A Moment With Maya

It's not often that you get to spend time with people who are giants in their field. In my previous job as a producer for Minnesota Public Radio, I had that experience on several occasions, and while it eventually became routine, I often reminded myself that having the chance to meet and interact with extraordinarily talented individuals should always be appreciated. And so today, when I heard the news that poet Maya Angelou had died, I took a moment to remember and appreciate the hour I spent with her in October 2007.

Ms. Angelou was in town that October for a speaking engagement, and I had spent several weeks trying to arrange for her to be interviewed by Kerri Miller on MPR's Midmorning program. While her handlers indicated she was interested in doing an interview, they also made it clear that she would not be able to come to the MPR studios to do an interview. Her time was limited, and her lack of mobility made travel difficult. So we improvised and decided to bring the interview to her hotel.

We met Ms. Angelou in a section of the hotel restaurant that had been closed off to the public. She was a tiny, frail-looking woman, impeccably dressed. After introductions, the first order of business was a cocktail. She ordered a screwdriver, took a few sips, and then the interview began. And while Ms. Angelou might have been small in stature, the moment she started speaking her presence filled every crevice in the room, and she suddenly seemed larger than life. It was astonishing.

During the interview, Ms. Angelou was warm, wise, humble, funny, and sharp as a knife. She quoted Shakespeare and recited poetry with ease. She spoke about the difficulty of writing, of truly being able to capture what you're thinking, how words "run from the writer," and how hard she works at her craft. Despite all the accolades and the critics who call her a "natural writer," she said, "I've never been able to say exactly what I mean." It was impossible not to hang on every word, because every word seemed so imbued with meaning and wisdom.

Kerri Miller's interview with Maya Angelou can be found here.

Frank Sinatra, Jim Crow, and the Argument for Reparations

I've been having trouble coming up with a topic to write about this week, so I thought I'd share some reading recommendations. Here are two examples of terrific nonfiction writing that have captivated me this week, for different reasons.

The first is "Frank Sinatra Has a Cold," written by Gay Talese for Esquire Magazine in 1966. The article is a terrific piece of creative nonfiction and is considered a landmark in new journalism, not only for the beauty of Talese's writing but also for his use of techniques associated with fiction. Here's how it starts:

FRANK SINATRA, holding a glass of bourbon in one hand and a cigarette in the other, stood in a dark corner of the bar between two attractive but fading blondes who sat waiting for him to say something. But he said nothing; he had been silent during much of the evening, except now in this private club in Beverly Hills he seemed even more distant, staring out through the smoke and semidarkness into a large room beyond the bar where dozens of young couples sat huddled around small tables or twisted in the center of the floor to the clamorous clang of folk-rock music blaring from the stereo. The two blondes knew, as did Sinatra's four male friends who stood nearby, that it was a bad idea to force conversation upon him when he was in this mood of sullen silence, a mood that had hardly been uncommon during this first week of November, a month before his fiftieth birthday. 

Perhaps what is most remarkable about the piece is what Talese was able to do when faced with an uncooperative interviewee. Sinatra didn't want to be interviewed by Talese. In addition to the aforementioned cold, Sinatra was preparing for the fallout from a  CBS documentary that he felt was prying too closely into his personal life, while also working on a movie and an NBC special that called for him to sing 18 songs. Unable to get the interview with Sinatra, Talese instead embedded himself in Sinatra's world, talking to the myriad people around the singer, and becoming an invisible observer.

What resulted was a piece of writing that gives the reader a fuller portrait of the man than any sit-down interview could have. It's Sinatra unfiltered. And more than just a portrait of the man, it's a rumination on the nature of celebrity, American myth-making, and the nation at mid-century. Sinatra, in Talese's portrait, is not just a singer. Without making any overt mafia references, the character that Talese draws is a variation on the Godfather: a man with tremendous power, a man who's loved, respected, and feared all at once. Talese's Sinatra is also much more complex than the Rat Pack caricature. He's a family man who stays out until the wee small hours of the morning. A private man who spends much of his time surrounded by dozens of hangers-on. A tough-guy who's very being can be threatened by a cold.

