Out of Bounds

For many of us sports is that noble pursuit we can be sure of. It is the human spirit in motion – raw, pure, and… wait; did that basketball player just carry the ball five steps while the referee was swallowing his whistle? Must be NBA Sunday. 

The NBA is the cream of basketball. There, we expect the best shooting, passing, defense, and ball handling on Earth. Instead, we become witnesses to a great league devolving into a Hollywood production. The other day, I saw Dallas guard, Luka Doncic, in a revised version of the “Euro-step” carry the ball five steps before laying it in the basket. Applause. Back in the day, such a blatant violation would have been grounds for a fistfight. 

Coming up in rural Michigan in the 60s, we played basketball wherever we could carve out a court. Sometimes, it was no more than a hoop nailed to a tree ten feet about a hardened dirt surface. Yet, even upon that dumpy ground, we demanded clean handling of the ball: no steps – no "carrying the ball" over that dip in the landscape; no “palming the ball”; no “traveling with the ball” around the clump of crab-grass. Either dribble through the defect or pick up your dribble and give up the ball. Now, the NBA, of all entities, desecrates rules we enforced with our souls. 

And, if they are not “walking with the ball,” or taking siestas, (euphemistically referred to as “load management”), these NBA stars are “flopping” – flailing left and right, pretending to have been fouled – hoping to fool the referees into awarding them bonus shots at the free-throw line. It is a mess. It has gotten to so bad, a few weeks ago the “see no evil” referees told LeBron James, who was flopping with the best of them, to “cut it out.” It was a rare admonition, which merited a few kindly chuckles from the networks that pay the league billions for this brand of corrupted basketball. 

The National Football League is but a bit better. One of its biggest failings is the players’ use of gloves – high-tech apparel to which thrown balls cling. There was a time in the NFL when they spoke glowingly of the “great hands” select receivers possessed. Now, we rarely hear the term because no one knows anymore who has “great hands,” or just “great gloves.”  Come on. Ban the fancy gloves. They are pure “college,” like aluminum bats. 

Despite the mountains of money that saturates these games, sports maintain a core of innocence no other stage can afford. It is that innocence that galvanizes our faith, that makes us cheer for our team – win or lose – as we would cheer for our own child. But, it cannot sustain such immunity from cynicism while continuing to allow abject falsity to stain its chase. That would be like a parent cheering on a child, unmoved, as that child walked onto the field with the intent to cheat.  

The fate of these sports could hand in the balance, teetering between cheesy entertainment, and stuff forged on the stellar fires. These athletes, these franchises, these leagues waver for no other reason than want of convenience; they falter for lack of commitment to the rigors that make their games compelling. Sports risks losing its deserts – the adulation we have given so fully – for want of a softer bed.    

The Capitol "Putsch"

Merriam Webster defines "putsch" as "a secretly planned and suddenly executed attempt to overthrow a government." Adolph Hitler's effort in 1920 is referred to as the "Beer Hall Putsch." It failed, and Hitler was jailed. 

One hundred years later, what arguably may do down as the second-most infamous of putsches - Donald Trump's "Capitol Putsch" - has failed also. Trump may not go to jail, but he has certainly been impeached. 

There are parallels in this century-wide duo. Both men exist - and seemed to have existed - without a conscience. The megalomaniacal nature of the two men has prompted cult-like followings in their respective realms that few leaders of either's nation have ever known. Hitler, however, volunteered and fought in the bloody trenches of World War I. Trump cried "bone spurs" to avoid the draft, and save himself from the Vietnam War. 

In the "Beer Hall Putsch," after firing up his myrmidons, Hitler led the march on Germany's parliament. When the police opened fire on him and his men, Hitler stood in the breach and fired back. Trump, in his "Capitol Putsch", after exhorting his myrmidons to be strong and brave, and declaring, "I'll be there with you," instead marched in the other direction - straight to the White House, where he would view the carnage from the safety of the Oval Office. 

They were very much alike and very, very different. Hitler was hard-core. Trump, he reminds me of a joke Bill Cosby told back in the '60s. Feigning to exhort black activists to march on the police, he declared, "I'll be right behind you. That way when the police start shooting and we turn and run, I'll be in front.  

Home-cooking: That Good Old-Time Religion

I wondered if America would take advantage of this COVID moment, and grow. Not. We have only pitied ourselves and regressed. We have refused to abide by the simplest rules of mask-wearing and social distancing. The proof is in the numbers:  17,000,000 COVID cases; 300,000 deaths. That these numbers far exceed that of any other nation on Earth is a testament to our lack of self-discipline, and our reluctance to make sacrifices.  

I was fortunate to come up during a time when there were women who cooked - mothers, grandmothers, aunts, sisters. We loved our fathers and uncles, but we treasured the women in our families. They cooked for us; they fed us; they did it wonderfully. And for that, we cherish them forever. 

