways it's a throwback to a (perhaps) more innocent time in this country. It certainly has a small-town America feel to it. And you know? Sometimes, especially in this day and age, that's pretty cool.
And, on top of everything else ... the truck left Fenway Park today for Ft. Myers, Florida. It's time for baseball!!
So that's my hymn to February.
I would disagree with that. For whatever reason, March seems longer; and January is much colder, and much darker. Actually, as months go, December is probably the toughest one on me emotionally because the days get inexorably darker, whereas once you hit January, and especially February, things lighten up.
But this essay is on February. And while everything everybody says is true ... it's cold, it's stormy, and all that ... there are also aspects about it that -- to me -- make it go by faster.
Some of these things are local; some are national, and some, believe it or not, are meteorological. But put them together, and you have a month with plenty to look forward to.
First, the local. The first two Mondays of February feature the Beanpot Hockey Tournament. This is one of those parochial, local events that pits Boston's four Division 1 colleges -- Boston College, Boston University, Harvard and Northeastern -- against each other for the city championiship.
On one hand, the Beanpot has been a constant bane of my existance. I went to Northeastern (graduated in 1976) and while I was there, we never won it. In fact, we didn't win it for the first time since 1980 when Wayne Turner scored an overtime goal to beat BC. We won it three more times in the 80s (the last championship being in 1988) and haven't won it since.
Usually, Boston College or Boston University (mostly BU) win it. Now, before I go one, what -- you may ask -- is the difference between BC and BU? One's Catholic and one's not. That would appear to be it. They're both private institutions, both cost a fortune, and both award doctorates.
BC is, at the moment, the largest Catholic institution of higher learning in the United States. That is correct. It even has Notre Dame beat. There are two very large, and very prestigious, Catholic colleges in Massachusetts: BC and Holy Cross, which is in Worcester. Holy Cross is older, and at the time BC was established, Holy Cross was considered a school for elites while BC catered to the sons and daughters of Irish immigrants.
That's certainly not the case today. BC is every bit as elitist as Holy Cross. They're both extremely difficult to get into, and if you graduate from either institute, you're set for life unless you're the world's biggest moron. As with Harvard, you reap the benefits of at BC or Holy Cross education for the networking that results from it, if not the actual LEARNING.
Boston College is also an athletic factory -- at least in comparison to the other three. Actually, in comparison to other, REAL athletic factories in the United States, BC is probably a lot more responsible about its connection between athletics and academics. It has rigid standards for acceptance, and that includes athletes. Naturally, coaches complain about that, but I'm on the side of the school. If you've paid close to $200,000 -- by the time it's all said and done -- for a BC degree, you certainly don't want it cheapened by some idiot who can't spell Boston getting a scholarship.
BC borders Boston's suburbs of Brookline and Newton. It's on a nice piece of land, with a beautiful campus. On a picturesque autumn day, it's postcard perfect.
Boston University is a city school, as is Northeastern. Acutally, they're not that far apart, nestled in the bowels of Boston's Back Bay (on either side of Fenway Park). BU, in its own right, is a very prestigious university -- every bit as academically challenging as BC. Tuition at the two schools is comparitively similar. The only thing it really lacks is the sports pedigree BC has. The two schools are rivals only in hockey, where BU has poured virtually ALL of its athletic money. When the U.S. Olympic hockey team won the Gold Medal in 1980, four of its players -- including captain Mike Eruzione -- were BU graduates (so was goalie Jim Craig, as well as Dave Silk and Jack O'Callaghan).
BU and BC are the only schools that, year in and year out, can compete with the Minnesotas, Wisconsins and North Dakota States of the country.
Northeastern has worked awfully hard to re-establish itself as an institute of serious learning, and seems to be getting there. For a while, it was definitely No. 4 out of 4, with a huge gap between itself and No. 3. When I went there, it as old, bloated, and -- I think -- out of touch with the city and academia in general. To give you an example, three of these four schools had extensive plans on how to celebrate the country's bicentennial in 1976. Northeastern had to be dragged kicking and screaming into doing something.
