Other Arenas

The 2005 baseball seaosn came to its personally official end last night with the annual Showbiz League banquet, where I sat between Jesus and Elvis and good-naturedly reviewed the wise choices and occasional flubs that enabled us to finish 1-2-3 in the standings. I indulged in a large margarita while my companions limited themselves to cokes, although Jesus also took a glass of water which perhaps he surreptitiously changed to wine. This was already my 17th Rotisserie banquet, and I'm proud to say I haven't paid for one in 12 years, since that required finishing in the bottom six. Good for me. Kevin couldn't make it, which was a shame, because I think our team's success this year was due mainly to his savvy pitching selections.

Now I'm seemingly left bereft of interesting competitions to monitor for the rest of the year. My interest in pro sports, with three of them bubbling at the moment, is minimal. I do tend to follow the NFL when one of my New York teams is performing well, and this year it is the Giants, though they don't seem to have the balance to overcome the strengths of such AFC powers as Indianapolis or New England. They could still make it to the Super Bowl, laboring in a weak conference without any standout teams, where even the Seattle Seahawks are contending (and when did they migrate over to the NFC? I must have missed that). I know that by the time the next Superbowl is played I will be otherwise engaged, prepping my early draft sheets for Showbiz League 2006.

Meanwhile I'll have to resort to couch potato rooting for artificial contests concocted by television producers. My two favorite reality shows, Mark Burnett's "Survivor" and the Trump "Apprentice", continue to engage me, even as they fall into familiar routines and backbiting. Like the NFL, each program is in its mid-season, with half the contestants already sidelined and the remainder easier to distinguish. "Survivor" has already quashed one of my expectations when practical nurse Margaret was ousted by the vituperation of the surly New York doorman Judd.

Judd reminds me of Boston Rob and one wonders how long his intimidation will keep him alive. The editing have been focusing on him lately, which means either he will be exiting soon or not at all. He's apparently this year's chosen villain. No chance for him to win, though, since he is so damn surly. It might be worth it to see him at the climactic tribal council for the chance to see him blow his gasket. Another subplot involves former quarterback Gary Hogeboom, who's trying to hide his identity with a soft paternal attitude. One of the survivors, sports addict Danni, has already ID'd him, but the show's editors have chosen to downplay this story line. That he has remained untouched surprises me because he reminds one most of last season's winner Tom, and two similar types rarely repeat. The continued presence of Stephenie, last year's favorite and something of a mother figure, is heartening, though I don't think the group will be inclined to vote her a big share. I'm amused by the "fishmonger" Lydia (shouldn't she be Molly Malone? I thought fishmongers have gone the way of stenographers and blacksmiths). She has snuck through and if savvy enough can wiggle into a finalist slot, since she is so unthreatening. There's no clear favorite; I project a final four of Gary, Stephenie, Lydia and Judd.

On Trump's "Apprentice" there is, seeming deliberately, a clear favorite, and it is the African American doctor-Rhodes scholar Randal. I believe Trump is well aware of demographic significance in his choice of apprentices, and after having selected two Wasps and a woman, a black man would look very good. Trump needn't feel obliged to demonstrate Affirmative Action thinking, as he almost selected qualified black candidate Kwame in the first season. But Randal, charming, popular, and incisively smart, will have to struggle to lose. It's possible, to guarantee a black apprentice, that Randal may end up facing his distaff version Marshawn, also bright and articulate, but not nearly as dynamic. The program has had an odd history of black women freaking out, so Marshawn is a nice palliative. No other candidates seen very strong, though the vertically challenged but confidently composed Chris will probably last a while, as will exotic Alla, who apparently has some racy positions in her curriculum vita.

Of course the problem still remains that Trump and Burnett have literalized the term "commercial television," in that each episode is essentially an infomercial clothed as a competition. The contestants shill for large corporate campaigns, the whole mess is tied into some marketing promotion with internet ties, and Trump et al collect huge fees to compensate for future lack of residuals. It's all in the bottom line, Trump would remind us, and fire us if we disagree.

Of Martha Stewart's "Apprentice" there little to say except it is a pallid and uninventive imitation of Trump's, with the male candidates--all deliberately heterosexual--showing much more dynamism than the women, whose skills seem mostly culinary. I do check into this show once in a while, but it's hardly appointment viewing.

But that term "appointment viewing" can be reapplied to the energetic "West Wing," whose resurgence this year seems to coincide with the population's disgust and ennui with the current White House occupant. Last night's stunt Presidential Debate, presented live, was both stimulating and depressing. Stimulating in that it eschewed the standard boring format of real-world Presidential debates, and depressing because it reminds us just how limited and unrevealing that format actually is. Fiction and reality merged impressively in this mostly scripted debate, with candidates Santos and Vinick (Jimmy Smits and Alan Alda) trading barbs and stepping on each other's lines. I thought that Alda availed himself somewhat better, perhaps because he was more used to performing before live audiences than the TV-bred Smits. Smits stammered a bit, though showed great passion defending the "liberal" label so villfied by knee-jerk Republicans. Alda was very smooth reciting the mantra of "lower taxes" and not refusing to waffle on certain points. The script did not allow him to show his more moderate side, nor Smits to say anything to woo the right.

But I believed that Alda/Vinick articulated his positions convincingly, unlike the current president Bush, who bungled his way frighteningly through last fall's debates. Alda is still likely to lose the fictional election, though that's hardly a done deal; the intellectually challenged Bush was able to squeak by, thanks to the Lord (and the Swift Boat Liars Club). Truth, while perhaps stranger than fiction, is certainly not as gratifying.