Popping Off
Yes, Gregg Popovich’s criticisms of Donald Trump have become a little routine. That’s exactly why they’re so important.
In retrospect, we all probably should have seen Gregg Popovich’s disdain for President Trump coming.
Pop, after all, is nothing if not a curmudgeon. Hell, it’s probably his single, most defining quality, (aside from, you know, all the championships and basketball expertise and all that.) He’s never been particularly shy about expressing his true feelings on a subject, and generally speaking, his ire is usually focused in one particular direction.
Gregg Popovich doesn’t suffer any fools.
That’s the single, unifying theme, I think, for all of the soundbites and tongue-lashings that have made the ‘Pop Interview’ such a well worn trope in the sports world. Popovich’s performances, in front of the press, take on a different quality from say, Bill Belichick, who is simply making it his goal, in every situation, to say absolutely nothing at all. Pop, on the other hand, as we’ve all seen, can be funny, can be emotional, can be heartwarming, can display the full range of human emotion, but usually saves ‘outright contempt’ for those moments in which he really can’t believe he has to deal with this nonsense.
Unfortunately for him, and for the reporters tasked with asking him questions, between quarters, or after the game, ‘nonsense’ is baked right into the cake of sports media. There’s no such thing, really, as a good question to ask a coach who is literally right in the middle of intense, high-level competition, only less terrible ones. And so, when Pop gets asked what’s to be done about the fact that his team is shooting poorly, that they’ve got a big deficit to make up, or whether, perhaps, the team will have a tougher time without their MVP-caliber superstar, Popovich reacts like a man who’s getting way too old for this shit.
It can be seen as either endearing, (because there’s an entertaining honesty to his reaction that we see far too infrequently), or unsavory, (because hell, it’s really not the journalist’s fault they were put in this position, and being rude to somebody who’s just doing their job isn’t the best look.) Neither way of looking at it is wrong, really. Popovich can be both a breath of fresh air, and a condescending snob. But one thing is for sure, he really doesn’t have time for stupid.
Which, naturally, brings us to our sitting President.
Over at Deadspin, the always brilliant Albert Burneko noted, earlier this week, that given the increasing frequency with which our commander-in-chief continues to step on rakes, accuse the rakes of being part of a conspiracy, and then set fire to the entire barn, it’s become a little bit easier for members of the beltway class to finally drop the pretense and inch ever closer to their true feelings about the man.
What I am saying, here, is that we are racing toward the day when an administration flack will break down and yell, “Look, the president’s a fucking horse’s ass, okay? He’s fucking stupid! He’s dumber than hell! It’s like talking to a jar of mustard! I know forks — multiple forks! — that could think circles around him! When he sits up too fast you can hear the bean rattling around in his head! What the hell do you want from me???” And then even the reporters who do not have the freedom to write this in their own words will just be able to put it right there, in quotes, in their publications. We’re getting there! We’re getting very close!
But it’s not just White House flunkies who are coming awfully close to that level of blunt force honestly when it comes to Trump. It’s also — surprise, surprise — the head coach of the San Antonio Spurs! And much like Burneko describes, it’s been a slow burning process, day by day. After all, back when he was merely candidate Trump, Popovich offered little more than a shake of the head at the results of the New Hampshire Primary.
But naturally, once the hysterical satirical premise of President Donald Trump became a decidedly less humorous reality, Popovich had more to say. A lot more. There was the six-minute, post-election speech comparing his election to the fall of Rome. There was the follow up, less than a week later, in which he expressed a few reservations about having a white-nationalist serve as a trusted advisor in the White House. There was a reaction, back in January, to the Women’s March in DC, and finding hope in the resistance to Trump’s inauguration. And then these was Sunday, when Popovich took a break from talking basketball during his pregame press conference to opine, this time, not on any particular failing of the carny barker who currently occupies the oval office, but instead, on the general pall that has fallen on the nation.
