I've really started to look forward to Tuesday morning so I can read Gregg Easterbrook's stuff on TMQ on ESPN. His football commentary is very good, particularly when he writes in his notebook that the game is over.
His commentary on other things is even better. One example:
"Next Stephen King Auto-Written Formulaic Horror Novel -- "The School Bus": Some parents drive their children to school, rather than let them ride the bus, because school buses do not have seat belts. This is a classic case of perceived versus real risk. National Highway Traffic Safety Administration figures show that school buses are by far the safest form of passenger vehicle -- a child is about eight times safer in a school bus than riding in a parent's car to school. That school buses lack seat belts pales before the fact that they get into crashes far less often than other types of vehicles. School buses are huge and bright yellow, and drivers make way for them; the result is that collisions involving school buses are rare.
Parents misperceive the risks of riding school buses because whenever there is a school bus fatality anywhere in the country, it is national news; deaths of schoolchildren in their parents' cars don't make CNN. This kind of media-generated anxiety causes us to fear small risks such as riding school buses or drinking tap water, while shrugging at significant risks such as crossing the street, riding motorcycles or breathing indoor air. The latter is a good example of mixed-up modern risk perception. Research shows that indoor air is almost always less healthful than outdoor air; this is true even during most episodes of summer smog. When local weathermen say, "There's an ozone warning today, stay indoors with your air conditioner cranked up," they are advising you to stay where the air quality is worse. Rising asthma rates might relate to children spending ever more time indoors, breathing lower-quality air, rather than outdoors breathing cleaner air. (All forms of outdoor air pollution have been declining since about 1980, regardless which party holds the White House.) Get your kids out of the house and onto the school bus!"
I would like very much to have a job writing things like that.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Wal Mart to the rescue!
I just saw the new Wal-Mart commercial with a father driving home from Wal-Mart with their purchases in the back seat. The father is very excited, having saved so much money at Wal-Mart. The son pops a bubble while driving by a used-car lot. The father realizes that he's saved so much money, he can now consider buying his child a car.
This is such a wonderful thing. Hey, you can save this much money by shopping at a store that abuses its employees and has no qualms destroying the world as long as their profits go up, and once you save that money, you can spend it on a crappy American car that will likely cost you loads of money in repairs (the kid is checking out a Pontiac Grand-Am on the shady used-car lot) and help prop up an American car industry that is unwilling to change fuel economy standards and has Congress in their pockets to make sure they don't have to.
It makes me sad that even without TV, I still have to see this stuff. It makes me even more sad to think that that advertisement may actually be effective.
This is such a wonderful thing. Hey, you can save this much money by shopping at a store that abuses its employees and has no qualms destroying the world as long as their profits go up, and once you save that money, you can spend it on a crappy American car that will likely cost you loads of money in repairs (the kid is checking out a Pontiac Grand-Am on the shady used-car lot) and help prop up an American car industry that is unwilling to change fuel economy standards and has Congress in their pockets to make sure they don't have to.
It makes me sad that even without TV, I still have to see this stuff. It makes me even more sad to think that that advertisement may actually be effective.
Friday, September 21, 2007
I love Piazza Ardmore in VW. Not.
Like almost everyone I know, I have had a few experiences getting hosed at the car dealership. I bought a Jetta a few years ago and got the extended bumper-to-bumper warranty so I figured I wouldn’t have to worry about it for at least a few years.
I’m an idiot.
I know, but you don’t need to rub it in. These guys at Piazza Volkswagen are doing a great job of it for all of you. And its not just their pleasant demeanor, I’ve long ago gotten over the odd custom of being angry at people you’ve never even met and are supposed to be customer servicing. I can look past that.
But when things got ugly after a non-warranty repair that didn’t fix the problem, I thought I would go the extra mile to get things straightened out. I paid around 450 bucks to run fuel system cleaner through my engine because “excessive carbon build-up” in the throttle body was causing an odd vibration when I accelerated. There was some lovely creaking going on too, and that was going to be fixed by replacing the mid muffler bracket that was so rusted out it was “about to fall off.” Odd that should happen after just 43,000 miles, but hey, I figured I would just roll with it.
Roll out of the shop I did and oddly enough, the problems hadn’t changed at all. Turns out I needed two new front axles and new sway bar bushings. I was slightly perturbed so I thought I would talk to the service manager to see if I couldn’t get some explanation at least of the reason why I had to pay for their mistakes. Tony was cordial on the phone and promised he would look into it the next day as he was “closing out his month” at the time and just wouldn’t be able to get to it.
Oddly enough, he didn’t call me for a week. And then after waiting about ten days, he said he was looking at it right then and had been just about to call me. He said he would get back to me in a few minutes, but instead one of the technicians called me a few minutes later and said that they were going to appeal the mid muffler bracket as it ought to have been under warranty. Of course, I’d never asked for them to be under warranty, I just didn’t want to be paying for them completely botching the diagnosis on the car.
But hey, if that got me some money back, I would be satisfied. I never actually thought I would get any satisfaction, especially after it was apparent that Tony completely ignored what I asked him to do. Why expect anything better when you are only paying twenty some thousand bucks for the car. I am sure if it was a VW Phaeton I would have been treated differently, but I understand how that works.
