The Yanks are the Champions again and I love it.
This statement brings a lot of heat under many people's bums. People hate the Yankees, like they do paying interest or parking tickets. The old and tired out-mantra is “They are what are wrong with sports.”
Why? Can someone explain this to me?
The owner of the Yankees bought the team for like $10 million dollars back in the 70’s. The team was good, but not great. He cares about the team so much that he would make game-day calls, and instructs managers about who is playing and who isn’t. He lives and breathes his team more than any fan ever could. With this ambition he has earned 11 pennants to hang on the wall.
With this passion he has dumped millions, if not billions, into his team. They are a professional franchise like a McDonalds or a Burger King, only instead of pushing “Burger Buddies” they are there to entertain the world and sell merchandise. And what’s wrong with that?
He had done this better than any other franchise owner has… EVER. He has several rings, a top-notch line-up, rappers, and foreigners, Midwesterners, west-coasters, celebrities and possibly billions of folks sporting the Yankee hat. His stadium is full of movie-stars, athletes, families and both haters and lovers of the team paying just to sit there and enjoy the team.
From firsthand knowledge I know it takes about $100 to scalp a decent ticket outside of Yankee Stadium and people pay that without a thought for a regular season game. There is no other stadium I’m aware of that can scalp this amount after the game has started.
We love the Yankees. Others LOVE to hate the Yankees, but either way—there seems to be a lot of love.
The real problem these “haters” have, can be better understood within the faults of their own team. So many franchise owners don’t want to be involved, don’t want to invest in a team and would rather move a team than foot the bill for their purchase. That is why so many teams like the dodgers, athletics and nationals have moved around. Greedy owners would rather take what they can get than invest in the franchise they are responsible for.
On top of all of that, my favorite player growing up was Don Mattingly. He was an Indiana guy and an amazing hitter. His nickname was the “hit man” and he had no ego what-so-ever. He just showed up in his trademark mustache and mullet and did his thing. He never swung at the first pitch, always stayed humble, and had no enemies.
Don was as loyal to the Yankees as I was to him. I had as many of his baseball cards as I could, and I never traded them. In fact, I would trade more valuable cards left and right to acquire Don’s rookie card. Mattingly wasn’t a super-star by any respect and typically one of my best friends, Gavin, would be the grinning recipient of my overly-loyal, overly-stupid trades. He would often just smile at me, knowing he could sucker out my Conseco rookie for his Mattingly.
Sadly for Don, he never won a ring. The Yankees had a couple good years in the 80’s but generally never had a chance. His team was weak and he never got close to winning a ring. The closest was his last year when the Mariners beat the Yanks in the playoffs and ending his career. I will never forget the Mariners for this either. But Mattingly showed me loyalty like none other. He played his entire career with the Yankees. I became a huge Yankee fan because of this, and I’ve never stopped.
Today, the Yankees have a squad I like—previously, I loved the team, but some of the players were suspect. This crew is great. They have a crew of guys that haven’t played for anyone else except the Yankees like Derek Jeter, Mariano Rivera, Jorge Posada and Andy Pettitte (minus the 3 years with Houston a few years ago). These guys started playing together as rookies back in 1995 and won a championship together 14 years later! You have to love that! That is only possible because the Yankees have stayed in the same place, the same team, same fans, same heart – for years. Being a Yankees fan is being a part of an incredibly rich tradition.
Then you have the “new” batch like Robinson Cano, Hideki Matsui (Godzilla!), Joba and so many more that haven’t worn any other jersey and they’re loving it too.
Granted, the Yankee’s owner isn’t the most popular man in sports, but the guy loves baseball more than I bet most baseball players do. He has joked and been joked about his hire-fire-hire-fire episodes with managers, telling managers who was going to start and yada yada. But the man loves the sport he is investing in and you have to appreciate that.
He has a great sense of humor too. He has starred in commercials making fun of his hand, tired from writing checks to Jeter, his constant firing and hiring of managers, and was a regular in Seinfeld episodes where George Costanza worked for him.
