TRIVIAL PURSUIT

We are fast approaching the thirtieth anniversary of what I sometimes call the “33” game. That was the number that both Magic Johnson and Larry Bird wore at Michigan State and Indiana State, respectively, and of course, you know that Magic’s guys won the NCAA championship in 1979. But I can now tell you who the presenting sponsors were for the NBC telecast:

n Gillette Right Guard deodorant, available in sprays and solids.
n Pabst Blue Ribbon beer
n BF Goodrich tires
n Ford

And don’t forget…

n A promotional fee was paid to NBC by United Airlines, which was building the best fleet of jets in the world around you, dear Reader. So fly the friendly skies.

If you wanted to go for extra credit, I could tell you which games NBC
featured when Game of the Week returned on April 7, 1979. According to Dr. Enberg, they were: Milwaukee at the Yankees, and the Phillies at St. Louis.

I brought this all up to raise a point. I am probably very much like you in that I memorize a bunch of useless and trivial things. I wonder how many people memorize trivial and unimportant things because they are afraid to tackle bigger, more important issues. What sort of value do we assign the things we remember? I think it all starts in school, where you’re supposed to memorize words like mitochondria and peripatetic, otherwise you’ll fail the test, your parents will be mad at you, you’ll lose your privileges, etc. etc. Many of you never have to deal with mitochondria as adults, nor will you ever refer to someone as being peripatetic at a party. They’re good words and things to know, but you file them away mentally, maybe, not dusting them off for a good long while.

What is important to remember? Lots of things. What the names of your spouse and children are, what the color of your car is, Heaven forfend it be stolen. Your birthday, because you celebrate it. Your wedding anniversary, and you damn well ought to remember, and how much money you have in the bank, now more than ever for billions of you. The broadcasters of an ice hockey game, the star rating Roger Ebert gave that crappy romantic comedy from 18 years ago, the price of a baguette at a street vendors’ in Tuscany, and many millions of other things are trivial and not always practical. Knowing them makes you feel smart. It isn’t as useful as it’s cracked up to be.

I am reaching a point in my life where I no longer kid myself that a lot of my intelligence is trivial. It’s won me my share of friends over the years, but nearly all the knowledge I have gleaned is of little use or importance. The best way to illustrate how I feel is to point you to a scene in the film Superman. After he creates the Fortress of Solitude, Clark Kent summons the ghost of Jor-El, his real father. He tells his son:

“The knowledge that I have amassed of matters both physical and historic, were embedded in the crystals I have sent with you to your new home. These are important matters to be sure, but still matters of mere fact. There are questions to be asked, and it is time for you to ask them.”

That’s how I feel. I hope I don’t sound contradictory or conflicted; if I do, I apologize. Just like you, I’m looking for answers. Not to trivia, but to the big questions. Now more than ever, I want to remember the big things, not the little ones. I never want to stop learning, but I want to learn the most important things.

Now you know.

P.S.: During that 1979 NCAA basketball title game, I was asleep. I was six months old.