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Monday, June 29, 2015

'Boy Meets World' Fosters Unrealistic Romantic Expectations

by Chris Alarie

One of the most insipid journalistic trends of recent years is the preponderance of articles dissecting, quantifying, and criticizing the supposed tastes, behaviors, and personality flaws of the generation known as the Millennials. Key among these articles is a sub-genre criticizing the supposed inability of Millennials to engage in healthy romantic relationships—ostensibly the result of a “hookup culture”. While these articles—including those from that paragon of Millennial-bashing, the New York Timesare obviously ill-conceived, 1 there is some truth to the idea that the current generation is not getting married as young or at as high of a rate as previous generations. The reasons for this are complex and myriad, but there is one key cause that I believe has been overlooked: the unrealistic romantic expectations fostered by the 1990s teen drama Boy Meets World.

For seven seasons from 1993 through 2000, Boy Meets World aired on ABC as a part of its TGIF programming block.2 The story of a young, Jewish boy, Cory Matthews, and his experience growing up in Philadelphia with his suspiciously un-Jewish family,3 Boy Meets World centered on Cory's romantic relationship with Topanga Lawrence, whom he would marry by the end of the series. The relationship—which, through some retconning, was depicted as being essentially lifelong—is idealized to an almost obsessive degree, not only by Topanga and (especially) Cory, but by everybody around them. Even the show's other central relationship—that between Cory and his James-Dean-lite best friend, Shawn Hunter—is heavily influenced by the Cory-Topanga relationship.

While Shawn is depicted as being envious of a number of aspects of Cory's life throughout the series (his functional family, his relative wealth, etc.), his jealousy of Cory and Topanga's ostensibly perfect relationship becomes one of his defining characteristics by the end of the series. In the middle seasons, Shawn's popularity with girls is shown to be one of his few advantages over Cory and one of the few things that brings him happiness in his otherwise troubled life. However, as the characters age and Cory and Topanga become more focused on their romantic relationship, Shawn becomes increasingly more jealous—not of Topanga for having replaced him as Cory's primary partner but rather of Cory and Topanga's relationship. In fact, he spends much of the later seasons desperately searching for “something like what Cory and Topanga have.” In particular, his more realistic, on-again, off-again relationship with Angela during the last three seasons is explicitly contrasted with the stability and magic of the Cory-Topanga union. Apparently, this has continued into the recent companion series/reboot, Girl Meets World, which depicts the same characters now in adulthood:



While the causes behind the lower marriage rate for Millennials are complicated and multivariate, I believe that a key component is that, in a sense, many of us are like Shawn: unable to settle down because we are desperate for a perfect relationship like Cory and Topanga's. Millennials are noted for our idealism, and I believe that a frustrated sort of idealism is a key factor in our lower marriage rates. Many of us are delaying marriage because we have not found our Topanga4 and rather than accept a realistic, flawed relationship, we are idealistically pursuing the mystical unicorn that is a Cory-Topanga style relationship. And, loathe as I am to give Buzzfeed credit for anything, that website sort of manages to illustrate this phenomenon, in a roundabout way, by identifying the problem and then simply reinforcing it in a listicle of “cute” and “heartwarming”5 GIFs entitled “20 Ways Cory And Topanga Gave You Unrealistic Expectations About Relationships”.

This insipid pseudo-journalism accidentally demonstrates how surprisingly influential this particular 1990s teen comedy6 has been in setting unrealistic romantic expectations for an entire generation,7 serving, in part, to hinder that generation from settling into marriage and other established relationships in a manner similar to previous generations.8 Some anecdotal evidence would seems to reinforce my claims, as I have had a number of conversations with unmarried Millennial friends about these topics. In these conversations, I have observed both a tendency toward what I see as unrealistic romantic expectations and a willingness to identify Boy Meets World as a partial source of those expectations. As my friend Amy told me, “Yeah man, Topanga fucked me up!”

Chris Alarie is Senior Editor-in-Chief of Uncanny Valley Magazine.




1 One of the best takedowns of the arguments about the supposed hookup culture comes from, of all places, Jezebel.



2 The show has also aired in syndication in perpetuity over the last decade and a half.



3 The issue of Cory's singular Jewishness within his non-Jewish biological family is never explicitly addressed at any point in the show. But it reads loudly as subtext. This isn't actually relevant to my main argument, however.



