On the Joseph V. Paterno Cost of Living Index

Because I have agreed to bequeath both my kidney and my first-born child to the Penn State Alumni Association, I recently received an e-mail alert that Joe Paterno is giving a number of speeches in various cities in upcoming weeks. I assume this is something he has done in the past, and my assumption is that the bulk of the money goes toward the university's athletic department, and given Paterno's relatively modest* salary, I will also presume that there is a noble purpose behind these appearances. But I find this confounding:

On May 5, he will speak in Washington, D.C. And the cost, per person, is $35.

On April 30, he will speak in New York City. And the cost, per person, is $150.

Now, last month, I took my girlfriend to see Fleetwood Mac at Madison Square Garden. Our seats were not ideal--they were, in fact, located in that cheap and tawdry netherworld behind the stage,** where we were surrounded by NYU students dressed up like Stevie Nicks and several dozen overbearing and intoxicated women from Massapequa. But I suppose we went because there was a certain cache to seeing Fleetwood Mac at Madison Square Garden, even if they are 32 years past their prime, even if Chrstine McVie long ago thought better of this idea, even if Mick Fleetwood is now indistinguishable from Animal of the Muppets.

My point is this: My ticket to see Fleetwood Mac at the Garden, even after the Ticketmaster mugging, cost half of what it would cost me to go to the Plaza Hotel to see Joe Paterno tell stories about Matt Millen and Milt Plum and Virgil's Aeneid and life in colonial Williamsburg. And perhaps I am biased, because I grew up in a town where we'd see Joe Paterno at the supermarket, and while I respect his achievements and would most likely defend him against his detractors, I find this price point*** utterly absurd. For this kind of money, I could buy a ticket on the Amtrak Acela, ride down to D.C., listen to the same stories, and have money left over to buy a pair of Nationals season tickets. (In some neighborhoods, I could probably also buy a studio apartment.) For this price, I am hoping that Paterno will sing a duet of "Second-Hand News" with LaVar Arrington. In Central Park. Atop a Clydesdale.

Because that is something I would pay to see.

Not 150 dollars, of course. But perhaps 35.

*In relation to other major college coaches, that is. Not in relation to, say, a professor.
**I spare no expense.
***I am assuming I have used the term "price-point" correctly here, though I can't be sure, since I learned this term by watching The Apprentice.

On Yankee Excess

I have not been to the "new" Yankee Stadium yet, and I do not plan on going to the new Yankee Stadium unless I am somehow kidnapped at the Bowling Green subway stop by ruffians from Morgan Stanley who need someone to help fill their luxury box. In fact, on television, it would appear the new Yankee Stadium looks exactly like the old Yankee Stadium, except it costs three times as much. It's like they've upgraded from a generic pharmaceutical to a brand-name pharmaceutical (which apparently Yankee fans have something of a need for anyway). And as with pharmaceuticals, the only people who can tell the difference between the two are the people making the profits.

However, it's been interesting to witness the backlash against the new Yankee Stadium. In a way, much of this is to be expected--it is the Yankees, after all. But given their bumbling ways, it seems that they've become a cipher for the populist rage that has become so trendy at both extremes of the political spectrum. It is not a good time to be a bloated and unnecessarily gilded American institution, as Matt Taibbi, an undeniably talented writer and reporter who is sort of like the Dave Kingman of the populist screed, proved with this recent evisceration of Yankee GM Brian Cashman.*

I suppose the larger question, at least for me, is: Will it last? It seems we're asking this question of a number of American institutions--whether this trend toward populism is simply a product of the flatlining economy, and if/when the economy turns around, these same major American institutions will once again become bloated with money and self-importance, and if, in another 10-15 years, these same institutions will once again become victims of their own hubris. And in sports, I suppose we can ask the same question. I do think sports truly blew up--in a monetary sense--in the '80's, which is why I chose to write a book about that era; and I don't think there's ever really been a "correction," so to speak. And I'm not saying that salaries will ever trickle back down to a level where Dustin Pedroia will be forced to take a job at a BP Station in the offseason*, but I wonder if the new Yankee Stadium, with its overpriced steakhouses (where, as Paul Lukas informs us, a New York strip will set you back five sawbucks) and its $12.50 beers and its $2500 seats, will become a paean to aughts-decade excess, a monument to a time when the games finally outgrew themselves.

*Though as long as it is not in his hometown, I'll bet could do this job quite well.

(Photo: Julie Jacobson, AP/NYT)