My imagination took over, and I asked my friend if they were going to somehow rig a "bunny" like what they use at greyhound tracks to get the hounds to chase the mechanical rabbit that shoots up the rail and acts as an inducement for the dogs to try and catch it. My uncle was a habitue of any track where you could win or lose money who once told me that when he was in Florida he saw one of the greyhounds actually catch the bunny. It wasn't pretty.
So, what were they going to do, rig a likeness of a human to something they were going to fly overheard to convince the shark that dinner could be had if only he would follow it in a straight line and catch the Homo sapien? And of course hopefully not veer off to the side and make a meal of Michael? The announcer was going to get the race started by telling the crowd, "heeeeere comes the dinner?"
We're both old enough to have immunity from publicity stunts. Neither of us reminded the other that maybe I should set the DVR so that we could see it, since dinner, or dessert was going to get in the way. Thus, neither of us tuned in.
So on Monday when it was revealed that Phelps actually did not swim against a real shark, but rather a computer simulated shark, my friend and I just smiled that the selling of snake oil will never stop.
The reaction to the stunt was fiercer that the jaws of a shark, with people complaining that they expected s real shark to be competing. The producer of the History Channel show replied that, "did anyone really think we were going to endanger the life of the world's greatest swimmer?"
Hell yeah. Isn't that's what TV is about? Watching cars pile up against racetrack walls, bursting into flames? Doesn't that Nik Wallenda guy really risk his life, despite the presence of a net that we don't see, when he high-wire walks across chasms? Didn't TV chase a white Ford Bronco as O.J. was evading the police years and years ago? Didn't that crackpot daredevil Evel Knievel at least really put himself in a homemade rocket and attempt to fly over the Snake River? We expect TV to deliver a snuff film.
So, in the aftermath of the event the NYT and the WSJ treated their readers to their reports. The Times pretty much handled it as exposing it as a publicity stunt that duped the public into believing Phelps was going to be in the water and swimming against a Great White. Jaws himself. The headline alone gives you the news: "Michael Phelps 'Raced' a Shark. Kind Of. Not Really." It was a possible maybe.
Video of the "contest" shows the shark leaping out of the water just at the finish line, a sort of aquatic fist pump, I guess. The online version of the story is interspersed with Tweets from people who are expressing their dismay, as well as from those who ask did anyone really think Phelps was going to be placed in harm's way? There is even a Tweet from Michael himself saying he wants a rematch, but next time in warmer water. Let's not hold our breath.
The WSJ handled the story in the most unique tongue-in-cheek fashion imaginable. They created an A-Hed piece in today's paper that is a purported recounting of the story from Fred the Shark who witnessed the while thing and button-holed Jason Gay, the Journal's sports columnist, and complained with passion about the event, and how it was abusing the reputation of sharks.
Jason Gay is a unique sports reporter. He's not a beat reporter for the Mets, Yankees, or other of the numerous New York teams. He would rather be on a bike covering the Tour de France than anything else, but found that he needs to stay home and help rise a family
I remember seeing Mr. Gay when I was in the audience at a "The Crowd Goes Wild" TV show a few years ago. The show was meant to be a somewhat off-beat Fox sports show that was hosted by Regis Philbin. It ran for nearly a season, but really was just too inane to continue. On the last telecast, Regis sighed that he wished he would still get to do a sports show.
Jason was one of the regular panelists and greeted the audience when he was introduced with a big circular wave. I saw him in the studio lobby before the show started (it was broadcast live) and he is a somewhat tall, slender fellow who has a bit of goofiness about him that signals he wants you to know that sport things shouldn't really be taken too seriously.
Mr. Gay constructs Fred the Shark's monologue along the lines of a shark whose next step might be to start a Shark Defamation League and perhaps an Actors' Guild scale for even compensation with humans.
Actually, the whole episode reminds me of the start of 'Guys and Dolls' where Nathan Detroit is trying to get Sky Masterson into a sucker bet that Nathan already knows the outcome of regarding the sale of Mindy's (read Lindy's, long closed) strudel over cheesecake.
Sky is not named Sky Masterson for nothing. He's been known to bet "sky's the limit" on a roll of the dice. Thus, his nickname.
Sky patiently listens to Nathan's proposition bet and tells Nathan a story about the advice his father gave him as he set out in the world. His father warned him to never take a bet against someone who claims they can make the Jack of Spades jump out of a sealed deck of cards and squirt cider in your ear. "Do not bet against this man, for he will surely make it happen and you will have an earful of cider."
Or, in the case of The History Channel's shark race, an earful of salt water.
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