October 21st, 2011

Rebecca T. Alpert, Professor of Religion and Women’s Studies at Temple University, started out trying to get to the bottom of the Jewish affinity for baseball. But, reared on the 1950’s Brooklyn Dodgers, she found it impossible to not also bring race into the picture, at one point arguing for Jackie Robinson as a great Jewish sports hero. She ended up writing Out of Left Field: Jews and Black Baseball (Oxford University Press). I interviewed Dr. Alpert over the summer for a piece that didn’t end up happening. I thought this stuff was a good read, though, so here it is. 

SHOALS: How did you find your way to this topic?

ALPERT: I discovered that in Negro League stories there were often questions about “Well, who were these sort of smarmy Jews who owned Negro League teams, and what were they about?” I wanted to see if there really was anti-Semitism, and it lead me to trying to use baseball to peer at some of these questions that are really about this hypothetical connection between Jews and blacks.

SHOALS: A figure in the book like Abe Saperstein is incredibly hard to make sense of by today’s standards. He wasn’t white, but was more white than the blacks he dealt with professionally. This had its avantages, for him and his black peers (and even the players), but also made him an easy target. There’s a real connection there, but it’s remarkably ambivalent.

ALPERT: With any historical myth, it’s important to see what’s underneath it. But it’s also important to remember the Jews who created that myth saw themselves immediately after the Holocaust. They weren’t talking about the Holocaust, but I do believe they used the changes in American society and use championing the changes in American society as a way to deal with anti-Semitism as much as it was to do with anti-black racism.

SHOALS: That was one of the more striking, I think, single themes in the book. Because that almost really does turn it into what makes it seem self-serving. It could have been anyone. Robinson is, in a way, the missing link between the struggle of Hank Greenberg and Koufax’s great moment of acceptance by mainstream America. What makes it tricky is that he’s at once subject and object.

ALPERT: You can’t separate Koufax from the whole Six Day War phenomenon, as well. When you talk about the power of the civil rights movement, Jews, I think, at that time, translated the civil rights stuff in relation to the Six Day War. And in 1967 was Koufax and the Six Day War and it was all “Jew is beautiful.” I lived through it, and that is how I experienced it. And I think it’s borne out by a lot of the literature. That’s really what was going on.

SHOALS: Also, that’s right on the verge of the late 60s split between Jews and blacks in the movement. It’s interesting timing there that the most Zionist pressure point is also the one where the “special relationship” starts to fray.

ALPERT: Absolutely. I sort of feel like blacks are saying to us, “You’ve stolen enough. You’ve taken enough. Now you’re taking our ‘black is beautiful’ thing. No, you can’t have it. No, you can’t claim to have done anything that has contributed to our well-being.”

SHOALS: I wonder if there also isn’t a different between business interest versus activist interest. When you’re talking about business situations, there’s almost inherently strife, because there’s money involved.. Whereas activism, the people are working together because they have common ideological goals or at least overlapping ones. The Negro Leagues are bound to make Jews look less sympathetic because they’re trying to make money. It was a business. You get the same problem in the record business. Jews helped promote music, but they also exploited artists at times.

ALPERT: Part of the problem with sport, and entertainment as well, is that people don’t want to think of it as a business. They want to think there’s something holier or purer about it, which is, again, how Jews concoct their connection to baseball a lot of the time. But you’re absolutely right when business interests get involved. You read a lot of criticism also of the black Negro League owners. It wasn’t like they were good guys and these Jews were bad guys. I tried to bring that out in the book as well. I wanted to love [owners like] Cumberland Posey and Effa Manley, but they, too, were business people.

October 21st, 2011

You Don’t Matter.

I’m not really concerned with who first started humoring the voice of the fan, or why. We all started as fans; presumably, most of us working somewhere in the business still are. However, it has absolutely no place in this lockout. The knee-jerk reaction to cancelations, of which there will be more today, is “I want my NBA!” or “Come on, let’s save the NBA!”

