Of slime and smackdowns: Linda McMahon the candidate

In August 2010, Linda McMahon won the Connecticut Republican Senate Primary. Linda McMahon is not just the former CEO of World Wrestling Entertainment and wife of WWE chairman Vince McMahon, but a former character in the tweaked narratives on WWE television as well. Perhaps most importantly, she was also in an executive position during a period in which many WWE performers were consuming massive amounts of steroids, growth hormone, and pain pills. Some of the wrestlers died of heart failure, like one-time world champion Eddie Guerrero, while others, like Guerrero's good friend Chris Benoit, killed his family and then himself as massive amounts of testosterone coursed through his bloodstream and enlarged heart. Benoit's brain was also determined to be severely damaged from years of hard chair shots and multiple concussions. On the bright side, lest we get too grim here, McMahon also presided over the development of the WWE's "wellness policy" after these and other fatalities. Check out her testimony at the congressional oversight hearings on steroids in pro wrestling for a laugh. Better late than never, certainly. That said, former WWE wrestlers continue to take advantage of the WWE's ongoing offer to pay for drug rehab for any former performers. Scott Hall, aka Razor Ramon, is the most recent person to take a trip on the WWE's bill. All of this intro material is to set up the question of whether any of it should have to do with Linda McMahon's senate bid. Of course it will, in our current smear culture of politics. But I am trying to look at her qualifications critically. Much like our gubernatorial candidate in California, Meg Whitman, McMahon helped lead a major publicly traded corporation through good times and bad, leaving it in a pretty good state. She spearheaded the "Smackdown your vote!" campaign to encourage voter registration, and perhaps most admirably, while she was at WWE the company made yearly trips to Iraq to perform for troops during the Christmas holidays. At first it was, perhaps, a PR stunt, but over the years, the attention waned, as did the ratings. The company still made the trip. This is a great case...it mixes pop culture, spectacle, the profane, business, gender, economics, steroids, and the US government. Whatever the outcome of the fall election, McMahon at least has some kind of legacy, as shown in the video below.

The many faces of...a knee

You can take one on the field, or receive one to the face. You can skin one, or bandage one. You can keep them up, or blow them out. You can operate on one, but you can't operate with only one. You can fully or partially replace one, and even bury a heart at a wounded one. You can have your reflexes tested by tapping on one of them, and your faith tested when you're on both of them. I'm talking about the knee, of course. Have you ever thought about the place of the knee in sport and popular culture? Ask someone what they think about when they hear the word "knee." Will they reflect upon a healthy knee? A knee that needs repair? The stability the knee provides? The efficiency with which the knee moves? The aches our knees provide as we age? The practice of kneeling in religion? The knee as a reference point in "proper" skirt length over the decades? The depth of trouble one can be in? A knee can be your best friend, and your worst enemy. We don't often think about our knees when everything is going well with them. It's only when something goes awry that we look down, sigh, and shake our heads as if to ask, "Come on, knee! What did I ever do to you?" The knee doesn't have as much cultural meaning as the head, let's say, or the foot...or even the finger. But whether straight or bent, the images of the knee in our minds remain...flexible.

A couple random videos

Gazing at effort(lessness)

The sport studies literature contains many references to "racially biased language." This basically means that the language of commentators, newscasters, etc. contains some sort of bias that relates directly to race. The most common example cited in textbooks is that white athletes in sports such as football and basketball have often been described as "hard working," while black players have been described as "naturally talented." We see less of this today, at least in basketball, according to some recent work. Track athletes have also been racialized in particular ways. East African distance runners, in particular, have been lauded for their supposed "effortlessness" and "fluidity" while white runners who are fortunate enough to get the better of their ostensibly inferior genetic makeup and/or socialization patterns have been described as "grinding" or "gutting" out personal bests. The research on race, population genetics, and sport performance is incredibly complex, and anyone who tries to tell you a definitive answer should be viewed with suspicion. All athletes and exercisers have experienced times when completing a task required little work, or when moving was a real chore. I deeply appreciate the beauty of effort in all its forms, from a child struggling to sit upright for the first time, to the aging athlete's attempt to build muscle, even as the mitochondria prepare to throw in the towel. Check out the two 800-meter world records below. These two runners are part of only a trio of runners to ever break 1:42 in the 800. One is from August, 2010, and the other is from back in 1981. Both are amazing to watch...their strides are strikingly different, and their efforts show in different ways and at different times...yet each makes my jaw drop.

