Over the last couple of months, numerous accolades have been doled out in many segments of what our culture deems entertainment. Those things we can’t get enough of; sports, movies, “reality” television.
Baseball concluded its season with the annual sports writer anointment of the best of the best. Each league had a MVP, a Cy Young, a Rookie of the year. Each also had its Silver Sluggers, Golden Glovers, and Bronze Jock Strappers. Hall of Fame ballots have gone out for this year’s class of honoree hopefuls. Shamefully, Pete Rose isn’t on it.
College Football is concluding the season with the Heisman, the Lombardi, the Butkus, the Maxwell, the Walter Camp, the Davey O’ Brien, All-Conference, All-American; not to mention the upcoming All-Star games. The Shrine game, The Hula Bowl, The Senior Bowl, The Blue-Gray Game, The Black and Blue Game, the I’m Singing the Blues Game. For you non-sport folk, the last two are made up…I think. There are more, need I go on? Yes I must!
The nominees have been announced for possible induction into the Professional Football Hall of Fame. The voting is in for the NFL Pro Bowl. You know that one, it’s the game at the end of the year, yes, even after the Super Bowl; the one that no one gives a shit about the outcome. The one many of the players eschew, even though it’s played in Hawaii…in February, which shows you how over football a lot of these guys are by then. Hell, many players have incentive clauses in their contracts which pay them sizable bonuses if elected to the team, and they still don’t go.
The Golden Globes recently checked in with their nominations on the finest the movie industry has to offer, whether the public concurs with them or not. The actors, directors, et al, all will tell you what an honor it is to be recognized for their work. The bottom line is what the hype will do for the movie at the box office. Before you know it, the Oscar nominations will be announced, and television entertainment news magazines will finally have endless mindless crap to talk about. Oh, they already do that.
In television, we now know who the best celebrity dancer is, and the winner of the Amazing Race. Three “experts,” one a former Los Angeles Laker cheerleader, told us what who the next American Idol will be. If anybody, she should know! We will soon find out who the Biggest Loser is, not the viewer for watching, but the person who lost the most weight. Let’s all hold our collective breaths ok? Lastly, we finally get to know who won Survivor- Journey to the Center of the Earth. What is it, the46th installment of that franchise? Maybe it only seems like it’s been that many. Man, I thought that show jumped the shark long ago. When is the public going to realize that the participant’s behavior is no longer spontaneous? You can’t really think the contestants never saw the show before and everything they do is original. As long as it continues to get ratings, and there are picturesque shitholes on the planet to go, the show will regretfully endure. Maybe the next one can be Survivor-Space Station. Let’s see how long the competitors can stand each other in close quarters. I’d watch that.
Who are the decision makers of the majority of the aforementioned distinctive achievements? For the sports realm, I n some cases it’s the coaches. For the most part, it’s the sports writers. The same people who occasionally lambaste and vilify the individuals nominated for the awards. In addition, the criteria on which they base their votes vary...widely, dependent upon what’s in vogue at the time. For the Golden Globes and the Oscars, who cares? Two sport awards that warrant further scrutiny here are Major League baseball’s MVP award, and College Football’s Heisman Trophy.
In 1941, Joe DiMaggio of the New York Yankees bested Ted Williams of the Boston Red Sox for the American League MVP. DiMaggio had his 56 game hitting streak; Williams became the last man to hit .400, both memorable accomplishments. Is one more feat momentous than the other? It’s hard to say. However, one writer left Williams completely off his ballot, unconscionable. Though, Williams’ relationship with members of the press was rocky at best. So how much you kiss the sports writers ass is taken into account? I thought it was all about what was accomplished between the white lines that mattered. (Pete Rose would beg to differ) In addition, DiMaggio’s Yankees won the pennant that year, and that should count for something, but sometimes it doesn’t.
In 1987, Andre Dawson won the award as a member of the last place Chicago Cubs. They could’ve finished in last place without him, so how valuable could he have really been? But his on field performance was significantly superior to that of his peers. So does it matter where your team finishes in the standings? Sometimes, if the wind is right, just ask Albert Pujols. His team didn’t even win their division, and he won the National League MVP this year. Outcry has been minimal due to Pujols’ amicable disposition, and humble demeanor. (Pete Rose should read Dale Carnegie’s book) Okay, I get it now. If you’re a really good guy, and even though the team you play for didn’t reach their goals, then you can still win because the writers like you. That sounds fair… not. The Heisman voting is no less suspect with its own share of intangibles.
In 1987, Charles Woodson of the University of Michigan, became the first primarily defensive player to win the prestigious Heisman Trophy. He intercepted passes, he returned punts, and he returned kickoffs, he could leap tall buildings in a single bound. Against archrival Ohio State, he intercepted two passes, returned a punt for a touchdown, and even caught a 37 yard pass while on offense that led to Michigan’s lone offensive touchdown. Wow! What a valuable player. But the Heisman is not given to the most valuable player; it’s given to the best player. Woodson finished ahead of Peyton Manning in the voting, but light years behind statiscally. The previous year, Woodson did not moon a female assistant athletic trainer, Manning did. When did sportswriters become the moral entrepreneurs of American society, and when did behavior have bearing on voting, or should it have any bearing at all?
Thank goodness the moral fiber has been above reproach for those up for the award in 2008. For the most part, it’s about gaudy numbers (not in 1987 obviously); except if you lose a big game down the stretch like Graham Harrell, the quarterback of Texas Tech did. And he had his worst game of the year against Heisman winner Sam Bradford’s Oklahoma squad. Harrell’s statistics matched up with the three finalists that made the trip to New York. But Sam Bradford and Tim Tebow team’s won their conference championship game. Colt McCoy’s Texas team was excluded from the conference championship because of the BSC ranking tie-breaker rule. All were deserving of the award. None of them ever pissed off anybody in the press, unless there’s a penalty for being too upstanding, and not one of them dropped trou in front of a young lady.
I wonder if any of those Heisman voters cast their ballots for O.J. Simpson when he won the award in 1968.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Simple Pleasures for Simple Minds
The country is mired in economic doldrums the likes we’ve never seen according to all the Chicken Little’s in the media. Massive industry cutbacks and layoffs accompany the corporate begging for Washington’s dollars. The real estate market sucks and the stock market blows, or is it the other way around? It doesn’t really matter; both markets are in the toilet. The only things that are going up are the U.S. debt and unemployment. We’ve just elected our first bi-racial President, who has just inherited this huge pile of fiscal fecal matter. Enough! I say. Let’s broach a subject that is completely frivolous, chewing gum, specifically, bubble gum. More specific yet, Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum. Insert angelic harmonies here.
You know how every once in awhile a product comes along that is infinitely better than anything else on the market. It knows no peer. The competition pales in comparison. Charmin Plus with Aloe toilet paper falls into this category. Never have I ever met anyone that declares that toilet paper is toilet paper. Sure, under duress, we’ve all used crude substitutions; either when camping, or on a desolate highway while on an alcohol fueled roadtrip. Anything will do in a pinch; no pun intended.
Many of our parents did not put a premium on TP. This was an area that one could be frugal when shopping. My mother was a Scott 1000 sheet roll woman, and she bought them in bulk. Who cared that it wasn’t eco-friendly; that you used twice the amount of the one-ply sandpaper facsimile. Hell, it was 10 for a $1.00 or some shit, again, no pun intended. Our generation obviously felt quite the contrary. We did not underestimate the importance of comfortable toilet tissue. You peruse the supermarket paper product aisle and you’ll find a wide array of bathroom tissue, many of the brands coming out in the last 25 years or so. Charmin alone has 5 or 6 different types for the truly discernable shopper. We were no longer relegated to the flimsy school TP, the grainy office TP, and the dreaded industrially abrasive brown Gas Station TP. We demanded more for our bungholes, and we got it by god! We spared no expense when it came to a more pleasurable bathroom experience. This new wave of toilet tissue became the cornerstone for this revolutionary step forward in premium potty time. Charmin Plus with Aloe is my personal fave, but not everyone concurs. Not so concerning Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum. There’s those angels’ singing again.