Now, there's less of a gap academically. NU and BU contain two of the best journalism schools in the Northeast (right up there with Syracuse and Columbia Universities). BC and Harvard are more business and law oriented.
Of course, there's Harvard. It's not REALLY a Boston school, per se, as most of it is in Cambridge (with parts of it that spill over). Like BC and Holy Cross, the biggest advantage in going to Harvard is the opportunity to network. Graduate from Harvard and you've got it made. It is also one of the better schools athletically ... not so much for the power rankings of its teams, but for the fact that Harvard treats athletics as something to do to round out your education. The school does not award scholarships based solely on athletic ability (though if it finds a kid who can play quarterback, it'll certainly HELP him). All of its teams compete in the Ivy League, which will never be compared favorably to the Big Ten.
As it so happens, there is only one sport in which these four schools are equally competitive, and that's hockey. BC surpassed the rest in football and basketball years ago, and BU doesn't have football or baseball programs. Hockey is the only sport that unites these four schools.
So each year, on the first two Mondays of February, we have the Beanpot Hockey Tournament ... and every year, Northeastern loses (which it did this past Monday -- one day after the Big Super Bowl El Foldo by the You-Know-Whos).
February is especially interesting this year because it's a presidential election season. Ordinarily that means nothing in Massachusetts, but this year it actually did. First, Mitt Romney is not wildly popular in Massachusetts, even if he was our governor for about a minute and a half. A lot of Massholes (like me) took out Republican ballots at last Tuesday's primary and voted for McCain just so we could case one FINAL vote against Mitt).
That's the Republicans. As for the Democrats, Hillary Clinton won our state and it's significant because both she and Obama need every vote they can get to stay afloat. Rarely in this political culture is Massachusetts ever a player in the elections because a) it almost always goes Democrat (remember "Don't Blame Me, I'm From Massachusetts?); and b) by the time our primary takes place, there's usually a clearly-established front-runner and we just hop on board.
That wasn't the case this time. There is no Democratic front runner, and perhaps there will not be one until the summer. All of which makes every primary from hereon out crucial to both Clinton and Obama. So it was refreshing, for a change, to be in a political atmosphere that radiated excitement instead of resignation.
Valentine's Day falls right in the middle of February. Now don't look at ME if you're trying to find some hopeless and helpless romantic who sees Valentine's Day and gets all kinds of lumps in his throat. It's definitely a Hallmark Holiday.
But it falls RIGHT SMACK in the middle of the month, and in my mind, anyway, once Valentine's Day passes, I consider it the turning point of winter. It's all downhill from here, baby.
This doesn't necessarily mean winter's over. But in most years, the worst of it is over. Not always. But usually. Besides, by February 14, the sun's higher in the sky, the days are longer, and whatever snow you DO get melts faster.
Which brings me to another thing about February that people tend to forget. Unless it's snowing, or unusually cold, you get spectacular weather in February. It's great month of you're an outdoors person of any kind. You get crisp, clear days, all the fresh air you could ever want, and they last right on through the work day (as opposed to December and January, where it's dark by 4 p.m.). And this is going to sound absolutely perverse, but there are years (and many of them, too) where the weather's better in February than it is in April.
Finally, and this is strictly local, the high school winter sports tournaments begin in February. If you do what I do, this is the most fun you have all year. Throw a pro sports event at me, and the tournament has it beat. It's three weeks of absolute madness, and by the time it's over, we're on the threshold of spring.
I don't know whether it's because these games are indoors, which rachets up the intensity, or what it is. But all I know is that there's nothing quite as exciting as seeing a bunch of boys and girls playing for the honor of their school. In many ways it's a throwback to a (perhaps) more innocent time in this country. It certainly has a small-town America feel to it. And you know? Sometimes, especially in this day and age, that's pretty cool.