Moonwalks, muscles, and corporeal murals

I've blogged about sport-as-art previously, but since the 2010 Mr. Olympia competition is right around the corner, I thought I'd revisit the relationship between sport, art, and the body in motion. Think about the term "bodybuilder," and what comes to mind? Is it a perfectly symmetrical upper body with sweeping, yet proportional thighs? Is it a more freaky body, with enormous traps and legs that dwarf the manhood between them? Is it...our lame duck governator Arnold? Or is it merely a stage that only a chemist could love? All of these things come to mind for me, at one time or another. Recently, what comes to mind is the body as a work of organic art, or evolving art, or enhanced art, and of ironic art. In particular, I have been thinking about one of the top bodybuilders, Kai Greene, and how he represents something that is sometimes lost in our spectacle-laden (or driven?) culture. In fact, many sport studies scholars might say it is all BUT lost. Kai Greene is huge. He is around 5'8" and around 260+ pounds. But Kai Greene is an artist...in many ways. He sees the sport as art, and he himself is an artist in the traditional sense, a painter specifically. Some purists complain that Kai's posing routines (see one guest routine below) do not really accentuate his strong points, but rather obscure them in a whirlwind of fluid movements. Strike a pose, squeeze, and hold it...that is how it is generally done. Not headstands. Not moonwalking. Not miming. In a hypercorporatized sporting environment, I tend to root for the artist. The artist could give a damn about convention, and may even sacrifice economic gain for what he or she views as their own authentic creative endeavor, as poesis. Of course, the artist may profit, but its a gamble. We'll see how Kai Greene fairs on September 25th, but whether or not he improves upon his 4th place from last year, I will admire his attempt to centralize art, creativity, and perhaps even (more than a bit of) flamboyance in an event ripe with ironies and overflowing with jacked up bodies.

Watch your &@!*&%# mouth!

Several recent articles in the popular press have discussed the appropriateness of using curse words, including the dreaded f-bomb, in professional settings. Think former VP Dick Cheney's "fuck yourself" to a Democratic senator, or VP Joe Biden's "big fuckin deal" following the health care bill. Yes, it goes straight to the top, folks! The sporting realm has, of course, had its own encounters with spicy language. Rex Ryan is the head coach of the New York Jets football team. In the first episode of this season's HBO "reality" show Hard Knocks, Ryan used an array of 4-letter words during a team meeting. He actually seems quite adept at stringing curse words together in creative, if non-academic, ways. In the days after the show aired, former NFL coach Tony Dungy, a self-described Christian and the "mentor" of Michael Vick, issued some harsh words (minus the spice) regarding Ryan's language. Witness the policing of the NFL's image taken to an absurd level. An improved but still flawed drug policy, an improved yet still tenuous concussions policy, a game predicated on violent collisions...but an obese, obnoxious, gutter-mouthed coach is something to rise up against? As the kids say, or rather text...WTF! Critical consumers of sport should point out hypocrisy when we see it. I love a good intellectual argument and some homestyle (sub)cultural critique as much as anyone...but to hold one's breath for a fundamental shift in the neanderthal-esque culture of pro football is foolish...not to mention dumb as fucking shit.

(may be removed so watch asap!)

Full Court Farce

President Obama was on television today filling out his 2010 NCAA basketball tournament bracket. One of my friends and colleagues, Dr. Keith Harrison, recently said in my class that the tournament was kind of like a hot dog--once you know what's it in, you really don't want anything to do with it. I think most people would eat the hot dog anyway, frankly, but what concerns me is that many on the political Right-wing continue to label Obama as a Left-leaning (or lurching) liberal. Here is the deal: If Obama were a true progressive and political leftist, he might have said one of the following today:

1. My fellow Americans, until the colleges and universities in the NCAA tournament raise their graduation rates, and close the gap between Black and White players, I cannot in good conscience support them being out of school for days, let alone weeks. It is a disservice to the educational process, and makes the term"student-athlete" more of a sham that it already is.

2. My fellow Americans, while many of you falsely label me a socialist, if you even understand the meaning of the term, I fully support the players-as-laborers receiving a fair cut of the massive profits that the NCAA makes on the tournament. This is clear exploitation, and the refusal to compensate the athlete-entertainers while the power structure and networks make tens of millions of dollars is a debased form of capitalism. I cannot fill out my bracket until this is rectified.

3. My fellow Americans, I will fill out my bracket, but this year, I am picking the team in each matchup with the highest APR score and graduation rate. I may not win the White House pool, but hey, I'm the president and I'm making a statement. In fact, I might as well go on television and fill out the women's tournament bracket, since they graduate, overall, at much higher rates than the men do.

There you have it. On this issue, at least, Obama is as conservative as the Evangelicals. It is, appropriately enough, a slam dunk. Below is a link to the graduation rates for the men's tournament teams. Think about these issues as you drink Dick Vitale's kool-aid.

http://web.bus.ucf.edu/documents/sport/2010_Mens_Bball_PR.pdf

Sodom, Gomorrah, or None of the Above?

American female athletes pose semi-nude in Sports Illustrated before the Olympics even begin, and all is right with the world. Men have more idealized images to consume, and the athletes claim the pictorials are "sexy not sexual." Fast-forward a few weeks...Canadian female hockey players, covered from neck to blade with nary a cleavage in sight, do some celebrating on the ice after their gold medal performance and that is somehow in bad taste? They disgraced Canadian national identity, the sanctity of the Olympic ice, and shockingly, appeared to not give a damn what anyone thought. They reclined on the ice, smoked cigars, downed Molsen Canadian, and generally had a blast. I don't have a daughter, and I hope I never do frankly. But if I ever found a baby girl on my doorstep and was forced, against my will, to raise her myself, I'd certainly prefer that she live in a world where we smile, even applaud images of supposed female athlete debauchery rather than fawn over the topless, commodified, and cliched women in SI.