THE HANDS ARE ON THE PRIZE by William Fredrick Cooper
Written: October 16, 2008
Written: October 16, 2008
The beauty that sports holds over these nonsensical, contrived reality shows is in the relatable analogies that hold true to everyday life. So many flowed through my mind as I watched last night’s wide-ranging yet telling debate that I couldn’t help but wonder if ESPN had coverage rights.
Having said that, let’s analyze the play-by-play, shall we?
John McCain’s Republican campaign, desperate for a game-changing vehicle to still a nervous national psyche and prove once and for all that he is better suited to lead this country out of its economic fiasco, came blazing all its guns against Democratic hopeful Barack Obama. The first half-hour of the debate resembled a game four, NBA Finals situation where the home team was trying to stave off elimination on its home floor. Fueled by emotional desperation, the GOP forerunner’s last big chance to resuscitate a faltering movement started on the offensive. Initiating lively exchanges by raising pointed, persistent questions about Obama’s associations, political prescriptions and judgment, he seemed determined to impose his will on this encounter.
But you see, he missed something along the way, an old theory about emotional momentum. Usually there comes a time where major energy has been expended, and, because the burst was fueled by emotion, there’s a tide- changing crash. All Barack Obama had to do for the first thirty minutes was weather the storm of some well placed zingers, and the reckless attacks would stop.
About twenty-twenty five minutes into the debate, the cool, placid demeanor that has brought Barack Obama to the doorstep of history began to surface. Displaying the survival skills learned by not only of an entire race, but his own 16 month battle for the democratic nomination, he fought back. By simply stating that “The American people are less interested in our hurt feelings during the course of campaign than addressing the issues than addressing the issues that matter to them so deeply,” the stark reality for John McCain and his legion of dispirited, yet hopeful partisans seemed inevitable. To his dismay, he was up against a man, in quoting legend Bobby Jones when referring to the golf game of Jack Nicklaus and, in turn Nicklaus to another prodigy named Eldrick “Tiger” Woods, “playing a game that was unfamiliar to him.”
Further refuting the associations of William Ayers and ACORN with concise, clear, and candid responses, Barack Obama pressured McCain into unappealing, unpresidential errors; the goofs that alter public opinions, the goofs that he needed Obama to make. For all of his legendary sarcasm, maniacally disturbed grins and frustrated, juvenile gestures bordering on temper tantrums (What can I do to crack the veneer of this guy, McCain had to be wondering.), the last hour of the debate seemed comedic. The Republican Party leader and his staggering, unexplained agenda was futile while bouncing off the walls of an unflustered person of color projecting the aura of change of a president elect. Talking at Obama and to “Joe The Plumber” and CBS Correspondent Bob Schieffer as opposed to the nation, all combative attacks of characters made by the Republican candidate, in this writers mind, could not sway what is increasingly looking like history being made two-and-a-half weeks from now.
By ten-fifteen, on the night of October 15, 2008, the race was all over in my eyes. My personal jury rendering its verdict on John McCain, he lost this election. I knew it. A race that has been through centuries of well documented struggle knows it. White people know it. (Whether they act truthfully on Election Day is beyond me.) Undecided people that exist in readers groups needing attention for their indecisiveness now know it.
It’s All Over.
Further proof lay in the responses of the wives of the presidential candidates. While Cindy McCain seemed tense, did you notice how Michelle Obama clasped her hands in anticipation? She can taste victory, Just like I can.
My 86-year old friend Norman can taste it too, as well as those smiling in the heavens. They all can taste it.
Our hands are on the prize, people. On November 4th, we’ll sip from that fountain that says “all of us are one.”
Thank God Almighty, I’m almost free at last.
WILLIAM’S THOUGHTS: Over the last twenty four months, we’ve had debates in groups large enough to invade Iraq, one-on-one, in swivel chairs sitting around tables, behind podiums, standing in front of contrived town hall meetings, around media pundits and ordinary guys. (Joe The Plumber loved that one.) We’ve compared economic plans, healthcare plans, strategies in terms of getting troops homes, Sarah Palin, Joe Biden, Hillary and Bill; Reverend Wright and William Ayers; ACORN and alleged affairs; swing states and issues of race; Roe versus Wade once more; affordability and availability of proposals and programs, bailouts and government spending, lions, tigers and bears.
Oh My.
Now, in a few days, the ball rests squarely in our court. The cards have all been played, and we know what we must do. If faced with adversity, remember the smile our prince showed last night under the harshest scrutiny ever for us. That winning smile displayed by Barack Obama was of the confidence of Kings and queens long ago, a signal of victory for all those who died, whose dreams fell just short, and those never given a chance simply because of the color of their skins. That smile tells us today that we should say it loud, and be proud of our origins, adversities and progress.