4 And everyone seems to be looking for their Topanga, never their Cory—even the women with whom I spoke said that they were looking for their Topanga. I don’t know if this is just because Cory was the main character of the show or if it is old fashioned sexism, with the man being associated with agency and the woman being a passive object of desire.



5 I am also generally loathe to use scare quotes, but I think it is appropriate in this particular usage.



6 For whatever reason, Boy Meets World seems to have been a surprisingly influential TV show for the Millennial generation.



7 The unhealthy, obsessive relationship between Ross and Rachel on Friends could also conceivably have a similar sort of influence. But all of the characters on that show are so deeply disturbing in a number of ways that it is difficult to imagine anyone other than a low-level sociopath looking to them as a model for any sort of behavior.



8 I should note that I don't necessarily think that this is a bad thing. I am not trying to make an argument in favor of or against marriage but rather try to explain the undue influence that Boy Meets World has had in regards to this issue.







Wednesday, June 3, 2015

To Live & Die a Warriors Fan

The last few days, KNBR has been repeatedly replaying Tim Roye's radio call from the end of game 5 of the Western Conference Finals: “The phrase you thought you would not hear in your lifetime: the Golden State Warriors are going to the NBA Finals!” From my perspective, it is about as accurate a description of the circumstances as possible; while I have been a loyal Warriors fan essentially all my life, I absolutely never thought they would ever accomplish this much. This isn't to say that I didn't believe in my team, but more that I had become so accustomed to failure that my expectations were low enough to be virtually nonexistant.

I'll point to other writers to offer detailed explanations of the franchise's failings[1] or explain what the team and its success means to the changing dynamics within the Bay Area[2] or analyze the Finals matchup between the Warriors and the Cleveland Cavaliers, and instead just offer an explanation of my own personal experience as a fan of this long moribund franchise, hopefully shedding some light on what other Warriors fans are experiencing in this moment of unanticipated success.

The NBA playoffs have a somewhat anomalous[3] format compared to other American professional sports leagues. More than half the teams in the league make the playoffs every year and—due to the number of rounds, length of the series, and necessary rest and travel days between games—the entire postseason lasts an exceedingly long two months. Between age nine and age 22, I watched as my favorite NBA team, the Golden State Warriors, failed to make the playoffs for 12 straight seasons. As such, one of my annual rituals was to find a rooting interest in other teams come playoff-time—usually determined by which teams had the most prominent former Warriors,[4] former Cal players,[5] or just anyone with some tie to the Bay Area.[6] But my team was never involved in any meaningful way, other than the brief distraction and disappointment of the annual draft lottery.

To be honest, by the time the playoff drought reached only a handful of years, I stopped even having any hope of the Warriors participating in the playoffs or having any role in the NBA other than as a doormat. I continued to watch their games because I loved basketball and remained loyal to my team, but I eventually developed such low-expectations of my team that I never really thought they would be good. I never harbored any hope for a championship or even so much as a sustained playoff run because it just seemed impossible.[7]

Instead, I learned to appreciate small victories and other minor positive attributes, such as the night former Cal great Sean Lampley scored 14 points during his brief tenure with the team or longtime backup center Adonal Foyle's reputation as being one of the smartest and most cultured NBA players. And I was always able to enjoy the excellent broadcasting of Jim Barnett and take solace in the Warriors' fans' reputation as the best fans in the NBA. When the lovably unconventional We Believe team finally made the playoffs and defeated the heavily favored Dallas Mavericks in the first round in 2007, I assumed that would be the franchise's greatest moment in my lifetime.[8] But I never expected a championship.

While some of this pessimism may have been the result of the fatalism endemic to fans of incompetent and unsuccessful franchises, much of it owed to the dark presence that was owner Chris Cohan. Indeed, it seemed impossible that the Warriors would be successful as long as Cohan owned the team and it seemed unlikely that Cohan would ever sell the team.[9] However, when Cohan sold the team to Joe Lacob and Peter Guber in 2010, my expectations for my favorite basketball team changed. While I didn't necessarily believe that they would win a championship, I harbored hope that they would eventually become a normal, competent franchise that occasionally made the playoffs and contended for something resembling a championship run.