So I waited for a credit to appear on my credit card, knowing it wouldn’t happen. Apparently a bolt in the hinge on my trunk was a bit upset about the matter and decided it was time to leave the car behind. So I needed to get that fixed, but I was on the way down to Nashville to visit my folks. I figured I could probably get it taken care of at the dealership down there since it was a warranty issue.
The folks there were as nice as could be (something we all sort of expect in the south), said they ordered the parts but they had to be painted, they’d be back in three business days. I had five business days to spare so I figured I was golden.
Too bad the hinges weren’t, they were bare metal and had to be blue to match the car. They didn’t take three days or even five. I called them and they said it was going to be seven, but not to worry. All I needed to do was have the dealership in Ardmore call them and have the part shipped up and they could slap it on there no problem
Big problem. The dealership in Ardmore is apparently incapable of basic tasks. I called and told the story to four separate people. The last person I spoke to was very angry that I would actually ask him to call a dealership in TN and get the part. After a few days of not hearing anything, I was a little mad at him but I knew revenge on the parts guy was not going to satisfy me so I called my pal Tony again.
Of course he said he would get on it right away and call me back. Another technician, perhaps it was Dave, called me back and told me it was a big snafu because the guy down there wouldn’t ship the part unless they paid for it. Makes sense, someone has to pay for it, and once they do they send off a form to VW and then get paid back. It’s a simple process.
Or not so simple. After waiting two weeks and hoping against hope for some result, I called down to Hallmark VW of Cool Springs to see what was happening, knowing that calling Ardmore would only leave me fuming. The parts guy down there was as helpful as could be, apparently the hinges were sitting right there, a nice blue color, but oddly enough, no one had ever called for them.
Now, perhaps Dave or Tony or somebody else called and talked to someone else, I assume they at least made a phone call. Apparently one strike and they were out.
So I dialed up the umpire to see about the rules. VW of America to the rescue. Sure they’ve never helped me with anything before besides supposedly forwarding complaints to the people that I’ve already complained to and been ignored, that’s obviously going to accomplish something. I spoke to a very nice lady who apologized profusely since I was not getting a nice experience and they were very sad about it. She said she would forward my complaints and give the dealership a chance to make up for it and correct the problem.
She obviously missed out on the memo about Ardmore Volkswagen. Nothing happened. So this time around I spoke to another guy at VW USA and sent an email as well. This fine young man promised to call Ardmore and get things taken care of and be back to me within two days.
Three days later and of course no one’s called.
So now what? I can’t use my trunk because it grinds on the rear windshield every time I open it now. I can’t use my radio since they forgot to put in the antenna last time they worked on the car. At least now the front wheels don’t wobble anymore, but I am looking for a bit more.
So here’s the best part. I spent the better part of an hour trying to find some way to write a letter to VW. They do not try to make this easy for you. Apparently a 250 word email has to be enough to satisfy you. Then they send you the form email back that reads:
Reference # 807103579
Dear Mr. Haglund,
Thank you for your e-mail regarding your frustration with your Volkswagen dealer while attempting to explain your concerns with your Jetta. I apologize for the inconvenience this is causing you, and can appreciate your dissatisfaction.
I have documented a complaint on your behalf, and can forward it to the Service Manager for his review. If you would like to discuss your dealer or vehicle concerns further, I would be more than happy to assist you.
As a member of the Volkswagen family, your level of satisfaction is important to me. Again, thank you for your e-mail. If I may be of further assistance regarding this, or any other matter, please don’t hesitate to contact me again by e-mail at www.vw.com, or through our Customer CARE Center at (800) 822-8987. If I am not available one of my colleagues will be able to assist you.
Sincerely,
Amanda Porter
Volkswagen Customer Advocate
Now I am quite sure that Amanda would be glad to help me and forward more complaints to whatever void they get forwarded to, and she would feel really bad about my feeling left out in the cold. And I appreciate that.
What I don’t appreciate is not being able to get any kind of satisfaction. I’m not looking for blood or a duel at high noon, but I would like someone to explain why they cannot accomplish simple tasks or perform services they are under contract to provide to me. I would like someone to tell me why I am paying for their mistakes. I would like someone to tell me that the people who are not doing their jobs are going to be in trouble for not doing their jobs.
So I spent some time searching around and finally found the address of their corporate center in Michigan. The problem is that I also found newspaper articles that mentioned them moving their corporate center, but I had to take a shot.
I took a shot and mailed a letter to Stefan Jacoby, the new head of VW USA. I explained my disgust and simply wished him luck fixing the problems that currently appear to be rather rampant in the customer service department of that fine company.
I am angry about the fact that apparently no one is accountable to anyone. At no point in time as a manager called me to apologize about the mistakes being made and the fact that I have had to pay for some of them with my time and my money. No one has called and apologized about anything. When I call them to try and get some answers, my phone calls are not returned. When I speak to VW USA in the hopes that they will resolve some concerns, they definitely feel really bad. I mean really bad, they must have apologized at least six to eight times in every phone call. Apparently they are also really bad at having an impact on the dealers when they call them. Again I mean really bad, because there’s apparently no impact.
