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RICHARD RODRIGUEZ: We tell ourselves that we have seen enough of that
afternoon in Central Park. We do not want to see those pictures again,
but we are held by what the jostling camera reveals, and by the questions
that the camera will not answer. Young woman after young woman is encircled,
stripped, and fondled. Police officers are nearby, but nowhere to be
seen. It is important to remind ourselves that this is the center of
New York, of the golden city, not some mean street in a distant precinct.
And it is bright afternoon, not some treacherous hour of dark. And it
is, after all, a Sunday of celebration. A happy parade has just made
its way down Fifth Avenue. A few days after the Central Park riots,
on the other side of America, the Los Angeles Lakers won the NBA championship.
Immediately after, outside the pavilion, a crowd, mostly young men,
went on a rampage. Police cars were torched, stores looted.
Beware the celebration in America. Beware the final bell or the referee's
upraised hands, the winning side's jubilant dance. Beware the cheering
fans. In recent years, in large American cities and in college towns,
the most violent riots have come after athletic victory. "We're
number one!" Sometimes the face in the crowd belongs to the middle-class
undergraduate. Other times, it's the high school dropout. In either
case, when the car gets overturned, the kid is usually smiling. In his
surreal, extraordinary book, "Among the Thugs," published
ten years ago, Bill Buford describes the murderous football riots of
Europe. In recent days, we have seen the mayhem again: Young men from
various European nations fight mini-wars outside the soccer stadium.
These battles among fans have almost nothing to do anymore with which
team wins or loses. We are seeing something different in America, I
think. We are seeing something counter- intuitive. We are seeing happy
riots, fierce demonstrations of celebration.
We are accustomed, of course, to the more obvious narrative line. We
remember the labor and racial riots of America, earlier decades, the
mob angry because it had a grievance. But what to make of today's smiling
crowd? Far from the arena, far from the parade, our politicians assure
us the American economy is robust; American cities are glittering; America
is winning in the competition of nations-- all of which is true enough,
of course, but to speak only in superlatives is to miss the mundane
point. Many Americans do not feel themselves winners-- or rather, they
don't know exactly how to connect their plain lives with the story of
spectacular American success. It's important to remember that this year's
Puerto Rican Day parade in New York had been a wonderful event. There
were high school bands and smiling parents. The mood was festive and
optimistic. America, after all, is enjoying this Puerto Rican decade
of Jennifer Lopez and Ricky Martin.
These dangerous men in Central Park, Puerto Rican or not-- who knows
what their ethnicity?-- These young men will certainly never date Jennifer
Lopez, nor will they come onto the stage to sing "La Vida Loca."
These kids in Los Angeles will certainly never play basketball for the
NBA or make commercials or millions of dollars in endorsements. In the
haze of marijuana and the stench of beer, at the edge of a parade, there
is a steroid thrust of power in the mob. They rule New York. They have
just won the NBA title - the Super Bowl. They are winners. They're number
one. But look, the woman is weeping. The men are smiling. I'm Richard
Rodriguez.
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