The Yankees are beyond baseball. This is because of their loyal and dedicated owner, players and fans, of which I am proud to be one.
There is nothing to dislike about that.
Go YANKS! Respect.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
To Coug it.
I had the pleasure of going to Eugene with three great friends this last Saturday to watch my Washington State Cougars battle the Oregon Ducks.
Being a Coug aint easy. At one point in recent years we were the #3 team in the nation and were well on our way to a major BCS College Football Bowl. We were psyched and we were finally ready for something good to come our way.
Well, the one-way street to fun-town turned into a U-turn back to nowhere. We lost our last game to an unranked and un-respected Washington Husky team in our annual Apple Cup. We Coug’d it. We Coug’d it bad. We then put our claws away, tucked our tails and slinkered down to the Rose Bowl and lost to the Oklahoma Sooners—which ironically, the game couldn’t end any “sooner.”
To “Coug it” is a term known to all northwestern college sports fans. The term could be defined as: anything good that comes to a hault in a quick, sudden and laughable manner.
Bode Miller “Coug’d it” in the last winter Olympics.
Al Gore “Coug’d it” in the 2000 election.
Pee-Wee Herman “Coug’d it” when enjoying his movies.
AND the BIGGEST most literal “Coug it” award goes to Ryan Leaf (a Coug). Leaf was drafted number two behind Peyton Manning and is arguably known as the biggest flop in all of sports history. So—that is the history that embraces every Washington State Cougar fan across the nation.
Going down to Eugene was awesome. We had tunes, fun and food on the drive down, and friendly sports banter in the car and everywhere else we stopped, as just about every car on I-5 was headed to Eugene’s Autzen Stadium for the game. The two Duck fans in the care were strangely silent as we headed further south—most likely because they knew the traps had been placed out on the field and the sharp shooters were ready to tranquilize our team of kittens in a few hours.
This is because the Cougs… kinda suck. I mean that in a loving way, like how parents have children that play soccer, but spend half their time picking flowers and swinging from the goal posts. Parents can love their kids… and still know the team they play for is terrible.
We have a true freshman starting at quarterback. In fact, we had more than 5 true freshmen starting on the field due to so many injuries. We were predicted to win zero games this year and we’re following that line pretty closely. We had low expectations going into the season, but we did still hope to make a game or two out of the season.
The state of the team is sad and has been weighing on me a bit. I look at Oregon… a team whose facilities are so nice that any player that leaves for the NFL is making a step down compared to the state-of-the-art facilities in Eugene. Thanks to NIKE, they enjoy one of the nicest Stadiums in all of football (NFL included). They have like 20 different jersey combinations and even “announce” what they will be wearing on game day. They have endless money and a great team to show for it.
In contrast, the Cougs have no money and a laughable stadium that seats a lowly 30,000 people. There are high school stadiums in Texas that seat nearly that many. Deep down, this bothers me and every other Coug. There is a certain animosity that builds and brews within us and we need to lash out on occasion. We love our Cougs. We love anyone and everyone that went to WSU and is still proud to show their colors. We love them so much that we are hurt when other people bash on our team. It really hurts us when the superior team has duck whistles blaring at us.
As the game neared, while we sat in the bar, this animosity hit me like the Ducks were about to hit the Cougs. I looked around the room and saw Ducks, all of whom claim to hate the Washington Huskies, rooting for them against Notre Dame. (This is because of a BSC ranking… the Ducks play the Huskies later in the season—so the better the Huskies, the better the Ducks fair if they beat them). This sent me into a Duck-envy disgust.
“What the hell!” I kept saying to my Duck and Coug friends.
“These guys have no sense of loyalty… they are just football sluts, willing to root for anyone if it might help them!”
I then turned to my Cougar friend “When was the last time you saw a Coug root for a Husky?” He said, “Never.” And I was relieved. The Ducks might be a better team, but we’ve got them trumped in the loyalty department.
Looking back, I wish I wasn’t so annoyed. I was just blinded with Duck-envy. Like when people go into a rage and they seed red, well the room was covered in bright, “highlighter-yellow” and it was driving me insane.
