Adam Carolla, Culture, NBA, President Barack Obama, Society

The Culture of Me

Someone find me Doc Brown, because I need a flying DeLorean to get me the hell out of here.
Because I’m terrified of present and scared of the future.
The future used to hold so much intrigue: what we would be, how technology would shape us, how life would be different. But what I’ve come to realize is that all we’ve done in the course of our history as a society is screw up a really good thing.
This isn’t about politics or gender or any one particular thing. It is wholly about a feeling that we’re not as dignified as we once were. Not stuck up, or hoity-toity. Just dignified. Certain things were beneath us as individuals or as a collective unit known as America.
Not anymore. There’s nothing beneath us because we’ve reached the bottom.
Two things this week have made me very sad and very sacred and very, very certain that we’re headed down a path that apparently only bothers people like me.
First, President Obama appeared on “The View” yesterday. Talked shop with Babs and Whoopi, got in a little celebrity gossip time about Kim Kardashian. Showed those middle-age housewives who are home at 10:00AMon a Tuesday that he’s totally cool in touch with how they feel on important issues like knowing that Kim was married to a basketball player for 72-days last year.
What?
How is this dignified? How is this befitting the stature of the office of the President of the United States? How is this a good resource of government time and money? And those who say he’s just like everyone else are missing the point – I don’t care about the party as much as the office he holds and what it should mean to us. At least Adam Carolla agrees with me.
I had friends who claimed it was a ridiculous argument or conversation to have. And therein lies my point: why is this out of the question that someone would find this to be beneath the President? How far have we slipped that this doesn’t warrant some commentary from someone in the media? It has little to do with politics. Again, I could care less about which party is doing it – I want them all to stop and have some dignity. Carry themselves with class. Why is that so much to ask?
My second travesty of the week was the news that the NBA is planning on allowing advertisements on uniforms at some point in the next few years.
“We told our owners that it was not something we were considering doing for next season,” NBA deputy commissioner Adam Silver said a few weeks ago, “but that it was something we should at least discuss doing for the season after next. We showed them some of the traditional soccer jerseys used in Europe and we showed them some of the valuations that soccer jerseys are getting and some estimates of ranges of values for logo rights on NBA jerseys.”
Wow. Well, by all means, let’s be like Europe. And let’s make the concession that we won’t be doing it next year – we’ll keep our dignity, damn you – until 2014. Then, let’s kill the last bastion of decorum in sports by squeezing out every available dollar possible.
Do you like the MLS New York Red Bulls? Then you will love the Toyota Spurs. Estimates say that the four major sports leagues in the United States are losing about $370 million by not advertising on uniforms. What about the dignity gained by not advertising on uniforms?
This isn’t us. Or at least tell me it isn’t us. Do we honestly care that much about squeezing in every revenue dollar that we’re willing to put a name or logo on everything? At least Nike makes the uniforms.
Please tell me that we still hold a few things valuable. Please tell me we have a little bit more integrity and decorum than this. My fear is, we don’t, because in so many others sectors of our daily lives and our society, well, we don’t.
Just take a look around sometime – our self-involvement is all encompassing. Because people believe they, themselves, are the most important person in the world. That’s why people cut you off in traffic: wherever they are headed is more important that where you are going. It’s why they sneak in and grab the nearly-sold-out-hot-toy-of-the-season from your hand during Christmas shopping – their kid or relative is much more deserving or more important than yours is.
People who have no children or one child and a part-time job will look someone who has two jobs, five kids and a whole lot more going on in life and tell them without sarcasm and in a completely straight face that “I am are just so busy, you couldn’t possibly understand.” It’s why your kid’s accomplishments top anything another kid could do. It’s also why your wedding, birthday or bar-mitzvah is the most important day in everyone else’s life – because it’s yours.
We are inherently self-centered people that have very little self-awareness and thus we’ve lost all appropriate decorum in a given situation.
