Showing posts with label Athletics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Athletics. Show all posts

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Simply Stated



Granted, that 4th Q? Not so beautiful. The rest . . . exquisite.

Hopefully next time Pittsburgh's D will remember that they are playing football and not hockey: the game doesn't end after the 3rd, fellas!

Still . . . Here we go, Steelers! Here we go!

Saturday, June 6, 2009

"Unconditional Love"

After all that seriousness, a little hockey levity.

This is what happens when a Pennsylvania Girl Marries a Michigan boy.

This is my mother-in-law, Suzanne, my father-in-law, Bob, and my kids, Anya and Gideon, ready for Game 5.

Cheers!

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Cross-Checking: A Lesson in Semantics

In hockey, it's a penalty.

In engraving, it's a necessity.

Case in point: today's Wall Street Journal piece, "The Stanley Cup Could Use an Editor" by Reed Albergotti investigates the fascinating and, as blogger Puck Daddy (Greg Wyshynski) put it, "unintentionally hilarious" errors that have been engraved into the Cup over the last 117 years. Frankly, I'm really impressed that they continue to stamp the thing by hand; now that's craftsmanship.

Still, some of the errors--but especially the, uh, shorthand notations--that appear on the Cup are worth perusing, whether you are a hockey fan or not. One that had me laughing like a ten-year-old boy: the entry for the 1944-1945 champions, the Toronto Maple Leafs. Allow me to draw your attention to poor F.J. Selke (line four) and Arc Campbell (line six):


Ah, semantics. It is amazing the difference context makes.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Athletics and Higher Education

A while ago, while enrolled in an upper-level (i.e. 900-level) economics in higher education course, one of my peers offered the following during discussion:
Can we all just stop pretending that athletics has anything at all to do with education?

While the majority of those in class nodded in approval, a few of us—maybe about a quarter of the class—looked as though we had been collectively slapped. I suspect the number of us who were taken aback by her sardonic remark was falsely inflated: many of those enrolled in the course worked in the Athletics Department and/or were working on an advanced degree in Athletic Administration.

Her comments, and the positive, vigorous nodding enacted by most in the class, is not at all uncommon in academe. Not long ago, over lunch, I sidestepped an argument with a friend’s husband about the benefits of strong athletics programs to the wider institution. I have fielded criticism by some colleagues and advisers for permitting my students to write about sports and sports-related topics. I have seen the polite response by some in my field who clearly question the relevance of my interest in language and culture related to athletics (You wrote a paper about trash-talking? Oh, that’s . . . unique), the subtext of which is, “It may be interesting, but it’s idiosyncratic and not publishable.” And I have read and heard countless comments like the one following an article in today’s Chronicle discussing Texas’ proposed 10% Admission plan and its implications for the Texas football programs:
“Forget the impact on academics. I guess if you want to influence Texans you need to go after athletics. Nice…” (B. Smythe).

I have also been following this critique of values as played out in the media in recent weeks vis-à-vis the revelation that USC’s football coach Pete Carroll’s salary is four times that of USC’s president, Steven Sample. This particular case, echoing the tone of B.Smythe’s comment, is held up as the emblem of our culture’s skewed priorities. While there may be some truth in such a critique—$4.4 million is an astounding yearly salary—Carroll’s deal is, in fact, a compensation package. “USC Football” is a powerful brand, and Carroll is the guardian of the brand. To that end, Carroll’s salary is much less ridiculous, to my mind, than the exorbitant compensation offered Hollywood actors and actresses.

It seems to me that the bad vibes we scholars generate related to our athletic programs does a disservice to the complexity of the institution and of higher education as a multifaceted project. Too many of us in academe disparage athletics; we set up unhelpful dichotomies between athletics and education that are unhelpful at best—and are, at worst, damaging. It is understandable: it is difficult, especially in the humanities, to see ‘fat cat’ pockets of our campus thrive while we, in preparation for teaching our classes, jog room-to-room looking for chalk.

