I was a 19-year-old college sophomore majoring
in political science when I learned to recognize a certain kind of b.s. I
wasn't a serious student at the time but I did habitually keep up on current
affairs. I was an avid reader of the weekly newsmagazines — Newsweek, Time, US
News & World Report — the New York Times and the local Philadelphia
Bulletin. I was well armed to defend my opinions in the debates about the world
that college students engage with gusto.
One of my roommates — the starting halfback on
our mediocre football team — regularly throttled my arguments in our debates by
his uncanny use of statistics. He could always take the wind out of my sails by
referencing irrefutably numbers like 67% of this or 73% of that. My shoulders would
shrink as my arguments bumped against the stony force of his numerical
fortress.
Halfway through football season, it dawned on me
that, unlike our more scholarly roommates — Doug and Wilbur — Toby seldom could
be found with his nose in a book, much less any source of facts that could back
his positions. When I began to challenge Toby to cite his sources he would
feign loss of memory or retreat into ambiguity. Gaining the upper hand, I
relentlessly pounded him to cite even one source.
Finally, one day Toby collapsed in paroxysms of
sheepish laughter when forced to admit that his vaunted stats were all
concocted. The four of us celebrated his tattered charade with some suds at the
local pub.
Toby was a sweet and amiable guy, literally a
Philadelphia Quaker, who is unbelievably close to becoming the next president
of the United States. But I think of him whenever I listen to his characterological
antithesis: the ignorant, immoral, unethical, unhinged, New York charlatan
whose braggadocio would put even Art Modell to shame.
According to this celebrity telemarketer, everything
President Obama or Hillary Clinton have done is a "disaster", an
utter failure, and “the worst in history". Every country in the
world is beating us in trade. Nobody respects us. Our generals
suck. Crime is at historic highs. Our inner cities uniformly suck. Life has never been worse for African
Americans. The Chinese and Mexicans outsmart us daily and
will soon overrun the country. Unless radical foreign terrorists beat them to
it.
Only the Great Telemarketer can save us! Want
proof? He has built a Great Company! (Don't mention the multiple bankruptcies,
failed casinos — how can you lose your
shirt running a casino? — or ask to see his tax returns!) He knows more
about ISIS than the generals. He will restore law and order. He will hire the
best the people to run the government. (No other president has ever thought of
that.) He will bring jobs, jobs, jobs to all of us who need them. And he's
gonna build us a huge horizontal tower that somebody else will pay for.
And nobody respects women more than he does.
Because he has a big brain.
This stuff is all so clear that the telemarketer
doesn't need to cite a single statistic, much less offer a plan. His greatness
is so evident, as attested to by Rudy Giuliani, Newt Gingrich, Don King, and
Pastor Darrell Scott, that only the vastest of conspiracies — comprised of
Democrats, Republicans, Independents, and elected officials in thousands of
jurisdictions — could deny him coronation as King, er, president of the
United States.
Donald Trump's political career began with his
leading the birther movement, a bogus and bigoted dog-whistle assault upon the
legitimacy of Barack Obama's citizenship status. His biography claims
graduation from a prep military academy (five military deferments for the star
athlete) and the University of Pennsylvania. But I suspect his resume omits his
true place of higher learning: the Barnum and Bailey School of Fake, Fear, and
Fool from which he undoubtedly graduated summa cum sleazy.
• • •
The Cleveland Indians won the American League
pennant in Toronto yesterday afternoon, defeating the Blue Jays behind a rookie
pitcher's splendid effort, some timely hitting, and baseball's best bullpen.
I didn't want the accomplishment to go
unmentioned here, notwithstanding our muted enthusiasm for the team due to its
horrid racist mascot, which represents in our view a narrow-minded clinging to
offensive traditionalism evocative of the Confederate flag symbolizes to the
South.
Apart from that, we share delight in the team's
success. For those of you who will be jumping on the bandwagon for the World
Series ride, we thought we'd share what we said leading up to the playoffs
about the reasons for the team's success to some of our foreign correspondents
stationed in places like Maine, Florida, Washington DC, and Seattle, WA.
First and foremost, the Indians are where they
are because of a guy who can no longer run, throw, hit or catch. Manager Tito
Francona, besides having a deep understanding and love for the game, has
uncommon leadership skills that makes all his players focus on team goals as
opposed to individual ones. His players have all bought in, which means they
stay focused and persevere no matter the obstacles. Guys stay ready and
confident, and step up to perform when called upon.
Ups and downs are inevitable in a long season.
Francona has kept his guys on an even keel and a steady march. He has a track
record of success in this that commands respect. No current manager has a
better post-season record, which includes a fabulous 8-0 World Series record.
Add to this the fact that is difficult to name
the one indispensable player on the team. It's easy to say Andrew Miller, the
mid-season acquisition who was named MVP of the American League Championship
Series. But where would the team be without, in no particular order, Francisco
Lindor, Jason Kipnis, Corey Kluber, Carlos Santana, Rajai Davis, Jose Ramirez,
Mike Napoli, Coco Crisp, Cody Allen, Brian Shaw, Dan Otero, and on and on.
Every one of these guys has had bad games, days, or mini-slumps. But their
teammates have consistently picked them up. You never know who will be the hero
on any given day. It's no longer a surprise when it turns out to be Tyler
Naquin or Ryan Merritt.
Individually, the team has only one everyday
superstar, the shortstop Lindor, and he is just budding. But collectively, they
have the best infield in the League, with bat or glove, the best manager, the
best bullpen, and the best base running, a bona fide ace in Kluber, and a
lineup where any spot one through nine can deliver the clutch hit or the
sacrifice bunt. They have a bunch of guys who believe in each other and their
leader. And they have home field advantage backed by Cavaliers momentum. They
may be underdogs to whoever emerges from the Dodgers-Cubs series, but they have
the best chance to win a World Series since 1954. And Willie Mays has retired.
Go Cleveland!