And, on top of everything else ... the truck left Fenway Park today for Ft. Myers, Florida. It's time for baseball!!
So that's my hymn to February.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Super? Hardly
We need to make one thing clear right away: The Super Bowl -- which is certainly a uniquely American spectacle -- is not about football. In fact, I'd submit to you that the game is irrelevent in the big picture.
Oh, it's certainly a part of the day ... a very large part, too, since without it there would be no vehicle for the wretched excess that goes with it. But in a curious sort of way, once we acknowledge how important the game is, it quickly sinks below the surface of what has become one of the most celebrated days of greed and excessive consumerism ever foisted upon the American public.
You get a sense of this when you watch the Super Bowl on television. Maybe one in five people watching actually care about the game. The other four watch for the commercials, or the halftime show, or the pregame show. I liken it to the Kentucky Derby because even people who know next to nothing about horse racing watch it because, heck, it's the KENTUCKY DERBY!
Only the Super Bowl is worse. Name me one other television show where the topic of conversation the next day centers around the commercials. Most of the time, commercials are an annoying necessity. We tune them out, or we take care of our physical needs, or we go out to the kitchen and make a sandwich. But in the Super Bowl, we stick around and rate the commercials as if they're up for academy awards.
And notice I said "television show." That was not a mistake. The Super Bowl is a television show, and that's why -- after having seen one without the benefit of commercials to compensate for the ennui of inaction -- I can no longer take it seriously as an American SPORTING event.
American ENTERTAINMENT event ... yes. You have to respect the Super Bowl for the sheer power of the money it hauls in. But it's time we all got the stars out of our eyes when it comes to the importance of the GAME, as opposed to the importance of the EVENT.
Here is the Super Bowl in 2008: One giant cacophony of NOISE. There is no way to filter this noise out, either. There is no time to just sit in the stands and be allowed to take it all in on your own terms. You are assaulted with noise from the time you get there until the time you leave.
The jumbotron scoreboard goes non-stop. NFL season highlights, advertisements, interviews with players, non-stop NFL self-promotion. And -- worst of all -- non-stop NFL self-congratulations for what wonderful people they all are.
These messages are repeated over and over again at ear-piercing decibels, with loud music, loud percussion, and loud narration. As soon as the action stops, the noise begins. It was so bad this year that Tom Petty's four-song halftime set was actually quiet by comparison.
This brings us to the commercials. I will concede that when it comes to creativity, Super Bowl commercials bring out the A-game in every advertiser. Some of them are pretty clever, some of them are funny, and, conversely, some of them overreach beyond comprehension. But you have to admire the effort.
But if you're at the stadium, you don't see the commercials. You hear excessively loud noise that launches a wholescale assault on your eardrums ... and you hear it for the entire time the rest of the country is entertained by those commercials.
What probably made it worse this year was that the first quarter flew by -- thanks to a nine-plus minute drive by the New York Giants that opened the game. That must have had the FOX honchos screaming. I know they'd have given anything to stick a four-minute block of commercials in there while Eli Manning was leading the Jints upfield, but even the NFL isn't that shameless.
That meant that FOX was left to squeeze them in basically over three quarters instead of four. That meant longer delays down there on the field. And it meant more noise everywhere else.
What does all this mean? It means the Super Bowl isn't a football game as much as it is a television show. Now before anyone accuses me of being naive, I understand that just about ALL sports these days are like this. Whenver the Boston College football team has a nationally televised game, there's a man in a red jacket who stands out there on the 20-yard line, with a set of headphones in his ears, and in a bright red jacket, and he's the guy who signals the referee that it's OK to start playing again.
However, the Super Bowl is essentially that times about a hundred. About the only thing I could ever compare it to was the time I went to see Bozo the Clown when I was a little kid ... and became horribly disillusioned at how absolutely FAKE it was ... the forced spontaneity ... all of it. Everything was choreographed right down to the last second, including the enthusiastic cheer the children gave Bozo. Even that had to be rehearsed.