If you're a fan of Sinatra, or just someone who enjoys great writing, go read this article right now. It's well worth it.

The second piece is "The Case for Reparations" by Ta-Nehesi Coates, the cover story of the June edition of The Atlantic. Coates has been a national correspondent for the Atlantic for several years now, and in that time has become one of the most thoughtful and provocative writers on race. He rarely approaches the issue from an ideological standpoint, and he often challenges conventional wisdom. On a side note, he was also an occasional guest on the radio program I used to produce, and he's a really nice guy.

Whatever you think of the idea of reparations, the article is a must-read, not only for the carefully-constructed argument but the power of the writing. Coates builds the piece around the story of Clyde Ross, born in Mississippi in 1923 to sharecropper parents. In his lifetime Ross has been the victim of the most overt and covert forms of racism. After escaping the violence and institutionalized racism of the Jim Crow-era south, Ross served in World War II and made his way to Chicago, where he was victim of the more insidious yet no-less-institutionalized bigotry of housing discrimination, (which Coates calls "elegant racism").

Coates uses Ross's story as a springboard for a systematic review of how White America has colluded to deny black Americans the fruits of their labor and prevented them from achieving economic parity. Coates does not attempt to present a plan for how reparations could work, nor does he present reparations as a solution to the problems of black America. Instead, he asks us to consider it not as a "harebrained scheme authored by wild-eyed lefties and intellectually unserious black nationalists" but as a legitimate idea worthy of rigorous, thoughtful debate. Reparations, he argues, could mean "a reconciling of our self-image as the great democratizer with the facts of our history."

The article will no doubt get a lot of buzz over the next few weeks, as it should, and likely provoke all sorts of derision from the pundits of the world, which is unfortunate. Because whatever your stance on this issue, you'll learn something from reading this article.

Is the NFL ready for Michael Sam?

The NFL has a problem, and it might need a gay man to fix it.

As many of you may know, Michael Sam is the University of Missouri football player drafted by the St. Louis Rams in the seventh round of the recent NFL draft. Most seventh-round draft choices don't get as much coverage as Sam, but that's because no other player drafted is openly gay. Sam announced that he was gay back in February, to great fanfare. While there have been gay football players, none have acknowledged it while they were still playing. The announcement by Sam, the reigning defensive player of the year in the SEC, brought forth the possibility that the NFL could soon have its first openly gay player. In the hyper-masculine world of football, this was nothing short of shocking.

Then came the scrutiny that accompanies the period between the end of the NFL season and the draft. Shortly after coming out, football writer Peter King published an article with unnamed league sources stating that Sam would be a "distraction," shorthand for "we don't care that he's gay but this is not a problem we want to deal with." Then, according to some reports, he didn't perform well in the NFL Combine, the annual cattle call where league executives evaluate the athletic abilities of potential draftees. Some scouts were concerned that he was a "tweener," football lingo for a defensive player not big enough to play on the defensive line and not fast or athletic enough to play linebacker.

All of which helps account for why Sam wasn't drafted until the seventh round, which is generally where teams take a chance on players who likely won't make the team. I don't think most die-hard NFL fans could name a starting NFL player drafted in the 7th round. Sam's fall in the draft is worth questioning. Were NFL teams unsure if he was really an NFL-caliber player, or unsure of how his presence would affect the team? Did the Rams ultimately pick Michael Sam for good PR, or because they think he can make an impact on the field? And if the Rams like him as much as they say they do, why didn't they take him earlier?

Here's the reality: Michael Sam's sexual preference might be a problem for some players, coaches, and fans. For most, if the reaction of his teammates at Missouri is any indication, it won't be a big deal. But let's not pretend he won't be a distraction. From day one of training camp, his sexuality, and what all his teammates think about it, will be the story. Michael Sam has already done the hardest part by publicly coming out. But how he handles the rest of his career could be a trickier turn. Does he constantly wear the hat of "the first openly gay NFL player," or does he just go about his business as a football player who happens to be gay? I'm not sure he can be both.

