All posts by Matthew Callan

Slice of Turkey

Slice of Turkey: Laugh-In, 1993

The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade plays by a set of rules all its own. Not in the sense that they get to do whatever they want (although if they could run over pedestrians with impunity, that might make for a more exciting presentation). I mean more in the sense that they sincerely believe that they must go about their business in a very certain way, or else.

For instance, they seem to labor under the misapprehension that you simply can’t have a celebrity appear. They must sing. But they can’t just sing a song, either. The celebrity must also play some role, even if they’re not appearing in a Broadway show at the time. That role is, almost invariably, from a nursery rhyme or some other kids’ story. Why? That is a very good question.

Case in point: This clip from 1993, which features Laugh-In alums JoAnne Worley and Ruth Buzzi. They were ostensibly appearing in this event as promotion for a Laugh-In Christmas special that would soon air on NBC. So I wonder why, rather than appearing in outfits or as part of a setpiece that was more evocative of the famous swingin’ 60s sketch show, they had to dress in Little Bo Peep outfits and sing a song about meeting their prince(s).

There’s nothing materially wrong with any of this, of course. Both ladies seem to be into it and are definitely not phoning in their performances. It just leaves me wondering why they had to do it. I’m imagining the OCD-addled head of Macy’s Pageantry informing these ladies, “No, you MUST wear these precious shepherd costumes and you MUST sing these songs. You can not appear as yourselves OR THE DEMONS ATTACK. THE DEMONS IN MY HEAD.”

Football

Words Fail

There was something that bugged me about coverage of the Penn State horror thus far, other than the nauseating, rage-inducing details, of course. But I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until I read David Roth’s post at The Classical about the whole dismal thing. This line, in particular, stuck with me:

Further down the line there will be assessments of how the fallout from “the scandal” – the same word used to describe Ohio State players swapping jerseys for tattoos is already being used to describe the horrors Sandusky is alleged to have forced upon needy kids for a decade and a half – will impact Penn State’s program.

This helped me realize that it’s this use of the word scandal that so bothered me. It is a word that is grossly inadequate to describing what happened. The fact that so many people covering the case use it anyway it is indicative of what the news has become, and how ill equipped it is to deal with a story like this.

The word scandal is the first one out of the toolbox because that is what powers The News: salacious coverage of sexual misconduct, be it by a celebrity or a Congressman. It is the one thing that can still guarantee people will tune in/read. A few days ago, I actually heard a local radio station refer to the Penn State story as a “sex scandal” (!), which is so off the mark it’s not even in the same continent as its target.

In the same way that “controversy” = “any topic on which people can disagree,” “scandal” = “something juicy.” It is the same lazy impulse that, for the last 30+ years, has named any government misdeed “_____Gate,” thus lowering one of the most egregious and vile abuses of presidential power in our nation’s history to the same level as parking ticket payoffs and other petty offenses. That’s why you will hear people routinely say, “Nixon just got caught.” Which is true, except we no longer have the perspective to realize the true evil of what he was caught doing.

The biggest problem with using the word scandal is that, as Roth points out, it equates what happened at Penn State with the piddling violations that the NCAA arbitrarily punishes from time to time to keep up its cheap facade of amateurism (a sham that applies solely to its uncompensated players, not to any of the coaches or schools and certainly not to the NCAA itself). It should be obvious to any rational human being that Sandusky’s crimes far exceed any “wrongdoing” that, for instance, Reggie Bush committed years ago while at USC. But by using the word scandal, you’re essentially saying these two things are equal.

I believe this is why we saw morons “rallying” for Joe Paterno last night. They don’t believe he is someone who, at best, did the absolute legal minimum in a situation that called for far more. They see him as a victim, someone who needs support to get through this tough time. And I can’t help but feel that using the catch-all word scandal for this monstrosity is partly responsible for such hamfisted, misguided reactions. If only people had rallied on behalf of abused children. If only Paterno had.

Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky is a scandal. Herman Cain getting grabby is a scandal. John Edwards cheating on his dying wife is scandal. Congressmen frequenting male prostitutes is a scandal. Penn State is something else altogether. Calling it a scandal says you regard it in the same light as those other things. Something to snicker at. Late night joke fodder. And all because someone in a newsroom can’t be bothered to use a more appropriate word.

You may not think this is important, but it is, vitally so. Language still means something. The words we choose mean something. That may not seem true in the age of texting and Internet shorthand, but it really is. The absolute bare minimum that can be done for the victims of Penn State–and Lord knows precious little else has been done on their behalf–is to discuss what happened to them with a proper vocabulary, not with the impoverished thesaurus of the 24-hour news cycle.

Baseball, For-Real Interviews, Literary Endeavors

For-Real Interviews: Craig Robinson

In America, baseball is, sadly, often seen as the brussels sprouts of sports: something that must be consumed because it’s good for you. Many people view the sport as obligation rather than entertainment, something you are required to take your kids to during the summer because, well, that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Those who wax poetic about the game’s virtues can sound a bit like enthusiasts of quaint hobbies, like scrimshaw or silhouetting. The game is so fraught history and tradition and baggage that it seems impossible to say anything new about it.

Or maybe it just someone with a fresh perspective to say them. Enter Craig Robinson, an English illustrator whose love affair with the game was kindled by a trip to Yankee Stadium while in New York on business back in 2005. Not long after that, as his baseball fandom grew, he began to ponder questions that may not have occurred to someone who grew up with the game. Like, what is the actual monetary value of all the bases “stolen” during a major league season? Or how would A-Rod’s salary look if dispensed in pennies and stacked on top of one another? Or how long did it take to assemble, then disassemble, the 1986 Mets? Or what would the box score look like in a playoff game between the Wu Tang Clan and the E Street Band?

Robinson decided to answer these questions and many more at his site, Flip Flop Fly Ball, in gorgeously streamlined infographics. They are elegantly simple, packing enormous amounts of information into their space while not appearing remotely cluttered. They are works of art that beg to be seen write large, and that’s just what’s happened with the release of Flip Flop Fly Ball, a fantastic book that collects some of Robinson’s best work from the site, along with new items and essays on his evolution as an unlikely baseball fan. It is the kind of book that justifies the invention of the coffee table.

The author was kind enough to answer a few of my queries about his path to baseball fandom, the Mexican League, and what he would do with his favorite team. Answers to those questions and more after the jump.

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