(Note to the reader: this post deals with sports, but is not about sports. If you aren't a sports fan, tough it out, it gets better.)
John Lackey is not a terrible person. Actually, he might be. I have no idea what kind of person John Lackey is, but I'm assuming he's not a terrible person. He's most likely no worse than the worst person you've ever met, and a strong case could be made that there are many athletes more deserving of the adjective "terrible". To the best of my knowledge, he's never been arrested, never been accused of any sort of domestic disturbance. He's never even sat in the back of his SUV while a friend drove it and led police on a low-speed chase through Orange County. However, as a teammate and employee (which, despite being accurate, seems like a ridiculous title to give anyone making as much as he does), he's among some of the worst, and it's this aspect of his career that I think about the most.
Lackey is scheduled to start tonight's game against the Seattle Mariners. Assuming that happens, it's a very safe bet that he won't finish the game. Maybe he has a rough outing and gets pulled early, or maybe he throws well and becomes a victim of Boston's pitch-counting. Either way, at some point, Terry Francona will walk out to the mound and take the ball out of Lackey's hand, and Lackey will be pissed off about it. How do I know this? Because it is what he has done with almost perfect regularity since arriving in Boston before last season. There is almost no situation in which he feels that the decision to take him out off the mound is justified. After his most recent episode, glaring back at Francona while heading to the dugout after 5 and 2/3 innings, giving up 10 hits, 4 runs, and 3 earned, many in the media agreed with Tim McCarver (a statement which may never have been made before), who said that Lackey was showing up his manager. While this may be true, what Lackey was really doing was exposing his sense of entitlement. Certainly, he's not the only professional athlete with this flaw, but he displays it in a way that represents one of the biggest problems in American society.
We live in a culture where everyone has the ability to express themselves. This, fundamentally, is a good thing (even if it weren't, there is no way someone writing a personal blog for free could claim otherwise). The internet allows the average person to share their thoughts and ideas with people they would most likely never speak to otherwise. Even if you oppose it for being trite (it's hard to imagine deep thoughts coming 140 characters at a time), Twitter, along with Facebook and other social networking sites, Youtube, as well as countless blogs (Hi!!), provide an ability for the masses to exchange ideas, and there is something to be said for that. The problem with this is that the vast majority of the people taking part in said exchange are raised in an era where we are told we are all special and important. And maybe we are. I, personally, like the romanticized idea that everyone brings there own special ability to the global party. But with all of these people having the ability to put their ideas out in the world, the growing sense among the average person is becoming that every thought they have, no matter how ill-conceived or underdeveloped, is loaded with with inherent value.
Twenty-five years ago, if you wanted to voice an idea, you had fewer options to do so than provided today. You needed some sort of credential to get your words (in whatever form you put them in) to the public. There was no internet, at least not in the way we know it today. You couldn't just write something and have it be out there. The closest you could get to that, perhaps, was writing to your local paper, and even then, that would have to be approved by an editor before it would be published. In 1986, if you were giving away every thought that came into your head, you were probably insane and shouting on a street corner. We've essentially replaced that corner with the internet. Now everyone is crowding the sidewalk, cramming to find a place to express ourselves.
Okay, I know I mentioned this earlier, but it's worth repeating. I don't think this is a bad thing. I think more people trading more ideas is a good thing. It's part of why I do this. But I know that no one is obligated to pay any attention to these posts at all. I suspect some people understand this and feel the same way about their blogs/twitter/facebook/etc.., but I am also pretty sure that a lot of people don't. I think many (possibly most) people not only think that what they post is important, but that it deserves to be viewed by everyone. And if you don't believe me, check out your facebook sometime and see how many people "like" their own status.
This constant ability to express ourselves has given many people the sense that it is their right to express themselves about anything, at anytime, and that these expressions shouldn't be suppressed by anyone, for any reason. Well, maybe. I'm not exactly suggesting that we should have free reign to shut people up whenever we want (even though it may sound like that). I just think that the world and, in particular, our corner of it would be a lot better off if we suppressed ourselves a little more often, even if just long enough to consider the impact of what we might have to say.
Forgive the (cliched) sentiment, but we're all in this together. There are just under 7 billion people in the world, slightly over 300 million in the U.S., and about 1 million here in Rhode Island. There isn't enough room for us to force our thoughts out everywhere we go. Get them out there, by all means, just leave space for the everyone else.
I'll be watching John Lackey tonight. I hope he pitches well. I hope the Red Sox win. But most of all, when the time comes, I hope he leaves the game quietly, without incident. For all of us.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
Good....meaning what?
Think about your favorite band/musician. Not your favorite one today, or who you've been listening to the most recently, or your "new favorite". Chances are, his/her/their music is something you've been listening to for years and, though there may be periods you don't listen to it much, if at all, you always end up coming back to it. My assumption is that you would qualify this music as being good. (I suppose there is a chance you don't feel this way, but if so, you're probably just a contrarian and I'm not that interested in your opinion. Sorry.) My question is this; what makes you consider this music good?
