We love to complain about “The Media”, but what would happen if there were no journalists and no press coverage? After all, there’s a reason why independent journalists are at the top of government target lists in totalitarian regimes (see; Russia, Zimbabwe, China, etc.). Recently, I worked on a successful anti-recall campaign in a rural New England town, just outside the suburban ring of both Boston and Providence. This geography means that the community in question falls “into the cracks” when it comes to newspaper coverage.
Officially, the town is covered by three dailies (and a monthly shopper). But the reality is that it is too far from the center of each paper’s gravity to get much daily coverage. The journalists at the three papers, all skilled and conscientious, just didn’t have the time to make covering this town a high enough priority to matter. The result of this diminished scrutiny on the local body politic was interesting. Some folks saw an opportunity to cut governmental and political corners that they might not have if the possibility of daily scrutiny was higher. The caliber of political discourse and the degree of accuracy in town politics declined as well, while the local police department was outwardly political in a way that I had never come close to seeing before. And almost all of this went uncovered, falling like a tree in the forest.
So complain if you will – and there’s plenty to question – but a brief foray into a world without (much) media scrutiny reminded me of Churchill’s wry defense of democracy – it has it’s drawbacks, but it’s better than the alternatives.
While we’re here, a couple things worth reading – in “The Media”:
- Christoper Hutchens considers the role of his writings in the decision of a young soldier to enlist – and that soldier’s death in Iraq.
- The New York Times makes the case for the rule of law as central to the American Ideal.
- The Providence Journal’s Froma Harrop exposes the tawdry “value proposition” of the Spears Family Business.
- An extreme rarity: a thoughtful, reasoned piece about immigration.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
A Therapeutic Moment
The Good News: I like iced tea, so I was glad when Dunkin’ Donuts started brewing it and selling it. The Bad News: Sunday night it took the chain four tries to get my order (medium, black, unsweetened) right. At the DD at 6166 Post Road in North Kingstown (where I made the mistake of driving away without taste testing first) the first try tasted like iced coffee. When I drove around again, the second did, too. The young lady at the window explained: Maybe it’s because we had trouble with the tea brew basket, so we took the coffee brew basket and made tea with it. Could be…
At my next stop, in Attleboro, their first try (3rd total) had sugar in it. I learned this in time because I’ve taken to protecting myself against missed orders by doing something that I hate doing, because it’s so obnoxious – I sit at the window and take a sip before I go. I hate to admit this, but it’s becoming the only way to make certain that you find out in time if you’re getting what you paid for. “No, I didn’t order Sweet n’ Low.” On try number four, I hit paydirt.
Why is service such a challenge for some places? I had breathtakingly bad experiences at Macy’s and Sears over the weekend as well. But then, I had a great experience with AAA’s East Providence office.
You can be sure I’ll renew my membership with AAA, and recommend them to others. Meanwhile, I’ll look for ways to shop around Macy’s and Sears, and I’ll get iced tea at Starbucks whenever I can.
At my next stop, in Attleboro, their first try (3rd total) had sugar in it. I learned this in time because I’ve taken to protecting myself against missed orders by doing something that I hate doing, because it’s so obnoxious – I sit at the window and take a sip before I go. I hate to admit this, but it’s becoming the only way to make certain that you find out in time if you’re getting what you paid for. “No, I didn’t order Sweet n’ Low.” On try number four, I hit paydirt.
Why is service such a challenge for some places? I had breathtakingly bad experiences at Macy’s and Sears over the weekend as well. But then, I had a great experience with AAA’s East Providence office.
You can be sure I’ll renew my membership with AAA, and recommend them to others. Meanwhile, I’ll look for ways to shop around Macy’s and Sears, and I’ll get iced tea at Starbucks whenever I can.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Who’s #1? The Client
Who is our top business priority? Simple – our clients. It seems like common sense, but from time to time you see a high profile instance where someone forgets that – most recently, baseball agent Scott Boras. (See the recent New Yorker profile of Boras, aptly titled ‘TheExtortionist’.)
A few weeks ago, Boras advised his client, Yankees slugger Alex Rodriquez, to declare free agency and see what kind of a deal he could get from other teams. Then Rodriguez had a change of heart (read Saturday’s very good Wall Street Journal version.) Turns out he really liked being a Yankee, and didn’t want to leave the team. (It probably didn’t hurt that the Yankees were one of probably only three or four teams who could afford A-Rods $27 million annual price tag.)