What I find particularly interesting is the way that both Piazza VW of Ardmore and VW USA have insulated themselves from complaints from the public. It is impossible to find the owner’s name or phone number or the general manager’s name and number or anyone in charge at any one of the dealerships anywhere on their website. When you call to speak to a manager, they may or may not speak to you. They may or may not call you back. There is nothing you can do about this situation.
When you call VW USA, they will apologize profusely and offer to forward your complaints, but they cannot actually do anything about it. They can give you a reference number for when you call again after nothing happens and you can add to the file. That file will never be seen by anyone, but somewhere, there’s a file. This is apparently supposed to make you feel better.
If it doesn’t, you can email them through their webpage. Just look really closely at the bottom of the page at the link for “contact us.” Its pretty small so you have to look closely. But they can’t possibly be against you contacting them right? They are a company based on serving their customers and providing a great product and great service.
Maybe not. Once you get to the contact them section, they give you plenty of phone numbers where you can call and talk to any number of associates about anything you want. They are powerless, however, so don’t expect anything to come of it. You can also email them.
Of course to do this, you need your VIN number (which you obviously carry with you everywhere) and then you get a total of 250 characters to describe your problem. Obviously they REALLY want to hear what you have to say. Just don’t make it longer than 250 characters. Also, you cannot use a question mark in the inquiry. It can only be declarative, which is odd considering they call it an inquiry. Thankfully, you will get another reference number which will be useless to you, except that everyone loves numbers.
So don’t buy a Volkswagen, at least not from Piazza VW of Ardmore. Drive to Nashville and buy one, they were always really nice.
By the way, if you want to write to them for any reason, the address that they seem to want to hide is:
Stefan Jacoby
Volkswagen of American
Hills Corporate Center
3499 West Hamlin Road
Rochester Hills, MI 48309
Give them a shout, tell them I sent you.
I’m an idiot.
I know, but you don’t need to rub it in. These guys at Piazza Volkswagen are doing a great job of it for all of you. And its not just their pleasant demeanor, I’ve long ago gotten over the odd custom of being angry at people you’ve never even met and are supposed to be customer servicing. I can look past that.
But when things got ugly after a non-warranty repair that didn’t fix the problem, I thought I would go the extra mile to get things straightened out. I paid around 450 bucks to run fuel system cleaner through my engine because “excessive carbon build-up” in the throttle body was causing an odd vibration when I accelerated. There was some lovely creaking going on too, and that was going to be fixed by replacing the mid muffler bracket that was so rusted out it was “about to fall off.” Odd that should happen after just 43,000 miles, but hey, I figured I would just roll with it.
Roll out of the shop I did and oddly enough, the problems hadn’t changed at all. Turns out I needed two new front axles and new sway bar bushings. I was slightly perturbed so I thought I would talk to the service manager to see if I couldn’t get some explanation at least of the reason why I had to pay for their mistakes. Tony was cordial on the phone and promised he would look into it the next day as he was “closing out his month” at the time and just wouldn’t be able to get to it.
Oddly enough, he didn’t call me for a week. And then after waiting about ten days, he said he was looking at it right then and had been just about to call me. He said he would get back to me in a few minutes, but instead one of the technicians called me a few minutes later and said that they were going to appeal the mid muffler bracket as it ought to have been under warranty. Of course, I’d never asked for them to be under warranty, I just didn’t want to be paying for them completely botching the diagnosis on the car.
But hey, if that got me some money back, I would be satisfied. I never actually thought I would get any satisfaction, especially after it was apparent that Tony completely ignored what I asked him to do. Why expect anything better when you are only paying twenty some thousand bucks for the car. I am sure if it was a VW Phaeton I would have been treated differently, but I understand how that works.
So I waited for a credit to appear on my credit card, knowing it wouldn’t happen. Apparently a bolt in the hinge on my trunk was a bit upset about the matter and decided it was time to leave the car behind. So I needed to get that fixed, but I was on the way down to Nashville to visit my folks. I figured I could probably get it taken care of at the dealership down there since it was a warranty issue.
The folks there were as nice as could be (something we all sort of expect in the south), said they ordered the parts but they had to be painted, they’d be back in three business days. I had five business days to spare so I figured I was golden.
Too bad the hinges weren’t, they were bare metal and had to be blue to match the car. They didn’t take three days or even five. I called them and they said it was going to be seven, but not to worry. All I needed to do was have the dealership in Ardmore call them and have the part shipped up and they could slap it on there no problem
Big problem. The dealership in Ardmore is apparently incapable of basic tasks. I called and told the story to four separate people. The last person I spoke to was very angry that I would actually ask him to call a dealership in TN and get the part. After a few days of not hearing anything, I was a little mad at him but I knew revenge on the parts guy was not going to satisfy me so I called my pal Tony again.
Of course he said he would get on it right away and call me back. Another technician, perhaps it was Dave, called me back and told me it was a big snafu because the guy down there wouldn’t ship the part unless they paid for it. Makes sense, someone has to pay for it, and once they do they send off a form to VW and then get paid back. It’s a simple process.
Or not so simple. After waiting two weeks and hoping against hope for some result, I called down to Hallmark VW of Cool Springs to see what was happening, knowing that calling Ardmore would only leave me fuming. The parts guy down there was as helpful as could be, apparently the hinges were sitting right there, a nice blue color, but oddly enough, no one had ever called for them.