Walter E Diemer, an accountant, should be nominated for sainthood as far as I’m concerned. In 1928, after his boss Gilbert Mustin gave up the ghost; Mr. Diemer picked up where Mr. Mustin left off in his quest for a suitable gum base. Neither man had any chemistry background. It was Mr. Mustin’s search for a better gum, and Mr. Diemer’s curiosity and never say die attitude, and a little dumb luck, that resulted in the invention of bubble gum. Chewing gum had been around for the better part of eight hundred years before someone attempted to not only make chewing gum satisfying, but fun as well.
Diemer claimed the bubbles were an accident. The men set out to make a gum that wouldn’t stick. But once the gum was found to be stable enough as to not fall apart, Mr. Diemer added the only food coloring available, pink, and came up with a batch of gum with greater elasticity than gums on the market at the time. When chewed, this new gum didn’t fall apart, and as an added bonus, stretched enough to produce bubbles. Those angels are becoming really annoying.
Walter happened to be an accountant for the Fleer Chewing Gum Company. They christened this new gum Dubble Bubble. Fleer sold $1.5 million dollars of the stuff in the first year alone. Walter eventually rose to the position of executive vice-president, but received no royalties for his ground-breaking invention. Soon, Bazooka and Topps vied with Fleer for bubble gum supremacy. It would be nearly fifty years after that first bubble was blown that the world would be introduced to Bubble Yum.
Bubble Yum was the brain child of the Lifesavers Candy Company. For nearly 5 years Bubble Yum was only available in the diabetic coma inducing sugar laden version. Sugarless bubble gum was for sissies. Sugarless versions were only offered by unheard of off-brands. No self-respecting bubble gum company thought a profitable market for the sugarless variety existed. However, as America became more health conscious, a large selection of low-calorie items dotted grocery store shelves. In 1980, Bubble Yum produced a gum that was easy on the waistline, and didn’t promote tooth decay.
Two years later, Hubba Bubba and Bubblicious joined in the fray of super bubble producing gums. In an effort to gain an additional share in the ever expanding market, Bubble Yum came out with a flavored adaptation of Sugarless Bubble Yum. Peppermint was their choice for this new venture. I’m eternally grateful.
A long time bubble gum chewer, I’d found my Holy Grail of gums. This product remained soft for extended periods of time unmatched by any gum I’d previously sampled. In addition, the minty flavor lasted long after lesser gums had lost taste appeal. Could this be the perfect gum? I never settled for anything less ever again.
I once sent a fellow employee on a mission to locate me a pack of the prized concoction. He was not to return without it. My cohorts must join me in this celebration of the mouth. Each and every person that tried Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum from that day on agreed; it truly was the “best gum.” Excitedly, individuals I shared my bounty with, approached me over an hour later to tell me that the softness and flavor did indeed hold true. But as the years wore on, the gum of gums became more elusive.
In 1993, I moved to Florida. I was tickled to find that several merchants carried the gum that knew no equal. Alas, after the Hershey chocolate company acquired the Bubble Yum brand, the vendor numbers dwindled. I would often travel from store to store and buy what remained of the precious booty. I bought boxes at a time, often at per pack price. It didn’t matter. I got to enlist new waves of Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum disciples with each pack I opened. Several months ago, my love affair with the “best gum” ever, came to an abrupt end.
My wife and I went from CVS to CVS, the last of the dying breed of appreciators of the finest gum I had ever encountered. After a near futile search of 5 stores unearthed only 3 packs, we inquired as to this tragedy. We were told Hershey was discontinuing the brand. Devastated, I returned home to see if the Internet could fill the impending void.
Several sites offered regular flavor Bubble Yum Sugarless Bubble Gum; a weak and inferior product that didn’t tickle my senses the way the peppermint variety did; my search continued. Eureka! Was it true? Did my eyes deceive me? After so many confectioner web site visits, 1, one, uno, solo, lone web site had a box of MY gum….at $3.00 per pack plus shipping. I had my limits. The gum did not provide any sexual pleasure, and I felt this should be included at that price. I was stymied, stonewalled, my Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum days had come to an end. I was relegated to a barely passable replacement. But my fortunes were soon to change.
My friend Gregg, recently invited me a local theater production. As was the custom, I offered him gum. Gregg, who long ago had been introduced to the gum industries crown jewel, asked if it was the “good gum.” Downtrodden, I gave him the sad news. I no longer possessed, or had access to, any more good gum. Unbeknownst to me, he became a man on a mission.
Last night, I received a call. Gregg was on the other end. He informed me that he gotten me a Christmas present. We had ceased exchanging gifts several years ago. I was humbly taken aback. He told me I was now the owner of an entire box of fresh, Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum! Hallelujahs and Hosannas reigned! I suspected that Gregg, he of more means than I, did not balk at the pricey outlet I came across on the Internet. I was surprised at his resourcefulness. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he was the father of two young girls and he couldn’t imagine them growing up without ever had the opportunity to sample the finest gum, bar none, ever made. Whatever the reason, I was thrilled, my exuberance was palpable. Like an unsuspecting reunion with a lost love, I am to be reunited. Fate and Gregg had brought us together again. I wonder if Barack Obama would like a piece. He sure could use some good something right now.
You know how every once in awhile a product comes along that is infinitely better than anything else on the market. It knows no peer. The competition pales in comparison. Charmin Plus with Aloe toilet paper falls into this category. Never have I ever met anyone that declares that toilet paper is toilet paper. Sure, under duress, we’ve all used crude substitutions; either when camping, or on a desolate highway while on an alcohol fueled roadtrip. Anything will do in a pinch; no pun intended.
Many of our parents did not put a premium on TP. This was an area that one could be frugal when shopping. My mother was a Scott 1000 sheet roll woman, and she bought them in bulk. Who cared that it wasn’t eco-friendly; that you used twice the amount of the one-ply sandpaper facsimile. Hell, it was 10 for a $1.00 or some shit, again, no pun intended. Our generation obviously felt quite the contrary. We did not underestimate the importance of comfortable toilet tissue. You peruse the supermarket paper product aisle and you’ll find a wide array of bathroom tissue, many of the brands coming out in the last 25 years or so. Charmin alone has 5 or 6 different types for the truly discernable shopper. We were no longer relegated to the flimsy school TP, the grainy office TP, and the dreaded industrially abrasive brown Gas Station TP. We demanded more for our bungholes, and we got it by god! We spared no expense when it came to a more pleasurable bathroom experience. This new wave of toilet tissue became the cornerstone for this revolutionary step forward in premium potty time. Charmin Plus with Aloe is my personal fave, but not everyone concurs. Not so concerning Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum. There’s those angels’ singing again.
Walter E Diemer, an accountant, should be nominated for sainthood as far as I’m concerned. In 1928, after his boss Gilbert Mustin gave up the ghost; Mr. Diemer picked up where Mr. Mustin left off in his quest for a suitable gum base. Neither man had any chemistry background. It was Mr. Mustin’s search for a better gum, and Mr. Diemer’s curiosity and never say die attitude, and a little dumb luck, that resulted in the invention of bubble gum. Chewing gum had been around for the better part of eight hundred years before someone attempted to not only make chewing gum satisfying, but fun as well.
Diemer claimed the bubbles were an accident. The men set out to make a gum that wouldn’t stick. But once the gum was found to be stable enough as to not fall apart, Mr. Diemer added the only food coloring available, pink, and came up with a batch of gum with greater elasticity than gums on the market at the time. When chewed, this new gum didn’t fall apart, and as an added bonus, stretched enough to produce bubbles. Those angels are becoming really annoying.
