THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, February 11, 1996 TAG: 9602100007
SECTION: COMMENTARY PAGE: J5 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: PAT LACKEY
LENGTH: Medium: 69 lines
Every morning I either:
1. Run four miles with my big dog, Wuffda.
2. See in his eyes profound dejection because the human he holds dearest is letting him down
Rare is the day we miss our run. If Wuffda considered foul weather a legitimate excuse, as I do, we would skip some days. But he's part husky and revels in mud or snow. Once started on our route, once in full, glorious loping stride, we stop for nothing, save every fire hydrant, telephone pole, bush or tree.
Wuffda runs barefoot; I spend a small fortune on running shoes.
The brand I'm running in now escapes me. I just know it's not Nike.
Put another way, I'm not like Mike, unless you count the fact Jordan and I were both cut from our basketball teams our sophomore years. (Actually, I was cut every year.)
I cannot say when it struck me that I never again wanted to see Nike's trademark ``swoosh,'' the shape that resembles a question mark resting.
It might have been when I read about youths shooting each other over $100 Nike sneakers.
It might have been the 2,000th TV commercial suggesting that wearing Nike would make kids better athletes, might even make them be like Mike.
It might have been repeated stories, like the one on Wednesday's sports page, about Nike's power over sports. A $5 billion-a-year company, Nike has been accused of influencing what is aired, especially during the Olympics, when the company buys numerous commercials. Nike grosses nearly as much a year as the NBA, NFL and major-league baseball combined. Sports seem to exist to advertise Nike, so millions of non-athletes will buy that brand.
At one point, the uniforms that Nike will provide the U.S. track and field teams for the Summer Olympics were to include a logo that looked like an elongated U.S. flag, except the company swoosh was substituted for stars in the blue field. Fortunately, the swoosh has been dropped from the elongated flag, presumably because of public pressure.
I remember a better time, and I'm not that old. (If I live to be 104, I'm only half dead.) I remember when brand names meant much less, at least out in little Kansas towns.
What's changed from my youth is this: Americans have gone from defining themselves by what they do to defining themselves by what they own. When what we own is who we are, brand names become all-powerful. They control us. Nike has us by the throat, or at least the foot.
Admiring someone for owning the most expensive Nike sneakers on the market is the dumbest thing I ever heard of. Actually, looking down on someone for not owning expensive Nike sneakers is equally stupid. Also despicable.
As a boy, I greatly admired one local golfer because he could hit the ball a mile and because he loved the game more than anybody else. He never let work interfere with his golf, never made enough money to buy anything nice. His golf bag had huge tears in it, and his clubs were nicked and dull. I admired him for what he did. He played golf well and with great joy and rage.
I couldn't admire Wuffda more if he owned 11 diamond mines and a Corvette.
Early every morning, his possessions (a few toys and torn socks) and my possessions (a house, a van, and some odds and ends) don't matter. What matters is our four miles.
What matters is what we do.
I'm a runner, an editorial writer, a husband, a father, a grandfather. I'm a bunch of things. I am what I do.
We aren't what we own. We aren't the shoes on our feet. MEMO: Mr. Lackey is an editorial writer. by CNB