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The media's manufactured controversies
Dan Rottenberg
Uncontroversial controversies
DAN ROTTENBERG
Appalachian State University, a school in the Blue Ridge Mountains that I never heard of before last Saturday, made the front page of Monday’s New York Times by upsetting the University of Michigan, America’s fifth-ranked college football team, in what the Times described as “one of the biggest upsets in college football history.” Meanwhile, Chops, a City Line steakhouse I never heard of before this month, made the cover of the September Philadelphia Magazine by filing a libel suit against the Inquirer’s publicity-shy dining critic, Craig LaBan.
Drama makes the world go round; the essence of drama is conflict; and consequently we shouldn’t be surprised that the media have seized so avidly upon two such dramatic conflicts.
On closer examination, however, there’s less to these dramas than meets the eye. Appalachian State may indeed play football in the National Collegiate Athletic Association’s Division I-AA, one level below a premier football program like Michigan’s. Its stadium seats only 16,650 spectators, compared to 107,501 at Ann Arbor. But this was hardly David battling Goliath (another metaphor employed by the Times). Appalachian State, it turns out, has won the Division I-AA national championship for the past two years. Its record since the start of the 2005 season is 27 wins and four defeats. It provides 63 football scholarships. It has sent 25 players to the National Football League.
In short, Appalachian State is no Swarthmore. It’s a football factory.
That such a program should knock off a famous school like Michigan is moderately interesting but not all that shocking. This wasn’t a case of David and Goliath; it was a case of two Goliaths, one of whom masqueraded as David.
The Grade-A steak that wasn’t
As for Chops— the Inquirer’s Craig LaBan, who takes his work so seriously that he goes to ludicrous extremes to avoid being photographed (lest restaurateurs recognize him and give him special treatment), dropped this comment about the place in a 44-word mini-review last February:
“A recent meal, though, was expensive and disappointing, from the soggy and sour chopped salad to a miserably tough and fatty strip steak.”
At worst, this was one man’s opinion (albeit one very influential man). But Chops owner Alex Plotkin, who also takes himself and his steaks very seriously, couldn’t believe LaBan had really consumed one of Plotkin’s strip steaks. After several sleepless nights and a phone call to LaBan, Plotkin determined that LaBan had reviewed not a dinner at Chops (where the steak is a USDA prime-grade New York strip) but a lunch (where the “steak frites” is prepared with a cut of beef not specified on the menu).
In Plotkin’s place, I would have thanked LaBan for his honest assessment and revised my menu so future lunch patrons aren’t similarly confused. Or I would have upgraded the steak I serve at lunch. Instead, Plotkin demanded that LaBan publish a clarification. LaBan declined, Plotkin sued, and now both men are all over the blogosphere and Philadelphia magazine, garnering more publicity than either man deserves, simply because Plotkin took a private grievance public.
A legitimate gripe, but…
To be sure, Plotkin had a legitimate gripe: LaBan should have written "lunch" instead of "meal." Plotkin could have set matters straight by writing a letter to the Inquirer, or to the local weeklies, or to local food bloggers, or even to Broad Street Review, for goodness’ sake. For less than the cost of a lawsuit, he could have rented a billboard across from the Inquirer saying, “Craig LaBan has grievously erred,” or some such pithy quote. But Plotkin lost my sympathy when he tied up the courts— supported with my tax dollars— with a petty dispute that grown-ups ought to be able to settle privately.
My problem in both these cases is the ease with which the media are often manipulated by pointless conflicts that, upon a few minutes' reflection, you or I would dismiss as non-stories.
Now for a real upset
OK— so the next logical question is: If Appalachian State vs. Michigan wasn’t “one of the biggest upsets in college football history,” what was? Here’s my candidate:
In 1998, Temple University, a chronically pathetic football program which had lost its first five games up to that point, somehow defeated Virginia Tech, which had won all five of its games and was ranked No. 1— not Number 5, Number 1— in the nation. But it must have been a heavy news day. That unbelievable upset failed to make the front page of the Times; even in Philadelphia, the Inquirer merely characterized the victory as “Temple’s biggest homecoming upset in recent memory.”
What do you think— should Temple sue the Inquirer?