Still, I am cautious, even critical, of privileging curriculum as the only significant heuristic in Higher Education. With everything we understand about multiple intelligence, liberal education and its beneficial externalities, and the importance of cocurricular participation in learning, I am hesitant to turn away from the value of athletics, and I will defend athletics as steadfastly as I do the arts. As noted in the Chronicle’s coverage of the Texas admissions case
This year 81 percent of the freshmen at the flagship campus here are “top-10-percenters,” and next year the proportion is expected to rise to 86 percent. That trend, Austin officials say, gives them practically no flexibility to admit musicians, scientists, and athletes who don’t make it into the top tier for automatic admission.

The fact is that strong athletics programs are an instrumental part of institutional viability. At my behemoth BigTen institution, for example, I know that of all our athletics programs, only one turns a profit (football); one breaks even (men’s basketball), and—because as a non-profit enterprise all proceeds must be reinvested in our institutional programs—all other athletic programs, including those required and protected by Title IX, are funded by the capital generated through concessions, television deals, Bowl appearances, licensing, and the like. Athletics, in this way, is a self-sustaining industry within the broader context of the academy. Situated thus, athletics provides opportunities for student access and name recognition that transcends esoteric academic communities (i.e. “the ivory tower”); in short, strong athletics programs blur the boundaries between the academy and the non-academic community and open the academy to a much broader constituency.

At smaller, non-profit institutions, the benefits of strong athletics programs and the closely-coupled relationship between athletics and academics are more conspicuous. Adrian College in Michigan, for example, expanded their athletics programs in the face of markedly declining enrollments. In just a short amount of time, their risk paid off: as reported in the 19 September 2008 Chronicle
The additional revenue from higher enrollment has enabled Adrian to make significant improvements in academic buildings and in faculty hiring. As its operating budget has grown to $43-million from $23-million since 2005, the college has modernized two academic buildings, expanded the campus dining hall, and hired 16 tenure-track faculty members.
There is so much more to say, of course, but I am probably already pushing the boundaries of this medium with such a long post. So I'll close with this: as an advocate for athletics in higher ed, I am also cognizant of the fact that balance here is key. Still, my fellow doctoral student’s remark resonates with me, and I would argue that athletics—for the role it plays--is as important to higher education as the academic programs, people, and facilities that define it.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

On the lighter side . . .

Who's the #2 whiniest coach in college football, according to FOX Sports ranking of the Top Ten Whiniest Coaches?

Rich Rodriguez, Michigan

"Being Rich Rod," coming soon to a theater near you. Scream "excessive" about the $4 million buyout in your West Virginia contract clause, then later admit that your Michigan buyout is the same amount. Claim "coersion" [sic]after signing a contract when your lawyers and agents were at your beck and call. Whine about death threats, then fail to provide proof. Pat self on back for getting an entire state to light couches on fire.


Might I add "leave your team just before their bowl appearance?" and "flat-out lie about interviewing with U of M in 'neutral' Ohio just two weeksafter the big match-up with Pitt that knocked WVU out of the national title game"? So much for "I’m very excited to stay here, and I plan on being here a long time. [. . .]We’re not done yet. We’re going to continue to grow.[. . .] It’s all about the reason for staying. I’m biased. This is my school."

Lookin' good, ace. Lookin' good.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Retiring Retirement

No, not me. That is to say, though it may seem that I have retired from blogging for a spell, I haven’t really: I have just been a tad too busy with other writing and projects. So my absence was not a retirement, per se; therefore, I have no retirement to retire. But I digress . . .

No, the retirement(s)—or more appropriately, the coming-out-of-retirement(s)—to which I refer belong to none other than two incomparable sports legends: Brett Favre and, made official just today, LANCE ARMSTRONG.

[applause. crowd cheers.]


Yes, it is official: Armstrong will ride the ’09 Tour de France with Johan Bruyneel and team Astana. I can’t deny that I am very much excited about this news. When I first heard the rumors a couple of days ago, I had mixed emotions: why must these legends call it good only to return? Knowing that, at least among athletes, one’s return performance rarely matches the hope and hype left in the wake of one’s former glory and victorious departure, why tamper with a legacy? But that’s the story, right? The brilliant narrative. Retirement: the dénouement. That isn’t, as Russian Realism shows us, the experience of living.

