When did the American Dream become the American Expectation? How did the struggle of our fathers and grandfathers get twisted into the sense of entitlement of today’s youth? Why is a victory no longer a reward for excellence, but instead, a birthright demanded by every competitor in every arena?
For two weeks now, America has been sitting on the couch, scrolling through the channels, nearly frantic to escape the line-up of whiners, crybabies, and sore-losers clogging the bandwidth. Video, indeed, has killed the radio star.
During President Obama’s healthcare address, Congressman Joe Wilson wasn’t being told what he wanted to hear, so he shouted, “You Lie!” He lost his cool, and may lose his house seat.
When Taylor Swift won her first MTV Video Music award – beating out Beyonce Knowles – Kanye West was so disheartened by the results, he stole the 17-year-old’s mic, but not her MoonMan (the statue presented to winners), and since then, everyone from Jay-Z, to Wilbon, to The Commander In-Chief himself thinks Kanye should be sent to the Moon, man.
Serena Williams… well, you know what Serena did. The call didn’t go her way. She pouted for a second, stared in disbelief, and then flipped the lunatic switch and tarnished her image as a great American champion, maybe, forever.
And, after last week’s college football opener, Oregon running back LeGarrette Blount, disgusted in defeat, threw a post-game sucker punch that dropped Boise State’s Byron Hout to the ground. The punch also dropped Blount from a 2nd round NFL draft prospect to, as one scout put it, “…totally undraftable.”
From Michael Jordan to Roger Federer, to Jerry Jones, I could continue, but I’ll stop.
I’ll stop because while every one of these public outbursts was an inexcusable, condemnable, pathetic tantrum by some spoiled brat unsatisfied with a given outcome, in the end, the brat becomes the loser. All of them become losers. They all let their passions get the best of them. They all stood up as individuals, and as individuals they all fell down. They all apologized – some more sincerely than others – and they all suffered. And for all of those reasons, none of the aforementioned embarrassments goes down as the most appalling of the last fortnight.
So, what does?
Monday night the Buffalo Bills flew to Foxboro to welcome Tom Brady back to the NFL. In his first game back from knee surgery, Brady was stymied by a competent Bills defense, and with just over five minutes left in the game, Buffalo led by 11 points. But after a vintage Brady touchdown drive, Leodis McKelvin, in an attempt to improve the Bills’ field position and all but ice the game, fumbled the ball during the return of the ensuing kickoff. Uh Oh.
Cue the spotlight.
Cue the hero music.
Close on Brady’s determined gaze.
Touchdown.
Pats win.
When Leodis McKelvin returned to his home in Buffalo Tuesday morning, vandals had spray painted the final score of the game, along with a large penis, on his lawn.
Hideous.
First, you’re a fan. Period. You’re not an elected official. You’re not an icon of the music industry. You’re not arguably the greatest female tennis player of all time. You’re not trying to win a national championship. (Not that any of these roles stand for an excuse). You’re a fan; that’s it; a spectator; a consumer of entertainment. You enjoy yourself at the game, or you don’t, but either way, you go home afterwards, you avoid Sportscenter, and you go to bed.
Second, as the passage goes, “He is not a full man who does not own a piece of land.” No matter how large the arena, or how grave the disappointment, to take a matter to a man’s home, to trespass and to threaten are acts of a felon, not a fan. If Serena torched the rulebook on the lawn of the line judge, or if LeGarrette Blount crashed the Boise State after-party to start a brawl, they both would go to jail.
But Third, and most critically, the cowardice revealed in the Buffalo defacement is frightening. The mob mentality in sports’ fans across the country and around the globe is dangerous in its anonymity. Just because 60,000 other goons share your displeasure with the outcome on the field doesn’t mean you cease to be an individual. Your retaliation may be faceless, or so you think, but the hurt isn’t, and your punishment won’t be either. You see, it all starts with a sneaky beer toss at an umpire in Yankee Stadium. It escalates to a spray painting in Buffalo. But it ends with a gunshot, or 12, to be exact, fired by a ‘fan,’ that killed Andres Escobar, the Columbian footballer whose misplay caused his team to be ousted from the 1994 World Cup.
