The Day the Peach Basket Died

Hope for the Hopeless - A Fine Frenzy (mp3)
Find You Dead - Letters to Cleo (mp3)

It somehow seems only fitting to follow up Bob's post yesterday with musings on John Wooden.

While I was busy trying to navigate the vomit-inducing highway to Boone, N.C., the Wizard of Westwood chose to retire from life, calling it a day at the nicely-rounded age of 99.

That night, the ritual late-night drunken debate between myself and my two in-law siblings centered around Tiger Woods. While I didn't begrudge Tiger his loss of income or popularity, I did say the onus is on our society to change what it expects of people in the spotlight. (Lest it be forgotten, I was a staunch -- and somewhat erroneous -- defender of Tiger when he first wrecked his SUV last year. I've adjusted my negative opinions of him, but continue to place equal blame with our culture.)

Bob's post yesterday about Polanski, and his earlier post about Bruce Springsteen's adulterous ways, and my mourning the death of the simple hero. I don't know how many times I've lamented our society's idolization of celebrities and athletes. When we place any fallible mortal on a pedestal, we're only creating a greater height from which they can fall. Deep down, we know it, but we don't care. We need our heroes, and we'll help craft them where they don't exist.

You gotta admire the Greeks for that, at least. Their gods were terribly flawed. Powerful, certainly, but flawed. In America, we expect all our gods to be flawless.

In my preferred universe, Tiger Woods would earn significant cash simply for being The Greatest Golfer of All Time. But the hundreds of millions in endorsements? The entire notion of celebrities endorsing products, values, whatever? It wouldn't happen.

What is undeniable, however, is how much more fun it is for people to talk about fallen idols than straight-laced boring ones. Like John Wooden.

The Wizard didn't make much off endorsements, but I'm sure he made a few extra bucks every now and then. Enough to buy Tiger a new driver on occasion.

I don't know everything about John Wooden's life. I don't know if he went his entire life without committing a sin. I don't know if the sins he committed were acceptable or unforgivable. I don't want to know everything; I know enough to admire the man, his career, the loyalty and love he engendered in almost everyone he met, and the values he seemed to espouse through actions as well as words.

Wooden actually seems like something we just don't hear much about anymore: A decent Christian man.

We hear plenty about Catholic priests and perverted Protestant preachers. We hear lots of people talk about God's wrath until they conveniently need His forgiveness for their own misdeeds. But just good decent people who admit to their faith in the glare of the public eye? That's a rare species.

As a UNC alum whose fanaticism about the importance of Dean Smith as a coach and person of tremendous character is beyond reasonable, I can also comfortably acknowledge that John Wooden is, as both a person and coach, Dean's equal if not his superior. (It hurts to even write that.)

Then there's the personal story that tugs at me.

Wooden's wife Nellie died on March 21, 1985. At the time of her death, they had been married 53 years. On the monthly anniversary of Nellie's death, every month, every year, for 25 years, Coach John Wooden would write his wife a letter. That's almost 300 love letters to a ghost. If it weren't such a testament to the depth and endurance of his love, it might well freak me out. But he didn't write those letters to impress me. And I'm sure he wouldn't give a flip whether anyone thought he was crazy for doing it.

Instead of a secret stash of kiddie porn or some secret meth lab in his basement, John Wooden was hiding love letters to the most important person in his life. Because it was none of our business, no matter how much it might have impressed us. How refreshing, that we discover something unknown yet touching about a man we can admire!

Apparently, good secrets about people still exist, and it gives me hope.

"You see, the truth is somewhere in between. It's wrong to turn people into idols. But it's also wrong to lose hope, to believe that we can't find good examples to inspire us," Wooden says in the interview linked above. "We need role models. ... Maybe role models are getting harder to find, these days. That doesn't mean that there aren't any worth finding."

Coach Wooden almost gives me reason to think maybe idolizing great and successful famous people isn't such a bad idea.

Almost.