So we see our larger-than-life characters dressed in the fictions we create for them, then are somewhat shocked when they do not recede into memory, submit to being placed on the shelf, their stories complete.

A while ago, during all the Favre hullabaloo, I wrote that I thought Favre should just apologize to everyone for all the fuss and stay retired. I still feel that way. Yet, I am excited for Armstrong’s return. Why the discrepancy? Both are immensely talented. Both have captured the hearts and imagination of a broad population. Both have remarkable, compelling stories to share. Both are amazing competitors and just plain enjoyable to watch.

I reckon that it is just the manner of coming out of retirement: Favre put the team, and by extension his fans, in a really difficult position. The Packers organization entertained Favre’s vacillation about retirement for much longer than a few weeks this spring; speculation and indecision about his retirement accompanied the end of every season for the last four years. When Favre finally decided to retire, he said it was on his own terms. No one wanted to see him go, but if he was going to go, at least he was going to go a Packer. If the reports are true, then the organization even hung with him through the period of indecision that followed his announcement last March. But at some point the team had to move forward. Once they made that commitment to Rogers, following Favre’s insistence that he would not come back, they were bound to honor it. A sports writer, whose name escapes me at the moment, once wrote that GB fans may never get over their collective crush on Favre; all the drama surrounding Favre’s six-month retirement certainly assuages the pain. I always admired Favre because he seemed to put the team first; his actions significantly called that assumption into question for me. I still like Brett Favre: I just can’t help myself, but neither can I help but feel more than a touch disappointed, nor can I watch him play for the Jets. His tale should have ended last Monday night at Lambeau with a ceremony to honor him and retire his jersey. Dénouement.

By contrast, Armstrong’s return to cycling, while risky at age 37, brings with it a drama of a different sort. To continue my earlier metaphor, Armstrong’s return is more like a long-awaited sequel rather than an epilogue the author should have scratched. And I, for one, am quite ready to read this tale.

Live Strong.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Okay . . . just . . . breathe . . .

So, after my run this evening, my hubby drops this little bomb:

Kurt: So did ya’ read the sports news today?

Me: Oh! That Rodriguez and Michigan will pay up on what they owe WVU?

Kurt: Okay, no. The other sports news: a few of the Steelers shareholders have been shopping the team around. Not the Chairman---what’s his name?

Me: [with growing shock and panic] Dan Rooney?!

Kurt: Yeah, not him, but I guess his brother . . . and a few other family members who hold shares.

Me: But . . . . But . . . . [blathering, incomprehensible, breathless drivel]

[Pause]

But . . . Rooney! Pittsburgh! Steelers!

[Pause]

NO! Art Rooney bought that team in 1933! They can’t---

Kurt: Well, we’re in an age without loyalty . . .

Me: The Steelers are all about loyalty! They’ve only had three coaches in nearly 40 years!

[Pause]

Can’t . . . leave . . . Pittsburgh!

Must be Steelers. Must be Pittsburgh. Must be Rooney. Not good. Not good at all.

[Pause. Panic growing.]

No, no, no, no, no. Won’t happen. The City of Pittsburgh will NEVER let it happen. They can’t. Oh, they can’t. I don’t think I can breathe. I hope those other Rooneys don’t live in Pittsburgh . . . mob . . . pitchforks . . . torches . . . black tar, gold feathers . . .

How. Dare. They?!

[Frantic searching on the Web]

Okay . . . from Steelers.com:

“Steelers Chairman Dan Rooney stated, ‘I have spent my entire life devoted to the Pittsburgh Steelers and the National Football League. I will do everything possible to work out a solution to ensure my father’s legacy of keeping the Steelers in the Rooney family and in Pittsburgh for at least another 75 years.’”


And this guy, this Matthew J. Darnell, from Yahoo! Sports, I enjoy him:

Steelers fans can take comfort in the following:

• Druckenmiller [the team's prospective buyer] might be the only man on the planet who's worth more than $3 billion and regularly paints his face for football games

• He wore a Troy Polamalu jersey and a hard-hat to a game last year

• Will not sit in a luxury box, and prefers to be in the stands with like-minded Steelers fans

• There's no chance he'd move the Steelers out of Pittsburgh

• He'd let Dan Rooney control the team for as long as Rooney would like


Kurt: Well that’s good news, anyway. This Druckenmiller seems like a decent guy.

