Tragic Heroes

I believe that if I had to make a list of the things that define American culture (I know that our haughty Euro friends may claim that as an oxymoron), high on my list would be the idea that people are worthy of 2nd, 3rd, and 4th chances. We love the idea of Greek tragedy, characterized by the idea that flawed people can rise to greatness, and then be overwhelmed by the situation and fall. Think about how we embrace our heroes who have fallen from grace. I don't think that this forgiveness extends to institutions or organizations, but people? We are overwhelmingly forgiving to people.

I think that Americans love the idea that Willie Loman can actually turn things around and be somebody again. This is the country that is willing to pay millions of dollars to convicted criminals so that we can hear their story, and see how they are going to come back. Where else in the world can you see the mayor of the nation's capital be convicted for possession of crack cocaine, not pay his taxes, and win election after election in landslides? At times, our society can be vulturous. There are few things that we like more than tearing down successful people. Think about how quickly we were to label Tom Cruise a nutjob, and our obsession with TMZ.com and the other tabloids that capitalize on our need to tear others down.

I think that this is particularly the case in sports. We simultaneously put Michael Jordan on a pedestal for his achievements on the hardwood, and loved hearing about Michael Jordan's failings as a person. I'd go as far as to say that one of the few things that Americans love more than a story about a hero is a story about how a hero falls. Don't get me wrong. We love our heroes. We loved McGwire and Sosa back when they were chasing Ruth and Maris, and defended them (and more importantly, "our" moment), even though we had some idea that they were probably dirty. We kept Lance Armstrong's name sacrosanct, even as he decided to leave his wife and kids for a pop musician.

But, boy do we love it when stars fall. We latched on to Kobe's he-said-she-said drama in Colorado a few years ago. We've made Pac-Man Jones a common name amongst sports fans and "making it rain" a common phrase in wanna-be thugs. We're immersed in Tiger Woods' current fidelity issues. We love it when we see that our idols are human. We forget that the people are often savants - functionally marginal people if it weren't for their athletic talent. We forget that these people don't have to learn the social niceties that the rest of us are required to engage in (full disclosure - the author has been talented enough to have never actually perform these social niceties and is speaking purely hypothetically).

Another aspect of Greek tragedy is that the hero is able to see their mistakes, and may be able to right them. If there's one thing that we like more than our idols falling, it's the idea that these people can again rise, with the benefit of, theoretically at least, learning from their mistakes.

A few years ago, Converse had a Dwayne Wade promotional campaign that I really liked.

Fall 7 Times. Stand Up 8.

We love it when people keep getting knocked down, and keep standing up. Professional wrestling always knew this. Think about our childhood heroes like Hulk Hogan (or Ric Flair if you were a WCW guy). Think about how the bad guy would beat on them, knock them down, bloody them, and put them in a sleeper hold. The ref would come by to see if the champ had been put to sleep. They would lift their arm once, only to have it limply fall to the side. And it would happen a second time. And the inevitable third time would result in a loss for the champ. As the ref lifted the arm, and let it go, it would fall limp, but just as it was about to fall into the nadir, there would be redemption. The fall would stop. A fist would be made, and the arm would slowly reach to the sky. An elbow to the side. Another elbow. Perhaps the bad guy would try to punch the hero, only it would be blocked and returned with a punch from the champ. And another one. There would be some running into the ropes, followed by a clothesline. Then a body slam. And then the finishing move from the champ, who would ultimately snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. That's what we love.

Perhaps proponents of the postmodern era would say that many of these archetypes don't work as effectively. We've gone from the pure hero, to embracing the sort-of bad guy. Think about how much more popular guys like Stone Cold Steve Austin or The Rock were in the WWE when they became "bad guys." Things were no longer black and white, good versus evil. We think that the White Knight is a little too good to be true, and we decide that the Man in Black could just as easily be fighting for a worthy cause. We tolerate flaws in our good guys much more readily, and we look for redemption in out bad guys. I don't know if I would call it postmodernism. After all, these are the echoes of the stores that have come with civilization. Even as Saul chased David throughout the Old Testament, we see this pattern of evil followed by repenting, and we see the anguish in David over Saul's demise. We see the flaws of Hamlet and MacBeth, even as they seek to right the wrongs committed against them and their families.

What we often forget is that in Greek tragedy, the protagonist's ultimate fate is death. We see the rise to glory. We see the fall from grace. We see the change in their ways, and perhaps the righting of wrongs. But ultimately the price that is paid is the demise of the protagonist. Perhaps modern interpretations had become too happy, with audiences demanding the happy ending. And perhaps postmodern is really code for classical. But the protagonist's fate remains. Which is why the story is a tragedy.

RIP Chris Henry, who I hope has died a tragic hero, and not simply without cause.

-Chairman