The Cho Factor, Part XVII

How to Play the Game

Near the end of his career, the late and legendary Howard Cosell wrote a book titled I Never Played the Game, an autobiography of his years as a sports commentator. It was a revealing tome in more ways than one.

Unfortunately, the tone of the book spotlighted the fact that Cosell was an incredibly insecure, egomaniacal man. His egomania, in particular, is what made so many people dislike him so intensely. Nevertheless, he was brilliant and, in the mold of William F. Buckley, a master of the English language.

Cosell also had a flair for theatrics, and teamed up with Muhammed Ali in a good-natured verbal sparring match that entertained and fascinated sports fans (and even non-sports fans) for years. But he made his real mark as the lone intelligent voice of Monday Night Football, boxed in between two ex-jocks, flawless Frank Gifford and word-impaired Don Meredith.

In I Never Played the Game, Cosell shocked readers with his disparaging (to put it mildly) remarks about Gifford and Meredith, two ex-jocks he saw as totally devoid of talent. He also railed on about what he referred to as the “jockocracy” of sports broadcasting, believing that the rise of ex-jocks such as Gifford and Meredith in the broadcast booth was demeaning to his profession.

Which fed right into the title of his book. As Cosell explained it, I Never Played the Game had a double meaning. First, it referred to the fact that he himself never played professional sports. He was proud of the fact that he was an ace sports commentator, not an ex-jock.

But the title also meant that Cosell never played the lackey in his relationships with advertisers, his employer (ABC), or team owners. He did admit that, being human, he sometimes “made compromises,” but insisted that he had never forfeited a major principle throughout his career. He died proud in his belief that he had “never played the game.”

Which brings us to Seung-Hui Cho and the Virginia Tech massacre. I thought about Howard Cosell’s book when I saw Cho’s videotaped manifesto. It is, of course, easy for the media to brush off Cho’s words as the ravings of a madman. And, to be sure, there is no question that he was mentally disturbed.

But you can learn a lot by listening to the words of an angry person — sane or not — and Cho was a very angry person. Following is some of what he said in his rant that made me think of Cosell’s book:

“You have vandalized my heart, raped my soul and torched my conscience. … You thought it was one pathetic boy’s life you were extinguishing. Thanks to you, I die like Jesus Christ, to inspire generations of the weak and the defenseless people. … Your Mercedes wasn’t enough, you brats. Your golden necklaces weren’t enough, you snobs. Your trust funds wasn’t [sic] enough. Your vodka and cognac wasn’t enough. All your debaucheries weren’t enough. Those weren’t enough to fulfill your hedonistic needs. You had everything.”

There is no question in my mind that Cho was referring to playing the game — the superficial game — that, to one extent or another, we all play — the game that guides how we live our lives. It’s a game with unspoken rules that are understood by all but never discussed out loud.

On one or more occasions, we’ve all had our hearts vandalized, our souls raped, and our consciences torched. We understand how to play the game and we understand the pain that playing the game exacts. But very few of us ever allow ourselves to be backed into a corner where, like Cho, we see violence as our only option.

In the next installment of this series, we’ll take a hard look at the option that most of us choose instead.

Previous – Part XVI, The Transition

Next – Part XVIII, The Option of Choice