To read responses, click here.
DAN ROTTENBERG
Appalachian State University, a school in the Blue Ridge Mountains that I never heard of before last Saturday, made the front page of Monday’s New York Times by upsetting the University of Michigan, America’s fifth-ranked college football team, in what the Times described as “one of the biggest upsets in college football history.” Meanwhile, Chops, a City Line steakhouse I never heard of before this month, made the cover of the September Philadelphia Magazine by filing a libel suit against the Inquirer’s publicity-shy dining critic, Craig LaBan.
Drama makes the world go round; the essence of drama is conflict; and consequently we shouldn’t be surprised that the media have seized so avidly upon two such dramatic conflicts.
On closer examination, however, there’s less to these dramas than meets the eye. Appalachian State may indeed play football in the National Collegiate Athletic Association’s Division I-AA, one level below a premier football program like Michigan’s. Its stadium seats only 16,650 spectators, compared to 107,501 at Ann Arbor. But this was hardly David battling Goliath (another metaphor employed by the Times). Appalachian State, it turns out, has won the Division I-AA national championship for the past two years. Its record since the start of the 2005 season is 27 wins and four defeats. It provides 63 football scholarships. It has sent 25 players to the National Football League.
In short, Appalachian State is no Swarthmore. It’s a football factory.
That such a program should knock off a famous school like Michigan is moderately interesting but not all that shocking. This wasn’t a case of David and Goliath; it was a case of two Goliaths, one of whom masqueraded as David.
The Grade-A steak that wasn’t
As for Chops— the Inquirer’s Craig LaBan, who takes his work so seriously that he goes to ludicrous extremes to avoid being photographed (lest restaurateurs recognize him and give him special treatment), dropped this comment about the place in a 44-word mini-review last February:
“A recent meal, though, was expensive and disappointing, from the soggy and sour chopped salad to a miserably tough and fatty strip steak.”
At worst, this was one man’s opinion (albeit one very influential man). But Chops owner Alex Plotkin, who also takes himself and his steaks very seriously, couldn’t believe LaBan had really consumed one of Plotkin’s strip steaks. After several sleepless nights and a phone call to LaBan, Plotkin determined that LaBan had reviewed not a dinner at Chops (where the steak is a USDA prime-grade New York strip) but a lunch (where the “steak frites” is prepared with a cut of beef not specified on the menu).
In Plotkin’s place, I would have thanked LaBan for his honest assessment and revised my menu so future lunch patrons aren’t similarly confused. Or I would have upgraded the steak I serve at lunch. Instead, Plotkin demanded that LaBan publish a clarification. LaBan declined, Plotkin sued, and now both men are all over the blogosphere and Philadelphia magazine, garnering more publicity than either man deserves, simply because Plotkin took a private grievance public.
A legitimate gripe, but…
To be sure, Plotkin had a legitimate gripe: LaBan should have written "lunch" instead of "meal." Plotkin could have set matters straight by writing a letter to the Inquirer, or to the local weeklies, or to local food bloggers, or even to Broad Street Review, for goodness’ sake. For less than the cost of a lawsuit, he could have rented a billboard across from the Inquirer saying, “Craig LaBan has grievously erred,” or some such pithy quote. But Plotkin lost my sympathy when he tied up the courts— supported with my tax dollars— with a petty dispute that grown-ups ought to be able to settle privately.
My problem in both these cases is the ease with which the media are often manipulated by pointless conflicts that, upon a few minutes' reflection, you or I would dismiss as non-stories.
Now for a real upset
OK— so the next logical question is: If Appalachian State vs. Michigan wasn’t “one of the biggest upsets in college football history,” what was? Here’s my candidate:
In 1998, Temple University, a chronically pathetic football program which had lost its first five games up to that point, somehow defeated Virginia Tech, which had won all five of its games and was ranked No. 1— not Number 5, Number 1— in the nation. But it must have been a heavy news day. That unbelievable upset failed to make the front page of the Times; even in Philadelphia, the Inquirer merely characterized the victory as “Temple’s biggest homecoming upset in recent memory.”
What do you think— should Temple sue the Inquirer?
To read responses, click here.
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