Now, perhaps Dave or Tony or somebody else called and talked to someone else, I assume they at least made a phone call. Apparently one strike and they were out.
So I dialed up the umpire to see about the rules. VW of America to the rescue. Sure they’ve never helped me with anything before besides supposedly forwarding complaints to the people that I’ve already complained to and been ignored, that’s obviously going to accomplish something. I spoke to a very nice lady who apologized profusely since I was not getting a nice experience and they were very sad about it. She said she would forward my complaints and give the dealership a chance to make up for it and correct the problem.
She obviously missed out on the memo about Ardmore Volkswagen. Nothing happened. So this time around I spoke to another guy at VW USA and sent an email as well. This fine young man promised to call Ardmore and get things taken care of and be back to me within two days.
Three days later and of course no one’s called.
So now what? I can’t use my trunk because it grinds on the rear windshield every time I open it now. I can’t use my radio since they forgot to put in the antenna last time they worked on the car. At least now the front wheels don’t wobble anymore, but I am looking for a bit more.
So here’s the best part. I spent the better part of an hour trying to find some way to write a letter to VW. They do not try to make this easy for you. Apparently a 250 word email has to be enough to satisfy you. Then they send you the form email back that reads:
Reference # 807103579
Dear Mr. Haglund,
Thank you for your e-mail regarding your frustration with your Volkswagen dealer while attempting to explain your concerns with your Jetta. I apologize for the inconvenience this is causing you, and can appreciate your dissatisfaction.
I have documented a complaint on your behalf, and can forward it to the Service Manager for his review. If you would like to discuss your dealer or vehicle concerns further, I would be more than happy to assist you.
As a member of the Volkswagen family, your level of satisfaction is important to me. Again, thank you for your e-mail. If I may be of further assistance regarding this, or any other matter, please don’t hesitate to contact me again by e-mail at www.vw.com, or through our Customer CARE Center at (800) 822-8987. If I am not available one of my colleagues will be able to assist you.
Sincerely,
Amanda Porter
Volkswagen Customer Advocate
Now I am quite sure that Amanda would be glad to help me and forward more complaints to whatever void they get forwarded to, and she would feel really bad about my feeling left out in the cold. And I appreciate that.
What I don’t appreciate is not being able to get any kind of satisfaction. I’m not looking for blood or a duel at high noon, but I would like someone to explain why they cannot accomplish simple tasks or perform services they are under contract to provide to me. I would like someone to tell me why I am paying for their mistakes. I would like someone to tell me that the people who are not doing their jobs are going to be in trouble for not doing their jobs.
So I spent some time searching around and finally found the address of their corporate center in Michigan. The problem is that I also found newspaper articles that mentioned them moving their corporate center, but I had to take a shot.
I took a shot and mailed a letter to Stefan Jacoby, the new head of VW USA. I explained my disgust and simply wished him luck fixing the problems that currently appear to be rather rampant in the customer service department of that fine company.
I am angry about the fact that apparently no one is accountable to anyone. At no point in time as a manager called me to apologize about the mistakes being made and the fact that I have had to pay for some of them with my time and my money. No one has called and apologized about anything. When I call them to try and get some answers, my phone calls are not returned. When I speak to VW USA in the hopes that they will resolve some concerns, they definitely feel really bad. I mean really bad, they must have apologized at least six to eight times in every phone call. Apparently they are also really bad at having an impact on the dealers when they call them. Again I mean really bad, because there’s apparently no impact.
What I find particularly interesting is the way that both Piazza VW of Ardmore and VW USA have insulated themselves from complaints from the public. It is impossible to find the owner’s name or phone number or the general manager’s name and number or anyone in charge at any one of the dealerships anywhere on their website. When you call to speak to a manager, they may or may not speak to you. They may or may not call you back. There is nothing you can do about this situation.
When you call VW USA, they will apologize profusely and offer to forward your complaints, but they cannot actually do anything about it. They can give you a reference number for when you call again after nothing happens and you can add to the file. That file will never be seen by anyone, but somewhere, there’s a file. This is apparently supposed to make you feel better.
If it doesn’t, you can email them through their webpage. Just look really closely at the bottom of the page at the link for “contact us.” Its pretty small so you have to look closely. But they can’t possibly be against you contacting them right? They are a company based on serving their customers and providing a great product and great service.
Maybe not. Once you get to the contact them section, they give you plenty of phone numbers where you can call and talk to any number of associates about anything you want. They are powerless, however, so don’t expect anything to come of it. You can also email them.
Of course to do this, you need your VIN number (which you obviously carry with you everywhere) and then you get a total of 250 characters to describe your problem. Obviously they REALLY want to hear what you have to say. Just don’t make it longer than 250 characters. Also, you cannot use a question mark in the inquiry. It can only be declarative, which is odd considering they call it an inquiry. Thankfully, you will get another reference number which will be useless to you, except that everyone loves numbers.
So don’t buy a Volkswagen, at least not from Piazza VW of Ardmore. Drive to Nashville and buy one, they were always really nice.
By the way, if you want to write to them for any reason, the address that they seem to want to hide is:
Stefan Jacoby
Volkswagen of American
Hills Corporate Center
3499 West Hamlin Road
Rochester Hills, MI 48309
Give them a shout, tell them I sent you.
