Why Roger Clemens Mistrial is Good for the American Sports Fan

As a preface to this argument, I'd like to mention I've spent the past week at the Institute for Humane Studies' summer seminar on Liberty & Society. While there, I learned a great deal of economic and political theory that has been burrowing its way into my brain and worldview over the past several days. This essay is an attempt to synthesize some of those concepts with a familiar topic. Feel free to punch holes anywhere you see fit.

Boy, the justice system just can't catch a break this month, can it? First, we let a clearly-guilty murderer off the hook for the death of her infant daughter, and just a few weeks later federal prosecutors gloriously blunder the perjury case of Roger Clemens. We're talking Mike McDermott after 48 hours on a poker run-levels of incompetency. Howard Bryant, of ESPN.com, reports an attorney familiar with the workings of the federal court and judge who presided over the case called the mistake of producing disallowed evidence "a colossal" and "total screw-up." Like Barry Bonds, Clemens' numbers post-40 defy description. A record of 61-33, ERA totals routinely hovering around 3.00 (including a mind-numbing 1.87 in 2005 with Houston), and a K/BB ratio (around 3.00 as well) that makes Luke Hochevar (1.50 this year) look like a straight-out-of-penal-league Rich Vaughn. If anybody could be proved to be juicing, it had to be Clemens, right?

So thought the government. The Congressional hearing on steroids in baseball in 2005 was ostensibly conducted (as Rep. Henry Waxman suggested) to address the public health concern of America's children using steroids. By publicizing the proceedings and subpoenaing the biggest names in the sport, the committee and the media instead sensationalized the issue to construct a kind of kangaroo court against baseball, with several big-name players being brought before the committee and ducking questions by invoking their Constitutional rights (or, in the case of Rafael Palmeiro, offering themselves as sacrifices to the Ironic gods). George Mitchell's 2007 report to Congress was requested by baseball commissioner Bud Selig after the release of Game of Shadows, an investigative look at steroid use in baseball in the late 90s and early 2000s, was published in 2006 by Lance Williams and Mark Fainaru-Wada. In effect, Selig "passed the buck" on his obligation to keep baseball clean to the federal government, allowing political agents to use the platform to further their interests (and attain fame) and spend taxpayer dollars in the defense of what became a kind of public good in the aftermath of the scandal.

The government's involvement, as requested by Selig, was based on several assumptions. The first is the aforementioned link between steroid use by professionals and among the nation's children. The reasoning, of course, was that America's youth baseball players would need to begin using human growth hormone to keep up with their peers early on. This approach assumes a public smear campaign of baseball's venerated stars would be more effective in limiting steroid use than policies of individual athletic associations and schools. The government, in this instance, becomes the whistle-blower. I do not argue that perhaps a whistle-blower was necessary in the issue of drug use among the nation's young athletes. What I am arguing is that perhaps the federal government was not the most effective agent in doing so. Certainly, this appears to be the case in the bungling of the federal perjury cases against Bonds and Clemens, which have resulted in merely one minor conviction against Bonds despite the exorbitant amounts of taxpayer money spent in trying the cases.

Second, the government's involvement as a protectionist agency indicates that the American people wanted baseball to be clean. Such an argument is based on the moral presumption that our athletes and athletic contests should somehow uphold the values we would like to see reflected in society: honesty, integrity and fairness. In actuality, sports are a product served to a consumer base that generally acts with little (if any) of these ideals in mind. Tavi Sojo's Bleacher Report study "The Effects of the Steroid Era on the 2008 Baseball Season" comes to the conclusion that the fans simply didn't care about truth and fairness, as long as balls were flying out of the park. In 2003, the BALCO controversy broke and so began the now 8-year period of steroid skepticism that lingers in almost all media coverage of baseball (just ask Jose Bautista). Yet, fan attendance from 2004-2007 continued a climb to unprecedented levels. However, policies instituted by the findings of the Mitchell Report drove home runs down and pitching and defensive statistical categories up in 2008, according to Sojo's numbers research. As a result of these developments, average attendance dropped for the first time in five years. That trend has continued through 2010, though of course it's important to remember that the recent economic downturn has probably also impacted attendance figures. Having said that, it doesn't appear as though "making the game clean" has had any significant impact on the number of people coming out to the park each night, and potentially drove away fans looking to see the long ball more often.

