Two Existential dramas unfolded last night, overlapping dramas that required a choice. Baseball or "Mad Men." I watched the first early on, but at ten o'clock I switched over for the latter. The first, it seems, turned out to be a ninth inning spectacle. Like most men, I was steeped in the sporting culture as a child. In my working class neighborhood, we were defined by athletic skill. My parents came to my baseball games. I hit home runs and pitched no-hit games, and they would talk about the small crowd of parents cheering and calling my name. On the other hand, I don't remember them ever coming to my school where I was equally talented. My father and I watched sports on television. Real men. Heroes. The tradition continued with me for many years. I watched with friends--Super Bowls, World Series, NBA Finals, the NCAA Basketball Tournament. But as I've gotten older, my interest in these things has waned. I don't really know many of the players. I know that they are good when I watch them, better than their predecessors, but the games barely hold my interest. Grown men wearing team emblems and arguing about national rankings and potential talent seem silly to me now. I am not the first to go through this change, though. I've seen it happen to others before.
So I missed the ninth inning last night with its spectacular finale. I was watching Donald Draper contemplate the choices he has made, the inauthenticity of choosing poorly, watching as his life seemingly unravels. I love watching his hideously beautiful wife, Betty Draper, as she slouches toward her own Existential hell. What fun it all is.
Still, at the end of the season, the show will in all likelihood be gone. Baseball, however, will continue year after year. And therein lies its power. Tradition. The drama will continue to unfold generation after generation, father's telling sons apocryphal tales of heroism and bravery, buying them Little League uniforms and shaping their own dreams and aspirations.
But damn, I'm going to miss Donald and Betty when they are gone.
Our Gladiators -- especially football players. Though I have to hide my eyes when they show the instant replays of people getting hurt.
ReplyDeleteI watched the World Series and flipped to Mad Men once or twice. Too close that Mad Men for me sometimes. But I do love Jon Hamm and it good T.V. which is so rare.
I grew up with three brothers and practically lived in Giants Stadium as well as the real Yankee Stadium. I choose football over baseball -- but there was no Sunday night football game and it IS of course the Yankees. And it was a great game for baseball which can at times be a bit slow.
We watch in bed most of the day. My lover and I. It is our traditional Holy Day. Sunday. We analyze every team and coach and play. Yesterday I booed Brett Favre with the Packer fans and asked over and over what the hell has happened to the Giants, cheered both the Jet's and Denver's loss and lamented about Peyton Manning's greatness and how we'd have to listen to everyone say Tony Romo is so great today.
In between football we talk about poetry and art -- and try to figure out how we can both love both so much (art and football). I like to say "well look at all the people who loved bull-fighting!) Though bull fighting is really an art we decide.
Last night, during half times, he read from Mr. Campbell and then the Bible. See? Holy. About the Gnostics who incorporated sex into their worship. (Mr. Campbell seems rather to look down upon this ... ).
We get out of bed to pick up our' roni pizza and that's it.
I usually end the night complaining that football season should really last all year.
Might have something to do with the company. or that really good pepperoni pizza.
but I do love football.
I think you chose well...there will always be baseball.
ReplyDeleteYour comment about your parents not coming to your school where you were equally talented reminded me of the play "Death of a Salesman" by Arthur Miller.
ReplyDeleteI think it touches onto one of the confusing issues faced by people growing up in this world influenced by Hollywood.
Which path to take, the path of temporary glory or the one of knowledge and therefore a good life?
Epicurus placed fame in the category of unnecessary and unnatural.
I shouldn't pit one against the other, I guess. It is about personal change, maybe, or about the ages of (hu)man. But why do I want to universalize it? It is simply about me.
ReplyDeleteRazz, welcome back. I've been following your trip on your blog. I am amazed at how much you were able to do. Great envy here.