Line between activity for fun or money
I watched football on television the other night. As might be
expected, there were star player biographies, manicured young women with
microphones interviewing coaches field-side, plugs for the program's
sponsor (Nike) and cheerleaders in thigh-skimming skirts.
What was unusual about the program was that the players were
teenagers and the game was nationally televised, a California high
school game I could see in New York. The players' on-camera biographies
were a bit abbreviated; what kind of history does a 15-year-old have,
after all? And the cheerleaders were not merely trussed up to look like
teenagers - they were bona fide underage.
Football games aren't the only children's competitions now being
broadcast nationally. So are spelling bees (this year the national
championship was broadcast on ABC) and Little League championship games
(also on ABC). There has also been a recent spate of reality and variety
television shows centering around child performances. On "America's Got
Talent," 11-year-old Bianca Ryan won $1 million this summer for singing
a Jennifer Holliday song as if she were a 50-year-old musical theatre
vet.
Live telecasting
Televising youth championships on ABC, Fox Sports, NBC, MTV and ESPN
blurs the line between activity for fun and activity for money. School
football teams are reputed to earn from $2,000 to tens of thousands a
game: one coach estimated in an article in this paper that Nike had
invested $20,000 a year in his team and that the team had sometimes kept
thousands in concession revenues.
The networks also pay for the teams' travel - in one instance, travel
in a private jet. Sponsors of football and Little League, which include
makers of not-so-sporting processed foods like Snapple and Kellogg's
Frosted Flakes, also stand to profit.
But what's particularly dubious about these televised competitions is
the culture of competition they reflect and foster.
That culture can be one that produces phantom economics and promises
stardom, like we see on wealth-saturated youth reality shows like
"Laguna Beach." But it is also a more conventional kind of rivalry,
revealing children at their moments of triumph and failure to millions
of people. Forever, these media-ready competitors will have to carry the
legacy of having been either humiliated by the broadcast of their losses
or frozen in the inflated image of their wins.
Prioritising commercials
During one nationally televised high school football game I watched,
the commercials between plays - for a male weight-loss formula and a
cream that promised to prevent balding, for example - seemed to indicate
that the viewers were on the antique side of youth, perhaps frozen into
a state of mind of their own: nostalgia, perhaps nostalgia for the
future that adult viewers had imagined for themselves in the past.
But one way or another, grown-up viewers of televised youth
competitions find themselves contorted into an odd position. We become
talent agents, recruiters and connoisseurs of precocity, judging the
young competitors on their seamlessness and, ironically, how
un-childlike they are.
As one judge said to Bianca Ryan in front of millions of viewers, if
she just changed her shoes, her hair and her dress, she would win the
competition. In other words, if she became more adult-looking -
varnished herself into a post-pubescent chanteuse - she would win.
Youth competitions can certainly have positive effects. They can
expand children's social worlds, make them feel less isolated and give
them a sense of mastery and discipline. But when TV cameras are added to
the mix, the stakes can change. At televised competitions, I have seen
children turn their faces away from the cameras so that their tears
wouldn't be visible - the pathos of the losers when forced to confront
the winners being filmed.
Even some of the winners responded with self-consciousness. Watching
this happen in real time convinced me that high school football games,
spelling bees and other pageants and competitions of youth should be
witnessed in actual fields, halls and stadiums rather than on television
sets.
Childhood is ostensibly a more private period of life than adulthood.
By that logic, camera crews shouldn't be trailing the winners and losers
of children's contests. After all, youth contests are meant, at best, to
excite children to learn and to practice, not to be the beginning of
their relationships with recruiters, publicists and media trainers.
(New York Times)
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