content analysis

Momentum, according to the OED, is “the quantity of motion in a moving body, now expressed as the product of its mass and its velocity” or, figuratively, “continuing vigour resulting from an initial effort or expenditure of energy.” The avalanche gains momentum as it crashes toward the terrified skier. What begins with a bit of an ice block breaking off, soon gains in both mass (picking up snow and ice as it moves) and velocity as the growing wave of icy death hurdles down the mountainside. In the physical world, it’s a simple concept.

But what of its use in social terms? Anyone who saw Kobe Bryant’s performance in the second half of their West Conference finals game last night knows intuitively what the announcers meant when they said, “The Lakers now have all the momentum” despite facing a ten point deficit (for the bookish types among you, the Lakers overcame a 20 point deficit to win against one of the best defensive teams around, the evil San Antonio Spurs). Of course, there surely was a type of physicality to that momentum: as Kobe began to hoist more shots, he sharpened his stroke, storing data in his muscle memory. But the far more significant type of momentum was social. Down by twenty, Kobe dug deep, summoning his trademark killer instinct and played with an aggressiveness that said, “There’s no effing way I’m losing this game on my home court.” His intensity and confidence spread to his teammates and they began to read each other better. Pau Gasol displayed incredible athleticism in finishing off Kobe’s lobs and dishes. My beloved Sasha Vujacic, a 24 year-old kid from Slovenia who couldn’t crack the bench last year, took gutsy three pointers. In fact, the momentum was first and foremost social; it was borne of a willed confidence, greater communication with each other, and a willingness to defer to the leadership of a player with godlike talent. And like the snowball gaining in mass and velocity, each additional sunk basket contributed to more exuberance, more confidence, and a better belief in their ability to win if they work together.

Where else in the social world can we see momentum? To be sure, we’ve heard a lot about it during the everlasting Democratic Primary Race to the point where the concept has been largely discounted. But isn’t it true that a primary win can give a candidate more confidence and contribute to the sense among campaign supporters that there’s a enthused “movement” (since that’s what everybody’s calling it) growing? Didn’t Senator Obama’s surprise victory in Iowa raise his stature in the race? Didn’t Senator Clinton’s victory in NH revitalize her campaign? While we must not confuse the effect of victories in shaping media narratives with actual momentum, perhaps the media serves as an echo chamber in which the snowball can grow.

I think it’s also possible to think about how personal relationships gain momentum. Or how an ideology can gain momentum. If I had to definite social momentum, it might be something like, the growing acceptance that a belief or hope is, in fact, true. Maybe that’s why mentions of social momentum are so closely bound to the idea of confidence.

Ideas, readers?

CA continues to follow the globalization of basketball.  Here’s a Times story on soccer’s influence on basketball.

slow news – May 12, 2008

It’s the End of the World as the Knicks Know It

By Harvey Araton

In one of the recent signs that (Ladies and Gentlemen) your New York Knickerbockers might return to the world of the living, recently hired GM Donnie Walsh hired Seven Seconds or Less ex-Suns coach Mike D’Antoni.  D’Antoni, a former star player and coach in the Italian League, has innovated a run-and-gun system of beautiful basketball in Phoenix over the past several seasons.  In this article, Araton discuss how the Knicks, located in the world’s most cosmopolitan city, have resisted the globalization of the NBA in recent years.  As foreign-born players — like Dirk Nowitzki, Tim Duncan, Manu Ginobili, Steve Nash, Andres Nocioni, Mehmet Okur, and many others — have come to dominate (often with big men who can actually shoot), the Knicks have been a provincial backwater.  D’Antoni’s arrival might just change that.

Of course, ca desperately hopes that D’Antoni and Walsh will be able to bring one of the best homegrown players to NY in 2010: LeBron James.

slow news – May Day 2008

Taxes, Warren Buffett, and Paying My Fair Share

By Justin Wolfers (Freakonomics Blog)

I don’t care how much I have to harp on this shit.  Our economy is scary bad right now.  We need to be talking about this every day.  And forget traditional measures like the value of the dollar, the Dow Jones, or GNP growth.  How are real wages doing?  How much revolving credit is the average American carrying?  Who is our tax structure favoring?

