Big Mike: Be Reasonable – Like Me!

July 15th, 2009

I like to think of myself as a brilliant arguer. Well-read. Informed. Reasonable. Not swayed by emotion. Convincing. Civilized.

Hell, the United States Senate ought to hire me as a debate coach. The Palestinians and the Jews would solve their problems by this afternoon of only they’d pattern themselves after me.

I’ve been involved in a couple of recent contretemps that have tested my dazzling rhetorical powers.

The other day, Benny Jay and I launched into a lengthy exchange over the relative merits of one Samuel Babson Fuld. We swapped countless emails and engaged in endless phone conversations about him. We easily expended more energy and spent more time on the consideration of his contributions to society than we’ve ever given to, say, Albert Einstein or even Stephen Colbert.

You’ve never heard of Samuel Babson Fuld? You’re not alone. All I can say with assurance is that his parents and he know who he is. And Benny Jay and I.

He’s a ballplayer, the 26th man on the Cubs’ 25-man roster. He’s called up whenever a Cub outfielder strains a ligament. Benny suggested that it’s a shame Fuld can’t get a real shot at making the big club. He’s an example, Benny opined, of baseball’s arbitrary decision-making process. Once a guy is labeled a non-prospect, he’s out of luck. No matter what he does, baseball brains will forever consider him lacking.

Upon hearing this, I leaped into action. I created extensive spreadsheet analyses comparing Fuld to other young guys who have gaudier statistics. I accused Benny of thinking with his heart rather than his brain. I defended the professionalism of major league general managers. Our arguments grew heated. Voices were raised. Benny called me stubborn. I called his thought processes idiosyncratic. It was really a veiled way of calling him an idiot.

Now, the second episode of contention. Monday night, after Trivia at Dick’s Pizza, my pal Printer Bob, with whom I’ve had a run-in or two in the past, was pontificating on politics. He held court with a couple who nodded continuously as he spoke.

“Can you believe this crazy woman?” Printer Bob howled. “Just another one of Obama’s socialists! It ain’t gonna be long now – hold on to your wallets!”

I was returning from the men’s room at this moment. A voice inside me warned, Don’t do it! But I couldn’t resist.

“Okay, Bob, how are you gonna aggravate me now? Who said what?”

“This woman Obama just named as Surgeon General. What’s her name? Benjamin? Regina? Whatever. She said, ‘Doctors should not make a profit. What they do is a public service and they shouldn’t make any money off it!’ Now what in the hell is that all about?”

I’d never heard of any such statement uttered by Regina Benjamin. Had I missed it? Uh oh. Did Barack Obama make a mistake, choosing someone who wants to overturn the capitalist system? I took a chance.

“I knew you’d aggravate me,” I said. “She never said that.”

“Oh no?” Bob yelled. “I just heard about it on the way here! She said it!

“No she didn’t.”

“Yeah? Well, what did she say then?”

Uh oh, again. Damn. Had she said something that was being twisted by the anti-Obama gang? I had no idea what it might have been. Still, I dug my hells in deeper.

“Listen to me. She never said that.”

“C’mon, c’mon. What’d she say? You don’t know what she said, do you? You don’t know!”

I didn’t. Well, I figured, may as well shoot the moon.

“You know why I have a fat ass, Bob? The easier it is for you to kiss it!”

Like I said – reasonable, civilized, urbane.

That night, after I got home, I did some research and found Dr. Benjamin had never said any such thing. The purported quote was invented by none other than Rush Limbaugh because she’d opened a non-profit clinic in Alabama. Natch.

Phew!

As long as I was at it, I decided to reread the Sam Fuld emails that Benny Jay and I had exchanged. The more I read, the more convinced I became – Benny Jay was right! Baseball men are narrow-minded thinkers, wedded to preconceived notions, loath to change their minds. Yet I’d fought him tooth and nail.

So there you have it. I’d argued one point based on nothing more than a dumb hunch. I’d argued another even though I didn’t believe in what the hell I was talking about.

Sheesh. If the Palestinians and Jews did pattern themselves after me, the Middle East would be a mess.