Alex Rodriguez in DETAILS

On the subject of psyches caught in the gears of history, Alex Rodriguez's photo shoot in the current issue of Details magazine will go down as a turning point in his career in the public eye. Go ahead and reread that. Mark that. Believe that. As I see it, his glossy spread, and I extend that description as much to the style of the story's layout as to the anatomy of its subject, sign the death certificate on his former self and present him with two alternatives going forward.

This Filibusted child (born in 1975) has always tried to be the real life incarnation of Roy Hobbs - the innocent with a god given talent. This image seems to have persisted all the way up to his joining the Yankees. Even his signing the most lucrative contract in baseball history seems not insane in light of the baseball contracts today, an era he no doubt helped occasion, but 250 million is almost just for someone that good. Regardless, he was in Texas and was HITTING.

In New York, the Adonis began to show cracks. His inability to perform in the clutch made him the butt of many jokes. Yet, Roy Hobbs seemed to rise again in 2007 as he posted one of the greatest seasons ever and silenced his baseball critics. However, at that very same time his personal life was devolving. Beginning with the revelations of his relationship with a blond, female impersonating stripper, we began to see A-Rod the man in a clearer light. The subsequent photo with him and his "wife" only fueled the fire.


The steroid admission deepened the matter, tarnished the purity of his athleticism for ever, and brought into clearer focus a portrait of a pill-popping tranny chaser. The Triplet of Belleville formerly known as popstar Madonna cemented it. Now I am interested. Truly interested. Enter Steven Klein, some shots of Patron, a bottle of baby oil, and the worst PR team in recorded history and we have his DETAILS spread.


Bye, bye Roy Hobbs. But where will this would lead him, or perhaps better put, which road will he take? He could be coming out. He could be the first gay superstar, all the alternatingly clammy and icy public appearances wiped away under the banner of a sexual identity crisis. Some fans may leave, but he will finally be whole. Oh lord, how I hope he doesn't choose this. First, this is not the first gay athlete we need. In fact, we need Roy Hobbs with a taste for booty in that role. No No No A-Rod. Please go the other way. Make the best theater. Create the most tension. Abandon the mantle of hero, and become the Villain!

Yup. That's right, become the new Dennis Rodman. Drink, pop pills, screw anything, dye your hair for real. We will embrace you again because of your imperfections. Your talent will never leave, but now is the time to live. Step to home plate in full drag. Eat a baseball before you take the Field. We hate hypocrites. We love Rodmans. Go forth!

WELCOME!!!!

Welcome to Filibusted - a place to pause. We here at this fledgling think tank of culture vultures are seeking to give voice to a generation that learned to read under Reagan and Bush 1. The children of the Boomers who never had a Facebook page in high school, who don't feel entirely fluent in the Internet world of late capital in which friendship, political identity, and cultural community find themselves on a page with a custom engined selection of advertisements. We are still pursued by the specter of "authenticity" - the ideal that drove our parents first toward the marches for social justice that have become classics on YouTube and PBS alike, and then some fifteen years later to purchasing a host of Sony products. We need to both remember and forget. We stand at a precipice in consciousness and choose, for a time, to pause here and call out, on the Internet, no less.