Walter happened to be an accountant for the Fleer Chewing Gum Company. They christened this new gum Dubble Bubble. Fleer sold $1.5 million dollars of the stuff in the first year alone. Walter eventually rose to the position of executive vice-president, but received no royalties for his ground-breaking invention. Soon, Bazooka and Topps vied with Fleer for bubble gum supremacy. It would be nearly fifty years after that first bubble was blown that the world would be introduced to Bubble Yum.
Bubble Yum was the brain child of the Lifesavers Candy Company. For nearly 5 years Bubble Yum was only available in the diabetic coma inducing sugar laden version. Sugarless bubble gum was for sissies. Sugarless versions were only offered by unheard of off-brands. No self-respecting bubble gum company thought a profitable market for the sugarless variety existed. However, as America became more health conscious, a large selection of low-calorie items dotted grocery store shelves. In 1980, Bubble Yum produced a gum that was easy on the waistline, and didn’t promote tooth decay.
Two years later, Hubba Bubba and Bubblicious joined in the fray of super bubble producing gums. In an effort to gain an additional share in the ever expanding market, Bubble Yum came out with a flavored adaptation of Sugarless Bubble Yum. Peppermint was their choice for this new venture. I’m eternally grateful.
A long time bubble gum chewer, I’d found my Holy Grail of gums. This product remained soft for extended periods of time unmatched by any gum I’d previously sampled. In addition, the minty flavor lasted long after lesser gums had lost taste appeal. Could this be the perfect gum? I never settled for anything less ever again.
I once sent a fellow employee on a mission to locate me a pack of the prized concoction. He was not to return without it. My cohorts must join me in this celebration of the mouth. Each and every person that tried Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum from that day on agreed; it truly was the “best gum.” Excitedly, individuals I shared my bounty with, approached me over an hour later to tell me that the softness and flavor did indeed hold true. But as the years wore on, the gum of gums became more elusive.
In 1993, I moved to Florida. I was tickled to find that several merchants carried the gum that knew no equal. Alas, after the Hershey chocolate company acquired the Bubble Yum brand, the vendor numbers dwindled. I would often travel from store to store and buy what remained of the precious booty. I bought boxes at a time, often at per pack price. It didn’t matter. I got to enlist new waves of Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum disciples with each pack I opened. Several months ago, my love affair with the “best gum” ever, came to an abrupt end.
My wife and I went from CVS to CVS, the last of the dying breed of appreciators of the finest gum I had ever encountered. After a near futile search of 5 stores unearthed only 3 packs, we inquired as to this tragedy. We were told Hershey was discontinuing the brand. Devastated, I returned home to see if the Internet could fill the impending void.
Several sites offered regular flavor Bubble Yum Sugarless Bubble Gum; a weak and inferior product that didn’t tickle my senses the way the peppermint variety did; my search continued. Eureka! Was it true? Did my eyes deceive me? After so many confectioner web site visits, 1, one, uno, solo, lone web site had a box of MY gum….at $3.00 per pack plus shipping. I had my limits. The gum did not provide any sexual pleasure, and I felt this should be included at that price. I was stymied, stonewalled, my Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum days had come to an end. I was relegated to a barely passable replacement. But my fortunes were soon to change.
My friend Gregg, recently invited me a local theater production. As was the custom, I offered him gum. Gregg, who long ago had been introduced to the gum industries crown jewel, asked if it was the “good gum.” Downtrodden, I gave him the sad news. I no longer possessed, or had access to, any more good gum. Unbeknownst to me, he became a man on a mission.
Last night, I received a call. Gregg was on the other end. He informed me that he gotten me a Christmas present. We had ceased exchanging gifts several years ago. I was humbly taken aback. He told me I was now the owner of an entire box of fresh, Bubble Yum Sugarless Peppermint Bubble Gum! Hallelujahs and Hosannas reigned! I suspected that Gregg, he of more means than I, did not balk at the pricey outlet I came across on the Internet. I was surprised at his resourcefulness. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he was the father of two young girls and he couldn’t imagine them growing up without ever had the opportunity to sample the finest gum, bar none, ever made. Whatever the reason, I was thrilled, my exuberance was palpable. Like an unsuspecting reunion with a lost love, I am to be reunited. Fate and Gregg had brought us together again. I wonder if Barack Obama would like a piece. He sure could use some good something right now.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Other People’s Money
A Congressional committee is currently hearing from the CEO’s of the not so Big Three from the automobile industry. It seems they too, are in need of financial assistance. Then again, aren’t we all. Unless you find yourself among that elite class of “ten-per centers,” you’ve probably taken a hit in the ol’ wallet. Are we allowed to go before Congress and plead our cases so the government will help us remain solvent? Noooooo! Maybe it’s time for the auto industry to man up, and bite the bullet. If they don’t want to bite the bullet, let them chew on this for awhile.
In an unprecedented appeal for government funds, five huge corporations have asked for, and received government fiscal dispensation. There have been only eight other requests between 1970, and 2001, with mixed results. And now the 3 largest American automobile manufacturers want to add their names to the ever growing list…again, for 2008. How soon we forget.
In May of 1970, the Penn Central Railroad needed a bailout of $3.2 billion dollars. President Nixon and the Federal Reserve supported the financial assistance. Congress said nay, and Penn Central filed for bankruptcy the following month, absolving Penn Central from its commercial paper obligations. How nice! On top of that, to counteract the aftershocks to the money market, the Fed provided the funds to commercial banks to meet the credit needs of its customers. Sound familiar? It just so happens that 5 other railroads were in the shitter as well, so they all got together to form ConRail. The government dumped $19.7 billion into the consortium. It took 11 years, but ConRail started to turn a profit. In 1987, the government sold ConRail for $3.1 billion. In addition, the Treasury received a $579 million dividend from the railway. Seventeen years it took for the government to get their money back. I’m glad I wasn’t hanging by my balls waiting for that ship to come in.
The government also bailed out Lockheed in 1971. That turned out really well for the good old U.S. of A. Not so for the Franklin National Bank bailout. We, -I say "we" because the government finances some of this stuff with taxpayer money- didn’t fair so well on that one, mostly to due corporate corruption and lack of legislation. If this piece was a game of “hide and seek” we’d be getting warm about now.
The NYC bailout in 1975, and the Chrysler bailout in 1980, netted the government some serious coin. In 1984, the Continental Illinois National Bank and Trust got a helping hand from Uncle Sam, but they picked their figurative nose before they took it. The FDIC took a $1.8 billion loss on that one; same for the Savings and Loan fiasco in 1989. John Q. Public got bit for $178.56 billion there. Do you sense a trend with these banking industry shitheads?
Believe or not, the government made money on the airline industry bailout. Profits were reportedly to be somewhere in the neighborhood of $141.7 million to $327 million. Big fucking neighborhood if you ask me. The government only did that well because Eastern Airlines, Pan Am, Braniff, National, and TWA to name a few, had the good graces to file for bankruptcy prior to 2001. The government had to step in to save the rest or we’d all be taking trains again. Or, we could start driving everywhere again, and make good use of our massive interstate highway system that is in such disrepair. But then, the ever profitable oil companies would start raising gas prices so the even more elite "one per centers" can keep garnering those huge dividends. Oh, we can’t repair the roads anyway, that would take tax dollars, and we’re too busy using them to bailout unregulated, mismanaged, greedy corporations that have spread themselves too thin.
So who heads the list of least likely to succeed for 2008? Lending institutions. These are the same guys the U.S. government has bet on in the past and lost. Of the-now here’s a big fucking number-$1,352,500,000,000.00 (yes, trillion) in government bailout monies so far, $1,327,500,000,000.00 went to Bear Stearns, Fannie Mae/Freddie Mac, A.I.G. and their credit default swaps bullshit, Troubled Asset Relief Program (Wall Street, and their credit default swaps bullshit), and Citigroup. The other measly $25 billion went to; yup you guessed it, the auto industry.