Me: I guess we’ll see. Ugh. I feel ill.

~end conversation~

For the love of all that is good and just and right and holy in this world, please---please!---don't mess with the Black and Gold!

Go Stillers!

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Never-friggin'-more

As if, as a die-hard Pittsburgh Steelers fan, I actually needed another reason to hate the Baltimore Ravens (aka 'Old' Browns):

Ravens to Offer Fans Free 'Peck-Your-Eyes-Out' Service

Trained ravens as mascots, the actual friggin' birds, ominously gliding around the stadium and screeching out touchdown and Go Ravens?!

My take?

Apocalyptic flurry of feathered, mite-infested, sharp-beaked, scaly-taloned ebony horror. Gah!

Friggin' GAH!

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Let Levi Ride!

In my earlier post today, I mentioned that the Tour de France begins one month from today. Now, in case you hadn't heard, the Tour has been plagued by doping scandals of every variety for several years now, and in an effort to clean up the sport, the ASO (that's the organization that regulates the sport) made the decision in February to ban Team Astana from competing in the Tour because of their past involvement in said scandals. Trouble is, Team Astana has undergone a complete renovation in the off season and, like a Phoenix rising from the ashes, has been completely reformed. With their decision, however, the ASO effectively met that Phoenix with the business end of an unfriendly double-barrel.

More to my point, part of Team Astana's reformation included inviting the incomparable Levi Leipheimer to lead the team, a man who joined Team Astana after the (sad) dissolution of the U.S. Team Discovery (formerly U.S. Postal . . . the team led for so many years by a Mr. Lance Armstrong--ever hear of him?).

I realize that of the three people who read my blog, two have absolutely no interest in sports (and that might be a generous estimate, on both counts). I also realize that support for cycling in the U.S. is just about nil. Still, Leipheimer is a dedicated competitor who has always conducted himself honorably. He is an athlete truly worthy of the iconic status of "role model" that is often too easily tossed around in our sports culture: disciplined, fair, humble, immensely talented, and possessing unbelievable endurance. He is the embodiment of all the sport, and especially the Tour, should want to represent.

So I am making an appeal to all you friendly academic types et al. who sometimes visit my musings here to take a half-minute to visit the Let Levi Ride Website and show your support. Please?

So there's no use in weeping / Bear a cheerful spirit still*

CONGRATULATIONS
to the Detroit Red Wings, who clinched the Cup in Pittsburgh last night. While it would have been nice for them to take the series at home, I am glad that the City of Pittsburgh could share that moment with them. It was nice to see that many Pens fans were clapping for the Wings at the end . . . and a few even stayed for the presentation of the trophies! Truly, none are more deserving of hoisting that shiny, 35-pound symbol of victory than the Wings.

Having said that,

Congrats, too, to the Pittsburgh Penguins, who also deserve kudos for fighting to the very last tenth-of-a-second to try to tie it up. It is terrible to come so close only to lose the championship on home ice, but the Pens proved a worthy opponent comprised of fierce competitors of damn-near unparalleled talent. I can't help but have a sense that throughout the series we were witnessing the evolution of a (big-T) Team, and I will be looking forward to next season.

Thus ends my series of posts about hockey . . . but the Tour begins in only a month, and I do have that little-bitty thing called a dissertation to occupy my writing self, so I

Bear a cheerful spirit still*


and focus my attention elsewhere. Thanks to both organizations for a great series--it's been a hell of a show!






*I wonder what Charlotte Bronte, whom I doubt could ever have imagined her work appropriated thus, would have to say about the marriage of poetry and athletics?

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

So, I took the Wings in 5 . . .

and I've never been so happy to be wrong! As I watched the game last night, breathless and negotiating that razor's edge between frenzied enthusiasm and waking the kids (or annoying my quiet-by-nature husband), it occurred to me that I really, really wanted the Pens to win. It could be that I was just not ready for the series—and the season—to end. It could be, too, that I am truly just a 'Burgh-sports gal through‘n through. But I think what affected me the most was the way these guys—on both sides—have been playing in the last couple of games: despite a few early hiccups and nonsense, this has become an outstanding, exciting series.

