6.13.2005
OT: Michelle Tafoya
This falls under the realm of "not directly related to baseball." I don't have to apologize for that, so I will merely disclaim all such future posts with the OT header. Good? Good.
Last night the San Antonio Spurs dismantled the Detroit Pistons, 97-76, in Game 2 of the NBA Finals. The most noteworthy aspect of ABC's coverage came during the sort of trivial moment that is becoming embarassingly common these days: the cross-promotional celebrity courtside interview. Michelle Tafoya, a veteran sideline reporter who is simply too competent for chores like this, had to go interview Eva Longoria, star of "Desperate Houswives," in the stands as we were coming back from a commercial break. It goes without saying, of course, that "Desperate Housewives" is a hit show on ABC, and it just so happened that an episode of "Desperate Housewives" would be coming up right after the game.
I don't even remember the interview itself, since I have wisely conditioned myself to tune out promotional offerings in every guise (studies have shown them to be bad for your soul). But I did hear Tafoya toss it back to Al Michaels and Hubie Brown with this line:
(For those who don't know, this is a reference to the fact that Longoria and Parker, the Spurs' point guard, have been a hot item at one point or another. Maybe they still are. Needless to say, I don't keep up.)
Bill Simmons, pop culture guru that he is, also mentioned this in his blog today, with an excellent take of his own: "Here's what I would have done: Since Eva was talking about how she grew up rooting for the Spurs, my last question would have been, 'If you could date anyone on the team, who would you pick?' She would have had to answer that, right?"
This all may seem to be a small matter, but Tafoya's line was brilliant. She got her interview, made it through without offending anyone, and used that little aside to expose the PR machinations surrounding celebrity interviews. A layperson watching the interview would have the natural reaction, "Told very strictly not to mention Parker by whom?" That same layperson can presumably connect the dots from there: oh, right, a publicist.
This was a cynical move, but my respect for Tafoya immediately increased tenfold. The publicist's job involves staying invisible to you, the consumer. All you're supposed to see is Longoria, sitting there in the stands, acting like a regular Josephine who loves basketball, and definitely NOT acting like a celebrity with an entourage that's prepared to scuttle her off for a Cosmopolitan photo shoot the very instant this courtside interview adjourns. But if you're only idly paying attention to this interview, then you come away with that last line in your head and nothing else.
So congrats, Michelle. Anytime a jaded reporter manages to cut through even a modest amount of the bullshit, it gives me great satisfaction. For some reason I am reminded of an old Rolling Stone profile of R.E.M., written by Chris Klein. The band had just fired their longtime manager, Jefferson Holt, and Klein found himself handcuffed by secrecy when asking guitarist Peter Buck, "Can you say anything about the incident?" After Buck's obligatory "no, I can't," many writers would have simply let the subject drop, but Klein pressed on: "Can you say anything about not being able to say anything?"
And that, dear reader, was all it took to coax out the answer he'd been looking for.
Last night the San Antonio Spurs dismantled the Detroit Pistons, 97-76, in Game 2 of the NBA Finals. The most noteworthy aspect of ABC's coverage came during the sort of trivial moment that is becoming embarassingly common these days: the cross-promotional celebrity courtside interview. Michelle Tafoya, a veteran sideline reporter who is simply too competent for chores like this, had to go interview Eva Longoria, star of "Desperate Houswives," in the stands as we were coming back from a commercial break. It goes without saying, of course, that "Desperate Housewives" is a hit show on ABC, and it just so happened that an episode of "Desperate Housewives" would be coming up right after the game.
I don't even remember the interview itself, since I have wisely conditioned myself to tune out promotional offerings in every guise (studies have shown them to be bad for your soul). But I did hear Tafoya toss it back to Al Michaels and Hubie Brown with this line:
Guys, I was told very strictly before that interview that I was not allowed to ask about Tony Parker, so with respect to Eva, I did not.
(For those who don't know, this is a reference to the fact that Longoria and Parker, the Spurs' point guard, have been a hot item at one point or another. Maybe they still are. Needless to say, I don't keep up.)
Bill Simmons, pop culture guru that he is, also mentioned this in his blog today, with an excellent take of his own: "Here's what I would have done: Since Eva was talking about how she grew up rooting for the Spurs, my last question would have been, 'If you could date anyone on the team, who would you pick?' She would have had to answer that, right?"
This all may seem to be a small matter, but Tafoya's line was brilliant. She got her interview, made it through without offending anyone, and used that little aside to expose the PR machinations surrounding celebrity interviews. A layperson watching the interview would have the natural reaction, "Told very strictly not to mention Parker by whom?" That same layperson can presumably connect the dots from there: oh, right, a publicist.
This was a cynical move, but my respect for Tafoya immediately increased tenfold. The publicist's job involves staying invisible to you, the consumer. All you're supposed to see is Longoria, sitting there in the stands, acting like a regular Josephine who loves basketball, and definitely NOT acting like a celebrity with an entourage that's prepared to scuttle her off for a Cosmopolitan photo shoot the very instant this courtside interview adjourns. But if you're only idly paying attention to this interview, then you come away with that last line in your head and nothing else.
So congrats, Michelle. Anytime a jaded reporter manages to cut through even a modest amount of the bullshit, it gives me great satisfaction. For some reason I am reminded of an old Rolling Stone profile of R.E.M., written by Chris Klein. The band had just fired their longtime manager, Jefferson Holt, and Klein found himself handcuffed by secrecy when asking guitarist Peter Buck, "Can you say anything about the incident?" After Buck's obligatory "no, I can't," many writers would have simply let the subject drop, but Klein pressed on: "Can you say anything about not being able to say anything?"
And that, dear reader, was all it took to coax out the answer he'd been looking for.