Now, let’s make him proud. Let’s do this. My hands are on the prize.
Are Yours?
John McCain’s Republican campaign, desperate for a game-changing vehicle to still a nervous national psyche and prove once and for all that he is better suited to lead this country out of its economic fiasco, came blazing all its guns against Democratic hopeful Barack Obama. The first half-hour of the debate resembled a game four, NBA Finals situation where the home team was trying to stave off elimination on its home floor. Fueled by emotional desperation, the GOP forerunner’s last big chance to resuscitate a faltering movement started on the offensive. Initiating lively exchanges by raising pointed, persistent questions about Obama’s associations, political prescriptions and judgment, he seemed determined to impose his will on this encounter.
But you see, he missed something along the way, an old theory about emotional momentum. Usually there comes a time where major energy has been expended, and, because the burst was fueled by emotion, there’s a tide- changing crash. All Barack Obama had to do for the first thirty minutes was weather the storm of some well placed zingers, and the reckless attacks would stop.
About twenty-twenty five minutes into the debate, the cool, placid demeanor that has brought Barack Obama to the doorstep of history began to surface. Displaying the survival skills learned by not only of an entire race, but his own 16 month battle for the democratic nomination, he fought back. By simply stating that “The American people are less interested in our hurt feelings during the course of campaign than addressing the issues than addressing the issues that matter to them so deeply,” the stark reality for John McCain and his legion of dispirited, yet hopeful partisans seemed inevitable. To his dismay, he was up against a man, in quoting legend Bobby Jones when referring to the golf game of Jack Nicklaus and, in turn Nicklaus to another prodigy named Eldrick “Tiger” Woods, “playing a game that was unfamiliar to him.”
Further refuting the associations of William Ayers and ACORN with concise, clear, and candid responses, Barack Obama pressured McCain into unappealing, unpresidential errors; the goofs that alter public opinions, the goofs that he needed Obama to make. For all of his legendary sarcasm, maniacally disturbed grins and frustrated, juvenile gestures bordering on temper tantrums (What can I do to crack the veneer of this guy, McCain had to be wondering.), the last hour of the debate seemed comedic. The Republican Party leader and his staggering, unexplained agenda was futile while bouncing off the walls of an unflustered person of color projecting the aura of change of a president elect. Talking at Obama and to “Joe The Plumber” and CBS Correspondent Bob Schieffer as opposed to the nation, all combative attacks of characters made by the Republican candidate, in this writers mind, could not sway what is increasingly looking like history being made two-and-a-half weeks from now.
By ten-fifteen, on the night of October 15, 2008, the race was all over in my eyes. My personal jury rendering its verdict on John McCain, he lost this election. I knew it. A race that has been through centuries of well documented struggle knows it. White people know it. (Whether they act truthfully on Election Day is beyond me.) Undecided people that exist in readers groups needing attention for their indecisiveness now know it.
It’s All Over.
Further proof lay in the responses of the wives of the presidential candidates. While Cindy McCain seemed tense, did you notice how Michelle Obama clasped her hands in anticipation? She can taste victory, Just like I can.
My 86-year old friend Norman can taste it too, as well as those smiling in the heavens. They all can taste it.
Our hands are on the prize, people. On November 4th, we’ll sip from that fountain that says “all of us are one.”
Thank God Almighty, I’m almost free at last.
WILLIAM’S THOUGHTS: Over the last twenty four months, we’ve had debates in groups large enough to invade Iraq, one-on-one, in swivel chairs sitting around tables, behind podiums, standing in front of contrived town hall meetings, around media pundits and ordinary guys. (Joe The Plumber loved that one.) We’ve compared economic plans, healthcare plans, strategies in terms of getting troops homes, Sarah Palin, Joe Biden, Hillary and Bill; Reverend Wright and William Ayers; ACORN and alleged affairs; swing states and issues of race; Roe versus Wade once more; affordability and availability of proposals and programs, bailouts and government spending, lions, tigers and bears.
Oh My.
Now, in a few days, the ball rests squarely in our court. The cards have all been played, and we know what we must do. If faced with adversity, remember the smile our prince showed last night under the harshest scrutiny ever for us. That winning smile displayed by Barack Obama was of the confidence of Kings and queens long ago, a signal of victory for all those who died, whose dreams fell just short, and those never given a chance simply because of the color of their skins. That smile tells us today that we should say it loud, and be proud of our origins, adversities and progress.
Now, let’s make him proud. Let’s do this. My hands are on the prize.
Are Yours?
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