Tom Brady "scandal" demonstrates once again how something isn't right with social media

It's the kind of story that has become all too prevalent lately. In what, for my money, might be the most uninteresting video ever to capture national attention (worthy of the Boring Vacation Slides Hall of Fame, for sure), New England Patriots QB Tom Brady and his 6-year-old daughter Vivian are seen standing hand-in-hand, looking over a small waterfall cascading into a greenly idyllic Costa Rican pool, like something out of Jurassic Park. Father and daughter count to three and then, together, jump into the water below.

Brady shared the video on Instagram, but instead of "the crowd goes wild", social media went apoplectic. Thousands of digital voices (or maybe just dozens shrieking like thousands) instantaneously became a collective parenting expert, social worker, police officer, judge, juror and executioner. Working with an alarmingly precise synchronicity worthy of the technology that allows them to do it at all, they rushed to disapprove, denounce, discourage and disavow, while making sure to avail themselves of the opportunity to explain why (which is really the only thing that matters to most of them). The haters, the naysayers, the trolls, what comedian Bill Maher has called the "professionally outraged", have unprecedented influence nowadays, thanks to social media. Each and every one of Tom Brady's 6.3 million Instagram followers can share this video with their own followers after slathering their outrage all over it like spicy mayo on a sushi roll (👎), and then those people can do the same. It's a true phenomenon of this day and age that isn't leading anywhere good and is not the least bit necessary. Outside of those rare events that actually shape our society's path, determine our future as a species, nothing that happens on this Earth - nothing - deserves 6.3 million things said about it, or even 6.3 million people knowing about it.  Absolutely fucking nothing.

Social media is like a lame pyramid scheme for opinions. I don't buy that it represents a majority of people, or that, despite the numbers that may or may not be involved, it's an accurate barometer of what people really think, collectively or individually. Just as people don't act real when they know cameras are rolling (rendering the term "reality TV" the ultimate misnomer), people stop being honest or judicious, place no value whatsoever on being informed or temperate in their response, when they know they can remain anonymous, or at least not have to look anyone directly in the eyes. Yet, for some reason, our legitimate news outlets have started picking up on social media's bullshit outrage and turning it into news, reporting on it, as though it's an "influencer" itself (instead of just a smoldering ash heap of kneejerk, and largely unoriginal, or at least poorly thought-through, opinions), and now, non-events like this Tom Brady business share space with vastly more important stories of the day: goings-on in the Trump White House, North Korea testing missiles, blistering heat across Europe, Greenland not so white anymore.

The source of the outrage? In the short video, Brady's daughter appears to balk at the last second, right when they're about to jump, and then it appears that, keeping hold of her hand, Brady pulls her into the water with him. 

Bad choice, Brady. According to Inside Edition, one aghast Instagram user chimed in, "OMG! How irresponsible was that...poor baby, she wasn't even ready to jump."

Okay, but do we know that for sure? And really, does it matter?

To shore up any credibility it might still have (or believe it should be trying to hold onto), Inside Edition consulted someone from Aquatic Safety Research Group...(??)...an expert who deposited a quarter's worth of opinion into the feisty little air pump keeping this inflatable story upright, explaining that Vivian "could have slid down the rock wall and been severely injured."

There was some notable celebrity outrage too, as the story became entrenched in the national dialogue. In addition to the predictably innumerable Internet trolls, forever pa-troll-ing in search of something to log their disapproval over, The Rock chimed in, and Brett Favre. Dwayne Johnson said the video gave him anxiety. Favre gave Tom Brady a thumbs down for parenting.

Yeahhh...fuck off?

