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The New American Icon: Heroics and Flaws
TONY CASTRO, Columnist 15.FEB.06
Pop culture: Kobe Bryant’s return from the ranks of the outcast is redefining the American hero.
The
ideal place for Kobe Bryant, when he’s not on court at Staples Center,
may be Beverly Hills, specifically Rodeo Drive, which, with its
high-end designer boutiques and Baccarat crystal chandeliers may be the
closest thing this side of the Hope diamond to compare with the
dazzling marquee spectacle that has virtually become Kobe’s trademark.
The
scandal of Colorado will never completely go away. The blame for Shaq’s
departure from the Lakers is still his to deny. The rep for being a
show-boating, ball-hog is justifiable.
But they are simply
warts, minor imperfections like those on Redford’s face, that reminds
one of human vulnerabilities — something that the marketing of
America’s pop culture heroes and superstars has always chosen to
ignore, painting instead a one-dimensional image of all light and no
shadows on the cult icon of the day.
Almost by sheer will,
however, Kobe has forced sports and Madison Avenue to grudgingly grow
up and finally begin portraying today’s superstars in a more accurate
and perhaps more healthy context.
Bryant’s first endorsement
commercial since his fall from grace when he lost all his off-the-court
deals — and tens of millions of dollars — except the big one: Nike.
Nike
may be he only company in the world bold enough to say to Kobe: People,
outside the diehard fans, dislike you. No, they don’t just dislike you,
Kobe. They hate you. But you’ve just scored 81 points in a game. You’re
the best basketball player in the NBA. All those people who hate you
still watch you. So, guess what? No Mickey D’s fluff commercials. We’re
going to build a commercial campaign for your new Nike sneaker based on
how people can’t stand you.
Nike’s commercial for the Zoom Kobe
I debuted last week, which was the reason Bryant found himself at
Niketown in Beverly Hills — within a block and a half of Rodeo Drive —
near midnight last Friday night.
“Love me or hate me, it's one
or the other,” Kobe voice’s says, narrating the commercial showing him
shooting free throws, then doing other drills. “Always has been. Hate
my game, my swagger. Hate my fadeaway, my hunger. Hate that I'm a
veteran. A champion. Hate that. Hate it with all your heart. And hate
that I'm loved, for the exact same reasons.”
It was almost
impossible to find anyone hating Kobe at Niketown, either among those
who packed the store, or among the hordes outside hoping to get inside
or at least catch a glimpse of Bryant in a scene straight out of a
Hollywood nightspot, replete with bouncers, beautifully dressed women
trying to impress and paparazzi hanging on the arrival of whoever was
famous.
“It's truthful,” Bryant said of the Nike commercial that
has been running on the giant videotron screens inside Niketown, just
as they did Friday night. “I think it's important to do ads that are
not as we know ads are usually done. This one is one that is true to
form. It is real, it is honest. We're not selling an image. It's not
like we're trying to polish my image or clean it up.”
But then
sports, like the country, has always been obsessed with image. When
television changed the perception of professional sports, it created
the image of the American sports hero reflecting the heartland of
America: blond, blue-eyed, cornfield-grown, muscular. And it had the
ideal in Mickey Mantle and the sports heroes who followed in his place:
From Johnny Unitas and Jerry West to Joe Montana and Larry Byrd.
Even
black sports heroes reflected that wholesome image, which was why the
smiling Ervin “Magic” Johnson was such an appeal but why the brooding
Kareem Abdul Jabbar never was. Even Muhammad Ali had his troubles with
Madison Avenue, which may account in part for why Joe Frazier, with his
patriotic image, was such a favorite in mainstream America when the two
fought.
Today, the sports industry still bristles when it
hears someone like Olympic skier Bode Miller talk candidly about having
once skiied while intoxicated, which was probably true, but perhaps
rings too close to the fact that professional sports have become
overrun by the athletes’ use of steroids, uppers, and any
performance-enhancing supplement that promises an extra edge.
Now,
for better or worse, Kobe Bryant has returned from the land of the
outcasts to today’s Mt. Olympus of pop culture heroes whom society
seems to need, much like religion and myths, because heroes express a
deep psychological aspect of human existence. They can be seen as
metaphors for the human search of self-knowledge.
In that sense,
Kobe Bryant has come to reflect the appearance and values of the
dominant society in the world. He is the hero of America’s romance with
forgiveness, its celebration of redemption, a nation’s Arthurian-like
self-confidence in its ability to to overcome even the worst of
nightmares with an over-achievement that allows us to think that might
sometimes does make right.
For most of history, religion has
been the main vehicle for reproducing the dominant society’s traits,
using mythical figures to illustrate moral and societal principles that
help form a common social conception of such things as death and gender
roles.
The evolution, or maybe revolution, in technology, race
relations, security and the very fabric of national culture, of which
Americans can no longer whimsically reassure themselves, has changed
America’s psyche. As the poet Rolf Humphries noted, in the profession
of anxiousness, there is an element of fashion.
Today, part of
that fashion is the scarred hero like Bryant — perhaps not the
Arthurian archetypal hero but more like Achilles and Hector: heroes
revered for their ability to overcome the shortcomings of simply being
human but finally having to succumb to those weaknesses.
The
greatness of Kobe, in a way, does reflect the greatness of the country
— one that is severely flawed but that seeks redemption amid the search
for lost idealism.
Tony Castro can be reached at tcastro@laindependent.com.
Tony Castro Archives
 
26.JUL.06 The melancholy prince of undercover cops
07.JUN.06 What the election means to Villaraigosa
17.MAY.06 Give us this day, our daily bread
10.MAY.06 Looking for Hemingway
22.FEB.06 Ludlow: The End of the Mayor's Honeymoon?
15.FEB.06 The New American Icon: Heroics and Flaws
18.JAN.06 Villaraigosa: 'I Want My Picture on That Wall'
22.NOV.05 The Remaking of Los Angeles - Part II
16.NOV.05 The Remaking of Los Angeles
09.NOV.05 Political Pickup Lines and Romancing the City
19.OCT.05 Getting Stars to Give Back to Hollywood Blvd.
12.OCT.05 Rod Stewart at 60: D'ya Think He's Still Sexy?
05.OCT.05 Villaraigosaizing the Urban Blighted Dodgers
21.SEP.05 'The Villaraigosas of Hancock Park'
17.AUG.05 Cover Story: Having a Nose for Michael
13.JUL.05 Cover Story: L.A. and the Jedi Mayor
25.MAY.05 Theme Songs for Antonio Villaraigosa
04.MAY.05 Can Hahn Steal the Thunder?
09.FEB.05 Cover Story: The Inevitability of Jim Hahn
02.FEB.05 Cover Story: The Power of Coach K
26.JAN.05 Cover Story: An American in Cuba
19.JAN.05 Cover Story: 'The Earth Is Cracking!'
12.JAN.05 Cover Story: 'Jim Morrison Is Alive'
29.DEC.04 The Best and The Brightest of 2004
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