Monday, May 21, 2007
A question
You are at the Giants game vs. the Phillies on June 2nd. You are sitting behind home plate, enjoying the game, perhaps even ordering some food from the attendants who are there to attend (obviously, being attendants, they are there to attend) to your every wish. You may do this because you are a glutton who cannot sit still for very long without eating (me). You may be doing it because you will likely never sit in those seats again and feel that you ought to utilize the attendant while you can. In fact, you are probably doing it because you didn't have to pay for parking because the tickets you got came with parking.
So you sit, relaxing comfortably in your larger-than-standard seat, and suddenly you notice that Barry Bonds is up to bat. He is hard to miss because his head blocks out the sun. And the lights. You watch, fascinated because he is one home run away from breaking Henry Aaron’s record. You wonder a few things.
First. When Aaron broke Babe Ruth's record, he couldn't even make it past second base without having some people run out of the stands and try to share the moment with him. You wonder if this was because he was slow, but that can't be it. You wonder if its because those people had something invested in his breaking the record and were close friends of his that he would want to share the record with. Then you remember that people are crazy so you stop wondering.
Second. You wonder if Bonds will have someone race out of the stands to round the bases with him. You know he's slow. You know he is even a bit gimpy as human bodies don't always work when you supercharge the muscles and forget the tendons that hold them in place. Then you remember that people are crazy.
Third. You wonder how you really feel about all this. What if he breaks the record during this at bat? Will you feel connected to a great moment in sports that people might watch fifty years from now on 6,789 inch plasma screen SSSHD screens and wonder why people were so crazy back now? Will you be disgusted and feel that he has cheated his way to the record and weep uncontrollably at the degradation of society brought on by the advent of performance enhancing drugs and Glen Rosazza's inability to single handedly save the environment.
As you are wondering, Barry hits a TOWERING foul ball. It rises high above the stadium drifting slowly back behind the plate. You watch the ball and wonder some more, but nothing important, maybe the laundry you didn't do or whether or not Batman really does hate Superman. Then the ball starts falling and you realize it is going to fall right on you. You do what any sane person does and hope it falls near you and the guy next to you muffs it so you can get it easily and not look like an idiot.
Sadly, it comes right at you, no one jumps, but amazingly you catch it.
Here is your moment. Along with every fan around you, most of the stadium and probably 50+ million people on TV, Barry Bonds is staring right at you. He is out of the box, leaning on his bat slightly, and staring straight at you. You can tell he wants you to say something. An odd quiet falls over the stadium.
If you knew that he would hit the very next pitch out of the park and into Allen Iverson’s back yard in New Jersey, and you knew he would hear exactly what you said, you knew that he was listening to hear what you had to say, what would you say?
So you sit, relaxing comfortably in your larger-than-standard seat, and suddenly you notice that Barry Bonds is up to bat. He is hard to miss because his head blocks out the sun. And the lights. You watch, fascinated because he is one home run away from breaking Henry Aaron’s record. You wonder a few things.
First. When Aaron broke Babe Ruth's record, he couldn't even make it past second base without having some people run out of the stands and try to share the moment with him. You wonder if this was because he was slow, but that can't be it. You wonder if its because those people had something invested in his breaking the record and were close friends of his that he would want to share the record with. Then you remember that people are crazy so you stop wondering.
Second. You wonder if Bonds will have someone race out of the stands to round the bases with him. You know he's slow. You know he is even a bit gimpy as human bodies don't always work when you supercharge the muscles and forget the tendons that hold them in place. Then you remember that people are crazy.
Third. You wonder how you really feel about all this. What if he breaks the record during this at bat? Will you feel connected to a great moment in sports that people might watch fifty years from now on 6,789 inch plasma screen SSSHD screens and wonder why people were so crazy back now? Will you be disgusted and feel that he has cheated his way to the record and weep uncontrollably at the degradation of society brought on by the advent of performance enhancing drugs and Glen Rosazza's inability to single handedly save the environment.
As you are wondering, Barry hits a TOWERING foul ball. It rises high above the stadium drifting slowly back behind the plate. You watch the ball and wonder some more, but nothing important, maybe the laundry you didn't do or whether or not Batman really does hate Superman. Then the ball starts falling and you realize it is going to fall right on you. You do what any sane person does and hope it falls near you and the guy next to you muffs it so you can get it easily and not look like an idiot.
Sadly, it comes right at you, no one jumps, but amazingly you catch it.
Here is your moment. Along with every fan around you, most of the stadium and probably 50+ million people on TV, Barry Bonds is staring right at you. He is out of the box, leaning on his bat slightly, and staring straight at you. You can tell he wants you to say something. An odd quiet falls over the stadium.
If you knew that he would hit the very next pitch out of the park and into Allen Iverson’s back yard in New Jersey, and you knew he would hear exactly what you said, you knew that he was listening to hear what you had to say, what would you say?
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Zinedine Zidane in 10 Seconds
I wrote this for a contest on Helium. It took me about twenty minutes and I think its about twenty minutes good. Sorry. Right now I am going for colume over quality, but I thought it had a few decent moments so I figured I'd share. Go to Helium and rate it highly if you want. There are a few on there, all under "Zeke Allen."
I played soccer for one day when I was eight. The coach yelled a lot, it was pretty confusing, and I quit after that first day of practice.