Why celebrities...really, why anyone, but especially those who are already in the public eye and subject to merciless scrutiny of their professional work...open themselves up to on-line shaming this way, in addition to sometimes taking part in it, I cannot understand. If I were a celebrity, instead of just another Internet blowhard giving his opinions (and telling The Rock to fuck off from behind the safety of my computer monitor!), I would never share anything personal. I'd rarely bother to share anything, because there's no winning with social media.  If Brady had been at an amusement park, and posted video of his daughter eating cotton candy with a big smile on her face, there would have been outrage over the sweets he was allowing her to consume. If he were at a stable, documenting her first horseback ride, rest assured, his Instagram page would be crawling with trolls rushing to point out everything he or his daughter was doing wrong, everything they should have been doing but weren't. If he had thought to share footage of her first bicycle ride without training wheels up and down the fucking driveway, God help him if she wasn't wearing a helmet.

I'm not suggesting bike helmets are not important, especially for kids, or that any child (or anyone) should eat too much sugar, or that there's not a right and wrong way to ride a horse, but postings of every day moments of glory, which in the most basic sense is what social media was designed for - the quick share of little moments that aren't so little (first times...fun vacations...red letter dates of all sort....but NOT what you had for fucking lunch today!) - can too easily get slaughtered systematically by people with a lot of time on their hands. Maybe people have always been that way. Opinions have always been like assholes, after all. But for most, until recently, those opinions never found their way out of the kitchen, or the bar, or the diner, where they were first expressed to a small group of acquaintances or family, or maybe just the stranger sitting across the way who was only half listening, and not really giving a shit. Now, fueled by dozens, and then hundreds, and then potentially thousands of people chiming in, pretending to give a shit even if they really don't, and then getting picked up by legitimate news agencies and reconstituted into a little filler story that has its roots in "fact", opinions can gain traction, become viral overnight, and go worldwide.

This phenomenon sets the bar excruciatingly low for what deserves a whiff of our attention. But moreover, rarely does social media even leave room for reality. I've already seen the Tom Brady video referred to as a "cliff diving incident". The first Google result that pops up if you type in Tom Brady, followed by the letter c, is "Tom Brady cliff jumping with his daughter", which, I'm sorry, is grossly misleading. There was no cliff. There was no deep drop-off. It was 15 or 16 feet from where they stood down to the water. Yes, there were rocks, and the potential for something hazardous to be lurking below the surface. And yes, the water is rushing, and the girl is only six. And yes, it does appear she balked at the last minute.

But come on, my childhood was full of rocks and rushing water and trees and shit that could hurt me, replete with near misses that remained near misses because there was never any real clear and present danger to begin with, just the potential for something to happen, which, try as some might, can never be avoided. It's a messy, messy business being a kid, a messy, messy business raising kids, an exercise in imperfection, picking your way around a steady cavalcade of "near misses".

And why are we not giving Brady a little credit? He's in his 40s, and arguably one of the greatest (if not the greatest) NFL quarterbacks ever to play the game. Meaning, he's a proven team leader, an asset, an entity, he's got his shit together, et cetera, blah-blah-blah. Are we to presume he gave no thought whatsoever to assessing the risks of a jump with his six-year-old daughter?

And the little girl was fine! After hitting the water, she came back up immediately, and can be seen swimming. She's not flailing spastically, not splashing and screaming, choking on water and crying, "Why did you do that Daddy!?"

She's just swimming. Perfectly fine.

To my knowledge, Brady has not yet issued an apology or explanation, and I hope he never does. I'm not a fan of the New England Patriots or of Brady as such (outside of recognizing his supreme talent in the game), but I will defend his right to live his life with his family, and to share little moments of that life as he did, charitably, without having every fucking move he makes scrutinized.

The argument has been made that if Brady had let go of Vivian's hand and jumped by himself, she might then have slipped and slid down the rock face, and truly injured herself. Fair point. And I think there's a deeper lesson to be learned here: if kids are always allowed to balk, if they're never "forced" (and I use that term loosely) to do something, they will stand atop that metaphorical ledge, staring down at the churning water, unable to collect and marshal their misgivings, wondering and worrying about everything they can't see that might potentially hurt them, and never jump once in their lives.