The problem is that this kind of selfishness plays right into the hands of owners, providing leverage and creating an imbalance in talks that really, have nothing to do with basketball, or how much we love it. Everybody involved in the talks is very rich, and in regular person terms, there’s little difference between millions and billions. But the owners, whose businesses make up the National Basketball Association, are employers, and the players work for them. We fall into this equivocation all the time; we say we’re NBA fans, when what we really means is that we like watching these players compete with the necessary infrastructure in place. We selfishly talk about improving our product as “solving the league’s problems”, and in these grave days, beg for our league back—which, in labor terms, translates into wanting owners to have the opportunity to do business. Fixing the NBA? That means helping the owners, who depend on revenue to stay above water.

What’s lost here is that, no matter how much we may want the NBA back, the players who work for it have a right to negotiate as they see fit. That there are fans whose opinion can be swayed is an unfortunate distraction; we have no say in this, or at least we shouldn’t. People who work for other people are in a vulnerable position, and all that protects them from abuses of power is collective bargaining. Sure, LeBron James doesn’t need our pity. In a way, that’s just as condescending as calling him a spoiled brat. At the same time, the other part of the NBA—besides the owners running businesses that we support—is its workers not being pushed around. It sucks that arena employees (not to mention writers) are losing out on pay. But if millionaires don’t have labor rights, then really, who the fuck does? 

October 20th, 2011

Today, The Classical begins. Well, sort of. The little sports site that could decided we couldn’t wait until our permanent home was ready. Nor could the MLB calendar. Thus, we will be keeping a daily World Series diary on Deadspin. Today, our first, is from Eric Freeman. It’s about Tony La Russa’s misshapen individualism. 

October 13th, 2011

I will always be partial to Stern, at least superficially, because of his unmistakably Jewish persona. Let’s get that out of the way. I will also never cease to trumpet his staunch Democratic credentials, when it comes to everything except for—well, doing his job. He started out a union-buster, was the NBA’s choice for its last stand against free agency, and has always made a point of going at labor ruthlessly, almost competitively, as if it were his form of bloodsport. These days, it’s hard to reconcile anti-labor bravura with any kind of left-ish leanings. 

Here’s where we would do well to remember something about sports commissioners: They are not installed to rule over players and owners alike. Kenesaw Mountain Landis was a prehistoric being, not a precedent; even the most transformative figures, like Roger Goodell or Stern during the Jordan Era, served at the pleasure of the league’s owners. Larry O’Brien, Tommy Craggs’s great champion (our first in-person meeting was a three-hour long argument about Stern), was very nearly an activist, lecturing the owners about what was fair and right in this world. He was as structurally unlikely as Landis. The rest of these guys are just doing a job. David Stern is a character, at once endearing and a total prick. But just as the league’s best days allow him to assume the guise (and stereotype) of big-hearted showbiz tycoon, so the lean, or bitter, ones demand he scorch the earth. We know something of Stern’s personality, and his politics. The internal contradictions that cling so readily to him are a function of his ironbound sense of duty. The man isn’t a chameleon. Above all else, David Stern is the most ruthless kind of professional. 

Earlier today, Ray Ratto pointed out to me that Stern, as much as he may secretly resent it, has no choice but to protect the interests of mediocre owners. The smart ones are in the minority and they’re probably balanced out by the utter morons, anyway. This is not meant as a defense of David Stern, but an explanation for his seemingly revolting behavior here: He’s an employee. As usual, it’s the guys at the top who ruin everything. Granted, he’s closer, and more culpable, than the players ever could be. But at the end of the day, even David Stern works for someone.

I don’t doubt that David Stern has real feelings. Despair, or at least the hyperbolic idea of it, might be among them, somewhere. However, the exact structure of them, and the way they resolve way down in his gut and up high behind those glasses, is probably a mystery to everyone, save his analyst. Whoever that great and lucky man is. 

October 4th, 2011
Reblogged from Michael Hayes
September 27th, 2011

FREE EVERYONE: Bomani, Race, Blogging

If you haven’t already, go read Bomani Jones’s post (piece?) on the construction of the American sports fan, and how it affects the media industry, new or otherwise. There’s a lot to digest there, and in my post-baby morass, I doubt I’m going to be able to give it the consideration it deserves.

Full disclosure: This post itself is reconstituted bits and pieces of emails I’ve written since waking up, some of them to Bomani himself.

I don’t think AJ was doing anything other than, characteristically, calling it like he sees it. Saying that new media is dominated by white men isn’t the same as saying it should be that way. Bomani’s point—that the audience for sports is assumed white and male, and this affects what kind of content, and personality, is encouraged, or sees a place for itself, in that field—does a lot to explain why this is the case. However, to take it a step further, it’s as much about how we construct sports as how we construct their audience.

Bomani posts Freeway/Beanie Sigel/Jay-Z’s “What We Do” to suggest that there might be two sides to the monolithic “Philly fans on Vick”. Vick, like Iverson or any of number of other dudes we could rattle off here, has met with a very different reception from different groups, and those groups very often split along lines of race. It’s a difference in perspective. And that’s not just about disagreeing on, say, what counts as showy play, but the underlying beliefs, and associations, that inform these views on sports. Notice, he didn’t use a photo, a name, or an anecdote. He put up the video for a 2002 rap anthem about the mundane realities of drug dealing. Not every black dude in Philly is Freeway or Beanie Sigel, but then again, very few working class Italians are Rocky. Culture, the flipside of perspective, is big like that.

If sports really were only ever about sports, then some the white male assumptions would only matter so much, and some sort of universal truth would prevail. This isn’t hell or relativism I’m trying to push here. It’s a pretty simple argument: By posting a music video to show a different side of Philly, Bomani reminds us that non-white-male fans don’t just represent different ideas about sports. When they do so—and they don’t always—it’s because they also represent a different sense of the world. They don’t just contradict (or complement) the narrowly-constructed WIP listener, they demand he be viewed in a new light.

Sports bloggers, like the journalists who came before them, write about sports. When they stray, it’s generally toward certain spheres of pop culture. This humanizing, if largely impersonal, touch marks their writing as belonging to “the fan”—the humanizing, if largely impersonal, “I” that resides in “we”. This was Bill Simmons’s crucial breakthrough, a new kind of authority that is at once homespun and even more hegemonic. What has always bothered me about this approach is that it doesn’t really allow for a larger sense of culture, or context. It acknowledges the outside world, albeit one that is white and male. But using superficial references creates a closed system. This technique is less, rather than more, permeable; it reinforces that perspective while further excluding others.

It’s no secret that I’m a huge fan of Bomani’s work, and not just because he’s as smart and funny a guy as you’ll find in sports media. There’s a lot going on in what he does that immediately addresses this problem. As a matter of style, he brings in themes and idea that seemingly lie outside of sports not to prove a point, but because he doesn’t see sports as existing in a vacuum. You can decide if that’s “a black thing”; certainly, it’s a more wide-open, omnivorous approach than we’re used to seeing in sports media, new, old, or the other. At the same time, Bomani brings in this “extra” material out of a sense of responsibility. It would be intellectually dishonest to do otherwise. Not to mention, cross-cultural literacy is pretty key to understanding not only athletes, but other fans.

Sports may be where we all come together, but you could say the same thing about the UN. If nothing else, it’s a reminder to always consider perspective in sports. It doesn’t mean agreeing to disagree. On the contrary, it involves pushing the conversation even further.

The disappointing coda is that this kind of work makes many people uneasy, or just plain annoys them. They want sports, right down the middle. It also lends itself to being seen as a personal brand, which while it affords someone like Bomani certain freedoms, also fails to establish channels of entry for up-and-comers, and probably ends up denying Bomani himself certain opportunities. Maybe this looks like racism from the right angle; I’ve also engaged in an ungodly number of generalizations myself, despite trying very hard to avoid doing so. I could probably be brought up for similar charges. However, it’s unreasonable to assume that Bomani’s desire to provide context and make room for his particular perspective is a personal quirk. It seems to me like a perfectly rational response not only to sports media, but to sports.