This, of course, gets at the heart of the third and most important assumption from an economics standpoint that led to government intervention in rules-making in Major League Baseball: that fans simply do not act rationally, and that in their love of offense they were driving players to harm themselves through the use of banned substances. The government, in this scenario, had to step in to protect the players from themselves and the voracious demands of power from growing numbers of baseball enthusiasts. I will refer to this presumption as "The WWE Effect." Quite simply, the fear follows the line that, if players continued to respond to the desires of fans who want to see 600-foot home runs, they were going to wind up looking like Triple H or Mr. Perfect instead of, say, this. In effect, government intervention becomes a safeguard against an arms race or, say, housing bubble in which the human cost would be seen in debilitating physical handicaps for players later in life who used PEDs during their playing days. Government, it could be argued, would speed up the process of demonstrating the dangers of these drugs by dragging the names of the players using through the mud and encouraging fans that they were "harming the game" to save themselves from physical issues later in life.

Warning: "Aviator" reference- "Way of the future..."?

But was the government campaign even necessary? Before charges were even brought against Barry Bonds, his appearance in Game of Shadows led to massive protests against his campaign to break the all-time home run record. When Bonds did eventually break the home run record, it was under a cloud of suspicion that dwarfed the achievement compared to the euphoria that ensued when Hank Aaron topped Ruth's record. Perhaps as many people attended the Bond's home run game as Aaron's, and certainly the amount of money Bonds made in his playing career towers over Aaron's career earnings. But baseball has a traditional element to its marketplace that could have just as easily attained the same (or better) outcomes preventing youth usage of steroids as government involvement. Fans may act irrationally with their money, returning to a sport as a method of release after, say, a protracted strike (or lockout) that resembles, to them, an argument between millionaires and billionaires. But the dependency of sport on the fan encourages minor rule changes, better television deals and increased levels of comfort at modern stadiums. The sports we watch today are better covered, more competitive, and provide higher levels of entertainment than the sports of fifty years ago. The same will be true in another fifty years, as long as government gets out of the way. Perhaps the most recent governmental blunder in the handling of the Roger Clemens' perjury case will make fans realize we don't need the federal government to install order in the games we are passionate about-we can do it ourselves.

One Big 4th of July Hangover

"We're Americans, with a capital 'A', huh? You know what that means? Do ya? That means that our forefathers were kicked out of every decent country in the world. We are the wretched refuse. We're the underdog. We're mutts! ...So we're all dogfaces, we're all very, very different, but there is one thing that we all have in common: we were all stupid enough to enlist in the Army. We're mutants. There's something wrong with us, something very, very wrong with us. Something seriously wrong with us - we're soldiers. But we're American soldiers! We've been kicking ass for 200 years! We're 10 and 1! Now we don't have to worry about whether or not we practiced. We don't have to worry about whether Captain Stillman wants to have us hung. All we have to do is to be the great American fighting soldier that is inside each one of us. Now do what I do, and say what I say. And make me proud."

So argues John (Bill Murray), hoping to whip a lovable platoon of losers into shape for their field exercises at boot camp during the 11th hour in the 1981 comedy classic Stripes. The narrative of American supremacy has been a mainstay of our cultural heritage since 1776. Let's face it...the idea of tackling the strongest nation in the world on democratic principles was a daunting exercise in bravado over two centuries ago, and the hard-earned success of those early patriots has imbibed the modern American brand of nationalism with the same kind of intoxicated exuberance John calls upon when insisting the "great American fighting soldier" has "been kicking ass for 200 years!"

Though perhaps misguided to the point of becoming the ugly, proud American detested by much of the rest of the world, these feelings are grounded in a kind of positive mental image of the nation that, when called upon, has been incredibly constructive in urging the adoption of peace and democracy throughout the world (for the most part). If our soldiers and lawmakers hadn't had the confidence to enter both World Wars, global politics would be very different today. Like any emotional belief, however, the risk of getting carried away looms large. Independence Day thus often becomes an overindulgence of nationalistic pride, as explosives are strapped to trees, insects and relatives in an inebriated stupor that reflects the intoxication of believing America (in the sense of our government and the current population of Americans) are above reproach and unaffected by the machinations of the global political climate.

What we should really be celebrating on Independence Day are the ideas and people who established this nation on democratic principles. This is a positive way of recognizing the birth of a nation that stood in such stark opposition to the confinement of individual liberty and self-determination. John's first point, that the concept of "America" should extend to all those downtrodden underdogs who have the audacity to stand up against oppression in their lives, underscores a universality and positivity that is lacking in today's interpretation of what America is and should be. While cutting a block of dry ice for a customer at the grocery store I work at last week, I was treated to five or six minutes of a lecture on the ways in which our country is being led astray by the current administration. That's the nice part about working in retail...usually it's as close to a purely populist perspective you can get without changing your name to Huey Long.

The passionate argument of the customer (I didn't get a name, and I didn't really want one, with all due respect...) alerted me to a truth about today's American in a time of relative crisis unlike what we've seen for several generations: the terms of definition have changed from attempting to identify what America is and stands for, to what America is not and should not stand for. Several months ago, this extended to ploys from the Republican Party trying to prove the current president is not actually a citizen of the United States (which has led to some rather embarrassing snafus). Extending healthcare to all members of society is not bad fiscal policy to many Americans, it is "socialist" and therefore in direct violation of the capitalist foundations of our democracy. Immigration legislation in Arizona, Georgia (parts of which were stricken as illegal by a federal appeals court today in a trial that won't get much pub with the Anthony verdict being handed down earlier this afternoon), and Iowa further attempt to define who is American by encouraging law enforcement officials to act on hunches as to who looks un-American.

I'm not advocating making our borders completely permeable, or trusting our elected officials without any degree of scrutiny. What I'm attempting to illuminate is the fact that we take one day out of our year to define ourselves as Americans based on values exemplified in a document declaring independence and celebration of the sacrifices of so many who fought for what this country is, not to point out what it is not. Perhaps it would be more constructive and less mind-numbingly depressing to remain, at times of great tests of our American character, sure of who we are and what our values are, rather than attempting to point out what we are not and what we will not abide. Maybe then I can read a news and press release on July 5th without feeling as though I had one too many cheddar-dogs and held that sparkler bomb in my hand about three seconds too long.

Move it along, no hostilities to see here...

Unbeknownst to many Americans, there's a conflict raging in the House that has absolutely nothing to do with revealing boxer shorts and Twitter this week. President Obama's team defended military action in Libya on Wednesday in response to a House resolution condemning the action last month and Dennis Kucinich's current legal quibble with the continued use of military resources ostensibly to remove Muammar Qadafi from power. The statement from the White House is significant because it establishes a threshold at which armed conflict reaches the "hostilities" level. The War Powers Act, passed in 1973, states:

"It is the purpose of this joint resolution to fulfill the intent of the framers of the Constitution of the United States and insure that the collective judgement of both the Congress and the President will apply to the introduction of United States Armed Forces into hostilities, or into situations where imminent involvement in hostilities is clearly indicate by the circumstances, and to the continued use of such forces in hostilities or in such situations."

In suggesting that the current military engagement in Libya by American forces doesn't constitute "hostilities" as defined in the resolution, the White House wrests control of the debate and exercises a further prerogative in determining foreign policy that runs contrary to both the language of the resolution and, subsequently, the Constitution.

Let's go back to third grade (because, in all honesty, Washington more often resembles the playground than the epicenter of United States' foreign and domestic policy). You're lunch money has been stolen over and over again by the same bully, and you've had enough. You plan to meet under the slides right after the bell rings. You've entered a schoolyard fight, and pursuant to the rules of the playground both sides know what they're in for. If caught, detention will have to be served. Now imagine the you simply throw rocks at the bully from across the playground, and, when the assistant principal inevitably steps in to break up the fight, only he goes to detention. Throwing rocks doesn't constitute actual engagement in a "fight," instead you were simply antagonizing the bully and are therefore no longer susceptible to the laws of the playground.

That may be a crude analogy (okay, it is a crude analogy. I don't think Qadafi's greatest crime was hanging his opponents by their jock straps from his flag pole). The fact remains, however, that Obama is attempting to both rewrite the laws and definitions of the United States unilaterally for further Commanders-in-Chief to exercise. As the Times correctly points out, the judicial branch will likely steer clear of this justiciable conflict based upon political technicalities, leaving the controversy to be settled through political means. Should the ability of the executive to wage war without the consent of the people be left to determination through political channels? Sure, the conflict in Libya (in conjunction with other uprisings throughout the Muslim world) currently carries with it the apparent will of the majority. The White House conceded that the military and diplomatic goals (to protect the innocent, to depose Qaddafi) of the United States are different. If Obama wins this constitutional showdown, however, the next time a conflict (NOT "hostilities"!) comes along, regardless of its morally-defined bounds, the future president will have Obama's precedent to legitimately exercise his authority. And the American public will be the ones waiting in line for that swirlie.

A Goober Does Sociology

This morning, I happened across a thought-provoking piece in the New York Times written by Sheryl Gray Stolberg that attempts to explain why political sex scandals occur almost exclusively to male office-holders. The simplest answers--that men outnumber women in Congress by a margin of greater than 4:1 and that positions of political, economic and social power long-held by men may increase a need for a "quick-fix" self-esteem boost enabled by meaningless intimacy--are addressed in Stolberg's piece but ultimately cast aside in favor of a type of moralistic argument that illustrates, in conjunction with several recent high-profile scandals running wild in the media, the necessity of a public myth that our pop culture heroes still possess the possibility of being motivated completely by altruistic means.

Stolberg quotes Debbie Walsh, director of the Center for American Women and Politics at Rutgers University, who states, "The shorthand of it is that women run for office to do something, and men run for office to be somebody." To selectively quote Walsh here may do a disservice to the research conducted by the Center. Certainly, in reality, there are men and women present in the current Congress who have to defy this simple dichotomous explanation of the motivations of the sexes in politics. Yet, Walsh's statement illustrates vividly the optimistic American belief that our politicians can be altruistic servants of the common good, as originally envisioned by the Founding Fathers. In those days, the Presidency wasn't a position one aspired toward, it was a grave responsibility that was assumed as a kind of selfless public service. Washington didn't step down in 1796 to go on an extended tour of lucrative speaking engagements, and in some ways the statement made by Walsh and the outcry against Jonathan Edwards' current campaign finance scandal (leaving the despicable nature of his personal infidelity out of the equation) indicate a revulsion to the current career-minded politician and a nostalgic desire to return to the days when servitude and integrity were placed before advancement.

A few weeks ago, I posted a review of David Foster Wallace's long essay "Up, Simba" to this blog in which the author grappled with this very issue much more adeptly than I could hope to. Arguably, the sex scandals of the past few weeks have only intensified Wallace's observations about the salesman mystique of the modern American politician, and Walsh's piece published this morning throws a gender-specific slant on the kind of nostalgic hope present in the American public that politics can still be self-less and not ironically self-aware.

It occurred to me, as I was reading Walsh's article, that politics are not the only arena in which we (both the public and those in positions of fame) cling to perhaps outmoded archetypes. The current scandal at Ohio State, already covered on this blog and to the point of nausea in the sports media, contains all the elements of similar scandals occurring in the political arena. Jim Tressel cultivated a public personality of selflessness and virtue, while accepting a salary bloated to levels of Solomon-like excess and turning a blind eye to the ethical violations of his athletes. The current year-long backlash against LeBron James (of which, I admit, I am a passionate participant) is fueled by some kind of ancient code of honor that honestly should never have lasted past the free agency era in any sport. Collectively, as a society, we are aware of these virtuous archetypes and use them as helpful narratives to keep us from becoming, as this past week's episode of South Park so poignantly reminded us, "cynical assholes."

We need these symbols of unquestioned virtue in all aspects of our culture, whether true or false, to keep us from believing that our society is in an apparent moral and spiritual decline. And, certainly, there are instances in which the narratives prove true. At the same time, we should not allow a comforting story to obscure the truth about ourselves and what the world around us has become because we are afraid to admit the consequences brought about by social media, frenzied election cycles, or the unrelenting pursuit of wealth in a global capitalist economy.