During this pandemic, America had a chance at some of that "good, old-time religion." Instead, it complained that lockdown has forced restaurants to close, as though restaurants were our salvation. They are not. The aroma of dinner rolls and apple pie wafting from our humble kitchens, and plates being set at the dinner table is at the heart of America. It is the effort cooking takes - the time- that draws families closer, not the money it takes to order meals. 

Being made to stay home is a tough gift Americans have squandered. We could have made ourselves better, strengthened our family ties. Rather, we complained of too much time with the family. Now, the vaccine is here and we cry, "Hallelujah!" No more sacrifices, (as though there were many made.)

We've learned nothing. We havening even learned (yet) how much more weakened we have become during this national crisis. It has tested our character as a people and found us sorely lacking.  

Straight Outta Compton

I watched it. It resisted watching it because I had a bad feeling about it. Then, I watched it, probably because I thought I should... just to be sure that my inclination was right. It was. 

The very way they portray black women in that movie is shameful and shameless. "Straight Outta Compton"? How about straight out of 18th century America when the slavemaster could denigrate black women however they pleased? The only thing more detrimental to the black community than many of these rap artists - who revived and popularized the "N-word" for everyone's use - is drug dealers, themselves. 

Watch the movie, if you must. Then, throw it away.

Snakebit in Georgia

President Trump declared Georgia's secretary of state, Brad Raffensperger, "an enemy of the people," simply for doing his job. Now, the secretary of state, and his family, are being subjected to death threats. 

Over these past four years of the Trump presidency, Raffensperger has seen Trump eviscerate many other Americans simply for disagreeing with him. He watched Trump call Omarosa - the only black woman to work in the Trump White House - "a dog." Yet, in 2020, Raffensperger voted for Trump again, as though it mattered not how Trump treated other human beings, just as long as voting for Trump benefitted him. Perhaps he felt he and his family would be treated differently. Not so. In Trump's world, Raffensperger is no better than Omarosa.  

A lesson to all those cowardly Republicans - Mitch McConnel, Governor Kemp, Lindsey Graham, et al; who continue to the last moment to bend to Trump's ill will:  You sleep with a snake, and you, too, will be bitten. It is its nature.  

Selling Souls (The Poem)

Trump cuts standards

The stock market soars.

Such a permissive parent

      to give his teens carte blanche.

401K accounts shoot through the roof

So does COVID

Has one to do with the other?

Only on a metaphysical plane.

They predict the Dow will 150,000 points!

The rich, rich, rich get richer

Salaries rise,

     and prices

So that the rich, rich, rich

Can make more, more, more

While the poor, poor, poor are priced out

    of the house and car and shoes.

The stock market, like Lucifer, 

    laughs in our faces.

We thought we were thriving

    we were dying.

Desperate Americans called up Trump

Like bored teens summon demons

    to jettison their doldrums.

There is safety in boredom

   (but fun in action). 

Sans boredom

    the ground shook beneath us

We called up Biden (lest the earth opened up)

    though he be boredom incarnate.

No worries

We only wish to catch our breath

    give ourselves time...

Death can be so exciting.  

Selling Souls (the essay)

Trump is so proud. Here he is boasting again: “I cut regulations.” That is like a permissive parent declaring. “I give my teens carte blanche!” Big banks can cut corners: industry can pollute with impunity. “Laissaz faire” all over again, and the stock market soars. Retirement accounts shoot through the roof. Money, money, money! That’s America. More money than anybody, and more COVID cases to boot. Does one have anything to with the other? Not in a practical sense. But, on a metaphysical level, they are bound eternally. (“It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle…” etc., etc.) 

 

How is it the stock market continues to climb even as a pandemic decimates our lives? It laughs in our faces – the stock market – kind of how Lucifer, in the old Hollywood films, laughs in the face of poor farmer who, having bargaining his soul for riches, at his most wealthy moment, cruelly comes face-to-face with his doom. 

 A Wall Street analyst on Fox’s Neil Cavuto, predicts the Dow Jones will rise to 150,000 points – five times higher than today’s record numbers. Does that mean we will all be rich? No. The rich, rich, rich will get richer. Salaries will rise; so will prices so that the rich, rich, rich can make more, more, more. And, the poor, poor, poor will get priced right out of their homes, their cars, and their shoes.  

President Trump is a product of our boredom – bored with the same politicians posturing, bloviating, and going about with such phony abandon that we had become cynical, and sickened, at once. We kept voting them in because that is all there was. Then, along came Trump. Now we understand why we voted for the others. 

Boredom has always been safer. In its absence, the ground shook beneath our feet. That is why we voted for Trump. We wanted some “shaking.” We felt we could handle that action. We could cast aside boredom, and not only survive, but thrive. (After all, we’re “exceptional”). And, we made money, (so says the stock market). But, we do not thrive; we die – not because of Trump, but because of our choices. 

Excitement is exciting. It is in our blood. We would rather die than be bored. Yet, we picked Biden to be president (lest the earth open up), though he is boredom incarnate. No worries. We only want to catch our collective breath…give ourselves time. Death can be so exciting.