We headed to the stadium. Us Cougs know we are going to lose, but hoped to at least make it a game. Outside of Autzen there are marble “X’s” and “O’s” signifying a play chart for a football play. I was pumped and ran through it, spinning and dodging these marble letters as if I were making a game saving touchdown. “Ouch!” I spun a little too tight and messed up my elbow. I should have known right then and there the hurt was about to be so much worse.
We walked in and found our seats among the sea of yellow. After walking by what seemed like 20 inflatable Daffy Ducks (yes, along with Nike, Oregon has a deal with Disney’s Donald), and hearing Duck calls from 80,000 fans, I was ready to see the Cougs silence this gaudy team.
Within the first couple minutes… “TOUCHDOWN OREGON!” Followed by another and another and another and another “TOUCHDOWN OREGON!” My Duck friend consoled us two Cougs as we rested our heads in our hands. Our “star” freshmen quarterback was hurt after his 3rd pass. Our team was playing like a high school football team with moments of pee-wee league action.
The fans surrounding us were kind. They checked in on us to make sure we weren’t going to injure ourselves.
We were close to doing that though... really close.
So we leave at halftime, drink some beers, hang out and find some folks to talk to. We find some fellow Cougs walking around in misery. When we identify each other we light up and take delight in our shared misery. In fact, misery does love company. We talk, laugh and take some comfort in knowing that indeed it will be a long trip back. The mood is lightened with introduction of a beer garden--Huskies, Ducks; Cougs… just about everyone is having a good time.
We go back to our seats and “enjoy” the rest of the game. It was a blow-out. It was a terrible game for everyone there (from a sporting event standpoint) and those watching it on TV. It was miserable.
But we had a great time. We were in good company, went to some bars and enjoyed the rest of the night. I still resent the Ducks in an irrational way, but was happy how they treated us for the most part and had a good time in Eugene.
I really don’t have a point to this, except to say—I’m sorry.
I’m sorry to the Ducks fans that annoyed me while cheering for the Huskies.
I’m sorry to the pavement I stomped on while leaving the game.
I’m sorry to muscles on my face I exhausted while frowning and leaving my jaw wide-open.
I had a great time with great people and even though the Cougs “Coug’d” on a massive scale, I love that team and I’m glad I got to see them play.
I’m a Coug. I know we will be great for a couple years and sub-par for most. I can’t WAIT for the next time we Coug it, because that will mean that even though we blew something great… at least we had something to blow.
I miss those days.
Being a Coug aint easy. At one point in recent years we were the #3 team in the nation and were well on our way to a major BCS College Football Bowl. We were psyched and we were finally ready for something good to come our way.
Well, the one-way street to fun-town turned into a U-turn back to nowhere. We lost our last game to an unranked and un-respected Washington Husky team in our annual Apple Cup. We Coug’d it. We Coug’d it bad. We then put our claws away, tucked our tails and slinkered down to the Rose Bowl and lost to the Oklahoma Sooners—which ironically, the game couldn’t end any “sooner.”
To “Coug it” is a term known to all northwestern college sports fans. The term could be defined as: anything good that comes to a hault in a quick, sudden and laughable manner.
Bode Miller “Coug’d it” in the last winter Olympics.
Al Gore “Coug’d it” in the 2000 election.
Pee-Wee Herman “Coug’d it” when enjoying his movies.
AND the BIGGEST most literal “Coug it” award goes to Ryan Leaf (a Coug). Leaf was drafted number two behind Peyton Manning and is arguably known as the biggest flop in all of sports history. So—that is the history that embraces every Washington State Cougar fan across the nation.
Going down to Eugene was awesome. We had tunes, fun and food on the drive down, and friendly sports banter in the car and everywhere else we stopped, as just about every car on I-5 was headed to Eugene’s Autzen Stadium for the game. The two Duck fans in the care were strangely silent as we headed further south—most likely because they knew the traps had been placed out on the field and the sharp shooters were ready to tranquilize our team of kittens in a few hours.
