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- <text id=93TT1324>
- <title>
- Apr. 05, 1993: General Patton, Sit Down and Shut Up!
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
- Apr. 05, 1993 The Generation That Forgot God
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- ESSAY, Page 68
- General Patton, Sit Down and Shut Up!
- </hdr>
- <body>
- <p>John Skow
- </p>
- <p> O.K., let's get this sorry mess sorted out before the
- Final Four. First thing, coaches. College basketball coaches are
- braying asses. They are, in addition, paunchy, hairy-eared
- gasbags. They are nearly as loathsome as George Steinbrenner,
- the swollen ego sac recently reinstated as New York Yankees
- owner. (How about a trade, Steinbrenner for Cincinnati Reds
- owner Marge Schott and a psychiatrist to be named?) But you can
- watch an entire Yankees baseball game at the ball park or on the
- tube without having to see Steinbrenner.
- </p>
- <p> If you like basketball, however, you need the reflexes of
- a snake to turn your eyes from the tube fast enough to avoid
- television's favorite stomach churner. This, of course, is the
- coach-reaction shot. Whenever something happens or fails to
- happen on the court, the camera flicks to a close-up of an
- aggrieved coach chewing his necktie, swelling up like a bullfrog
- and calling down spittle-flecked abominations on his team and
- the uncaring refs. Then you get a shot of the other coach,
- regarding the action with a jowly sneer.
- </p>
- <p> These are not pretty sights. Television, of course, is
- mindless and thus not really to blame. It was sportswriters,
- drones with the notebooks and pencils, who came up with the
- bizarre notion that coaches were somehow interesting and
- admirable and even--ah, why not?--the stuff of legend. It
- is not hard to understand how this happened. If, like most
- sportswriters, you were a middle-aged, overweight guy, it was
- a lot easier to talk to another out-of-shape 50-year-old in a
- suit than to try to get a bored teenager to explain how he ran
- or hit or shot the ball so well. Coaches could always give you
- a couple of quotes for an easy story, and the kid athletes
- mostly couldn't. Writers cranked out flattering stuff about
- these flabby fellows with thinning hair, using words like hard
- and nose.
- </p>
- <p> Legendmongering started with college football, way back
- before basketball walked tall. Amos Alonzo Stagg, Fielding Yost
- and Knute Rockne built character like honest stonemasons, or so
- sportswriters wrote through eyes misted by manly tears and
- sometimes a little bourbon and ginger ale. Maybe Rockne and the
- others really did build character. But by the '50s, football
- coaches all behaved like George C. Scott playing General George
- Patton, and basketball coaches were getting into the act too.
- These days round-ball philosophers, who are nearer to the
- cameras, are the greater public pestilence. Their nervous
- breakdowns are photographed in extreme close-up. TV crews are
- so fond of showing coaches with their eyes bugging out that they
- miss whole minutes of what a naive observer might think is the
- point of bringing the cameras to the gym: namely, the action on
- the floor.
- </p>
- <p> The coaches, of course, know they are performing for
- ESPN's or CBS's entire congregation. Sir Laurence Olivier could
- not have played a coach with subtlety under these conditions.
- A curled lip or a raised eyebrow will adequately express dismay
- for the first minutes of the first quarter, but if the coach's
- team is falling behind, and, of course, one team or the other
- almost always is, the camera keeps coming back, begging for real
- scenery chewing. So we get pacing, towel throwing and screams of
- rage, and a lot of other naughtiness that two-year-olds get sent
- to bed for, all in rising spirals of boorishness.
- </p>
- <p> This is excusable because the coaches are geniuses, and
- thus fragile. And, of course, because they are paid as much at
- a typical university as the entire chemistry department. They
- are great personages, feudal barons only nominally under the
- control of college presidents. Cal Berkeley astounded the
- civilized world by firing a coach named Lou Campanelli for
- yelling at his players in a manner deemed insensitive. Much
- agitated discussion followed. Had the university lost its sense
- of values or, worse, its hope of national television? Were its
- ballplayers men or New Age mollycoddles?
- </p>
- <p> Or are we paying too much attention to functionaries whose
- most important job is to show up and unlock the basketballs
- every day? Fortunately, there is a solution. In professional
- tennis, a sport not otherwise known for wisdom and moderation,
- coaches are forbidden to communicate with their players during
- matches. No yelling, no signals, no meaningful throwing of
- chairs, or a penalty is imposed.
- </p>
- <p> Thus: college basketball coaches are to be banished to
- seats at least 14 rows up in the stands. Their pants are to be
- nailed to these seats, so that they can't stand up. One-way
- glass is to be installed in front of their pens, so that the
- cameras can't see them. It's true that with this plan, we won't
- be able to see Bobby Knight emit steam from his ears. (Knight,
- the glowering genius who cut Charles Barkley from the '84
- Olympic tryouts, is the coach whose Indiana University team is
- right up there in the all-important tantrums-endured statistical
- category.) But as cartoon figures like Knight cease to be
- visible, their need to overact will diminish. So will their
- salaries, as they cease to be celebrities, and chemistry
- departments across the nation will be able to afford new test
- tubes.
- </p>
- <p> Now, quickly, a couple of minor reforms: tell players to
- get rid of the moldy "gym rat" fad of wearing T shirts under
- their uniform shirts. This is intended to signify dedication,
- because if you keep practicing three pointers long after the
- heat has been turned off, you need a T shirt. But the pros don't
- dress this way, do they? Also lose the dreary possession arrow
- and reinstate the jump after a held ball. Little squirts love
- to try to outjump the big droids, and audiences love to see
- them do it. Right. And, coach, you up there in the 14th row
- with the seat torn out of your pants, that will be a two-shot
- foul.
- </p>
-
- </body>
- </article>
- </text>
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