For Boras, it had become about him - not his client Rodriguez. That’s bad news, and a dangerous place to be for an advisor whose ego is so big he can’t see it coming. Which apparently Boras didn’t. Having crossed the psychic Rubicon where he could no longer trust Boras, Rodriguez reached out to an unlikely counselor – mega-billionaire Warren Buffet, who the slugger had met in his travels. It’s not clear what Buffet knows about baseball, but he understands business and the importance of good, objective, client-centered advice. He told A-Rod to approach the Yankees himself, using two Goldman Sachs execs as intermediaries and advisors, leaving Boras out.
And the deal was done – without the agent.
Sure, Boras will get the commission, but forgetting that it’s not about him will likely prove costly. He’s already been sidelined by Detroit pitcher Kenny Rogers in negotiations with the Tigers, and I’m sure other players are asking themselves a devastating question: “Is this guy really working for me when I’m not in the room?” Once that question is out there, the relationship will never be the same – and rightly so.
A few weeks ago, Boras advised his client, Yankees slugger Alex Rodriquez, to declare free agency and see what kind of a deal he could get from other teams. Then Rodriguez had a change of heart (read Saturday’s very good Wall Street Journal version.) Turns out he really liked being a Yankee, and didn’t want to leave the team. (It probably didn’t hurt that the Yankees were one of probably only three or four teams who could afford A-Rods $27 million annual price tag.)
For Boras, it had become about him - not his client Rodriguez. That’s bad news, and a dangerous place to be for an advisor whose ego is so big he can’t see it coming. Which apparently Boras didn’t. Having crossed the psychic Rubicon where he could no longer trust Boras, Rodriguez reached out to an unlikely counselor – mega-billionaire Warren Buffet, who the slugger had met in his travels. It’s not clear what Buffet knows about baseball, but he understands business and the importance of good, objective, client-centered advice. He told A-Rod to approach the Yankees himself, using two Goldman Sachs execs as intermediaries and advisors, leaving Boras out.
And the deal was done – without the agent.
Sure, Boras will get the commission, but forgetting that it’s not about him will likely prove costly. He’s already been sidelined by Detroit pitcher Kenny Rogers in negotiations with the Tigers, and I’m sure other players are asking themselves a devastating question: “Is this guy really working for me when I’m not in the room?” Once that question is out there, the relationship will never be the same – and rightly so.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
The World Series, Ted Williams, and the Fine (Lost?) Art of the Graceful Finish
Another World Series win for the Red Sox, and a completely different experience from 2004. Three years ago the inevitable moment when the whole thing came crashing down (or dribbling through someone’s legs) always seemed just around the corner. In fact, the 2006 season was well under way before I finally felt comfortable that the 2004 title was not somehow going to be revoked. The Curse? Ancient history.
This year, it was almost like watching the Patriots – you may not have known they were going to win, but you almost expected it, and weren’t the least bit surprised when it happened. I went to Game 1 at Fenway (my first Series game ever), and the 13-1 shellacking the Sox handed the Rockies and their ace Jeff Francis set the tone. Game 3 was a good window into the “new” Sox – after blowing a 6-0 lead and letting the Rockies close to 6-5, the Sox roared back to win 10-5. And nobody was surprised. After that, the Game 4 win seemed inevitable.
Looking back, it’s easy to pinpoint the precise instant when ‘The Curse’ was broken: bottom of the 8th, Game 6, 2004 ALCS. Jeter was on first after his RBI single had cut the Sox lead to 4-2. A-Rod hit a grounder down the first-base line that was fielded by Bronson Arroyo, who tagged Rodriguez out, but A-Rod deliberately knocked the ball loose. The ball rolled down the right-field line, Jeter came around to score and Rodriguez was standing on first. Here we go again - the Yankees had cut the Red Sox lead to 4-3 with one out in the eighth inning and A-Rod was on second base.
Now in the Bad Old Days (i.e., September 12, 1918 to October 19, 2004), we know what would have happened – the umpires would have looked at each other, shrugged, issued a collective “We didn’t see anything” and the Sox, up 4-0 at the start of the inning, would have watched the Yankees go on to win the World Series. But the umps called A-Rod out, Jeter was sent back to first, Arroyo struck out Gary Sheffield, The Curse was broken and the Sox would be champs.
Now it’s a whole new ball game.
——-
Sitting at Fenway in the cold, drizzly Fall murk during Game 1 made me think of the best baseball pieces ever written – Updike’s Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu’, his famous essay about Ted Williams’ last game and Hollywood-ending last at-bat. If you haven’t read it, you should – it’s a great combination of fantastic writing and heroic subject matter.