This is because the Cougs… kinda suck. I mean that in a loving way, like how parents have children that play soccer, but spend half their time picking flowers and swinging from the goal posts. Parents can love their kids… and still know the team they play for is terrible.
We have a true freshman starting at quarterback. In fact, we had more than 5 true freshmen starting on the field due to so many injuries. We were predicted to win zero games this year and we’re following that line pretty closely. We had low expectations going into the season, but we did still hope to make a game or two out of the season.
The state of the team is sad and has been weighing on me a bit. I look at Oregon… a team whose facilities are so nice that any player that leaves for the NFL is making a step down compared to the state-of-the-art facilities in Eugene. Thanks to NIKE, they enjoy one of the nicest Stadiums in all of football (NFL included). They have like 20 different jersey combinations and even “announce” what they will be wearing on game day. They have endless money and a great team to show for it.
In contrast, the Cougs have no money and a laughable stadium that seats a lowly 30,000 people. There are high school stadiums in Texas that seat nearly that many. Deep down, this bothers me and every other Coug. There is a certain animosity that builds and brews within us and we need to lash out on occasion. We love our Cougs. We love anyone and everyone that went to WSU and is still proud to show their colors. We love them so much that we are hurt when other people bash on our team. It really hurts us when the superior team has duck whistles blaring at us.
As the game neared, while we sat in the bar, this animosity hit me like the Ducks were about to hit the Cougs. I looked around the room and saw Ducks, all of whom claim to hate the Washington Huskies, rooting for them against Notre Dame. (This is because of a BSC ranking… the Ducks play the Huskies later in the season—so the better the Huskies, the better the Ducks fair if they beat them). This sent me into a Duck-envy disgust.
“What the hell!” I kept saying to my Duck and Coug friends.
“These guys have no sense of loyalty… they are just football sluts, willing to root for anyone if it might help them!”
I then turned to my Cougar friend “When was the last time you saw a Coug root for a Husky?” He said, “Never.” And I was relieved. The Ducks might be a better team, but we’ve got them trumped in the loyalty department.
Looking back, I wish I wasn’t so annoyed. I was just blinded with Duck-envy. Like when people go into a rage and they seed red, well the room was covered in bright, “highlighter-yellow” and it was driving me insane.
We headed to the stadium. Us Cougs know we are going to lose, but hoped to at least make it a game. Outside of Autzen there are marble “X’s” and “O’s” signifying a play chart for a football play. I was pumped and ran through it, spinning and dodging these marble letters as if I were making a game saving touchdown. “Ouch!” I spun a little too tight and messed up my elbow. I should have known right then and there the hurt was about to be so much worse.
We walked in and found our seats among the sea of yellow. After walking by what seemed like 20 inflatable Daffy Ducks (yes, along with Nike, Oregon has a deal with Disney’s Donald), and hearing Duck calls from 80,000 fans, I was ready to see the Cougs silence this gaudy team.
Within the first couple minutes… “TOUCHDOWN OREGON!” Followed by another and another and another and another “TOUCHDOWN OREGON!” My Duck friend consoled us two Cougs as we rested our heads in our hands. Our “star” freshmen quarterback was hurt after his 3rd pass. Our team was playing like a high school football team with moments of pee-wee league action.
The fans surrounding us were kind. They checked in on us to make sure we weren’t going to injure ourselves.
We were close to doing that though... really close.
So we leave at halftime, drink some beers, hang out and find some folks to talk to. We find some fellow Cougs walking around in misery. When we identify each other we light up and take delight in our shared misery. In fact, misery does love company. We talk, laugh and take some comfort in knowing that indeed it will be a long trip back. The mood is lightened with introduction of a beer garden--Huskies, Ducks; Cougs… just about everyone is having a good time.
We go back to our seats and “enjoy” the rest of the game. It was a blow-out. It was a terrible game for everyone there (from a sporting event standpoint) and those watching it on TV. It was miserable.
But we had a great time. We were in good company, went to some bars and enjoyed the rest of the night. I still resent the Ducks in an irrational way, but was happy how they treated us for the most part and had a good time in Eugene.
I really don’t have a point to this, except to say—I’m sorry.