What’s ironic is that both General Motors, the biggest of the “getting smaller all the time 3,” and Citigroup, are on the Dow Jones. No wonder the damn average is behaving like a hummingbird with ADHD. Let’s remove these two slackers, replace them with profitable, stable companies, and see if things don’t mellow out a little. That’s what’s been done throughout the years.
The original Dow was comprised of only 11 companies; 9 railroads, a steamship firm, and Western Union. The last time the name of a railroad appeared on the Dow was 1927, the last year before the list of companies was expanded from 20 to 30. Since the expansion, companies have come and gone, some have lasted longer than others. Sear Roebuck & Company was added to the short list in January, 1924, and held its place until November, 1999. The huge retailer Woolworth came along in May of ’24, but was replaced by Wal-Mart in March of 1997. Woolworth not only was removed from the Dow, it went out of business altogether. How fast and far the mighty have fallen.
US Steel and Bethlehem Steel no longer share the distinction of making up the Dow Industrials along with Hudson Motors, Chrysler, and Studebaker. Studebaker hung around a little longer by merging with Nash, but they too have fallen by the wayside, and it's been quite awhile at that.
In The Godfather, Hyman Roth declared to Michael Corleone in 1959 that organized crime was bigger than US Steel. That’s nothing to brag about today. Some folks say that unions were the cause of US Steel’s woes, and that’s what’s ailing the automobile industry. That’s not entirely true. There was a need for unions for the coal miners and steel workers back in the 19th century. The premise was a good one; protect workers from greedy management in an unregulated industry. Things changed little over the years until unions became greedy, mismanaged, and unregulated. When union negotiations became versions of “Can You Top This” in the 1960’s, corporations didn’t count on worker life expectancies increasing exponentially. Now the auto industry is paying the price for their lack of foresight. Back when union deals were struck affecting individuals who are now living well into their 70’s, the average life expectancy was 62. That’s over ten more years of pensions and healthcare benefits.
So many things automakers didn’t count on; foreign competition, costs of doing business escalating, mismanagement, and the always popular, greed; the very same components that fueled the downfall of the steel industry in this country.
One thing that the rogue’s gallery of government titsuckers can count on is that the economy is cyclical. Every 14 years or so, it corrects itself. The fiscal elevator stops at all the floors on the way up, and on the way down, as they are becoming painfully aware. Those on this year’s ever expanding bailout list must not employ economists. Hasn’t history taught us anything? Doesn’t any of these overpaid upper management (is that an oxymoron?) wastoids, or Congress for that matter, pay attention to it?
Or maybe what it all boils down to is the acceptance of the rampant mediocrity that has permeated every aspect of our society. But that's a blog for another day... or several.
In 1907, J.P. Morgan bailed out the U.S. government due to unregulated stock speculations. Who is going to bail out the government when they’re done doling out trillions to failing industries? Maybe Bill Gates and Warren Buffet can pool their resources in case of emergency. Oh, that’s right they only make sound investments in adeptly run corporations that turn a profit, and none of those names on the 2008 government bailout list qualify.
In an unprecedented appeal for government funds, five huge corporations have asked for, and received government fiscal dispensation. There have been only eight other requests between 1970, and 2001, with mixed results. And now the 3 largest American automobile manufacturers want to add their names to the ever growing list…again, for 2008. How soon we forget.
In May of 1970, the Penn Central Railroad needed a bailout of $3.2 billion dollars. President Nixon and the Federal Reserve supported the financial assistance. Congress said nay, and Penn Central filed for bankruptcy the following month, absolving Penn Central from its commercial paper obligations. How nice! On top of that, to counteract the aftershocks to the money market, the Fed provided the funds to commercial banks to meet the credit needs of its customers. Sound familiar? It just so happens that 5 other railroads were in the shitter as well, so they all got together to form ConRail. The government dumped $19.7 billion into the consortium. It took 11 years, but ConRail started to turn a profit. In 1987, the government sold ConRail for $3.1 billion. In addition, the Treasury received a $579 million dividend from the railway. Seventeen years it took for the government to get their money back. I’m glad I wasn’t hanging by my balls waiting for that ship to come in.
The government also bailed out Lockheed in 1971. That turned out really well for the good old U.S. of A. Not so for the Franklin National Bank bailout. We, -I say "we" because the government finances some of this stuff with taxpayer money- didn’t fair so well on that one, mostly to due corporate corruption and lack of legislation. If this piece was a game of “hide and seek” we’d be getting warm about now.
The NYC bailout in 1975, and the Chrysler bailout in 1980, netted the government some serious coin. In 1984, the Continental Illinois National Bank and Trust got a helping hand from Uncle Sam, but they picked their figurative nose before they took it. The FDIC took a $1.8 billion loss on that one; same for the Savings and Loan fiasco in 1989. John Q. Public got bit for $178.56 billion there. Do you sense a trend with these banking industry shitheads?
Believe or not, the government made money on the airline industry bailout. Profits were reportedly to be somewhere in the neighborhood of $141.7 million to $327 million. Big fucking neighborhood if you ask me. The government only did that well because Eastern Airlines, Pan Am, Braniff, National, and TWA to name a few, had the good graces to file for bankruptcy prior to 2001. The government had to step in to save the rest or we’d all be taking trains again. Or, we could start driving everywhere again, and make good use of our massive interstate highway system that is in such disrepair. But then, the ever profitable oil companies would start raising gas prices so the even more elite "one per centers" can keep garnering those huge dividends. Oh, we can’t repair the roads anyway, that would take tax dollars, and we’re too busy using them to bailout unregulated, mismanaged, greedy corporations that have spread themselves too thin.
So who heads the list of least likely to succeed for 2008? Lending institutions. These are the same guys the U.S. government has bet on in the past and lost. Of the-now here’s a big fucking number-$1,352,500,000,000.00 (yes, trillion) in government bailout monies so far, $1,327,500,000,000.00 went to Bear Stearns, Fannie Mae/Freddie Mac, A.I.G. and their credit default swaps bullshit, Troubled Asset Relief Program (Wall Street, and their credit default swaps bullshit), and Citigroup. The other measly $25 billion went to; yup you guessed it, the auto industry.
What’s ironic is that both General Motors, the biggest of the “getting smaller all the time 3,” and Citigroup, are on the Dow Jones. No wonder the damn average is behaving like a hummingbird with ADHD. Let’s remove these two slackers, replace them with profitable, stable companies, and see if things don’t mellow out a little. That’s what’s been done throughout the years.
The original Dow was comprised of only 11 companies; 9 railroads, a steamship firm, and Western Union. The last time the name of a railroad appeared on the Dow was 1927, the last year before the list of companies was expanded from 20 to 30. Since the expansion, companies have come and gone, some have lasted longer than others. Sear Roebuck & Company was added to the short list in January, 1924, and held its place until November, 1999. The huge retailer Woolworth came along in May of ’24, but was replaced by Wal-Mart in March of 1997. Woolworth not only was removed from the Dow, it went out of business altogether. How fast and far the mighty have fallen.
US Steel and Bethlehem Steel no longer share the distinction of making up the Dow Industrials along with Hudson Motors, Chrysler, and Studebaker. Studebaker hung around a little longer by merging with Nash, but they too have fallen by the wayside, and it's been quite awhile at that.
In The Godfather, Hyman Roth declared to Michael Corleone in 1959 that organized crime was bigger than US Steel. That’s nothing to brag about today. Some folks say that unions were the cause of US Steel’s woes, and that’s what’s ailing the automobile industry. That’s not entirely true. There was a need for unions for the coal miners and steel workers back in the 19th century. The premise was a good one; protect workers from greedy management in an unregulated industry. Things changed little over the years until unions became greedy, mismanaged, and unregulated. When union negotiations became versions of “Can You Top This” in the 1960’s, corporations didn’t count on worker life expectancies increasing exponentially. Now the auto industry is paying the price for their lack of foresight. Back when union deals were struck affecting individuals who are now living well into their 70’s, the average life expectancy was 62. That’s over ten more years of pensions and healthcare benefits.
So many things automakers didn’t count on; foreign competition, costs of doing business escalating, mismanagement, and the always popular, greed; the very same components that fueled the downfall of the steel industry in this country.
One thing that the rogue’s gallery of government titsuckers can count on is that the economy is cyclical. Every 14 years or so, it corrects itself. The fiscal elevator stops at all the floors on the way up, and on the way down, as they are becoming painfully aware. Those on this year’s ever expanding bailout list must not employ economists. Hasn’t history taught us anything? Doesn’t any of these overpaid upper management (is that an oxymoron?) wastoids, or Congress for that matter, pay attention to it?
Or maybe what it all boils down to is the acceptance of the rampant mediocrity that has permeated every aspect of our society. But that's a blog for another day... or several.
In 1907, J.P. Morgan bailed out the U.S. government due to unregulated stock speculations. Who is going to bail out the government when they’re done doling out trillions to failing industries? Maybe Bill Gates and Warren Buffet can pool their resources in case of emergency. Oh, that’s right they only make sound investments in adeptly run corporations that turn a profit, and none of those names on the 2008 government bailout list qualify.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
What if they held a sporting event and nobody cared?
Miller beer has been running an ad campaign that centers on “Wendel,” a large “everyman” beer driver admonishing folks who aren’t worthy of selling the “High-Life.” These transgressors range from snooty, up scale grocery stores, to pretentious night clubs, to skybox occupiers-“located in section La De Da”- at a baseball game. “Wendel” bursts through the door of the inner sanctum, and loudly poses the question, “Alright, who can tell me what inning we’re in?” The dozen or so revelers, too busy trying to impress one another, immediately go mute. Their collective eyes glaze over as if someone had reached in their skulls and simultaneously removed their brains. With that, “Wendel” confiscates the Miller High Life, too much pomposity for him and his product. These seat fillers are becoming more and more prevalent for several reasons, and there isn’t a goddamn thing anyone can do about it; because money, not loyalty or avid support makes the world go ‘round. Sadly, I’ve witnessed this type of pseudo fan behavior first hand, on more than one occasion, at different sporting events. But it wasn’t always like this.
As a child I attended a New York Yankee game with my friend Tom. My father had procured the Eastern Airlines box seats. We sat behind Mitch Miller of Sing-A-Long With fame. He and his companion cheered with the best of them. He was undeterred by the behavior of giddy, annoying adolescence boys. It was all part of the game experience back then. Then something changed.
In 1984, my friend Gregg and I attended a New York Mets game. When we arrived, we bought the cheapest tickets available. I planned to employ the same scam I used dozens of times at Yankee Stadium, we’d tip the usher to let us in the field level seats. The subterfuge went off without a hitch. The kind, gruff gentleman escorted us to two seats located behind home plate near the field, to my friend’s delight. There was one proviso we were not prepared for. The “fans” located in our vicinity did not cheer a fine play. Nor did a timely extra base hit provide enough impetus to raise them out of their seats. While we nearly shouted ourselves horse, we were gazed upon with one collective stink eye. I was perplexed, what was the root cause for such sedate decorum? Gregg summed it up. “They were too rich, and to private” to behave in such an uninhibited manner. I thought “Why the fuck did you come then?” They could have stayed home and been stuffy and uptight.
Over the years this type of behavior became more ubiquitous. In 2005, my beloved Cincinnati Bengals, after many years of futility, reached the AFC playoffs for the first time in sixteen seasons. My son Cory and I made the trek from Florida to Cincinnati. We obtained handicapped seats half way up the lower bowl of Paul Brown Stadium. We were seated directly in front of a season ticket holder’s skybox. Thousands of long suffering fans were whipped into a frenzied state. Everyone was on their feet. Cory had commented about the fever pitch of the ear splitting decibel level. …and those occupying the box behind us wanted us to be seated so they could view the game (when they decided to watch) unimpeded without having to stand. I turned and addressed them. I questioned their loyalty. Cory inquired about what kind of fans were they after waiting so many years of ineptitude, to remain so impassive. I told Cory that they weren’t fans, but people who want to show other people how successful they are by purchasing a skybox. “Look at me, I’m in a skybox, aren’t I great!?” Who’s winning? Who cares, as long as everyone knows I’m wealthy, and I’m here. It shouldn’t be an issue. Real fans should want to stand as opposed to feeling they shouldn’t have to because they paid for the privilege not to; and those that do stand are annoyances to their exclusivity. “How dare those peons show their support in such a demonstrative way! Don’t they know who we are and how gauche they are?” These are the type of folk who now frequently inhabit our hallowed arenas of sport; and it’s only going to get worse. Sure, some of them like Spike Lee, like him or not, are real fans. They aren’t always the most knowledgeable, but you can’t beat their enthusiasm. However, they are the minority and not the majority.
Elite season tickets at Yankee Stadium will run you around $100,000 per seat for eighty-one games. A step down will still cost you nearly $45,000. Courtside seats to a Lakers game will run you around $2500 per. Face value of 2008 Super Bowl ticket prices were between $700 and $900. Those same tickets commanded a $4000 resale price as offered by brokers. Oral favors not withstanding, the average loyal fan that doles out 20% of their gross pay for eight games worth of support, might be hesitant to shell out half a kidney to see their team through to the bitter end; and now there are seat licensing fees to boot. It’s no better for the World Series. After corporate execs, celebrities wanting to be seen, and other assorted rich and maybe famous get theirs, so does Mr. or Mrs. Lifetime Rooter, except it’s not a ticket they get.
People who wouldn’t know a baseball from a ballsac, have some sort of insatiable need to attend sporting events. The least they can do is be excited about what’s going on. They don’t even have to know what’s going on, just act like it. Make your fucking deals on the golf course where they belong. Maybe “Wendel’s” next commercial can show him whacking a Miller High Life bottle over a “non-fans” head. That’d garner some face time.
As a child I attended a New York Yankee game with my friend Tom. My father had procured the Eastern Airlines box seats. We sat behind Mitch Miller of Sing-A-Long With fame. He and his companion cheered with the best of them. He was undeterred by the behavior of giddy, annoying adolescence boys. It was all part of the game experience back then. Then something changed.
In 1984, my friend Gregg and I attended a New York Mets game. When we arrived, we bought the cheapest tickets available. I planned to employ the same scam I used dozens of times at Yankee Stadium, we’d tip the usher to let us in the field level seats. The subterfuge went off without a hitch. The kind, gruff gentleman escorted us to two seats located behind home plate near the field, to my friend’s delight. There was one proviso we were not prepared for. The “fans” located in our vicinity did not cheer a fine play. Nor did a timely extra base hit provide enough impetus to raise them out of their seats. While we nearly shouted ourselves horse, we were gazed upon with one collective stink eye. I was perplexed, what was the root cause for such sedate decorum? Gregg summed it up. “They were too rich, and to private” to behave in such an uninhibited manner. I thought “Why the fuck did you come then?” They could have stayed home and been stuffy and uptight.