And speaking of outstanding, who could fail to be impressed by Fleury? For my money, he’s the Game 5 MVP. It’s one thing to face 58 shots on goal, most of them rapid-fire, but to face 58 shots courtesy of the Detroit Red Wings? That’s a whole new realm of impressive.

Triple OT, Gonchar’s comeback, Malone’s puck-to-the-face-turned-triumphant-albeit-bloody-return, Fleury’s aforementioned brilliance, Crosby’s quiet leadership—how could I not get behind these guys last night? I still think the Wings are the better team all around and deserve, ultimately, to win the Cup, but I have no problem with the Pens making it a challenge rather than a gimme. Screwy OT penalties that seemed almost contrived—especially the pair of interference calls made in the 1st and 2nd OTs—notwithstanding, last night’s game, to borrow the old cliché, was the stuff of legends. That's what I want out of the playoffs.

I can’t wait for Game 6 . . . but I’m still hopin’ for a trip back to Joe Louis for the big, shiny denouement.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

And while I'm on this hockey kick . . .


Here's my little guy,

a boy conflicted.


Well, at least maybe he'll grow learning how to appreciate and negotiate diverse and conflicting perspectives . . .

or he'll keep a good counselor in business.

Cheers!

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Man up, boys.

Game 3 ended just moments ago, Pens 3, Wings 2. As I mentioned at the start of the series, I am conflicted. I’m becoming less so as the series continues.

See, this is the first game I’ve actually been able to watch. Believe it or not, I could not find Game 1 when I was in Seattle. It wasn’t broadcast on any of the channels I had in my hotel room. It wasn’t shown on the televisions in the bar downstairs. We even went to an awesome brewery that night and no Game 1?! They had basketball. They had poker (WTF?). They had soccer. They had no hockey. The trip was awesome. The city was awesome. The RSA conference was beyond awesome (more on that later). But I could not find hockey in the city of Seattle. Thank goodness I have such a great husband, who sent me text and cell updates.

My flight through Kansas City was delayed a bit on Monday, so I didn’t get home until after Game 2 had ended. But I’ve been hearing . . . things. About the games. About the Pens. Not so much good. Then tonight I saw it for myself. The Pens were playing dirty. Not just tough. Not just physical. They had a few moves in there that were plain uncalled for. Unsportsmanlike. Disrespectful. A damn shame.

These boys are talented, but they are looking like . . . I don’t know what. In sports, I want to see talent matched with class. Don’t laugh–class is what sets apart the champions. Champions show respect. Respect for the game. Respect for the fans. Respect for skilled opponents like the Detroit Red Wings. I’m just not seeing that right now in the Penguins. I really want them to do well, and it was great to see them play well tonight, but in Games 1 & 2 they were outplayed . . . in each game of this series, even tonight, they were seriously outclassed.

Still, I’m hoping this series goes all the way. I’ll always be a Pens fan. I’ll always be a Wings fan. But I do think the former could learn a little something from the latter.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Q: What’s Black and Gold and Red All Over?

A: The Stanley Cup finals.

I think my head is going to explode.

When the Pens put it away Sunday afternoon, I was elated . . . and I immediately issued a snarky-yet-good-humored taunt to my cousin and a good friend who are both Flyers fans-—-and who had both been giving me a hard time the whole series. I have also had a slightly altered version of George Clinton in my head since Sunday, singing

“We want the cup! Gotta have that cup!
~YAOW~
We need the cup! Gotta have that cup!”


It’s been a LONG time. It’s been a LONG, UGLY 16 years for the Pens. I started college in Downtown Pittsburgh immediately after their back-to-back Stanley Cup victories in the early ‘90s. These were the days of Jaromir Jagr, Mario Lemieux (generation I), Tom Barrasso (I LOVED Barrasso!), Ron Francis, Phil Bourque, Paul Coffey . . . so many rockin’ ice men. Duquesne University, my school, was literally just a couple of blocks from the Civic Arena, and if you presented your student ID 30 minutes before game time, you could buy whatever seats they had left for, like, $11. Of course, I started college in ‘93, and we were always hoping for a repeat of their championship seasons . . . but the games were always exciting nonetheless, and the atmosphere was unparalleled.