I’m sorry to the Ducks fans that annoyed me while cheering for the Huskies.
I’m sorry to the pavement I stomped on while leaving the game.
I’m sorry to muscles on my face I exhausted while frowning and leaving my jaw wide-open.
I had a great time with great people and even though the Cougs “Coug’d” on a massive scale, I love that team and I’m glad I got to see them play.
I’m a Coug. I know we will be great for a couple years and sub-par for most. I can’t WAIT for the next time we Coug it, because that will mean that even though we blew something great… at least we had something to blow.
I miss those days.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
My Muppet Show
Now that I’m all grown up, I have found a character reminiscent of Fraggle Rock, Sesame Street and the Muppet Show combined. This is a show where a character throws toys, illustrates points with various props, and assumes absurd voices to entertain the audience. The main character reminds me of the Swedish Chef from the Muppet Show, and that character is: Glenn Beck.
Although similar, there is one glaring difference between the Muppet Show and Beck; Beck isn’t as funny or nearly entertaining.
Don’t get me wrong… I respect Beck for speaking his mind and having an outlet for it. He is under fire right now and I don’t think he deserves all of it. He just expresses his feelings, beyond corporate control and is paying a toll for right now. I don’t like that fact that advertisers have so much control over what we hear and are exposed to. Who knows what Clorox would prefer we hear? I respect Beck for going against it.
However, the content and the methods of Beck put me into a frantic panic. I can’t believe that there is an audience that finds value to complex policy being broken down with Barbie dolls as illustration tools.
I drive several hours a day to work several days a week. I often listen to conservative talk as my morning coffee which makes the time fly. I listen to it because I like to see what “the other side” is saying, something that drives my poor wife nuts. Even though I don’t care for Limbaugh or Larson, I can deal with them. But when listening to Beck, I have to think of my wife, family and my future to keep myself from t-boning my car into a guardrail.
Give Beck a week of listening and one might sell all of their possessions, tell their friends and family goodbye, and move to a storage shed somewhere in Wyoming. While you’re selling your goods off, Beck will tell you a great place to keep your financial assets: gold.
You would think Beck was a miner as he peddles gold every 10 minutes. Even “Cash For Gold” heroes MC Hammer or the late Ed McMahon would blush watching Beck pleading for his listeners to buy gold. He justifies this as a safe place as our Country crumbles, forgetting the most simple of concepts. If the global economy crumbles, the value of gold will go down respectively. Can you imagine living in a shanty, washing clothes out of the sewage line, but wasting money on a gold necklace?
The most absurd and bizarre statement that Beck made that inspired me to write this post is his declaration of the Constitution as literally sacred. Make no mistake, my use of literally, wasn’t figuratively, but actually literally.
As a Christian and an American, I am offended. I don’t know if this was a cheap attempt to capture the conservative audience or a ratings ploy… either way it bothered me.
The Constitution, which has been amended for the better many times over, is considered sacred? The same document that had to be amended to abolish slavery, provide for the freedom of speech and expression, women’s suffrage etc. How can a document that has been amended so many times be sacred? Only a Muppet like Beck could make a statement like that. And who’s to say what God thinks of our Constitution? I value our Constitution and believe it should be defended… but sacred and blessed by God?
Among other problems and hypocrisies aligned with Beck are his criticism of Wall Street, yet the defense of executive bonuses like to AIG executive, his bashing of AmeriCorps as being indoctrination, and again, the most annoying, his constant peddling of gold.
I respect Beck like I do a crazy street performer. Proud of their act, no matter what any rational human being thinks. Yes, he is entertaining. Yes, he is a voice for many of those out there. And yes, he will buy your gold.
Listen to Beck when you get a chance and see what you will. As long as I live, I will stand by his side to defend his right to speech. The bonus for me though... is I get an adult version of the Swedish Chef every afternoon.
Good cooking,
Cam
Although similar, there is one glaring difference between the Muppet Show and Beck; Beck isn’t as funny or nearly entertaining.
Don’t get me wrong… I respect Beck for speaking his mind and having an outlet for it. He is under fire right now and I don’t think he deserves all of it. He just expresses his feelings, beyond corporate control and is paying a toll for right now. I don’t like that fact that advertisers have so much control over what we hear and are exposed to. Who knows what Clorox would prefer we hear? I respect Beck for going against it.
However, the content and the methods of Beck put me into a frantic panic. I can’t believe that there is an audience that finds value to complex policy being broken down with Barbie dolls as illustration tools.
I drive several hours a day to work several days a week. I often listen to conservative talk as my morning coffee which makes the time fly. I listen to it because I like to see what “the other side” is saying, something that drives my poor wife nuts. Even though I don’t care for Limbaugh or Larson, I can deal with them. But when listening to Beck, I have to think of my wife, family and my future to keep myself from t-boning my car into a guardrail.
Give Beck a week of listening and one might sell all of their possessions, tell their friends and family goodbye, and move to a storage shed somewhere in Wyoming. While you’re selling your goods off, Beck will tell you a great place to keep your financial assets: gold.
You would think Beck was a miner as he peddles gold every 10 minutes. Even “Cash For Gold” heroes MC Hammer or the late Ed McMahon would blush watching Beck pleading for his listeners to buy gold. He justifies this as a safe place as our Country crumbles, forgetting the most simple of concepts. If the global economy crumbles, the value of gold will go down respectively. Can you imagine living in a shanty, washing clothes out of the sewage line, but wasting money on a gold necklace?
The most absurd and bizarre statement that Beck made that inspired me to write this post is his declaration of the Constitution as literally sacred. Make no mistake, my use of literally, wasn’t figuratively, but actually literally.
As a Christian and an American, I am offended. I don’t know if this was a cheap attempt to capture the conservative audience or a ratings ploy… either way it bothered me.
The Constitution, which has been amended for the better many times over, is considered sacred? The same document that had to be amended to abolish slavery, provide for the freedom of speech and expression, women’s suffrage etc. How can a document that has been amended so many times be sacred? Only a Muppet like Beck could make a statement like that. And who’s to say what God thinks of our Constitution? I value our Constitution and believe it should be defended… but sacred and blessed by God?
Among other problems and hypocrisies aligned with Beck are his criticism of Wall Street, yet the defense of executive bonuses like to AIG executive, his bashing of AmeriCorps as being indoctrination, and again, the most annoying, his constant peddling of gold.
I respect Beck like I do a crazy street performer. Proud of their act, no matter what any rational human being thinks. Yes, he is entertaining. Yes, he is a voice for many of those out there. And yes, he will buy your gold.
Listen to Beck when you get a chance and see what you will. As long as I live, I will stand by his side to defend his right to speech. The bonus for me though... is I get an adult version of the Swedish Chef every afternoon.
Good cooking,
Cam
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Preponderance of justice
I have recently witnessed the greatest situational comedy I have seen in a long time. It is full of desperate pleas, characters, twists, bizarre tales, baffling plots and comical spin that will have the most experienced legal professional dropping their jaws: it is Traffic Court.
The (only) beauty of traffic court is that it embraces everyone. From the county’s most hardened criminals to the 80-year-old Grandmother and every soccer mom in between. Regardless of the person and even the infraction, they all come to court with one thing in common – they come prepared to fight. They arm themselves with full-sized blow-up diagrams, photos, paperwork, statutory codes… everything to attempt to prove their innocence. The crowd is diverse – bicyclists, foreigners with student visas struggling with English, the elderly, college kids, punks and professionals – all awaiting the same fate. Some are pacing, reciting their lines to make sure they nail the part. Others are visibly upset that they had to waste their time in traffic court, only to battle the inevitable insurance adjustment coming their way. Then there are those that brought their kids and spouses to try to help persuade the scales of justice to tilt their way.
Even better than the diverse people groups is the various styles of dress represented. Folks in bicycle clothing (either with suspended licenses or bicycle infractions), women wearing low-cut blouses and/or hiked up skirts, and men wearing suits or their best button-up shirt to help add some credibility to their statements.
