"I Am A Clear-Eyed Realist About His Limited Talents"
How did a conversation about fast horses give me some perspective on following the Fastest Man Alive?
Monday on the Tony Kornheiser radio show, I heard sportswriter Andrew Beyer talking about the racehorse Giacomo. Giacomo came out of nowhere at 50-to-1 odds to win the Kentucky Derby, and finished third in Saturday's Preakness. Tony asked if Giacomo's Preakness finish increased the horse's stature.
Beyer responded, "He ran his usual mediocre race that just happened to win the Kentucky Derby, but you will not be hearing much [in the future] about Giacomo."
Tony then asked, "If Giacomo were to finish in the money [i.e., first, second, or third] in the Belmont, would you give him some love at that point? Would you be kinder to Giacomo?"
Beyer chuckled, "I don't think I'm unloving to Giacomo. I just am a clear-eyed realist about his limited talents."
I like that last turn of phrase. It's a clever variation on the old "emperor has no clothes" statement, which itself boils down to "don't see what you want to see, see what's there." Horse racing doesn't command the attention it once did, and many fans think that a Triple Crown winner would be a great boon to the sport. Therefore, whoever wins the Kentucky Derby automatically becomes a rooting interest for the Preakness, regardless of whether he or she "deserves" to be there. The racing fan wants a Triple Crown winner, but the real enthusiast wants a horse worthy of the title.
This probably explains why I have continued to read certain titles. Since Geoff Johns just announced the end of his Flash tenure, let's use that book as an example. I am a longtime Flash fan, and have followed Wally West since before his Wolfman/Perez New Teen Titans days, but lately have become increasingly frustrated with Johns' approach to the title. While I don't begrudge Johns or DC their success, I'm not entirely sorry to see Johns leave. I have already dropped Johns' Teen Titans and JSA, because they seem to exist solely as legacy-sustainers -- but that's a post for another day, and I'm getting off track.
I read a fair amount of books with which I am not entirely happy, and yet I keep reading them. Part of it is art making up for the writing, and part is simply the character -- and the latter shouldn't necessarily be explained away as "inertia." There is a difference between buying issue #222 because you bought the previous 221, and buying it because you like the character despite misgivings about the creative team. (Has it really been five years for Geoff Johns? Guess it wasn't all bad.)
Still, a publisher only knows its bottom line, and for the most part the company gets my money before I decide whether its product has satisfied me. It's a vicious cycle in which I admit I err on the side of buying the book. That may not be the best way to force change, but it keeps the book alive. (As others have pointed out, fans are not the best critics.) Besides, as long as I have that "clear-eyed realism" regarding a given title's state of affairs, I can recognize when my limits have been reached. Every month Flash competes for my dollars, and so far it every month it has won -- but that doesn't mean I don't want it to run a better race.
Monday on the Tony Kornheiser radio show, I heard sportswriter Andrew Beyer talking about the racehorse Giacomo. Giacomo came out of nowhere at 50-to-1 odds to win the Kentucky Derby, and finished third in Saturday's Preakness. Tony asked if Giacomo's Preakness finish increased the horse's stature.
Beyer responded, "He ran his usual mediocre race that just happened to win the Kentucky Derby, but you will not be hearing much [in the future] about Giacomo."
Tony then asked, "If Giacomo were to finish in the money [i.e., first, second, or third] in the Belmont, would you give him some love at that point? Would you be kinder to Giacomo?"
Beyer chuckled, "I don't think I'm unloving to Giacomo. I just am a clear-eyed realist about his limited talents."
I like that last turn of phrase. It's a clever variation on the old "emperor has no clothes" statement, which itself boils down to "don't see what you want to see, see what's there." Horse racing doesn't command the attention it once did, and many fans think that a Triple Crown winner would be a great boon to the sport. Therefore, whoever wins the Kentucky Derby automatically becomes a rooting interest for the Preakness, regardless of whether he or she "deserves" to be there. The racing fan wants a Triple Crown winner, but the real enthusiast wants a horse worthy of the title.
This probably explains why I have continued to read certain titles. Since Geoff Johns just announced the end of his Flash tenure, let's use that book as an example. I am a longtime Flash fan, and have followed Wally West since before his Wolfman/Perez New Teen Titans days, but lately have become increasingly frustrated with Johns' approach to the title. While I don't begrudge Johns or DC their success, I'm not entirely sorry to see Johns leave. I have already dropped Johns' Teen Titans and JSA, because they seem to exist solely as legacy-sustainers -- but that's a post for another day, and I'm getting off track.
I read a fair amount of books with which I am not entirely happy, and yet I keep reading them. Part of it is art making up for the writing, and part is simply the character -- and the latter shouldn't necessarily be explained away as "inertia." There is a difference between buying issue #222 because you bought the previous 221, and buying it because you like the character despite misgivings about the creative team. (Has it really been five years for Geoff Johns? Guess it wasn't all bad.)
Still, a publisher only knows its bottom line, and for the most part the company gets my money before I decide whether its product has satisfied me. It's a vicious cycle in which I admit I err on the side of buying the book. That may not be the best way to force change, but it keeps the book alive. (As others have pointed out, fans are not the best critics.) Besides, as long as I have that "clear-eyed realism" regarding a given title's state of affairs, I can recognize when my limits have been reached. Every month Flash competes for my dollars, and so far it every month it has won -- but that doesn't mean I don't want it to run a better race.
posted by Tom Bondurant @ 9:23 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home