Last month I fretted about “celebrity journalists” turned into “commodities” doing “star turns.” That doesn’t sound like a good thing—but what exactly was I talking about? What I had in mind was the columnist, and the most insidious of all threats to his or her individualism and self-worth: fans.
There are two ways to respond to these fans. The bad way is to keep doing the tricks that delight them. The not-quite-as-bad way is to betray them. Remember, their approval is not what you’re about. Far more rewarding than the praise of a faithful reader is the penetrating critique of a shrewd and constructive opponent. For then you can tell yourself, I’ve done my job! A dialogue has commenced and wisdom is on the march.
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Surrounded by passions, yet full apart.
McClellan said I was asking about something he’d never “given much deep thought to—not that deep thought is a big part of my game. It isn’t.” But, yes, “as far as working for me, I suppose it does. A lot of the stuff I write goes against the grain. That’s probably the norm for columnists.”
“‘Okay, then I get the tulips.’
When the Cubs won, they won; when they lost they were charming mongrels with floppy ears and wagging tails. The yuppies turned going to Cubs games into a lifestyle choice and elevated a dismal history of endless defeat into romantic karma. Wrigley Field would never be empty again. This is what can happen when a columnist fails to make it clear enough to a cohort of readers that he despises them. It’s a case study that ought to be in textbooks.