Over the years this type of behavior became more ubiquitous. In 2005, my beloved Cincinnati Bengals, after many years of futility, reached the AFC playoffs for the first time in sixteen seasons. My son Cory and I made the trek from Florida to Cincinnati. We obtained handicapped seats half way up the lower bowl of Paul Brown Stadium. We were seated directly in front of a season ticket holder’s skybox. Thousands of long suffering fans were whipped into a frenzied state. Everyone was on their feet. Cory had commented about the fever pitch of the ear splitting decibel level. …and those occupying the box behind us wanted us to be seated so they could view the game (when they decided to watch) unimpeded without having to stand. I turned and addressed them. I questioned their loyalty. Cory inquired about what kind of fans were they after waiting so many years of ineptitude, to remain so impassive. I told Cory that they weren’t fans, but people who want to show other people how successful they are by purchasing a skybox. “Look at me, I’m in a skybox, aren’t I great!?” Who’s winning? Who cares, as long as everyone knows I’m wealthy, and I’m here. It shouldn’t be an issue. Real fans should want to stand as opposed to feeling they shouldn’t have to because they paid for the privilege not to; and those that do stand are annoyances to their exclusivity. “How dare those peons show their support in such a demonstrative way! Don’t they know who we are and how gauche they are?” These are the type of folk who now frequently inhabit our hallowed arenas of sport; and it’s only going to get worse. Sure, some of them like Spike Lee, like him or not, are real fans. They aren’t always the most knowledgeable, but you can’t beat their enthusiasm. However, they are the minority and not the majority.
Elite season tickets at Yankee Stadium will run you around $100,000 per seat for eighty-one games. A step down will still cost you nearly $45,000. Courtside seats to a Lakers game will run you around $2500 per. Face value of 2008 Super Bowl ticket prices were between $700 and $900. Those same tickets commanded a $4000 resale price as offered by brokers. Oral favors not withstanding, the average loyal fan that doles out 20% of their gross pay for eight games worth of support, might be hesitant to shell out half a kidney to see their team through to the bitter end; and now there are seat licensing fees to boot. It’s no better for the World Series. After corporate execs, celebrities wanting to be seen, and other assorted rich and maybe famous get theirs, so does Mr. or Mrs. Lifetime Rooter, except it’s not a ticket they get.
People who wouldn’t know a baseball from a ballsac, have some sort of insatiable need to attend sporting events. The least they can do is be excited about what’s going on. They don’t even have to know what’s going on, just act like it. Make your fucking deals on the golf course where they belong. Maybe “Wendel’s” next commercial can show him whacking a Miller High Life bottle over a “non-fans” head. That’d garner some face time.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Life in the Slow Lane
An historic event capped off another thrilling season of men driving rapidly in circles in cars that look similar to the ones we can buy save the Andy Warhol paint schemes. Jimmy Johnson, not to be confused with Junior Johnson, or Howard Johnson (the baseball player not the motel) for that matter; won his third consecutive Sprint, (the cellular phone company not the lesser race car circuit) Cup. It used to be called the Winston Cup until the suits (hard puffing race fans included) decided that smoking was bad for us and a cigarette brand was considered poor PR to be the primary sponsor of a sport that used countless amounts of the world’s most precious and valued resource. Also, the carbon monoxide from the exhaust fumes produced is sufficient enough to cause cancer in the hundreds of thousands of race fans attending each and every event anyway. Why make matters worse.
Jimmie Johnson’s accomplishment far outshines that of James Frank Kotera a.k.a. JFK, who recently surpassed Francis (not Frank) Johnson (no relation to any of the Johnson’s previously mentioned) after 30 years, for amassing the world’s largest ball of twine.
Ironically, it had been thirty years since Cale (with a “C” not with a “K” like the vegetable) Yarborough won his third straight NASCAR Championship. An eerie coincidence don’t you think? Sadly, either twine gatherer received neither the adulation nor financial reward Jimmie Johnson has garnered. And I know why, sponsorship!
Each NASCAR team has about $120 million in revenue. 75% of that comes from sponsorship. Primary sponsors contribute $20 million on the average. The primary sponsor gets to have their name festooned on the hood of the car they back. The primary sponsor also gets to plaster its name on the helmets and fire suits of the driver and the pit crew. And when the race is over, each individual can be counted upon to don a cap proclaiming their loyalty.
But don’t you fret none for the lowly secondary sponsor, who get to have their name on the rear quarter panel of the car. They only have to contribute about $10 million for the privilege. An agreement with the primary sponsor allows for the secondary sponsor to have the drivers and pit crews wear apparel bedecked with the little guys logo a couple of races every year. This does not go unnoticed by NASCAR, or the France family who run NASCAR, (you can readily substitute one name for the other). It’s similar to the NFL allowing teams to have multiple regulation jerseys. They’ll tell you it’s to liven things up a bit. But the No Fun League encourages the practice so fans will have another reason to buy more shit. Race fans, who already own tons of merchandise with the primary sponsor insignia, can run out and get the “limited edition” merchandise with the secondary sponsor’s logo on whatever it is that they buy, and they buy a lot.
According to Forbes, each team cleared about $12.3 million in profit last year. NASCAR showed a profit of over $3 billion. So in addition to television rights, the near 200,000 attending each event are buying a lot of stuff.
The South wanted a sport that was uniquely theirs, and Bill France Sr. gave it to them. I’m sure he did not envision the monolith that was to spring from that first race he organized along Daytona Beach in 1947. Hats off to Mr. France and everything NASCAR has accomplished. That’s some family business. I’m just not that into it. Before you cry out “sacrilege!” let me explain.
As a kid, I sat with my grandfather, (he was a Ford man) and watched stock car racing when it was aired on ABC’s Wide World of Sports. Each Memorial Day, or around Memorial Day when ratings became more important than tradition, I watched the Indianapolis 500. That is until the IRL, or Indy Racing League, and CART, or Championship Auto Racing Teams got into a pissing contest and the ill feeling diluted the sport and divided the drivers. I have attended stock car races at Nazareth Speedway in Pennsylvania, at Flemington Race track in New Jersey, and a Busch race at Homestead Speedway in Florida. The engine noise alone raises my testosterone level. I try every year to make it a point to watch the Daytona 500, the event that ranks only behind the Super Bowl in terms of monetary value. A happening so enthralling, that it’s on my list of things to do before I die; experience the Daytona 500 in person.
With that being said, I must say the idea of men making a perpetual series of left turns at high speed for hours is not something I want to devote my limited free time to each weekend. I’m already frittering away my valuable leisure time watching baseball, football, basketball, and golf. Hey, maybe I should give up watching some of those sports and…. start a ball of twine instead of following NASCAR. They both go round and round.
Jimmie Johnson’s accomplishment far outshines that of James Frank Kotera a.k.a. JFK, who recently surpassed Francis (not Frank) Johnson (no relation to any of the Johnson’s previously mentioned) after 30 years, for amassing the world’s largest ball of twine.
Ironically, it had been thirty years since Cale (with a “C” not with a “K” like the vegetable) Yarborough won his third straight NASCAR Championship. An eerie coincidence don’t you think? Sadly, either twine gatherer received neither the adulation nor financial reward Jimmie Johnson has garnered. And I know why, sponsorship!
Each NASCAR team has about $120 million in revenue. 75% of that comes from sponsorship. Primary sponsors contribute $20 million on the average. The primary sponsor gets to have their name festooned on the hood of the car they back. The primary sponsor also gets to plaster its name on the helmets and fire suits of the driver and the pit crew. And when the race is over, each individual can be counted upon to don a cap proclaiming their loyalty.
But don’t you fret none for the lowly secondary sponsor, who get to have their name on the rear quarter panel of the car. They only have to contribute about $10 million for the privilege. An agreement with the primary sponsor allows for the secondary sponsor to have the drivers and pit crews wear apparel bedecked with the little guys logo a couple of races every year. This does not go unnoticed by NASCAR, or the France family who run NASCAR, (you can readily substitute one name for the other). It’s similar to the NFL allowing teams to have multiple regulation jerseys. They’ll tell you it’s to liven things up a bit. But the No Fun League encourages the practice so fans will have another reason to buy more shit. Race fans, who already own tons of merchandise with the primary sponsor insignia, can run out and get the “limited edition” merchandise with the secondary sponsor’s logo on whatever it is that they buy, and they buy a lot.