I'm not asking you to defend your choice. Anyone who has spent a decent amount of time with me has probably had to deal with me doing that anyway. (I spend a lot of time thinking about why people do things, and occasionally actually get people to question these things themselves. This may come across as criticism, especially if I disagree with whatever the topic in question is, but it's just sort of what I do.) What I'm asking you, more specifically, is what is your definition of good? What is it about that music that makes you consider it "more good" (a phrase that makes sense in terms of this piece of writing) than other music?
Surely, this is not the only band or artist that you would consider good, but there is a reason I asked you to think of your favorite. Most people, myself included, like some music (other mediums apply to this line of questioning, but more on that in a minute) outside of our normal range of taste, and like it for reasons that are probably quite different from why we like our favorite musicians. A song that reminds you of someone or a certain time in your life (many of the largely forgotten singles from the early and mid-90's). A band so catchy that you can't stop yourself from listening to them (Phoenix and, in particular, their single "Lisztomania", a song that sounds like what would happen if Franz Ferdinand wrote songs exclusively to be used in commercials for hybrid cars). A few of us might be willing to admit that, somewhere, lost in our iPods and CD collections, is music that we acknowledge as bad. We might even like it because it is bad (which is how I feel about almost anything I listen to from the 80's). Your favorite band isn't subject to these kinds of whims. You may have memories associated with them, but they either came after you had already liked them, or whatever memory you have is just what introduced you to them.
Labeling something as "good" is subjective, but we rarely mean it that way (if you don't believe that last sentence is true, the next time someone tells you that a certain band is good, reply with "no they aren't" and see what happens). When we say something is good, we don't mean the same thing as when we say we love or like something. When we say something is good, we are giving it a value that we feel others should be able to recognize. Even the more exclusionary of us out there, those who don't want others to like what they like, take pride in feeling that they see this value that others have missed. We may not think about it, but calling something good says more than simply stating that we like something.
So, where does the value associated with "good" come from? The easiest conclusion to make would be that how good something is comes directly from how much talent it took to create it. This makes sense on the surface, but doesn't hold up for long. Yngwie Malmsteen is widely viewed to be among the most technically skilled guitarists to ever live, yet his music has never really experienced widespread recognition. If Malmsteen is the heads of this proverbial coin, The Ramones would be tails. The Ramones knew 4 chords, wrote 3 songs, and are one of the most influential and well known bands of the past 40 years. You could make an argument (and probably a pretty accurate one) that their music, and the music they inspired (punk) was as much about the message and aesthetic as it was about the music, but does that make it somehow less good than the music of Malmsteen? What of the bands that took the philosophy put forth by The Ramones and punk? Bands like Guided By Voices and Pavement that seemed to actively try to hide their music in lo-fi recordings, largely ignored for large stretches of their careers, but have shown a heavy influence on later bands and found a place in the hearts of critics. Surely, there are people who enjoy Malmsteen simply for his talent, just as there are those like The Ramones for not having any (or, more likely, not flaunting it). So does technical skill even apply to the conversation of what is "good"?
Let's shift gears for a second. Start this whole process again with your favorite movie or television series. Again, I would assume you would describe whatever show or movie you came up with as being good. But what makes them good? You could make the case for talent again, but that rationale makes even less sense when applied to acting. Follow me for a moment: All of us, as fans of music (assuming you are), can recognize a technically skilled musician, even if we don't like the music they make. There might be some discrepancy in opinions on who is the most technically skilled, but we all see the ability that is there. How does that recognition of talent apply to acting, when opinions tend to be much more varied? Don't believe me? Ask a few people about Jack Nicholson's performance in The Departed. Chances are you'll get at least one person who thought he was incredible and a perfect choice for the role, and you'll get at least one person who thought he was embarrassing and should have taken it as a sign to spend less time in movies and more time watching basketball at The Staples Center.
You could make the argument that measuring a piece of film or television by the talent of its performers doesn't take into account the talent of the writers and directors who created the work (unlike music, where the performers and the creators are often the same person/s). Perhaps, but how do we measure that talent? Awards? Even if you put any stock in Emmys and Oscars (and it seems like fewer and fewer people do), that doesn't necessarily translate into success (another semi-meaningless measurement of value). No Country For Old Men won the Academy Award for Best Picture, and I can count on one hand the people I know who even think it is slightly above okay. Arrested Development won 6 Emmy Awards and was nominated for 22, but lasted only three seasons before being cancelled.
When we say something is "good", we are really saying that we think something should be important, understanding that if we said "this should be important", we would sound pretentious or ridiculous, and often both. So if we accept this use of good, but acknowledge that there isn't a clear, universal way to measure it, does the word have any meaning at all?