Plus I am American.
Those two together make me as much of an expert in soccer as I am in fixing cars. I mean, I did change my oil myself once and I have listened to "Cartalk" on NPR quite a few times.
I did see some pretty good soccer though. I went to a high school that had one of the top teams in the country, two of my friends are still playing in the MLS, and I recall vividly sitting on the edge of a splintery bleacher as they played into the second sudden-death overtime of the state finals my junior year. I don't know that I have ever been as engrossed in a sporting event as I was that night.
I am only telling you this so that I can tell you about Zinedine Zidane. I can tell you a great deal about him because I have watched him play soccer a grand total of two times.
Those two times told me everything I need to know about him.
The second time is the one that may have become his most famous moment, particularly here in the US. When he turned and laid Materazzi out, it was stunning. Not just because of the suddenness of it since none of us could hear what was being said on the field. Not just because Materazzi played it to perfection and it looked like Zidane had landed a killing blow.
It was astonishing that a player that was so respected would do something so ugly in the waning moments of the World Cup Final in 2006. Most of us Americans were unaware of the fact that he already had the record for the most cautions in World Cup matches or that he had had just set the record for most sending-offs in World Cup play. That a player with an other-worldly grace when it came to playing the ball could turn and (in our eyes as historically unaware Americans) deliver such an ugly blow without any indication of provocation (though I tend to believe that Materazzi said something uniquely offensive to prompt it) created an uncomfortable feeling in the minds of many.
Which brings me to the more important time I watched him play.
I was in Seoul, South Korea eating lunch in a small restaurant watching France play in the semi-finals of the World Cup in 1998. My experience with soccer was limited, as I explained, but I did enjoy watching the games. He actually headed in two goals in the final that year versus Brazil, but I don't remember that game.
I remember just one moment, one play, I don't even remember the goal that I think resulted from it.
The ball came in over Zidane's shoulder from 10 yards past midfield. Zidane was standing just outside the box in a crowd of defenders. I couldn't even tell you who they were playing, but I remember the moment perfectly. The problem is that I was completely mesmerized by Zidane. I had never seen, nor have I seen since then, someone touch a soccer ball with that much control.
As the ball drops in, and it was pretty well struck, he put his foot out and received it so that it did not even leave his foot. The ball was dropping in over his shoulder, and suddenly it was sitting patiently on his foot, waiting to go whever he might will it to go next. He stood in the midst of a crowd of fantastic soccer players, most of whom were trying desperately to take the ball away from him, but in that moment, no one else even mattered.
The ball was going to go where Zidane wanted it to go and everyone else, even everything else was irrelevant. He was acting independently of all the circumstances surrounding him, it was just him and the ball.
Like I said, I don't really remember what happened next, but it seemed very unimportant compared to that singular moment. I didn't need to see Zidane play to know that all the talk of him being one of the greatest of all time was true. Sure it helped to watch him carry a young French team to the final in 2006. I saw other moments where he played the ball so calmly in the midst of defenders you would think he was playing against my team of 8-year olds.
I was saddened when he left the game against Italy, because I hoped that he could propel the French team just one more time to victory against a much better Italian side. I can admit that I had little love for many of the Italian players who seemed to act even better than most of the other professionals in the cup that year. It didn't change the way I felt about Zidane.
Because I saw him work magic with a soccer ball. Once. In a small restaurant in Korea. On a tiny TV in the corner of the room. And I will never, ever forget it.
I played soccer for one day when I was eight. The coach yelled a lot, it was pretty confusing, and I quit after that first day of practice.
Plus I am American.
Those two together make me as much of an expert in soccer as I am in fixing cars. I mean, I did change my oil myself once and I have listened to "Cartalk" on NPR quite a few times.
I did see some pretty good soccer though. I went to a high school that had one of the top teams in the country, two of my friends are still playing in the MLS, and I recall vividly sitting on the edge of a splintery bleacher as they played into the second sudden-death overtime of the state finals my junior year. I don't know that I have ever been as engrossed in a sporting event as I was that night.
I am only telling you this so that I can tell you about Zinedine Zidane. I can tell you a great deal about him because I have watched him play soccer a grand total of two times.
Those two times told me everything I need to know about him.
The second time is the one that may have become his most famous moment, particularly here in the US. When he turned and laid Materazzi out, it was stunning. Not just because of the suddenness of it since none of us could hear what was being said on the field. Not just because Materazzi played it to perfection and it looked like Zidane had landed a killing blow.
It was astonishing that a player that was so respected would do something so ugly in the waning moments of the World Cup Final in 2006. Most of us Americans were unaware of the fact that he already had the record for the most cautions in World Cup matches or that he had had just set the record for most sending-offs in World Cup play. That a player with an other-worldly grace when it came to playing the ball could turn and (in our eyes as historically unaware Americans) deliver such an ugly blow without any indication of provocation (though I tend to believe that Materazzi said something uniquely offensive to prompt it) created an uncomfortable feeling in the minds of many.
Which brings me to the more important time I watched him play.
I was in Seoul, South Korea eating lunch in a small restaurant watching France play in the semi-finals of the World Cup in 1998. My experience with soccer was limited, as I explained, but I did enjoy watching the games. He actually headed in two goals in the final that year versus Brazil, but I don't remember that game.