We go to people’s homes and don’t offer to take off our shoes because we don’t even think about it. We don’t offer to clean-up or bring a dish when invited to dinner. We don’t call and cancel reservations we can’t keep. We are rarely honest, rarely sincere.
And we are dumb enough to expect more from our politicians and from athletes? We’re just like they are. They fail to keep promises. Fail to be more dignified than someone else in debate. We don’t clean up our messes (like the national debt) and we bring nothing to the table – like taking a pay cut as a member of Congress, giving back healthcare or pensions.
Well, what I meant was, YOU need to give back…I’ve earned mine.
We are what we are now: greedy and selfish. I’ve had people thank me for being so kind for opening up doors recently. That’s because my father taught me politeness. You compliment people. You walk on the outside of the sidewalk to protect people. You say pardon me, excuse me and thank you. Or at least we used to do those things.
Now, you can be on a Monorail with a stroller in Walt Disney World, the doors open and there’s a crush to push your stroller with a sleeping two-year-old out of the way just to get 14 extra seconds in the Magic Kingdom. That thing is in MY way!
What the hell is wrong with us?  Everyone’s gotta get theirs. We are reaping what we’ve sewn. Decades of telling everyone they are special in their own right, passing out trophies and awards to everyone for everything – for just participating – so that no one feels left out.
Here’s the thing: it’s OK to work harder than someone else and have that acknowledged. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. There is a lesson in both.
We should open doors. We should be polite.
But we are not. We are just plain rude.
We are obsessed with us. We are a Culture of Me and Is.
We have no sense of unity, no common purpose. We can’t even agree to disagree most of the time.
If “Back to the Future” were made now, Marty would have just taken the DeLorean and not tried to save Doc. He would have used the Sports Almanac and never admitted his mistake. He would have left Doc in the Old West to get run down by Mad Dog Tannen.
Maybe I’m just a curmudgeon (at the ripe age of 32), who thinks with longing about a simpler time when we actually gave a damn about manners, decency and showed a little decorum in how we presented and carried ourselves.
And maybe that never truly existed.
But man, if it did, I’ll be waiting on a time machine to take me there. 
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basketball, Bobby Plump, Gordon Hayward, Indiana Hoosiers, Indiana Pacers, Larry Bird, Milan, NBA, Purdue, Tom Crean

This is Indiana…do we still ball?

This is Indiana.
Where we apparently don’t care about professional basketball.
If you are from Indiana like I am, you know there is very little we take more seriously and keep close to our heart than basketball.
Hoops may not have been born here, but it is where the game is played and followed with an unbridled passion, one that others (like New York, Chicago, Kansas and North Carolina) imitate but can never duplicate.
We are Hoosiers. We are “I love you guys.” We are the Milan Miracles, Bobby Plump, Hinkle Fieldhouse, IU, Purdue, red sweaters, Bobby Knight, comb-overs, Gene Keady, thrown chairs and Digger Phelps. 
We are Chrysler Fieldhouse, where Wooden was born and raised, The Wigwam, Big O, The Undefeated Season of ’76 and “The Shot.” We are The Big Dog, Damon Bailey and Steve Alford. 
We are Larry Bird. We are Slick Leonard. We are “Boom Baby”. We are 8-points in 9 seconds and a choke sign to Spike Lee in Madison Square Garden. We are still engaged in a 15-year battle over single-class basketball.
Basketball is who we are. Or maybe it was who we were.
This is Indiana (no, really, this is Indiana).
And right now, this is kind of pathetic.
Our numbers are dropping in high school basketball attendance. You can blame class basketball, but then again, you can’t. We’re kind of excited about the revival of Indiana University under Tom Crean, but they just locked up a stellar recruiting class and the only way I heard about it was through IU fans on Facebook. If this were 1992, people wouldn’t shut up about it.
And Purdue fans – is there such a thing right now? – are as quiet as a field mouse. Purdue and Indiana used to not only matter nationally, but they were what this state thought about most. Butler made the NCAA title game two straight seasons – the second time without sensation and Brownsburg native Gordon Hayward – and people were excited for about 10 minutes.
Speaking of Hayward, have we forgotten about this kid? You know, the one that hit a crazy game winner in the 4A state championship game, then led Butler to the title game his sophomore year and now is an outstanding young NBA player for the Utah Jazz? Where’s his book? Where’s his cult following? He did what Bailey and Alford couldn’t do – stand out in the NBA – and I don’t see anyone under 15 wearing his jersey to school.
What the hell happened to us? What happened to rusty rims hanging from barns, dirt courts and old men in coffee shops? My parents (IU fans) and their best friends (Purdue fans) couldn’t even watch games together because they were afraid of what they might say. Now? Purdue and IU rarely come up in conversation.
What the hell is wrong with us? We’re dying a painful basketball death here in Hoops Holy Land and everyone seems to be shrugging their shoulders.
The biggest case in point: the Indiana Pacers.
After years of complaining (including from me) about the dynamics of the team, how they (or RonMetta WorldTestapeace) ruined the great shot they had in 2004, the strip club shootings, the gun charges, well, they at least have been getting it right lately.
After giving the Chicago Bulls all they could handle as a spunky 8-seed in last year’s playoffs, the Pacers secured the 3-seed this year, clearly their best regular season in nearly a decade. They are young, fun, filled with talented players who work together as a team. They feature a hometown kid, George Hill, and have likeable players and hard workers all over the roster. They are ran by Larry Bird. This is the quintessential “Indiana” basketball team – fun, likeable, fundamental, hard working.
And they had the second-worst attendance in the NBA this season. Frankly, the Pacers attendance has been in the dregs of the league for over 10 years.
This is not about a small market. We fill up Lucas Oil Stadium just fine – even during a 2-14 season.
Win or lose, we just don’t come to Consec…er, Bankers Life Fieldhouse.
I could go on and on about how great it is in the Fieldhouse, what a value it is (and I’ve done that in previous columns over the years), but we’re just not listening. We just don’t care. And that, my friends, is what scares me the most.
The Pacers are about to take on the Miami Heat in Round 2 – an epic affair and what could prove to be the best series in the Eastern Conference and we’re acting like it’s a kindergarten soccer tournament. We’re losing our identity. Or as R.E.M. once said, we’re losing our religion.
I know there are so many things different about 2012 than there were about the 1980s and 1990s; our options are far greater. The Pacers are not the only “game in town” when it comes to entertainment and sporting options anymore. We’re a busy lot, with much to do and places to go. And that’s fine, really. It’s a sign of the times.
Now we could dissect how it’s easier to go to eight Colts home games than 20 or so Pacers games. But the cost is probably the same. And yes, it’s an expensive night out for a beer and a hot dog, but you tell me what isn’t expensive these days.
Just tell me what’s happening to us? Was it truly the Malice at the Palace? Was it a loss of trust? General disinterest? Are we know a football town? A football state? I can’t believe it. I know Peyton Manning was here, orchestrating one of the greatest runs in NFL history – but football and basketball season collide for but a brief few months.
Maybe we’re just not cut out for the NBA here. Even when the Pacers were rolling in the 1990s, it was nothing like the Colts “Blue Fridays” at workplaces around central Indiana. Maybe it’s the length of the season. Or for some reason the dichotomy of how NBA players are perceived by our Midwestern culture. Maybe it’s because college basketball has always mattered here more than professional basketball and people only have enough energy to fully engage in one team.
Yet, really, none of this matters. These “reasons” and excuses are just that – reasons and excuses. They don’t speak to the heart of the matter – that this is Indiana. Basketball is in our blood. We live and breathe it.
Or at least we used to.
We are in danger of losing this team one day, sure. (And it will be oddly amusing when people who never went to games begin to complain.) But more important, we’re in danger of losing our essence, our character and our culture if we don’t snap out of this basketball funk we’ve been in.
This is Indiana.
And if we’re not careful, they’ll be talking about how we once balled. 
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