That's how intricately choreographed the Super Bowl is. And if just went to Glendale to see a game -- as I did -- it is horribly frustrating to have to sit through all that noise, all that mindless spectacle, just for the honor of watching a football game.
I didn't have to pay a cent. I got a press credential so I didn't measure my experience in terms of dollars and cents. But had I spent up to five figures for a good seat, I'd be thinking that I got zero bang for my buck.
People ask me, often, how I can go from covering the AFC championship game, or the Super Bowl, or the World Series to going to Saugus High on a Saturday morning to watch the Sachems match wits with Winthrop. And the answer is easy. It may be a miniature version of what went on this past Sunday, but it's just as real to the kids who play high school ball on a Saturday afternoon in Saugus as it is to Tom Brady and Bill Belichick. And I am privileged to be able to treat it as if it's every bit as real.
People always want to know "what is it like" covering the Patriots and Red Sox. It's WORK. Your average Patriots game -- for me -- starts at 9 a.m. on a Sunday when I have to leave for Foxborough ahead of the traffic. It ends somewhere around 9 at night when I'm finally pulling into my driveway. When they're home, and when they're playing their normal 1 p.m. game, they cost me an entire Sunday. If they play at 4 p.m., or at night, it's worse. There's nothing like driving up to your house in Lynn at 3 a.m. after having covered a Sunday or a Monday night football game in Foxborough.
I'm not complaining. It's work a lot of people would kill to be able to do. It's certainly not boring. Even the dullest game is better than sitting around an office from 9 to 5 every day, going to endless meetings and listening to executives drone on and on about God knows what. Covering pro sports has given me some pretty big thrills. And even though I was certainly not rooting for the Giants Sunday, how can you not walk away from a game where the pivotal play involved a receiver catching the ball off his HELMET without being eternally grateful that you were THERE to see it?
I just wish there was more of that Sunday and less needless noise. Because at the end of the day, we may have witnessed one of the true upsets in the history of the National Football League. But it was all buried beneath the symphony of noise, consumerism, excess and greed that, all rolled up into one, makes up the Super Bowl.
Oh, it's certainly a part of the day ... a very large part, too, since without it there would be no vehicle for the wretched excess that goes with it. But in a curious sort of way, once we acknowledge how important the game is, it quickly sinks below the surface of what has become one of the most celebrated days of greed and excessive consumerism ever foisted upon the American public.
You get a sense of this when you watch the Super Bowl on television. Maybe one in five people watching actually care about the game. The other four watch for the commercials, or the halftime show, or the pregame show. I liken it to the Kentucky Derby because even people who know next to nothing about horse racing watch it because, heck, it's the KENTUCKY DERBY!
Only the Super Bowl is worse. Name me one other television show where the topic of conversation the next day centers around the commercials. Most of the time, commercials are an annoying necessity. We tune them out, or we take care of our physical needs, or we go out to the kitchen and make a sandwich. But in the Super Bowl, we stick around and rate the commercials as if they're up for academy awards.
And notice I said "television show." That was not a mistake. The Super Bowl is a television show, and that's why -- after having seen one without the benefit of commercials to compensate for the ennui of inaction -- I can no longer take it seriously as an American SPORTING event.
American ENTERTAINMENT event ... yes. You have to respect the Super Bowl for the sheer power of the money it hauls in. But it's time we all got the stars out of our eyes when it comes to the importance of the GAME, as opposed to the importance of the EVENT.
Here is the Super Bowl in 2008: One giant cacophony of NOISE. There is no way to filter this noise out, either. There is no time to just sit in the stands and be allowed to take it all in on your own terms. You are assaulted with noise from the time you get there until the time you leave.
The jumbotron scoreboard goes non-stop. NFL season highlights, advertisements, interviews with players, non-stop NFL self-promotion. And -- worst of all -- non-stop NFL self-congratulations for what wonderful people they all are.