I remember just one moment, one play, I don't even remember the goal that I think resulted from it.
The ball came in over Zidane's shoulder from 10 yards past midfield. Zidane was standing just outside the box in a crowd of defenders. I couldn't even tell you who they were playing, but I remember the moment perfectly. The problem is that I was completely mesmerized by Zidane. I had never seen, nor have I seen since then, someone touch a soccer ball with that much control.
As the ball drops in, and it was pretty well struck, he put his foot out and received it so that it did not even leave his foot. The ball was dropping in over his shoulder, and suddenly it was sitting patiently on his foot, waiting to go whever he might will it to go next. He stood in the midst of a crowd of fantastic soccer players, most of whom were trying desperately to take the ball away from him, but in that moment, no one else even mattered.
The ball was going to go where Zidane wanted it to go and everyone else, even everything else was irrelevant. He was acting independently of all the circumstances surrounding him, it was just him and the ball.
Like I said, I don't really remember what happened next, but it seemed very unimportant compared to that singular moment. I didn't need to see Zidane play to know that all the talk of him being one of the greatest of all time was true. Sure it helped to watch him carry a young French team to the final in 2006. I saw other moments where he played the ball so calmly in the midst of defenders you would think he was playing against my team of 8-year olds.
I was saddened when he left the game against Italy, because I hoped that he could propel the French team just one more time to victory against a much better Italian side. I can admit that I had little love for many of the Italian players who seemed to act even better than most of the other professionals in the cup that year. It didn't change the way I felt about Zidane.
Because I saw him work magic with a soccer ball. Once. In a small restaurant in Korea. On a tiny TV in the corner of the room. And I will never, ever forget it.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
A few highlights from my days at that other school
Things kids said:
"man, she just hit me upside the head with that paper. she was lucky she didn't get stole."
"President Bush stuck to his objectives during the war which were looking for Saddam, and looking for nuclear or bio weapons of mass dissertation."
"Moses is famous because he went up on Mt. Sinai and brought down the ten comments."
"it wasn't me it was the other black man in the hall..."
"man, she just hit me upside the head with that paper. she was lucky she didn't get stole."
"President Bush stuck to his objectives during the war which were looking for Saddam, and looking for nuclear or bio weapons of mass dissertation."
"Moses is famous because he went up on Mt. Sinai and brought down the ten comments."
"it wasn't me it was the other black man in the hall..."
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Perception Becomes Reality
Television has destroyed Reality in the United States. The magic boxes fill American homes with meaningless drivel every minute of every day, and the number of flavors only increases with every passing day. Proponents argue that it informs, educates, even uplifts the viewing public as they see educational programming, news from all over the world and presidential debates. An examination of the influence of TV over the debates alone provides clear evidence that TV provides a meaningful service to the American population. They can now pretend to be intelligent because they watched two people vying for what might be the most influential office in the world posture and pose for each other in what is still called “a debate.”
The viewers themselves have made a statement about the value of the presidential debates on television. The ratings dive from the Anderson-Carter-Reagan debate to the present. (3) As deluded as they may be by the hours of mind-numbing reality programming they feast on each night, even they realize that the debates are less “real” than even reality television, perhaps less real than sit-coms. At least in Everyone Loves Raymond the actors pretend to be real people who might say what they think even if it gets them in trouble. Presidential candidates must maintain a certain image, and being wrong (even if its funny) is not an option.
Image trumps everything when it comes to television. Angus Campbell claimed that Americans “lost this feeling of direct contact,” and that “television has now restored it.” He spoke of how the presidential debates beamed into American homes renewed America’s connection with its presidential candidates, a connection that used to be gained in stump-speeches and glad-handing. Campbell’s article, himself being a big fan of the great improvement gained by televising these events, speaks more clearly to the opposite. He states that “events have seemed to give substance,” and “has appeared to be fulfilling its early promise.” (italics added) The idea of direct contact pales in comparison to appearance and the seeming reality that has now taken over as the power of television invades reality.
The idea of television providing any form of “direct contact” is laughable. How many producers and directors and writers and make-up artists and editors work over each segment of television before it crashes into American homes and minds? Even “live debates” have formatted questions, directors that choose camera shots, candidates coached to wear the right colors and say anything but the wrong things. A presidential debate on television is about as direct as a flight from New York to LA with a stop-over in Sri Lanka.
But no one knows what Sri Lanka looks like, so that’s probably a bad analogy. American perception of the Vietnam War, on the other hand, is always a great analogy for almost anything. In 1968, as American soldiers fought and died in Vietnam, Johnson was convinced that the war was winnable and told American people as much. As soon as Walter Cronkite said otherwise, Johnson, watching the broadcast on television, “turned to his aides and said, ‘It’s all over.’” Johnson’s knowledge of the war didn’t change his opinion, watching Walter Cronkite on TV did. Speaking to the generals on the ground or the admirals at sea or the pilots in the air didn’t change his opinion, the television did. Because Cronkite “had more authority with the American people than anyone else.” Rather than being convinced by the information from those who had it first hand, he was convinced by someone whose job was ostensibly to read the news, someone who was allowed to continue to read the news because he had the right “image” and got more people to watch the right channel.