Usually, things happen in the world and you go to work and you’ve got your family and you’ve got your friend and you do what you do, but to this day I feel like there’s a cloud, a pall, over the whole country, in a paranoid surreal sort of way that’s got nothing to do with the Democrats losing the election. It’s got to do with the way one individual conducts himself. It’s embarrassing. It’s dangerous to our institutions and what we all stand for and what we expect the country to be. But for this individual, he’s at a game show and everything that happens begins and ends with him, not our people or our country. When he talks about those things, that’s just a ruse. That’s disingenuous, cynical and fake.
So yes, as the Trump Presidency approaches its fifth month, (good god, is that really all it’s been? We’ve got to move this this along faster), Popovich has ramped up his criticism of the overcooked ham-hock that somehow became one of the most powerful men in the free world. And it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise really. Pop can’t abide foolishness during a silly little basketball game. Of course he can’t tolerate it in the hallways of the west wing.
And so, over time, Popovich’s Trump diatribes have become increasingly candid, unsparing, and… boring?
That’s the premise of Tully Corcoran’s blog, earlier this week, for TheBigLead.com, responding to Pop’s latest political tangent. And for a moment, the piece offers some genuine insight, suggesting that perhaps the very reason Popovich’s speech might be powerful is that it comes from someone outside of the political chattering class.
Popovich’s job has nothing to do with commenting on politics, which makes his choice to do so seem, if nothing else, authentic. It lends credibility to the idea that non-hysterical, non-masked citizens can have express serious concerns about the president’s fitness for the job, then put on a tie and go to work. While no single piece of discourse is likely to change anybody’s opinion, there is a reason we value discourse, and that reason is that, over time, it changes minds and increases understanding.
So, theoretically, there is value to this.
Yes! Exactly! Perfect! The fact that someone like Popovich, by his own description, a ‘rich white guy’ who will, personally, be fine either way, can repeatedly rise to the occasion, and call everyone’s attention to the fact that no, this is not in any way normal, is a fitting use of his celebrity, his credibility, and his status as someone who isn’t a professional political take-haver, but just someone who holds to the radical notion that having a racist, sexist, corrupt, paranoid buffoon leading our nation is probably less than ideal. This is honest! This is unflinching! This is exactly what we need more of, in order to build a consensus that…
Oh, wait, I’m sorry, you had more?
Practically, I seriously doubt it. Because what Popovich’s criticism of Trump did this weekend was what it always does. It bounced around on Twitter, a platform that serves about 10 percent of America’s 321 million people, and made it onto a bunch of sports sites. Go ahead and ask your mother-in-law about Pop’s comments. Or the guy behind the counter at the C-store. Or even your friend who likes sports. See if any of them even know what he said, much less have a response to it.
Ok… so… not everyone will be made aware of Popovich’s comments. So… so what? Does that have anything whatsoever to do with the truth of what he’s saying. Is there some sort of ‘reach threshold’ that someone needs to meet before their commentary becomes valid? (If so, I’m in a lot of trouble, because I promise you this column isn’t going to reach nearly as many people as Pop’s presser.)
The advantage of being somebody like Gregg Popovich in a situation like this is the ability to use fame to advance a message that might otherwise get overlooked. But the idea that Donald Trump is cynical and selfish is not one that is having a hard time gaining traction in American society. This was what National Review wrote about him when he entered the race. And that’s William F. Buckley’s magazine.
And again I ask… so what? Yes, the National Review recognized a fool from the very start. Hell, I even remember the magazine cover. And since then, the man has been elected President, and been enabled, every step of the way, by an ‘establishment’ Republican class that has proven they are perfectly willing to ignore his corruption, indulge his paranoid fantasies, and abandon their oversight responsibilities, so long as he’s willing to put his signature on whatever health-care stripping, tax-cut granting, wealth-gap exploding legislation they can make cruel enough for the Freedom Caucus to approve.