I was in grad school in Michigan by the time Lemieux (generation II) shook off retirement and returned to the ice, and everybody hoped the mighty Pens would be reborn-—-came close, but during the playoffs they lost in quadruple overtime to . . . the Flyers (are you beginning to understand why I’m so dang excited . . . and why I couldn’t resist the aforementioned taunt?). Since then, with the escalating threats that the Pens would leave Pittsburgh, etc., etc., it’s been tough to get behind the team.

But now, with Lemieux (generation III) still at the helm (thank goodness!), new ice in the works, and the security of the team’s permanence in da ‘Burgh, I am so ready for the ultimate victory.

BUT


In the middle of all the Penguin strife, and during Lemieux II, I was (as I noted) in Michigan. It was there that my appreciation for the game itself deepened, in part because hockey is a part of the culture there, in part because I was able to watch the Canadian coverage of the games (which is far, far superior to the U.S.’) and in part because we had an awesome college team to follow: the NMU Wildcats. It was also there that I met—and I am sure this is a contributing factor, too--- my Michigan family and the two biggest Wings fans I’d ever encountered-—-the ladies who would become my sister-in-law and mother-in-law. And during the Wings’ 2002 Stanley Cup series victory, I sat at my soon-to-be in-laws’ house, watching the Wings and putting together wedding favors. Sentimental? Yepper. But I’ve been a fan of the Wings ever since—certainly not in the same category as my sister-in-law and mother-in-law, but a fan just the same. Last night’s victory pretty much sent me over the moon.

So here we are, the PENS against the WINGS for the Stanley Cup. I had prepared myself for the possibility that one day the Steelers might meet the Packers in the Super Bowl, but for some reason I’d never really mentally prepared for this NHL scenario. Even as I watched the Eastern and Western finals, knowing in my gut what the outcome would be (despite Dallas’ hometown officiating), I just hadn’t prepared. Come Saturday, I’ll be cheering for every goal, every assist, every save . . .

. . . and don’t even get me started on the power plays-—-will I root for a short-handed goal or be screaming for this-one-or-that to take advantage of the situation? Man, folks are gonna think I’ve lost it. But at least it should be an amazing series. Here’s hopin’ for a Game 7!

GO PENS! / GO WINGS!
GO WINGS! / GO PENS!

Yup. Folks will definitely think I’ve finally lost it. Lord Stanley have mercy.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Keening o’er My Mountain Mama

Oh, how it pains me to criticize my beloved West Virginia! But in light of recent happenings, I have to say to the folks back home,

Some a' y’all don’t seem to have the sense God gave a goose!

This brief but scattered catalogue of thoughts will, hopefully, illustrate what I mean:

I suppose it began with the–ahem–departure of West Virginia’s (former) favorite son, Coach Rodriguez. Real class act, this guy, ditching his boys following an embarrassing, devastating, and season-changing loss to Pitt . . . but before finishing out the season in the Fiesta Bowl (ah, that victory was the sweetest of all victories, and coupled with the raw emotion and Mountaineer Spirit demonstrated by Bill Stewart, Pat White, and the rest of the ‘Eers in the face of what had just gone down, that particular moment-in-sports was damn near poetic—but I digress . . .).

Real bum move, if you ask me, Rodriguez leaving the team before the season ended, but given the questionable leadership at WVU, I can’t help but wonder about the other side of the story.

Which brings me to my next rub:

What the heck is going on at WVU anyway?

First there’s the Executive MBA scandal involving the Governor’s daughter . Really, why not just award her an ‘honorary degree?’ Then they could avoid the scandal that comes with the falsification of transcripts and jump right to the gratuitous conferring of degrees; it seems the two actions are a mere hairbreadth apart these days, though—theoretically—they differ in principle.