Ted Koppel is no Walter Cronkite, but he does have pretty solid hair so he'll do in this case. Despite his position and the millions of dollars he has made by getting people to watch his channel, he acknowledges the futility and farce of a presidential debate on TV. In an interview he spoke of recapping a presidential debate on Nightline. “It is a joke to call an event like the one that transpired tonight a debate… Because we were able to pull the best three or four minutes out of the ninety-minute event, Nightline made the whole thing look pretty good. That’s the ultimate irony.”
Koppel can admit it, and perhaps that admission would outrage American TV watchers. People might get upset that they spend their time and base a very important decision on something that people in the know call “a joke.” Actually, the ultimate irony is that Koppel doesn’t have to worry about Americans getting upset at the reality he describes for them. They will never see it, or even hear it. The irony is that his statement will have no influence on the reality of the American audience because he didn’t say it on TV. Its in a book.
1. Ramney, Austin, Channels of Power: The Impact of Television on American Politics. New York: Basic Books, 1983.
2. Koppel, Ted. Off Camera: Private Thoughts Made Public. New York: Vintage Books, 2001.
3. Adapted from Nielsen Tunes into Politics: Tracking the Presidential Election Years (1960-1992). New York: Nielsen Media Research, 1994.
4. Cambell, Angus. “Has Television Reshaped Politics?” In Encyclopedia of Television / Museum of Broadcast Communications. Vol. 1, ed. Horace Newcomb. New York: Fitzroy Dearborn, 2005.
The viewers themselves have made a statement about the value of the presidential debates on television. The ratings dive from the Anderson-Carter-Reagan debate to the present. (3) As deluded as they may be by the hours of mind-numbing reality programming they feast on each night, even they realize that the debates are less “real” than even reality television, perhaps less real than sit-coms. At least in Everyone Loves Raymond the actors pretend to be real people who might say what they think even if it gets them in trouble. Presidential candidates must maintain a certain image, and being wrong (even if its funny) is not an option.
Image trumps everything when it comes to television. Angus Campbell claimed that Americans “lost this feeling of direct contact,” and that “television has now restored it.” He spoke of how the presidential debates beamed into American homes renewed America’s connection with its presidential candidates, a connection that used to be gained in stump-speeches and glad-handing. Campbell’s article, himself being a big fan of the great improvement gained by televising these events, speaks more clearly to the opposite. He states that “events have seemed to give substance,” and “has appeared to be fulfilling its early promise.” (italics added) The idea of direct contact pales in comparison to appearance and the seeming reality that has now taken over as the power of television invades reality.
The idea of television providing any form of “direct contact” is laughable. How many producers and directors and writers and make-up artists and editors work over each segment of television before it crashes into American homes and minds? Even “live debates” have formatted questions, directors that choose camera shots, candidates coached to wear the right colors and say anything but the wrong things. A presidential debate on television is about as direct as a flight from New York to LA with a stop-over in Sri Lanka.
But no one knows what Sri Lanka looks like, so that’s probably a bad analogy. American perception of the Vietnam War, on the other hand, is always a great analogy for almost anything. In 1968, as American soldiers fought and died in Vietnam, Johnson was convinced that the war was winnable and told American people as much. As soon as Walter Cronkite said otherwise, Johnson, watching the broadcast on television, “turned to his aides and said, ‘It’s all over.’” Johnson’s knowledge of the war didn’t change his opinion, watching Walter Cronkite on TV did. Speaking to the generals on the ground or the admirals at sea or the pilots in the air didn’t change his opinion, the television did. Because Cronkite “had more authority with the American people than anyone else.” Rather than being convinced by the information from those who had it first hand, he was convinced by someone whose job was ostensibly to read the news, someone who was allowed to continue to read the news because he had the right “image” and got more people to watch the right channel.
Ted Koppel is no Walter Cronkite, but he does have pretty solid hair so he'll do in this case. Despite his position and the millions of dollars he has made by getting people to watch his channel, he acknowledges the futility and farce of a presidential debate on TV. In an interview he spoke of recapping a presidential debate on Nightline. “It is a joke to call an event like the one that transpired tonight a debate… Because we were able to pull the best three or four minutes out of the ninety-minute event, Nightline made the whole thing look pretty good. That’s the ultimate irony.”
Koppel can admit it, and perhaps that admission would outrage American TV watchers. People might get upset that they spend their time and base a very important decision on something that people in the know call “a joke.” Actually, the ultimate irony is that Koppel doesn’t have to worry about Americans getting upset at the reality he describes for them. They will never see it, or even hear it. The irony is that his statement will have no influence on the reality of the American audience because he didn’t say it on TV. Its in a book.
1. Ramney, Austin, Channels of Power: The Impact of Television on American Politics. New York: Basic Books, 1983.
2. Koppel, Ted. Off Camera: Private Thoughts Made Public. New York: Vintage Books, 2001.
3. Adapted from Nielsen Tunes into Politics: Tracking the Presidential Election Years (1960-1992). New York: Nielsen Media Research, 1994.
4. Cambell, Angus. “Has Television Reshaped Politics?” In Encyclopedia of Television / Museum of Broadcast Communications. Vol. 1, ed. Horace Newcomb. New York: Fitzroy Dearborn, 2005.
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