Traffic court is a dark comedy that will make you cry if you have the opportunity to sit in, whether as an extra or participant.
Most people prepare solid cases, but even corporate lawyers who put together a bullet-proof case are in for a real surprise in traffic court. For those that love Law and Order, prepare to be upset. Yes, there are bailiffs, security guards, jury seating, microphones and a judge. There is one glaringly obvious thing missing, however: law. The law of the land has been amended for you on your special day in traffic court. You are best to forget everything you’ve even known about how our legal system works, and instead prepare yourself for more of a Kangaroo court than a trial. Traffic court is a court that even Judge Judy wouldn’t feel comfortable taking part in.
The burden of proof in today’s traffic court is the “preponderance of evidence.” Sounds official, but what is it? Nobody is exactly sure, but in the judges’ words at my personal traffic court episode (arraignment), “if you probably did it, you will be guilty.” This is the standard by which most traffic courts operate.
Preponderance of evidence— in Miller v. Minister of Pensions it was determined “more probable than not.” In other words, if the officer “proves” there is over a 50% chance that you did it… you are guilty. All they have to prove is that it probably happened. It quite literally could go down like this:
Judge: Officer, did he do it?
Officer: Um… probably?
Judge: Guilty then. Next!
This standard has been questioned for years… a quick Google search will show you all the headaches this has caused for lawyers and judges. For starters, why would an officer cite a motorist if it probably didn’t happen? Justice is holding a stacked deck against you from the start.
How does one “prove” it didn’t’ happen? You can’t, and that’s just the thing. That is why in our real legal system, the prosecution has to prove that something DID happen. The prosecution can’t prove something did happen though, because…
Enter my favorite traffic court morsel to chew on: the phantom prosecution. There is none. Even though the state/city claims to be the plaintiff and the court docket backs this up, nobody shows up to court. The only person that does show up, (unless you’re lucky) is the friendly officer that put you in this mess to begin with. Don’t worry though, the court has made sure that the officer is scheduled to work that and hopefully your employer is okay with your skipping out to have your day in traffic court.
So, the officer gets to wear several hats in this preponderance party: plaintiff AND prosecutor… AND the STAR WITNESS against you. How handy! It is, therefore, your word against the word of the plaintiff/traffic expert witness/prosecutor/co-worker of the judge that will be making the ruling!
Clearly, the cards are stacked. The fix is in and the only way not to get railroaded is to have a third party rule the case i.e. a jury decision. Right? Wrong. Only in real life law. You can thank your friendly courthouse for making that NOT an option, at least in the State of Oregon. So what do you do? Complain, say it ain’t so, and pay it. That is how it was designed, what is expected and what you will do.
In fairness, you do have a few other options. You can choose to end on a cliff-hanger and plead not guilty, taking your chances that the judge will not like what you have to say and will actually INCREASE your fine. The judge will probably even tell you he’s likely to increase your charges to deter you from actually wasting any of his time by arguing your case. Another option is simply cutting your losses, pleading no contest or guilty and hoping that the judge take pity on you. Maybe if you’re one of the lucky people who thought ahead, he will take pity on your kids or your spouse or maybe if you are doubly lucky, he or she enjoyed the clothing you opted to wear. Maybe.
Once all is said and done, all you can do is walk over to the Clerk, donning your big “I’m a loser” judgment sheet and ask what you are expected to pay. At this point, the only bit of fairness you can still hope to gleam from the system is to declare a payment plan. Yes, they’ll get your money, but it will be drawn out over as much time as legally possible. Then at least you are leaving as a loser… on a payment plan.
The (only) beauty of traffic court is that it embraces everyone. From the county’s most hardened criminals to the 80-year-old Grandmother and every soccer mom in between. Regardless of the person and even the infraction, they all come to court with one thing in common – they come prepared to fight. They arm themselves with full-sized blow-up diagrams, photos, paperwork, statutory codes… everything to attempt to prove their innocence. The crowd is diverse – bicyclists, foreigners with student visas struggling with English, the elderly, college kids, punks and professionals – all awaiting the same fate. Some are pacing, reciting their lines to make sure they nail the part. Others are visibly upset that they had to waste their time in traffic court, only to battle the inevitable insurance adjustment coming their way. Then there are those that brought their kids and spouses to try to help persuade the scales of justice to tilt their way.