According to Forbes, each team cleared about $12.3 million in profit last year. NASCAR showed a profit of over $3 billion. So in addition to television rights, the near 200,000 attending each event are buying a lot of stuff.
The South wanted a sport that was uniquely theirs, and Bill France Sr. gave it to them. I’m sure he did not envision the monolith that was to spring from that first race he organized along Daytona Beach in 1947. Hats off to Mr. France and everything NASCAR has accomplished. That’s some family business. I’m just not that into it. Before you cry out “sacrilege!” let me explain.
As a kid, I sat with my grandfather, (he was a Ford man) and watched stock car racing when it was aired on ABC’s Wide World of Sports. Each Memorial Day, or around Memorial Day when ratings became more important than tradition, I watched the Indianapolis 500. That is until the IRL, or Indy Racing League, and CART, or Championship Auto Racing Teams got into a pissing contest and the ill feeling diluted the sport and divided the drivers. I have attended stock car races at Nazareth Speedway in Pennsylvania, at Flemington Race track in New Jersey, and a Busch race at Homestead Speedway in Florida. The engine noise alone raises my testosterone level. I try every year to make it a point to watch the Daytona 500, the event that ranks only behind the Super Bowl in terms of monetary value. A happening so enthralling, that it’s on my list of things to do before I die; experience the Daytona 500 in person.
With that being said, I must say the idea of men making a perpetual series of left turns at high speed for hours is not something I want to devote my limited free time to each weekend. I’m already frittering away my valuable leisure time watching baseball, football, basketball, and golf. Hey, maybe I should give up watching some of those sports and…. start a ball of twine instead of following NASCAR. They both go round and round.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
For the rabid sports fan, late October, early November, is when the when the sun is at its apex above the sports landscape. The symmetry of alignment for all followers of the games men play is unequaled at any other time of the year. The Major League baseball season comes to a close with the crowning of a new champion. The NBA and the NHL launch their schedules, where each team has a renewed sense of hope and promise. College basketball kicks off with midnight madness. The NFL has reached its half-way point, and the playoff picture starts to come into focus. Not so in college football. This time of year brings with it deliberation and consternation. To playoff or not to playoff that is the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of the BCS, or to take arms against the pollsters, and by opposing end them.
I fear this year there is a heightened sense of discourse relating to a college playoff format. No other than our newly elected President has fanned the flames of debate with an ill wind.
On the eve of the Presidential election, ESPN broadcaster Chris Berman, during the nationally televised Monday Night Football game, posed a question to both candidates. If they could change one thing about sports, what would it be? Like the true Republican that he is, John McCain wanted to rid sports of drugs. Lets give a shout out to Nancy Reagan. Since sports are a microcosm of society, his answer was a well meaning pipe dream. Barack Obama’s desire was no less daunting, but it's his timing that was timely. Obama would bring some sort of playoff system to college football. Does this mean the system as it is should undergo more finite scrutiny than past years just because our new President considers it a pressing sports issue? I don’t know how much more heated the argument for or against can rage.
Football is the only sport that NCAA Division I does not have a championship for. The BCS or Bowl Championship Series is a byproduct of the FBS, or Football Bowl Subdivision. The BCS was created to settle the matter of which team is the “real” champion because no selecting organization could ever reach a consensus; even though the NCAA declares, prior to the formation of the BCS, that there have been 49 Consensus National Champions from 1950 to 2003. The definition of consensus is a “general agreement.” But in 16 of those years previously stated, there were multiple teams “generally agreed upon” as National Champions. 2003 was a curious year since the BCS already existed and acknowledged LSU to be the National Champion, but the “consensus” champs were USC. Huh? You got all that? Yeah, me either.
In 1926,Illinois economics professor Frank G. Dickinson, devised a mathematical formula to, once and for all, determine a definitive National Champion. The “Dickinson System” was used as the “be all, end all” until 1936 when the Associated Press decided who was the country’s premier collegiate football. After 1949, the “consensus” system was implemented, even though each year up to five different governing bodies, (AP, UPI, FWAA, NFF, USA/CNN, USA/ESPN) weighed in with their results. That’s quite a consensus.
The blackest eye to the system(s) occurred in 1984, when the lightly regarded Mountain West Conference, anointed Brigham Young University its champion. They ended their less than daunting season with a Holiday Bowl win over a less than stellar Michigan team. BYU was the nation’s only undefeated team, though it didn’t qualify for any of the major bowl games. Almost by default, the NCAA in their infinite wisdom, made BYU National Champion. There was great unrest on several college campuses around the country. And look at the strides we made. Georgia was odd man out last year, and this year the BCS/NCAA could find themselves amid another conundrum.
Some teams have three games left, some have two. Some have conference championships, some don’t. The BCS can’t take more than two teams from any one conference for their bowl games. Somebody somewhere is going to be pissed. Utah, Boise State, and Ball State, if they finish the season undefeated, will cry foul, that no one gives them the respect they deserve, and that they merit consideration for the National title; wah, wah, wah; and the beat goes on.
Barack Obama may not be aware of the Pandora’s Box he unwittingly (or maybe not), has good naturedly put under the collegiate football microscope. How hard WOULD it be to rid sports of all drugs anyway?
I fear this year there is a heightened sense of discourse relating to a college playoff format. No other than our newly elected President has fanned the flames of debate with an ill wind.
On the eve of the Presidential election, ESPN broadcaster Chris Berman, during the nationally televised Monday Night Football game, posed a question to both candidates. If they could change one thing about sports, what would it be? Like the true Republican that he is, John McCain wanted to rid sports of drugs. Lets give a shout out to Nancy Reagan. Since sports are a microcosm of society, his answer was a well meaning pipe dream. Barack Obama’s desire was no less daunting, but it's his timing that was timely. Obama would bring some sort of playoff system to college football. Does this mean the system as it is should undergo more finite scrutiny than past years just because our new President considers it a pressing sports issue? I don’t know how much more heated the argument for or against can rage.
Football is the only sport that NCAA Division I does not have a championship for. The BCS or Bowl Championship Series is a byproduct of the FBS, or Football Bowl Subdivision. The BCS was created to settle the matter of which team is the “real” champion because no selecting organization could ever reach a consensus; even though the NCAA declares, prior to the formation of the BCS, that there have been 49 Consensus National Champions from 1950 to 2003. The definition of consensus is a “general agreement.” But in 16 of those years previously stated, there were multiple teams “generally agreed upon” as National Champions. 2003 was a curious year since the BCS already existed and acknowledged LSU to be the National Champion, but the “consensus” champs were USC. Huh? You got all that? Yeah, me either.
In 1926,Illinois economics professor Frank G. Dickinson, devised a mathematical formula to, once and for all, determine a definitive National Champion. The “Dickinson System” was used as the “be all, end all” until 1936 when the Associated Press decided who was the country’s premier collegiate football. After 1949, the “consensus” system was implemented, even though each year up to five different governing bodies, (AP, UPI, FWAA, NFF, USA/CNN, USA/ESPN) weighed in with their results. That’s quite a consensus.
The blackest eye to the system(s) occurred in 1984, when the lightly regarded Mountain West Conference, anointed Brigham Young University its champion. They ended their less than daunting season with a Holiday Bowl win over a less than stellar Michigan team. BYU was the nation’s only undefeated team, though it didn’t qualify for any of the major bowl games. Almost by default, the NCAA in their infinite wisdom, made BYU National Champion. There was great unrest on several college campuses around the country. And look at the strides we made. Georgia was odd man out last year, and this year the BCS/NCAA could find themselves amid another conundrum.
Some teams have three games left, some have two. Some have conference championships, some don’t. The BCS can’t take more than two teams from any one conference for their bowl games. Somebody somewhere is going to be pissed. Utah, Boise State, and Ball State, if they finish the season undefeated, will cry foul, that no one gives them the respect they deserve, and that they merit consideration for the National title; wah, wah, wah; and the beat goes on.