Well, crazy rich, high character guy Warren Buffett (Omaha in the house?) is thinking about the last question. He discovered that he pays a lower tax rate than his secretary.  Freakonomics explores the issue.  NBA blogger and ca personal hero, Henry Abbott, makes a connection, noting, “I’d be fascinated to see someone in the NBA pick up this theme: who pays a higher percentage of income in Federal Tax? LeBron James, or a Cavaliers’ receptionist?”

I’m not convinced of either the widespread interest or the sociological value of this story, but it’s too damn interesting to me to not mention it here. Several weeks ago, Henry Abbott, the author of the NBA-focused blog True Hoop, writing under feverish conditions, suggested that The Cheesecake Factory was the favorite restaurant of NBA players. He writes,

[NBA players] talk about a massive spectrum of things, of course, from AAU to Zydrunas Ilgauskas. But sprinkled in there among the things players talk most frequently — you hear it again and again — is the Cheesecake Factory.

Nowadays, if ever someone tells me that they bumped into an NBA player out in public, I like to stop them mid-sentence and guess: “Was it at the Cheesecake Factory?” It can make you look like a freaking genius, because once in a while, you’ll be right.

For those of who not in the know, TCF is a vaguely upscale chain restaurant (heavy silverware, lots of buffalo sauce; entrees run about $14-$28). Abbott hypothesized there were main reasons for the popularity of TCF among players. The first two sound very much like Weber by way of George Ritzer’s McDonaldization of Society: a) standardized products and b) enormous portions. While Ritzer points to the larger trend of emphasizing quantity over quality, the need for huge portion is particularly important for NBA players with high metabolisms and big appetites. Secondly, much like traveling businesspeople, players who regularly spend time in unfamiliar cities, it is nice to find a predictable meal. The third reason — most surprising to me — was that many NBA players are on a budget (say, $100/day), having wisely linked up with money managers. Ordering room service at the hotel would easily push them over their budgets. This week, Henry provided an update, saying that he’d heard more response from that post than any other. E-mails and phone calls poured in from fans, journalists, and players confirming his observation.

This whole discussion put me in mind of Bourdieu’s fantastic charts in Distinction (which I couldn’t find a good reproduction of on the Internets). To simplify, he claims that the lived experience of class is structured by three forms of symbolic capital (which are both created by people, but also impose themselves on people): a) economic capital ($, cash money), b) social capital (social networks), and c) cultural capital (tastes, values, skills, knowledge, and so on). Thus, by knowing about the total amount of capital an individual has and the balance of it between the various forms of capital, we can predict something about not only her/his occupation, but also tastes in entertainment, food, cars, etc. Or as it actually works in life, from people’s tastes, choices, and behaviors, we can tell much about what class space they occupy.

Thinking about NBA players, they are very high on economic capital (although probably not as high as some captains of industry), but often not particularly high on cultural capital (despite being college graduates for the most part). In many ways, they occupy the opposite end of the chart (moving horizontally) than college professors, who are presumably very high on cultural capital, but moderate to low on economic capital. So, while college professors enjoy their wine (in the correct glass), farmer’s markets, and Beatles albums, NBA players tend toward Cadillac Escalades, Hollywood blockbusters on their portable DVD players, and, yes, The Cheesecake Factory.

Probably not a stunning revelation, but here’s what’s interesting: it strikes me that we often see class primarily through the lens of cultural capital, but that economic capital has far greater capacity to make one truly elite. A young college professor making even mid-40s might be seen as upper middle class. Yet, NBA players, though often lacking in cultural capital, are far more elite. They are far more sheltered from the general population. Blogs on the internet spend time thinking about where they eat. Let’s put it this way. Who would you rather meet: a) the most famous living sociologist (e.g., Peter Berger, Doug Massey, Dalton Conley, Eric Klinenberg?), or b) an even moderate NBA star (e.g., Tony Parker, Lamar Odom, Greg Oden)? Nevermind LeBron or Kobe, it would be far more exciting to meet any NBA player (no offense to famous sociologists). But even as removed as NBA players are, their culture tastes make them more accessible than those of cultural elites (i.e., you’re more likely to meet Kobe at TCF than Peter Berger).

I’d love to have some more comments, so if I’m totally missing the boat on class here, please let me know.