On Thursday, two Buffalo teens turned themselves in for the incident at McKelvin’s house. He refused to press charges. The Erie County DA’s office may have other plans.
Of the countless video bytes I have watched this week, my most favorite was one of Jay Leno interviewing Kanye West. Speaking of Kanye’s mother, who Leno previously met, and who has since passed away, Jay asked, “Kanye, what would your mother have said about this?” All Kanye could muster were tears.
As football season heats up, and the baseball playoffs begin, this act of idiocy stands as a reminder. No matter how many people share our discontent, in the end, we are all individuals. In the end, we are not a mob. And in the heat of the moment, we shouldn’t forget to ask ourselves, “What would my mother have to say about this?”
More and more, I feel like a stranger to my own society. I don’t understand people. I don’t understand how they can be entertained by the things they watch, nourished by the things they eat, enhanced by the things they buy, or enriched by the gossip they read. But more than any of these behaviors, I am most mystified by the things that cause us to be surprised.
In a society where celebrity and fame are acquired by the whim of the public’s reaction to image and profile, and not necessarily from an appreciation of actual talent, we act surprised when grown animals bite off their opponent’s ears in the ring, when childhood stars, robbed of their youth, continue into adulthood to carry on like children, or when guy-liner wearing American Idols are captured by the tabloids making out with other men. Why are we so surprised? Fame comes about more so from the titillation of the public, which encourages bad behavior because it makes for a juicier story. As a result, our “stars” get to where they are by acting the way they do. Why should they stop now?
Yet, this week, columnist Rick Reilly, a good writer, I think, criticized Tiger Woods for his tantrums on the golf course at the Open. Says Reilly, “Tiger Woods has outgrown those Urkel glasses…the crazy hair…(and) a body that was mostly neck…When will he outgrow his temper?”
Tiger Woods is a winner. He always has been and likely always will be. The numbers don’t lie, you know how often he has won, and you know that he is the greatest golfer to ever walk this planet.
You don’t become the best by making winning a priority. You become the best by making winning THE priority. You carry in your gut a desire and passion to win, so strong that the idea of being unable to win would make you want to quit altogether.
The intensity with which Tiger Woods plays the game is exactly what brought him his celebrity in the first place. The 330-yard cannons, 3-woods over water, cutting two irons out of fairway traps, 50-foot eagle bombs, with fist pumps to finish, and yes, unfortunately, the driver slams into the tee box are the good, and bad, images of a game played with the utmost passion. The PGA Tour is what it is today – a behemoth industry with yearly purses soaring from $70 million to over $250 million - largely because Tiger Woods has elevated the level of play and boosted the passion meter, virtually singlehandedly. And the correlation between Woods’ involvement in modern golf and enhanced TV revenue and sponsor involvement is undeniable. Nothing demonstrates this better than to consider that when Tiger went on hiatus for knee surgery last year, television ratings sagged by an astounding 50%. Tiger Woods’ image as the Nike Golf Poster Child is earning Nike Golf more than $500 million per year. It’s possible that Nike is almost as concerned with Tiger’s foul mouth as they were with Michael Jordan’s gambling.
Speaking of Jordan, let’s not forget that Tiger isn’t just another guy on the PGA tour. He is one of the best athletes in history. His peers are not Vijay Singh, David Toms, or Mike Weir. His peers are Michael Jordan, Babe Ruth, Wayne Gretzky, Ty Cobb, Jim Brown, and Muhammad Ali. Ali, Brown and Gretzky toiled in sports that involved the infliction of physical pain upon opponents, so commending them for their good behavior would be a bit unfair. Jordan used to yell at his teammates and the referees. Everyone who ever met Ty Cobb hated him for being the jerk he was unanimously reported to be, and The Red Sox traded The Bambino after his bad boy behavior - a drunk driving accident with a woman who wasn’t his wife, and a thrown punch at an umpire that resulted in a nine game suspension - began to raise resentment in the clubhouse. Yet Reilly condemns Tiger for yelling at himself after poor shots?