In the case of Steve Irwin, PETA might actually have a point

Even before PETA issued their not-entirely-surprising rebuke, and before the inevitable (as in: also not surprising) social media backlash to that rebuke (Twitter outraged!), I considered Google's Steve Irwin Doodle - intended to celebrate what would have been his 57th birthday last Friday - not objectionable exactly, just lame. Unwarranted. Irwin's death in 2006 was surely a tragedy, but I never cared for his television persona. Granted, at the height of his career, I was some 20 years older than his target audience, but I saw the show, watched it with my young son, and the over-the-top enthusiasm Irwin sported for any and every creature hapless enough to cross his path always struck me as more childish than child-like. I did feel as though he was harassing the animals he encountered, getting so close they could smell breakfast on his breath, in hopes of provoking a response worth capturing on camera. And when and if that response came, that is, when eventually he got bit by an animal too often wordlessly warning him to keep his distance, it was all part of the show. He just got "tagged", he'd cry, gleefully striking at the camera with his pointer and middle fingers splayed like fangs.

"Woo hoo!"  

"Crikey!"

We watched The Crocodile Hunter because my son liked it, and animal shows are cool, right? What a remarkable thing, the natural world happening all around us, all the time. But I remember rolling my eyes, and wondering if, for all his enthusiasm, Steve Irwin was actually doing the natural world any good.

To be sure, I have no doubt his enthusiasm was genuine, that he legitimately cared about animals, but I don't think there's any question he used animals as well, not merely as subjects for his Animal Planet show, but as stage props. He was a showman first and foremost, a carnival barker for the greatest animal show on Earth, and although it's easy to scoff at many of the things PETA has chosen to let ruffle its feathers over the years (for a long time, they've been one of those organizations that blurs the line between legitimate protest/vigilance, and ridiculous self-promotion/tilting at windmills), when it comes to this latest condemnation, they have a point: the Irwin Google Doodle is "fawning", and not in a good way.

Those now firing back at PETA in defense of Irwin, claiming he was their childhood hero and listing all the good things he did in his too-short life, or pointing to the recent accomplishments of his children (as though that has any relevance), need to recognize that just because you remember something fondly from childhood, doesn't necessarily mean it was something good, or worthy, or should have been going on at all. Our species' journey through time is a continuous evolutionary trek with a conspicuously linear path, and things that may once have "worked", seemed gripping or entertaining (particularly in childhood), may not hold up these days. In other words, that you may have spent Saturday afternoons when you were eight enjoying Steve Irwin on television does not necessarily warrant your coming to his defense now, and the fact that he is no longer with us, and that his passing was untimely, should not make him immune from being scrutinized. Not attacked or maligned, just scrutinized, with a fresh eyes look, and perhaps some discussion, about whether the method and style that brought him fame constituted the best way to learn about, and appreciate, and handle animals.

Irwin's shtick gave rise to an onslaught of "reality" shows with "colorful" presenters on Animal Planet, imitators all undertaking a similar kind of gonzo journalism: sassiness on lock as they traipsed fearlessly (and sloppily) through underbrush, determined to get the shot, or jumped out of still-moving vehicles and slid into the roadside shoulder like a base runner to capture an "up close and personal" review of something the viewers were led to believe they just happened to encounter while driving along.

Like many reality shows on many channels, most of it was little more than bad stagecraft, and I say now, as I did then (or at least thought): just let the snake cross the road in peace. Aside from the notion of preventing it from getting run over, you're not helping the animal, and it could be argued that you're interfering with nature. You are in any case not contributing anything vital to education. You're basically just rolling camera and taking unnecessary risk in hopes that as many people as possible will tune in to watch you do so.

And yes, it was the execution of just such risk that tragically ended Irwin's life.

The Google Doodle in question isn't even good artistically. Ironically enough, I don't actually think it does him justice. "Fawning" indeed, it paints a sickeningly one-dimensional portrait of little more than a comic strip protagonist that could only have been of interest to five-year-olds learning about animals (and maybe learning to read). It infantilizes him and his legacy straight into oblivion, and if I were Steve Irwin, this is not how I'd have chosen to be remembered.

I mean, come on, this is just...terrible: