2008 Woodie Awards
If you take a closer look, our world's true role models are all around us
Peter Bartels
Issue date: 4/1/08 Section: Opinion
There are times when being proud of the human race can be difficult. Morally speaking, it seems too often that we just cannot get it right. Lately, the world of professional sports has made a habit of highlighting man's less flattering side.
In hockey, players seem to wait for the first chance to throw fists. In baseball, dugouts empty into ego-driven melees, and Roger Clemens lies through his teeth to an entire country.
And the cheating, by track stars, bicyclists, certain almost-undefeated NFL teams -- the list is too long to fathom. Politics isn't much better; you can be sure that the lies and scandals that leak out to us through our TVs are only the tip of the iceberg.
When we look at those most often in the public eye, what we see is an overwhelming minority doing a poor job of representing the rest of their less-publicized, but equally human, race.
With that said, it is my hope that the rest of this article will open your eyes to the inherent goodness of the everyday man (an androgynous term for our purposes, you feminists chomping at the bit).
I understand that growing up we were all encouraged to believe in that elusive, clichéd sense of innate human goodness, something I wish to discuss no further.
I am not here to regurgitate the platitudes of your fifth grade religion class; I'm here to give you something tangible to hold onto; something concrete that you can think back on as we watch our sports heroes and national leaders trounce that faith in each other to which each of us is entitled.
And, to do that, I offer as evidence the events of a single day. Take them as you will.
Sunday, March 23:
I walk through the doors of Mid-Continent Airport in Wichita, Kansas and head for the check-in counter of United Airlines. While in line, a woman rushes toward me and my fellow passengers-to-be and breathlessly asks if she can take the next available kiosk -- her flight is boarding as we speak. Without a single second thought between the ten of us, we give her the go-ahead, and she graciously but briskly walks to the front of the line. There are no grumbles or rolling eyes, only the sincerest form of empathy.
In hockey, players seem to wait for the first chance to throw fists. In baseball, dugouts empty into ego-driven melees, and Roger Clemens lies through his teeth to an entire country.
And the cheating, by track stars, bicyclists, certain almost-undefeated NFL teams -- the list is too long to fathom. Politics isn't much better; you can be sure that the lies and scandals that leak out to us through our TVs are only the tip of the iceberg.
When we look at those most often in the public eye, what we see is an overwhelming minority doing a poor job of representing the rest of their less-publicized, but equally human, race.
With that said, it is my hope that the rest of this article will open your eyes to the inherent goodness of the everyday man (an androgynous term for our purposes, you feminists chomping at the bit).
I understand that growing up we were all encouraged to believe in that elusive, clichéd sense of innate human goodness, something I wish to discuss no further.
I am not here to regurgitate the platitudes of your fifth grade religion class; I'm here to give you something tangible to hold onto; something concrete that you can think back on as we watch our sports heroes and national leaders trounce that faith in each other to which each of us is entitled.
And, to do that, I offer as evidence the events of a single day. Take them as you will.
Sunday, March 23:
I walk through the doors of Mid-Continent Airport in Wichita, Kansas and head for the check-in counter of United Airlines. While in line, a woman rushes toward me and my fellow passengers-to-be and breathlessly asks if she can take the next available kiosk -- her flight is boarding as we speak. Without a single second thought between the ten of us, we give her the go-ahead, and she graciously but briskly walks to the front of the line. There are no grumbles or rolling eyes, only the sincerest form of empathy.
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