These messages are repeated over and over again at ear-piercing decibels, with loud music, loud percussion, and loud narration. As soon as the action stops, the noise begins. It was so bad this year that Tom Petty's four-song halftime set was actually quiet by comparison.
This brings us to the commercials. I will concede that when it comes to creativity, Super Bowl commercials bring out the A-game in every advertiser. Some of them are pretty clever, some of them are funny, and, conversely, some of them overreach beyond comprehension. But you have to admire the effort.
But if you're at the stadium, you don't see the commercials. You hear excessively loud noise that launches a wholescale assault on your eardrums ... and you hear it for the entire time the rest of the country is entertained by those commercials.
What probably made it worse this year was that the first quarter flew by -- thanks to a nine-plus minute drive by the New York Giants that opened the game. That must have had the FOX honchos screaming. I know they'd have given anything to stick a four-minute block of commercials in there while Eli Manning was leading the Jints upfield, but even the NFL isn't that shameless.
That meant that FOX was left to squeeze them in basically over three quarters instead of four. That meant longer delays down there on the field. And it meant more noise everywhere else.
What does all this mean? It means the Super Bowl isn't a football game as much as it is a television show. Now before anyone accuses me of being naive, I understand that just about ALL sports these days are like this. Whenver the Boston College football team has a nationally televised game, there's a man in a red jacket who stands out there on the 20-yard line, with a set of headphones in his ears, and in a bright red jacket, and he's the guy who signals the referee that it's OK to start playing again.
However, the Super Bowl is essentially that times about a hundred. About the only thing I could ever compare it to was the time I went to see Bozo the Clown when I was a little kid ... and became horribly disillusioned at how absolutely FAKE it was ... the forced spontaneity ... all of it. Everything was choreographed right down to the last second, including the enthusiastic cheer the children gave Bozo. Even that had to be rehearsed.
That's how intricately choreographed the Super Bowl is. And if just went to Glendale to see a game -- as I did -- it is horribly frustrating to have to sit through all that noise, all that mindless spectacle, just for the honor of watching a football game.
I didn't have to pay a cent. I got a press credential so I didn't measure my experience in terms of dollars and cents. But had I spent up to five figures for a good seat, I'd be thinking that I got zero bang for my buck.
People ask me, often, how I can go from covering the AFC championship game, or the Super Bowl, or the World Series to going to Saugus High on a Saturday morning to watch the Sachems match wits with Winthrop. And the answer is easy. It may be a miniature version of what went on this past Sunday, but it's just as real to the kids who play high school ball on a Saturday afternoon in Saugus as it is to Tom Brady and Bill Belichick. And I am privileged to be able to treat it as if it's every bit as real.
People always want to know "what is it like" covering the Patriots and Red Sox. It's WORK. Your average Patriots game -- for me -- starts at 9 a.m. on a Sunday when I have to leave for Foxborough ahead of the traffic. It ends somewhere around 9 at night when I'm finally pulling into my driveway. When they're home, and when they're playing their normal 1 p.m. game, they cost me an entire Sunday. If they play at 4 p.m., or at night, it's worse. There's nothing like driving up to your house in Lynn at 3 a.m. after having covered a Sunday or a Monday night football game in Foxborough.
I'm not complaining. It's work a lot of people would kill to be able to do. It's certainly not boring. Even the dullest game is better than sitting around an office from 9 to 5 every day, going to endless meetings and listening to executives drone on and on about God knows what. Covering pro sports has given me some pretty big thrills. And even though I was certainly not rooting for the Giants Sunday, how can you not walk away from a game where the pivotal play involved a receiver catching the ball off his HELMET without being eternally grateful that you were THERE to see it?
I just wish there was more of that Sunday and less needless noise. Because at the end of the day, we may have witnessed one of the true upsets in the history of the National Football League. But it was all buried beneath the symphony of noise, consumerism, excess and greed that, all rolled up into one, makes up the Super Bowl.
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