Brief aside: my friend and colleague William Bradley has addressed the issue of honorary degrees more thoroughly on his blog in recent weeks, so if you’re interested I’d encourage you to visit The Ethical Exhibitionist/Academia.

Okay. Then there’s the push for proprietary rights over the work of creative writers at WVU by requiring students in the creative writing programs to make their masters’ theses available online. I realize that ownership/authorship of written work is complicated, and intellectual property is further complicated by the writer/researcher/institution dynamic; as I understand it, the university owns all intellectual property created by any member of the university community using university resources (understanding, too, that members of the university community themselves are resources, from an organizational standpoint), and therefore the university has the right to retain, reproduce, and distribute the work. I also understand that while individuals are permitted to copyright the same work, the university retains the additional intellectual property rights.

Another aside: U of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign put together a handy little at-a-glance guide to this intellectual property chaos.

Complicated though they may be, there are plenty of good reasons for these protections, and most assume a certain reciprocity between author and institution; at the most basic level, an author’s copyright can protect his or her unique arrangement of words/symbols and the institution can protect his or her ideas. This works fine in the sciences where methods, procedures, practices–in essence, ideas—must be replicated for disciplinary integrity. But creative writing presents a different problem: it is here that the unique arrangement of words/symbols—the craft, process, and ‘finished’ work itself—does different work than the lab report or even the scholarly treatise, and the value—or at least part of the value—of a creative work is not that it can be replicated, but that it cannot. Further, these traditions belong to two different publishing cultures and two discrete philosophical paradigms. The concessions made by WVU administrators to allow students a five-year window to publish their creative work before posting it to the Web is not sufficient. It can be that a work is complete for the purpose of fulfilling degree requirements but is still in process in terms of its art, and it may take some time—even more than five years!—for the artist to refine and revise the work until the writer’s vision is actualized.

Regardless, what WVU has proposed for its creative writers is bad policy—and as a proponent of said bad policy Director of Creative Writing Mark Winegardner’s absurd argument, as quoted in the Chronicle of Higher Education, that “it looks like the weird creative types are asking to be let out of gym class,” falls woefully short.

And finally, Clinton by a landslide? Pshaw. You know, only around 23% of eligible voters turned out for the Democratic primary (and, sadly, only roughly 12% turned out for the Republican primary back in February), and when only (roughly) a third of the voting population turns out, theirs are the voices that are heard—-but they may not be representative of the whole of the state, despite "random sample" arguments to the contrtary. Still, seeing Clinton win in West Virginia by such a margin is unsettling---and for a whole variety of reasons, but that's more than I really want to get into at the moment.


Besides, I really do believe that all of these instances that I’m bellyachin’ about—from the academic to the athletic to the political to the social—are the exception and not the rule in the great Wild, Wonderful. Of course, it is discouraging that only about a third of voters made it to the polls during this primary season, a trend hardly unique to West Virginia . . . but that’s another can of worms.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

The Mitchell Report and Cultural Change

Today’s release of the Mitchell Report reminds me of an old, dear friend of mine in high school who was abusing steroids. He was a sweet kid, and I remember even then that I was so worried about him that, for a class, I did a research project on steroid use and athletics so I could try to learn more and convince him that aiming for biceps the size of my waist was not worth the risk he was taking.

I came of age in what has now been dubbed the Steroid Era in sports, and I find the implications of such a moniker more than disturbing: they are misleading. The truth is that performance enhancing techniques are not at all limited to athletics, and congressional inquiries that call out professional athletes do little to mitigate the problem.

Here’s what I mean: ours is a culture obsessed with performance, with besting, with record breaking, with exponentially—and often falsely—inflating human capital. In a competitive market, this drive for ‘excellence’ can be a useful thing, something that spurs progress and resourcefulness. But when any capital is falsely inflated, including human capital, the consequences can be devastating. Where, then, is the line? The balance?