The intense scrutiny of Michael Sam's every move began as soon as he was drafted, and will continue. After receiving the news that he had been drafted by the Rams, Sam embraced and kissed his boyfriend in front of television cameras. The kiss overjoyed some, repulsed others, and made the internet blow up. And soon after the initial reaction, the meta-analysis began. Was he trying to make a statement? Was it staged? Why did the kissing go on so long? For me, it was simply an emotional reaction to an emotional moment. We often see drafted players hug their moms or kiss their girlfriends. It's become part of the whole draft spectacle. These guys have worked really hard to achieve their dream. Why shouldn't they share their emotion with the one they love?

Sam said in his introductory press conference that his focus is on playing and making the team. But his decision to allow the Oprah Winfrey Network to do a reality series on his attempt to make the team immediately provides fodder for those who argue he's more interested in being a gay icon than being a football player. 

If Michael Sam becomes an NFL star, it will be huge for a league that, despite its popularity, has many problems. Let's review some of the challenges the NFL is facing: a growing list of players on the police blotter, a very public case of player harassment with racial overtones, and, most significantly, mounting evidence that the game itself is destroying the brains of its players. Yes, football is the most popular sport in this country, but it won't continue to be if these stories go on. Having an openly gay star will be a boon for the league, and for society.  While I tend to think the role of sports in fomenting social change can be overblown, Sam's success will go a long way to shooting down a host of stereotypes about gay men. It will also show that the NFL might be more enlightened and open-minded than most people think.

So as uncomfortable as some of its players, coaches, executives, and fans might be, the NFL needs Michael Sam, and it needs Michael Sam in a big way. 

Passing on the Draft?

 

Finally, the hour is nigh. For months, the airwaves have been filled with speculation and prognostication from an assortment of talking heads. Gallons upon gallons of ink have been spilled. Candidates have been proclaimed the chosen one on one day, and then dismissed the next. The future hangs in the balance. 

That paragraph would seem bombastic if I were writing on the eve of a presidential election. Of course, I'm not. I'm writing about the NFL Draft, which begins in a few hours.

If anyone had any doubts that football is the king of sports in this country, they need only look at how the NFL has turned its annual draft into one of the biggest sporting events of the year. Yes, I just wrote that. Despite the fact that the baseball season is in full swing, and the NBA and NHL are in the midst of their respective playoffs, there will be no bigger sporting event today than the NFL Draft. An event where a guy in a suit announces the names of players selected by each NFL Team, then shakes hands with each player and poses for a photographs while fans in the audience cheer (except for the Jets fans, who boo everything).

It's really quite a phenomena how popular the draft has become. Since the clock ticked to :00 in the Super Bowl, football fans and those who cover the game have been immersed in creating mock drafts, dissecting game film, and evaluating scouting combines and pro days. "Draft Experts" Mel Kiper Jr. and Todd McShay have been on ESPN nearly every single day and probably haven't seen a bed in months. And yes, there's even a movie about the draft (which I was convinced was an April Fool's joke until I actually saw it on a theater marquee).

How exactly did we get here? How did a sporting event that involves no physical action become one of the most watched sporting events of the year? The simple answer is marketing and television. NFL officials decided at some point that it wasn't acceptable for people not to be thinking about football in the months between the Super Bowl (February) and the beginning of training camp (August). No, people had to be thinking about football all year round. And what better way to do that than by turning the annual selection of college players in May into a three-day extravaganza, hosted and promoted by ESPN (and the insufferable Chris Berman). And the fans are eating it up.

As a sports fan, I'm not immune to the fervor surrounding this event. In baseball they say that hope springs eternal very opening day. For football fans, hope springs eternal every draft day. It's the day when every fan can dream that their team has picked the next star, or stars, who will take them to the promise land. And it's always interesting to see the machinations that team executives go through to disguise their true intentions and maneuver their way to a higher (or lower) draft pick. Still, sometimes I have to step back and wonder how an event that is so meaningless in a cosmic scale can accrue so much attention. And that's the dilemma I've always had as a sports fan. Why do I care so much about this stuff?

But, in the end, I'll likely be tuning in for some of the draft tonight, watching to see what teams Johnny Football and Teddy Bridgewater and Jadeveon Clowney will play for. But I won't feel good about it.