In fact, we’re all doing it, all the time, whether or not we want to admit it. It’s just a lot easier for some of us to get away with it.

September 19th, 2011
Hooray! We did it … or, earned the right to do it. The Classical reached its $50,000 Kickstarter goal this weekend. I know, it kind of snuck up on us, too. If you were waiting till the last minute to pledge, we could still use the cash. More importantly, though, this means it is time for our crew to get on the ball and begin in earnest. This isn’t the end, it’s the beginning. This is a major accomplishment—we’re proud of ourselves, and you all, and suggest you feel the same—but now comes the part we’re actually good at it. Also, expect this place to return to actually writing about stuff, instead of fundraising, sometime in the near future. War is over!

Hooray! We did it … or, earned the right to do it. The Classical reached its $50,000 Kickstarter goal this weekend. I know, it kind of snuck up on us, too. If you were waiting till the last minute to pledge, we could still use the cash. More importantly, though, this means it is time for our crew to get on the ball and begin in earnest. This isn’t the end, it’s the beginning. This is a major accomplishment—we’re proud of ourselves, and you all, and suggest you feel the same—but now comes the part we’re actually good at it. 

Also, expect this place to return to actually writing about stuff, instead of fundraising, sometime in the near future. War is over!

September 16th, 2011

The Classical and You

The Classical is $8,140 away from its goal. If you’ve donated, we thank you with all our hearts. If you’ve made a principled stance not to—maybe you would prefer to “support” writers with a different model, or believe freelancers can write two things at the same time—then we appreciate your honesty. 

If you’re either waiting, or on the fence, this Tumbl is for you. We want The Classical to happen, and we hope you do, too. We’re not asking you to prop up our hobby, or rejecting those time-honored internet precepts of hard work and tireless sacrifice. We just need a hand getting started. If in a year, The Classical can’t support itself, it dies as dead as if it never existed in the first place.

The Classical isn’t just for us, it’s for all of you—the writers interested in contributing, the readers who feel there’s something missing from sports journalism that has yet to be fulfilled. This money allows us, and you, to build the kind of site we know can work without looking over our shoulder from Day 1. It’s a luxury, sure, and may run counter to all libertarian ideals. But we prefer to see it as trust. Trust in what we’ve done, and will do. Or, if you want, good old-fashioned fear. If we don’t raise this money, The Classical doesn’t happen.

It’s an old NPR refrain, but it’s that simple. The Classical won’t exist without you. And if The Classical doesn’t exist, it tells us that it all we need to know. If that’s the case, we’ll take our answer off the air.

August 30th, 2011

HUGE Thanks to NBA Off-Season!

nbaoffseason:

Today, the team here at NBA Off Season, the self proclaimed Wu-Tang Clan of basketball blogs here on Tumblr, has a request. We’d like you, our ever-loyal readers, to help us support The Classical. For those unfamiliar, The Classical intends to be more than another sports site. It will hopefully take sports writing to great new heights. A lot of people that we love, and most likely you love as well, are behind the Classical. Bethlehem Shoals of Free Darko fame, Ball Don’t Lie writer Eric Freeman, Lang Whitaker, and, Tom Scharpling, the host of “Best Show on WFMU”. That lineup, in addition to the other writers they’ve assembled so far, should have you giddy with excitement. If it didn’t, get yourself to a doctor ASAP, as you probably don’t have a pulse.

We want to help The Classical reach their Kickstarter goal and at the same time be able to help you, the loyal reader. Starting today, we’re going to donate a percentage of NBA Off Season merch sales to The Classical. So, get a cool shirt and help support a great cause. It’s a win-win situation. If you’re not interested in a shirt, please donate to this great cause on Kickstarter.

Reblogged from NBA Off-Season