Maybe, maybe not. Maybe we can figure it out the next time we talk about why my music is better than yours.
I'm not asking you to defend your choice. Anyone who has spent a decent amount of time with me has probably had to deal with me doing that anyway. (I spend a lot of time thinking about why people do things, and occasionally actually get people to question these things themselves. This may come across as criticism, especially if I disagree with whatever the topic in question is, but it's just sort of what I do.) What I'm asking you, more specifically, is what is your definition of good? What is it about that music that makes you consider it "more good" (a phrase that makes sense in terms of this piece of writing) than other music?
Surely, this is not the only band or artist that you would consider good, but there is a reason I asked you to think of your favorite. Most people, myself included, like some music (other mediums apply to this line of questioning, but more on that in a minute) outside of our normal range of taste, and like it for reasons that are probably quite different from why we like our favorite musicians. A song that reminds you of someone or a certain time in your life (many of the largely forgotten singles from the early and mid-90's). A band so catchy that you can't stop yourself from listening to them (Phoenix and, in particular, their single "Lisztomania", a song that sounds like what would happen if Franz Ferdinand wrote songs exclusively to be used in commercials for hybrid cars). A few of us might be willing to admit that, somewhere, lost in our iPods and CD collections, is music that we acknowledge as bad. We might even like it because it is bad (which is how I feel about almost anything I listen to from the 80's). Your favorite band isn't subject to these kinds of whims. You may have memories associated with them, but they either came after you had already liked them, or whatever memory you have is just what introduced you to them.
Labeling something as "good" is subjective, but we rarely mean it that way (if you don't believe that last sentence is true, the next time someone tells you that a certain band is good, reply with "no they aren't" and see what happens). When we say something is good, we don't mean the same thing as when we say we love or like something. When we say something is good, we are giving it a value that we feel others should be able to recognize. Even the more exclusionary of us out there, those who don't want others to like what they like, take pride in feeling that they see this value that others have missed. We may not think about it, but calling something good says more than simply stating that we like something.
So, where does the value associated with "good" come from? The easiest conclusion to make would be that how good something is comes directly from how much talent it took to create it. This makes sense on the surface, but doesn't hold up for long. Yngwie Malmsteen is widely viewed to be among the most technically skilled guitarists to ever live, yet his music has never really experienced widespread recognition. If Malmsteen is the heads of this proverbial coin, The Ramones would be tails. The Ramones knew 4 chords, wrote 3 songs, and are one of the most influential and well known bands of the past 40 years. You could make an argument (and probably a pretty accurate one) that their music, and the music they inspired (punk) was as much about the message and aesthetic as it was about the music, but does that make it somehow less good than the music of Malmsteen? What of the bands that took the philosophy put forth by The Ramones and punk? Bands like Guided By Voices and Pavement that seemed to actively try to hide their music in lo-fi recordings, largely ignored for large stretches of their careers, but have shown a heavy influence on later bands and found a place in the hearts of critics. Surely, there are people who enjoy Malmsteen simply for his talent, just as there are those like The Ramones for not having any (or, more likely, not flaunting it). So does technical skill even apply to the conversation of what is "good"?
Let's shift gears for a second. Start this whole process again with your favorite movie or television series. Again, I would assume you would describe whatever show or movie you came up with as being good. But what makes them good? You could make the case for talent again, but that rationale makes even less sense when applied to acting. Follow me for a moment: All of us, as fans of music (assuming you are), can recognize a technically skilled musician, even if we don't like the music they make. There might be some discrepancy in opinions on who is the most technically skilled, but we all see the ability that is there. How does that recognition of talent apply to acting, when opinions tend to be much more varied? Don't believe me? Ask a few people about Jack Nicholson's performance in The Departed. Chances are you'll get at least one person who thought he was incredible and a perfect choice for the role, and you'll get at least one person who thought he was embarrassing and should have taken it as a sign to spend less time in movies and more time watching basketball at The Staples Center.
You could make the argument that measuring a piece of film or television by the talent of its performers doesn't take into account the talent of the writers and directors who created the work (unlike music, where the performers and the creators are often the same person/s). Perhaps, but how do we measure that talent? Awards? Even if you put any stock in Emmys and Oscars (and it seems like fewer and fewer people do), that doesn't necessarily translate into success (another semi-meaningless measurement of value). No Country For Old Men won the Academy Award for Best Picture, and I can count on one hand the people I know who even think it is slightly above okay. Arrested Development won 6 Emmy Awards and was nominated for 22, but lasted only three seasons before being cancelled.
When we say something is "good", we are really saying that we think something should be important, understanding that if we said "this should be important", we would sound pretentious or ridiculous, and often both. So if we accept this use of good, but acknowledge that there isn't a clear, universal way to measure it, does the word have any meaning at all?
Maybe, maybe not. Maybe we can figure it out the next time we talk about why my music is better than yours.
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