Case in point: a recent study at Columbia confirmed what those in academe have heard about in hushed asides for some time: students’ abuse of drugs like Adderall and Ritalin to enhance their academic performance through increased concentration has risen sharply over the last 15 years—somewhere in the vicinity of a 93% increase. What was once an overuse of caffeine in academic life has become an abuse of other types of pharmacological stimulants. Students who turn to these measures have little difficulty rationalizing their choice because taking measures to improve oneself in any manner possible to achieve ‘excellence’ is deeply ingrained in our cultural attitude.

Arguably, as our technologies advance, as we demand more of ourselves, as we understand more about the ways our bodies and minds perform, it is logical to apply our emergent findings and resources and meld body with science in order to increase our collective human capital. When one considers the ways in which scientific intervention has allowed individuals to improve their quality of life—I myself have titanium in my ear where my malfunctioning stapes used to be—the occasional misuse of drugs to enhance performance—say, during finals or during the World Series—follows an accepted cultural trend.

Now, before anyone accuses me of making a faulty argument through a false analogy (or worse), let me be clear: I understand that correcting a hearing impairment is very different, ethically, than abusing steroids or Ritalin or any other controlled substance. I also want to make clear that I am neither endorsing nor condoning the misuse of substances to increase performance; I am merely trying to make the point that given our cultural climate, the use of such performance enhancing techniques should not be surprising.

To my mind, the Mitchell Report speaks to a cultural issue, not a policy issue. This brings me to my main contention: what, exactly, is the role of governance in shaping culture? While this question is central to my dissertation, it holds particular importance as we approach an historic presidential election where most if not all candidates are running on a platform focusing on cultural or social issues rather than policy issues. While the relationship between governance and culture cannot and should not be denied, relying on governance or repeatedly turning to governance to mitigate social and cultural trends and problems absolves those who are truly responsible for cultural change: we individuals who regularly define through our actions and voices and choices our collective cultural identity.

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Vive le Tour!

I have heard and read commentaries this week of the Tour de France hallmarked by the phrase "the Tour’s darkest hour." I disagree, and I was pleased to hear Phil Liggett give a public voice to my own conviction: that despite the tragic controversies, the heartbreak and betrayal, and the innate cynicism born of cheating scandals, the Tour is as powerful, graceful, and awe-inspiring as it has ever been.

I admit that Vinokourov’s positive test for blood doping left me in a state of disappointed wonder akin to the say it ain’t so bereavement experienced by Shoeless Joe fans in 1919. I wanted to believe that his performance in Stages 13 and 15 was the product of sheer grit, determination, and heart—after all, this was the man who had been riding the Tour against unimaginable injuries and a time deficit that would whittle even the most steadfast competitor’s resolve. Team Astana seemed a ghostly presence when the race resumed without him, and through my brumous veil I almost failed to notice that both Moreni and Sinkewitz produced positive A samples.

Then came Rasmussen. The Maillot Jeune. The leader. This was the man I’d cheered for the last two years, grinding his way up formidable ascents to win the King of the Mountains competition. He had been, in recent years, a brilliant competitor, winning on what seemed to be raw hunger and carefully-wrought skill. Despite the reports that he had failed to report his whereabouts and his cavalier attitude regarding what he called an administrative error, his performance in this year’s tour seemed a natural progression from performances past. But then, watching his time-trial set the red—and yellow—flags aflutter: he looked like a different rider. What would, under other circumstances, be celebrated as the athlete overcoming his Achilles heel collapsed under the burden of suspicion, of guilt by association. I want to believe he is clean, believe that his test results are accurate—but I also wanted to see the leader, well, lead . . . in more than just minutes and seconds. Leadership is a double-edged sword, no?

Still, when one witnesses Leipheimer’s humility during his pre- and post-race interviews, or glimpses Contador’s face as he is draped in slim-fitting yellow, or follows stand-out achievements like Evans’ believable-yet-unbelievable final 5K on Stage 19, one can see the true beauty of the Tour. These are the survivors. They have overcome so much more than injuries, quirky fans, roadside bombs, grueling climbs and treacherous descents. They have survived each other.

I, for one, will celebrate as they round the Champs-Elysees. Few could claim a better-earned victory lap than the riders who remain, and I suspect the historic cobbled avenue will seem smooth compared to the rest of the ride that got them there.

Vive le Tour!