Byline: Stephen J. Smith
The funniest show on television this past month wasn't 'Everyone Loves Raymond,' 'Frasier,' or the classic Seinfeld 'Rye-Bread' episode. No, it was the local and national television coverage of the Bengals' press conference introducing Marvin Lewis to the media.
There was Mike Brown appropriately dressed in tweed, nervously introducing his new coach. There was our embattled mayor presenting Mr. Lewis with the key to the city -- followed by a thirsty press mixing questions for Mr. Lewis like a bartender at happy hour. All of this was followed by a library of articles and talk shows making coach Marvin out to be the cure for racial tension, heart disease and peace in the Middle East.
However, it wasn't the scene as much as Cincinnati's misplaced perception of its importance that was striking.
By most measures Cincinnati is a near ideal place to raise a family. This is an area graced with beautiful, lush hills, wonderful city parks, tremendous museums, a superb symphony orchestra, an unparalleled following of high school sports and, until the 1950's a growing, unique skyline.
What does this have to do with the Bengals? Plenty. You see, Mr. Brown, with all if his faults is a great family man -- as was his father before him. Much like our own families, he makes decisions based on a small inner circle of friends and relatives. He places a value on loyalty, and simplicity -- neither of which have a place in popular culture or running an entertainment franchise.
In many respects, our city is similar to the Brown family. We are by nature conservative, controlling and parochial. We like our parks, cul-de-sac neighborhoods, high school football and chili. As we point out to anyone who will listen, the Reds were the first major league baseball team and Oscar Robertson was better than Michael Jordan. When it comes to pop culture and entertainment, we live in a vacuum only matched by our love of the past.
In a culture that is wired, Cincinnati is a city unplugged. While out-of-towners eat at our Maisonette, Cincinnati is downing three-ways at Skyline Chili. And when other NFL towns are cheering for their NFL playoff team, thousands of us are going to Elder's Pit or talking about the last crosstown shootout between the Bearcats and Musketeers.
Several years ago, the residents of Hamilton County voiced their collective desire to be a major-league town. Whether young or old, black or white, Hispanic or Asian, we all have paid dearly for the moniker of being a pro city. Lost in all of these trappings is reality. This is the same town whose 'crown jewel'' tract of downtown property is now graced with a two-story Lazarus department store. The same city whose answer to such pop culture eateries as Hard Rock Cafe and Planet Hollywood is Dick Clark's American Bandstand 15 miles north of downtown. This is the same area that during the peak of this nation's economy couldn't muster the financing to build the Millennium Tower in Newport. Yep, we're major league.
And so it is we return to the Bengals' press conference. There we were greeting Marvin Lewis with a politeness that only Cincinnati could muster. Hope reigned supreme for even the most harsh Bengal pundits. Marvin Lewis was here to partner with the Brown family to catapult us to the big time.
I, for one, can't wait for the first sellout at Paul Brown Stadium in 2003. The only question is whether Elder will be playing St. X or Colerain.
Stephen J. Smith is a resident of North Bend.