The rub is not that Trump voters haven’t realized Donald Trump is cynical and selfish. They know that. Every American has known that for 30 years. The rub is that the temperament of the president is not among their political priorities. Neither Gregg Popovich nor anybody else is going to convince them it should be by grumbling it into a set of microphones just so he doesn’t have to answer another stupid question about momentum, no matter how gold the halo the sports media paints over his silver head.
Popovich is shouting into an echo chamber, and he’s not even shouting anything interesting. The president is a jerk. We get it. Now what?
Good god man. I’m really sorry, truly I am, that speaking out against a man who threatens the very foundations of our democracy isn’t ‘interesting’ enough for you. We’ll have to work on that. We’ll have to make sure that all anti-Trump commentary is more engaging moving forward.
You want to understand how Donald Trump became President? Why he’s likely to remain President for quite some time, even as the investigations swirl, and his approval rating continues to slowly deteriorate, and miracle of miracles, some members of his party are taking the incredibly courageous stance that maybe we ought to take a look at what’s going on here, at some point, down the road? Why are we still probably stuck with this guy, longer than any nation should be?
Fatigue.
That’s it really. Fatigue. Exhaustion. Pure, unapologetic apathy, the kind that’s sadly on display in Corcoran’s piece. ‘I mean yeah, sure, the President is an embarrassing disgrace. But what are we supposed to do about it, really?’
Literally anything. Call your congressperson, and your Senators. Then call them again. Subscribe to a news organization that’s working to hold the President to account. Make a donation to the ACLU. Find a non-profit organization in your community that’s doing good work, and join it. Get engaged, politically. Hell, maybe run for office. Support unions, and consider organizing your own workplace. Think up a really snappy anti Trump slogan, and put it on some poster board. Then, get out into the streets, and march. Or, if your legs are tired, you can write a column, even if it just bounces around the liberal echo chamber.
Because you know what? Any of those would be a better use of time than concern-trolling Gregg Popovich over the fact that his own Trump criticism didn’t break new ground. I mean, sure, don’t get me wrong, I’d love it if Pop could, in his downtime between games, uncover photos of Vladimir Putin handing Trump a big sack of cash with a dollar sign on it. (Or maybe the pee tape!) That’d be a hell of a scoop, amidst the Western Conference Finals, and I’m sure we’d all be grateful.
But in the meantime, I’m perfectly ok with Popovich using a few minutes of his national platform to remind us that our President is bad, and we should feel bad. So he’s not breaking new ground. So we’ve heard it all before. So he’s probably not going to singlehandedly spark a revolution that washes this overripe tangerine out of office.
So what?
I’d much rather be fighting against the tide, than simply allowing myself to drown. Because you know what the real bitch of it is?
We could all put a stop to it, immediately, if we wanted to. It wouldn’t require any magic, either. No top-secret strategy. All it would take is a few million people, out in the streets, on the phones, in the media, raising a little hell, making it clear that this country of ours is going to grind to a halt, until we get the sort of leader we deserve, rather than this noxious nitwit. So why doesn’t that happen?
Well, you know, because we’re busy. We’ve got to pick up groceries later. And we’re right in the middle of binge-watching Master of None. And hell, if we don’t show up for our jobs, we’ll almost certainly lose them, and then where will we be? The point is, we’re all caught up in our routines. We’re all stuck in our respective ruts. And after a while, we all just get too damn tired, and frustrated, and defeated, to do much of anything.
Gregg Popovich doesn’t have to worry about that. He’s probably never losing his gig, thanks to, you know, the five rings. His time is pretty much his to do with what he pleases. Oh, and one of the weird side-effects of being a legendary coach in the country that cares a hell of a lot about sports, is that they put a microphone in your face quite a bit.
If Pop wants to use that time to put Donald Trump on blast, more power to him. No, it’s probably not going to change the world, overnight. But speaking up, even in an echo chamber, sure as hell beats silence.
Besides, Pop’s gotta give somebody a hard time, and David Aldridge can use a breather.