Fear and Loathing on the McCain Trail '00

I just spent the afternoon with David Foster Wallace, reading his account of the 2000 McCain presidential campaign "Up, Simba" compiled in a new edition titled "McCain's Promise" published in 2006. The parallels between his text and Hunter S. Thompson's Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail are too numerous to recount here. The foreword of my text by Jacob Weisberg makes the comparison tacitly and implicitly, but it would take a willful ignorance not to see that the two authors are doing many of the same things.

Each fashions themselves as something of an outsider, preferring the fringe identity of quasi-ethnography to straight political reporting. Wallace makes a point to insist on his resume in all-caps that he is NOT A POLITICAL JOURNALIST, and Thompson shows a proclivity for crashing political gatherings and press junkets while pooh-poohing the general press corps. Wallace's animosity toward politics seems to come from a more general cynicism, as the question of the genuine nature of contemporary politicians proves to be the major focus of his lengthy essay. Thompson, on the other hand, seems to genuinely believe in the redemptive qualities of McGovern, if only because he views Nixon as a flesh-eating monster (or, at least, that's the image Ralph Steadman is compelled to depict visually in the book as a result of Thompson's prose).

Both approach the writing process in a similar post-modern, rambling way. The back of my Thompson edition features praise from Kurt Vonnegut: "the literary equivalent of Cubism: all rules are broken." Wallace, in true Faulknerian fashion, explores the many uses available for the comma. However, when both authors become cogent, their texts become poignant looks at post-modern politics. The melancholy present throughout Wallace's text appears to be a consequence of the unraveling of politics and morality just beginning to rear its head in Thompson's work, which lacks the cynical perspective proffered by the fallout of Watergate, the American exit from Vietnam, and-well, let's just say all the Reagan years. In this way, it's easy to read Wallace as a kind of spiritual successor to Thompson. The chaos remains intact in Wallace's work, but it's gloomy undertones and final assertion that the voter must look inward to see just how far the salesman perception has ruined the political process causes the text to end on a note that is even less hopeful than the election of Nixon in Thompson's (if that's even possible).

I love both works, if only because they provide not just a commentary on what a political journalist should and can be in the modern era of American politics, but also because they insist upon driving home the notion that politicians, voters and journalists are all human beings, fallible and susceptible to emotional responses. Sometimes we forget that.

Movie review of "That Evening Sun" and some thoughts on The Watchmen graphic novel in the coming days.

What does the Arab Spring mean for the United States?

As reported by CNN, the Pew Research Center's Global Attitudes project recently discovered that the recent events of the so-called "Arab Spring" have not improved the image of the United States in Muslim nations throughout the Middle East. The fact that the question was even investigated by the Pew group and reported with such a by-line by CNN suggests two important truths about the average American's conception of foreign policy.

First, we need some kind of context with which to digest new information. Often, that context is historical. When George W. Bush identified enemies of the United States in the 2002 State of the Union Address, he used the term "Axis of Evil" to unite radical terrorist factions in the Middle East and Asia with the unquestionably-evil dictatorships of the Second World War. Today, when a military effort begins to go south, the immediate go-to phrase is that the conflict is becoming "another Vietnam." By naming this the "Arab Spring," the media introduces a narrative of brief success followed by catastrophe. The rebels in Libya and Egypt are fighting against a cruel and un-American ideology. They are struggling for the formation of democratic ideals in their country. And they are doing so in spite of the pernicious influence of an autocratic government clinging to a level of sovereignty they no longer possess (if they did in the first place) through the mandate of the people. The distinguishing characteristics of the actual conflicts in the Middle East fade behind the historical context that is imposed upon them through the classification of the "Arab Spring." The thoughts, concerns, and goals of the reformers in these countries mimic those of the Czechs in the minds of historical-conscious Americans. And, because the ideological conflict in the Cold War was between Soviet authoritarianism and American democracy, the average person jumps to the conclusion that the participants in this rebel movement hold the same values as Americans. Pew's research, then, becomes surprising for the average American.