Even better than the diverse people groups is the various styles of dress represented. Folks in bicycle clothing (either with suspended licenses or bicycle infractions), women wearing low-cut blouses and/or hiked up skirts, and men wearing suits or their best button-up shirt to help add some credibility to their statements.
Traffic court is a dark comedy that will make you cry if you have the opportunity to sit in, whether as an extra or participant.
Most people prepare solid cases, but even corporate lawyers who put together a bullet-proof case are in for a real surprise in traffic court. For those that love Law and Order, prepare to be upset. Yes, there are bailiffs, security guards, jury seating, microphones and a judge. There is one glaringly obvious thing missing, however: law. The law of the land has been amended for you on your special day in traffic court. You are best to forget everything you’ve even known about how our legal system works, and instead prepare yourself for more of a Kangaroo court than a trial. Traffic court is a court that even Judge Judy wouldn’t feel comfortable taking part in.
The burden of proof in today’s traffic court is the “preponderance of evidence.” Sounds official, but what is it? Nobody is exactly sure, but in the judges’ words at my personal traffic court episode (arraignment), “if you probably did it, you will be guilty.” This is the standard by which most traffic courts operate.
Preponderance of evidence— in Miller v. Minister of Pensions it was determined “more probable than not.” In other words, if the officer “proves” there is over a 50% chance that you did it… you are guilty. All they have to prove is that it probably happened. It quite literally could go down like this:
Judge: Officer, did he do it?
Officer: Um… probably?
Judge: Guilty then. Next!
This standard has been questioned for years… a quick Google search will show you all the headaches this has caused for lawyers and judges. For starters, why would an officer cite a motorist if it probably didn’t happen? Justice is holding a stacked deck against you from the start.
How does one “prove” it didn’t’ happen? You can’t, and that’s just the thing. That is why in our real legal system, the prosecution has to prove that something DID happen. The prosecution can’t prove something did happen though, because…
Enter my favorite traffic court morsel to chew on: the phantom prosecution. There is none. Even though the state/city claims to be the plaintiff and the court docket backs this up, nobody shows up to court. The only person that does show up, (unless you’re lucky) is the friendly officer that put you in this mess to begin with. Don’t worry though, the court has made sure that the officer is scheduled to work that and hopefully your employer is okay with your skipping out to have your day in traffic court.
So, the officer gets to wear several hats in this preponderance party: plaintiff AND prosecutor… AND the STAR WITNESS against you. How handy! It is, therefore, your word against the word of the plaintiff/traffic expert witness/prosecutor/co-worker of the judge that will be making the ruling!
Clearly, the cards are stacked. The fix is in and the only way not to get railroaded is to have a third party rule the case i.e. a jury decision. Right? Wrong. Only in real life law. You can thank your friendly courthouse for making that NOT an option, at least in the State of Oregon. So what do you do? Complain, say it ain’t so, and pay it. That is how it was designed, what is expected and what you will do.
In fairness, you do have a few other options. You can choose to end on a cliff-hanger and plead not guilty, taking your chances that the judge will not like what you have to say and will actually INCREASE your fine. The judge will probably even tell you he’s likely to increase your charges to deter you from actually wasting any of his time by arguing your case. Another option is simply cutting your losses, pleading no contest or guilty and hoping that the judge take pity on you. Maybe if you’re one of the lucky people who thought ahead, he will take pity on your kids or your spouse or maybe if you are doubly lucky, he or she enjoyed the clothing you opted to wear. Maybe.
Once all is said and done, all you can do is walk over to the Clerk, donning your big “I’m a loser” judgment sheet and ask what you are expected to pay. At this point, the only bit of fairness you can still hope to gleam from the system is to declare a payment plan. Yes, they’ll get your money, but it will be drawn out over as much time as legally possible. Then at least you are leaving as a loser… on a payment plan.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
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