In modern sports, bad behavior is a cottage industry, even among the big stars. One need only to think of George Brett running at the umpire over pine tar, Jeff Van Gundy trying disgracefully to hold back Alonzo Mourning, Ron Artest punching out fans in the stands, Tanya Harding clubbing Nancy Kerrigan, Roberto Alomar spitting in the face of umpire John Herschbeck, Bobby Knight throwing the chair, Bobby Knight choking his player, Bobby Knight assaulting Jeremy Schapp, - wow, how ‘bout that Bobby Knight - Roger Clemens throwing Piazza’s bat, Dennis Rodman kicking the photographer. Where into that line of admirable behavior do we insert Tiger Woods yelling at,.......well,.......at...... himself?
There is bad behavior that flows from questionable character, and bad behavior that comes from caring too much. Tiger never steps on anyone’s line, rolls his ball in the fairway, or elbows a spectator on a trip into or out of the wayward rough. He doesn’t typically shout during Phil’s back swing. And when I was serving him at a club in New York five years ago, he drank water and sat quietly talking with his friends, Jeter and Jordan, while they took turns passing the half-dozen gathered glamorous models from lap to lap.
True story.
Next year, around this time, go to any public golf course in America. Ask any ten guys you meet there to name the winners of this year’s US Open and British Open Championships. Do you think that half would be able to name both Lucas Glover AND Stewart Cink? Both are great golfers, and, by all accounts, great guys. The PGA Tour and the American President’s Cup team are better for having them this year. But, for cryin’ out loud, who are more boring than Lucas Glover and Stewart Cink? And if these guys typify the type of intensity the PGA Tour will be counting on 20 years from now, when Tiger is otherwise busy walking Sam Alexis down the aisle, golf may be in for a real popularity collapse. When Ivan Lendl rose to the forefront of professional tennis, taking the mantle from John McEnroe, McEnroe himself noted that the tennis world must be missing him, having instead to watch “the human robot, Ivan Lendl.” Does Lucas Glover, himself, yet know that he won the US Open?
Reilly makes the point that more kids watch Tiger than any other golfer, and more kids mimic Tiger than any other athlete, and bad behavior makes for “role model” issues. The kids have no choice but to watch Tiger, the TV programmers see to that. They make sure every single one of his shots is televised. Who knows, maybe Stewart Cink snapped a putter over his knee last Thursday. But the kids wouldn’t have seen it, because ABC’s Mike Tirico was too busy gushing over Tiger, and commentator Andy North was otherwise unavailable, glued to Tom Watson’s Titleists.
For Tiger, “Winning isn’t everything, but wanting to win is.” If winning isn’t important to you, involve your children in arts and music, because golf is a competition, and the object of the game is to win. And Tiger Woods has now given a fifteen-year clinic on overcoming adversity, performing under pressure, and, well, winning.
To do everything that Tiger Woods does, and there is little he does half-heartedly, there has to be some separation. Family time is for Elin and the kids, practice time is for Hank Haney, Tiger Woods Foundation time is for the children of the world, and Major Championship time is for Tiger. Hell, Major Championship time is for all of us out here in the world of sports. It’s his opportunity to be selfish and his opportunity to be the superhero, at the same time.
Why should we be surprised when he behaves just as he always has, especially if he lets himself down while also letting all of us down, too?
It’s too bad Reilly doesn’t seem to get it. It’s right in front of his nose, particularly when he cites in his very column the anecdote that explains it all, the essence of Tiger Woods:
One day, when Tiger was just a kid, he was throwing his clubs around in a fuming fit when his dad said something like "Tiger, golf is supposed to be fun." And Tiger said, "Daddy, I want to win. That's how I have fun."