Though it shouldn't be. Vaclav Havel wrote in the 1980s that the American model of democracy would not work for an independent Czechoslovakia. The efforts of the Prague Spring were made by independent thinkers who sought the creation of their own democracy on their own terms. Though they struggled against Soviet influence on their government, this alone did not unite them with American principles and values. However, the ideological view is simpler to digest. So Americans watch the Arab Spring with confidence, pride, and the belief that even if Gaddafi is somehow able to restore his rule, the clamoring for democracy in the Middle East is a product of the example established by the United States and the modernization of Libya is an eventual inevitability.

This leads us to the second important illuminating feature of the Pew report. Americans generally view their path to democracy as the only possible one, or at least the only desirable one. And why not? Hasn't American democracy been delivered to numerous countries throughout the world (Japan, South Korea, even Iraq) with moderate to extensive levels of success? When any country in the world subsequently calls for a more democratic form of government in the face of autocratic oppression, most Americans view this as a consequence of the fine example of liberal democracy we present. The belief dates back to Winthrop's assertion of Plymouth's status as a "City on a Hill" during the colonial period, and of course Reagan's subsequent use of the metaphor in 1984. We've never quite relinquished that belief, that somehow America is the paragon of liberal democracy. The impulse to question citizens of these countries, during times of great political turmoil and uncertainty, how they feel about the United States in response to these occurrences illustrates this continued insistence upon viewing any democratic development in the world through an American lens.

The events of the so-called "Arab Spring" are undoubtedly important and essential. Autocratic governments, in any shape or form, cannot and should not exist in a global community committed to the values of democracy and equality. When we read into these events the superiority of the American model of democracy, and insist upon our own ideological involvement in what is occurring, we obscure the truth, however. President Obama and all American citizens should welcome the democratic reforms in the Middle East that will emerge from this political movement. But we should treat these developments as indications of the unquestioned strength of our own democratic system, nor should we expect democratic governments modeled after and openly friendly to ours once these reforms are inevitably put into place.

Osama Photos-Doomsday Clock Still Alive and TICKIN'

Last week, when President Obama publicly stated the pictures of a deceased Osama bin Laden would not be released to the public, the response from several newsmakers was predictable. In her always infinite wisdom, Sarah Palin tweeted, "Show photo as warning to others seeking America's destruction. No pussy-footing around, no politicking, no drama;it's part of the mission." Leaving aside the interesting use of a semi-colon in a tweet (hey, I wore a black tie to McDonald's once, too!), Ms. Palin's statement crystallizes the more-than-fascinating social response America had to the news of Osama's death. College students, in particular, took to the streets celebrating death. Now, this isn't going to be a Rashard Mendenhall-inspired rant.

Mental side-note: Speaking of Twitter etiquette, is there any way these professional athletes could hire a Twitter consultant? You know, someone who sits there, at a laptop or with a smartphone near one of these celebrities 24 hours a day, and could translate good ideas into 140 characters that actually make sense, or beat the person upside the head with a 2x4 when they decide to post about "one side of the issue" when talking about a man who killed thousands of innocent civilians? I'm available. And if I get to cherry pick on the catering spreads, I'll work for pennies on the dollar.

The point I'm trying to make is one that has been made before, but was emphasized by the euphoria inspired by the apparent convergence of justice and violence. Let's not forget the unease created by Palin's response to her daughter's pregnancy just a few years ago. Apparently, in her memoirs (at the same level of urgency on my "to read" list as the owner's manual for my car), Palin recounts "gagging on her toothbrush" when she heard news of her daughter's pregnancy on national television affiliates. Yet, the idea of violent photos being released to the public is "part of the mission." If fear-mongering and the destruction of innocence is part of the United States' "mission," I think I'd like to be debriefed and get the hell out, thank you very much.

Family members and those personally affected by September 11th should feel a sense of relief in the days that have followed Osama's death. But that sense of closure should come with the unease that America's thirst for violence, seen in its willingness to celebrate death, is at perverse odds with its sense of moral decency in issues of sex, language, and general decorum. I want to believe that sitting on my butt playing Gears of War 3 late into the night doesn't make me a more violent person. But I can't say that about everyone, and I certainly couldn't say it Sunday night when I saw hundreds of my peers waving flags and singing songs inspired ostensibly by a sense of togetherness, but one that required death and destruction to do so.