Barack Obama may not be aware of the Pandora’s Box he unwittingly (or maybe not), has good naturedly put under the collegiate football microscope. How hard WOULD it be to rid sports of all drugs anyway?
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
It’s Been a Long Time Coming
Yesterday I arose early to go get in line to vote. I arrived at the polls for my voting district in Pembroke Pines, Florida at 6:30. There were perhaps fifty people in front of me. By the time the polls opened at 7:00, there was an additional fifty behind me. The line proceeded quickly and efficiently. When I entered the building, an African-American woman donning a yellow “Yes We Can” t-shirt was picking up a “My Vote Counted” sticker. Several tears gently rolled down her cheeks. Did her tears stem from reflecting about how far our society has come since the days it saddled itself with the “peculiar institution” that was the scar that marred the face of American democracy? I did not speak to her about what she was feeling at that very moment. However, her tears triggered in me thoughts of an historical nature.
I wonder if she knew that prior to the Sahara Desert becoming too vast to cross easily that there was no racial prejudice. The African civilization of Kush traded and interacted with the other cultures over three millenium ago until the Nubians became isolated due the deserts huge expanse.
I wonder if this woman was aware that until the German philosopher Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hagel proposed his theory behind racial superiority in the early nineteenth century, that all races were on equal footing.
I wonder if she knew of the strides that freed slaves made during reconstruction were abruptly ceased following a trade off between North and South to decide the 1876 Presidential election.
I wonder if she knew how many African Americans lost their lives trying to gain voter rights. Right here in her home state, the town of Rosewood which was included in the 1920 census was not in 1930 due to a racial hatred so severe that the town no longer existed. Similar racial atrocities occurred in the towns of Ocoee and Micanopy as well. I always cringe a little when I see their exit signs when traveling through central and northern Florida.
I wonder if she knew that 83% of American born African-Americans are, to some degree, of mixed blood.
I’m pretty sure she must be aware Barack Obama was born of a white mother. Barack Obama is not America’s first African-American President regardless of what Katie Couric, Wolf Blitzer, and scores of other election night analysts seem intent on reinforcing. The lone beacon of clarity was Sharee Williams of CBS4 local news. She correctly declared upon hearing of the deciding electoral projections, that “America has elected their first bi-racial President.” Personally, I don’t care about his or anybody else’s racial or ethnic heritage. But I don’t understand the constant need to label individuals. It would make sense that if the talking heads downplayed race and ethnicity, eventually no one would give a shit, save the diehard bigots.
The media declared Tiger Woods African-American, though his mother is Thai, and he is also of European and Native-American extraction. Derek Jeter, as far as the sports media is concerned, is African-American, while his genealogy is mixed. The same goes for Mariah Carey and many others. Doesn’t it make sense to just say “bi-racial?” This topic could probably fuel blogs for many weeks to come.
I wonder if the teary eyed women thought of all the people who came before Barack Obama who made his quest for the country’s highest political office possible.
W.E.B. DuBois, the first man of African-American lineage to receive a Phd. from Harvard, and a founding member of the NAACP. Booker T. Washington, a philosophical rival of Dubois’ who once dined at the White House with President Theodore Roosevelt; Marcus Garvey, The Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz, or Malcolm X, Carl Stokes, Shirley Chisholm, Julian Bond, Andrew Young, all paved the way for yesterday’s moment in history. No less historic was where Barack Obama delivered his victory speech.
I wonder if the woman knew what occurred forty years ago at Grant Park in Chicago, where an enormous throng of well-wishers enthusiastically roared their approval of the new President-elect. In 1968, hundreds of protesters disenchanted with the state of their country, were beaten and arrested. The crowd last night was no less discontented with the current state of affairs. The election of Barack Obama allayed their frustration temporarily, his compelling four minute address gave hope to the multitudes present, and those watching at home.
Following John McCain’s gracious concession speech to a not so gracious audience, Barack Obama addressed the gathered masses armed with words overseen by his twenty-six year old head speech writer.
Not since Abraham Lincoln has someone said so much with so little. He even paid homage to the 16th President. By the time he concluded the inspiring and poignant tale of one hundred and six year old Atlanta voter Ann Nixon Cooper; the trials and tribulations she witnessed, and in many cases he cited, endured; for the first time since 9/11, I felt truly proud to be an American. I wonder if the lady in the “Yes We Can” t-shirt knew I too could be moved to tears.
I wonder if she knew that prior to the Sahara Desert becoming too vast to cross easily that there was no racial prejudice. The African civilization of Kush traded and interacted with the other cultures over three millenium ago until the Nubians became isolated due the deserts huge expanse.
I wonder if this woman was aware that until the German philosopher Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hagel proposed his theory behind racial superiority in the early nineteenth century, that all races were on equal footing.
I wonder if she knew of the strides that freed slaves made during reconstruction were abruptly ceased following a trade off between North and South to decide the 1876 Presidential election.
I wonder if she knew how many African Americans lost their lives trying to gain voter rights. Right here in her home state, the town of Rosewood which was included in the 1920 census was not in 1930 due to a racial hatred so severe that the town no longer existed. Similar racial atrocities occurred in the towns of Ocoee and Micanopy as well. I always cringe a little when I see their exit signs when traveling through central and northern Florida.
I wonder if she knew that 83% of American born African-Americans are, to some degree, of mixed blood.
I’m pretty sure she must be aware Barack Obama was born of a white mother. Barack Obama is not America’s first African-American President regardless of what Katie Couric, Wolf Blitzer, and scores of other election night analysts seem intent on reinforcing. The lone beacon of clarity was Sharee Williams of CBS4 local news. She correctly declared upon hearing of the deciding electoral projections, that “America has elected their first bi-racial President.” Personally, I don’t care about his or anybody else’s racial or ethnic heritage. But I don’t understand the constant need to label individuals. It would make sense that if the talking heads downplayed race and ethnicity, eventually no one would give a shit, save the diehard bigots.
The media declared Tiger Woods African-American, though his mother is Thai, and he is also of European and Native-American extraction. Derek Jeter, as far as the sports media is concerned, is African-American, while his genealogy is mixed. The same goes for Mariah Carey and many others. Doesn’t it make sense to just say “bi-racial?” This topic could probably fuel blogs for many weeks to come.
I wonder if the teary eyed women thought of all the people who came before Barack Obama who made his quest for the country’s highest political office possible.
W.E.B. DuBois, the first man of African-American lineage to receive a Phd. from Harvard, and a founding member of the NAACP. Booker T. Washington, a philosophical rival of Dubois’ who once dined at the White House with President Theodore Roosevelt; Marcus Garvey, The Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz, or Malcolm X, Carl Stokes, Shirley Chisholm, Julian Bond, Andrew Young, all paved the way for yesterday’s moment in history. No less historic was where Barack Obama delivered his victory speech.
I wonder if the woman knew what occurred forty years ago at Grant Park in Chicago, where an enormous throng of well-wishers enthusiastically roared their approval of the new President-elect. In 1968, hundreds of protesters disenchanted with the state of their country, were beaten and arrested. The crowd last night was no less discontented with the current state of affairs. The election of Barack Obama allayed their frustration temporarily, his compelling four minute address gave hope to the multitudes present, and those watching at home.
Following John McCain’s gracious concession speech to a not so gracious audience, Barack Obama addressed the gathered masses armed with words overseen by his twenty-six year old head speech writer.
Not since Abraham Lincoln has someone said so much with so little. He even paid homage to the 16th President. By the time he concluded the inspiring and poignant tale of one hundred and six year old Atlanta voter Ann Nixon Cooper; the trials and tribulations she witnessed, and in many cases he cited, endured; for the first time since 9/11, I felt truly proud to be an American. I wonder if the lady in the “Yes We Can” t-shirt knew I too could be moved to tears.
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