Forty seven years after his last at-bat, Williams’ numbers are still staggering. Everyone knows he’s the last guy to hit .400 (66 years ago, when he also had an incredible .574(!) on base percentage to go with the .406 average), but he’s also the only American Leaguer ever to win the Triple Crown twice. When he retired, he was third all-time in home runs, trailing only Jimmy Foxx and the Babe – both of whom, coincidentally, had also spent time in a Red Sox uniform.
With the team, Williams (who was born twelve days before the Sox won the 1918 Series), is still #1 All-Time in home runs and batting average, and second only to the great Carl Yastrzemski in runs, hits, doubles, total bases, RBIs and extra base hits.
Those are awe-inspiring numbers, made even more so by the fact that he spent five years in the prime of his career not at Fenway, but flying fighter planes in the Marines.
But for Updike the numbers are just the start. He describes Williams’ volatile relationship with the Boston fans and media – deftly characterized as a “marriage”, with all the attendant ups and downs. And finally – and most important - he presents Williams’ ability to have the sense, the grace, the self-discipline and self-knowledge to know when it was over and how to end on the most graceful note possible.
What makes a strong ending? One way to tell is when the audience, with some surprise, says “Wow. That was really good.” Read the Updike piece - you’ll see what I mean.
This year, it was almost like watching the Patriots – you may not have known they were going to win, but you almost expected it, and weren’t the least bit surprised when it happened. I went to Game 1 at Fenway (my first Series game ever), and the 13-1 shellacking the Sox handed the Rockies and their ace Jeff Francis set the tone. Game 3 was a good window into the “new” Sox – after blowing a 6-0 lead and letting the Rockies close to 6-5, the Sox roared back to win 10-5. And nobody was surprised. After that, the Game 4 win seemed inevitable.
Looking back, it’s easy to pinpoint the precise instant when ‘The Curse’ was broken: bottom of the 8th, Game 6, 2004 ALCS. Jeter was on first after his RBI single had cut the Sox lead to 4-2. A-Rod hit a grounder down the first-base line that was fielded by Bronson Arroyo, who tagged Rodriguez out, but A-Rod deliberately knocked the ball loose. The ball rolled down the right-field line, Jeter came around to score and Rodriguez was standing on first. Here we go again - the Yankees had cut the Red Sox lead to 4-3 with one out in the eighth inning and A-Rod was on second base.
Now in the Bad Old Days (i.e., September 12, 1918 to October 19, 2004), we know what would have happened – the umpires would have looked at each other, shrugged, issued a collective “We didn’t see anything” and the Sox, up 4-0 at the start of the inning, would have watched the Yankees go on to win the World Series. But the umps called A-Rod out, Jeter was sent back to first, Arroyo struck out Gary Sheffield, The Curse was broken and the Sox would be champs.
Now it’s a whole new ball game.
——-
Sitting at Fenway in the cold, drizzly Fall murk during Game 1 made me think of the best baseball pieces ever written – Updike’s Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu’, his famous essay about Ted Williams’ last game and Hollywood-ending last at-bat. If you haven’t read it, you should – it’s a great combination of fantastic writing and heroic subject matter.
Forty seven years after his last at-bat, Williams’ numbers are still staggering. Everyone knows he’s the last guy to hit .400 (66 years ago, when he also had an incredible .574(!) on base percentage to go with the .406 average), but he’s also the only American Leaguer ever to win the Triple Crown twice. When he retired, he was third all-time in home runs, trailing only Jimmy Foxx and the Babe – both of whom, coincidentally, had also spent time in a Red Sox uniform.
With the team, Williams (who was born twelve days before the Sox won the 1918 Series), is still #1 All-Time in home runs and batting average, and second only to the great Carl Yastrzemski in runs, hits, doubles, total bases, RBIs and extra base hits.
Those are awe-inspiring numbers, made even more so by the fact that he spent five years in the prime of his career not at Fenway, but flying fighter planes in the Marines.
But for Updike the numbers are just the start. He describes Williams’ volatile relationship with the Boston fans and media – deftly characterized as a “marriage”, with all the attendant ups and downs. And finally – and most important - he presents Williams’ ability to have the sense, the grace, the self-discipline and self-knowledge to know when it was over and how to end on the most graceful note possible.
What makes a strong ending? One way to tell is when the audience, with some surprise, says “Wow. That was really good.” Read the Updike piece - you’ll see what I mean.
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