While Lacob made some statements early in his ownership tenure that bothered me[10] and made decisions that I didn't necessarily favor,[11] I was willing to give him a significant benefit of the doubt simply because he wasn't Cohan. Of course, not every other Warriors fan felt the same way. My dad and I were actually at the game where Warriors fans mercilessly booed him during a halftime ceremony honoring Chris Mullin. We were among the only people in our section—and likely, among very few in the whole arena—who were not booing.[12] We didn't boo,[13] in part, because we didn't want to detract from Mullin's moment,[14] but also because our expectations were so low that Lacob would have had to repeatedly prove his incompetence to earn our ire—something he had not had nearly enough time to do at that point.

Indeed, the success of the last few seasons have validated Lacob's decisions as owner and, perhaps, set up new expectations of success for the fanbase. But I keep thinking about all those years where I started the season without even the slightest hope of success, all those years where I had to find a team to halfheartedly follow during the playoffs, all those years where I watched other teams and felt jealous of their competent front offices and genuine superstars. Now the Warriors have a great front office and a great, fun team lead by the league's MVP.[15] The franchise that was so terrible for so many years that I couldn't even so much as hope for a championship is now only four wins away from a title.

I don't even know how to express how I feel. It is some mixture of catharsis, bewilderment, excitement, and some unnamable, intangible emotion. All throughout the playoffs, I have texted my dad about the team's run.[16] Lately, I have run out of things to say about the team and have taken to just texting, “This is amazing!” and “This is unbelievable!” I know that there is still a potentially difficult Finals against LeBron James,[17] the best player in the world, but this season has already far exceeded my wildest expectations.[18] I don't know, man, this is unbelievable.





[1]    When I first read Simmons's article three years ago, I had to stop reading at multiple points because I got so angry and had to take short walks to calm myself. I think that is an indication of how the article does an excellent job of summarizing the various demons haunting the Warriors' fanbase.
[2]    Grant Brisbee is my favorite baseball writer and does a fairly good job with this article, which is a bit outside his usual purview. But, as Uncanny Valley's own Alexis Faulkner pointed out, his understanding of the supposedly new hipness of the East Bay is problematic. For example, Oakland has, for decades, been a haven for artists, musicians, and other creative individuals but non-East Bay residents such as Brisbee have only recently taken notice.
[3]    The NHL actually has a virtually identical playoff setup to the NBA. But I am not a hockey fan so I have nothing further to say on the subject.
[4]    e.g. Tim Hardaway's Miami Heat and Chris Mullin's Indiana Pacers.
[5]    e.g. Kevin Johnson's Phoenix Suns or any of Jason Kidd's playoff teams.
[6]    e.g. Gary Payton's Seattle Supersonics or (later on) Leon Powe's Boston Celtics—but not Brian Shaw's Los Angeles Lakers.
[7]    This stood in marked contrast to my deep psychological and emotional need for the Giants to win a World Series.
[8]    Sure enough, the next season's team set a record for most victories without making the playoffs and the franchise stumbled back into irrelevance.
[9]    Ironically, a significant portion of the perception of Cohan's neverending ownership of the franchise came from the fact that the fans' vaunted loyalty made the team profitable despite its lack of on-court success.
[10]  I was most bothered by his decision to move the team to San Francisco.
[11]  I was borderline apoplectic at his hiring of Mark Jackson.
[12]  My dad was so embarrassed by the whole incident that he actually emailed Lacob an apology on behalf of Warriors fans. I doubt that Lacob actually read the email, though.
[13]  Anybody who knows me knows that I usually love to boo at any opportunity.
[14]  We also didn't boo because we supported the recently competed Monta Ellis for Andrew Bogut trade that was the source of much of the fans' ire.
[15]  Since this article has mostly focused on the past, I haven't really given the current team anywhere near the attention that they deserve, particularly Steph Curry. Let me just say that Curry is now my favorite basketball player ever (it is strange to have a favorite player who is younger than I am) and one of the most exciting athletes that I have ever watched in any sport.
[16]  I've had to text him because I recently moved across the country to Brooklyn.
[17]  My Finals pick: Warriors in 5.
[18]  I'm going to note that I realized that there was something potentially great about this team very early in the season and actually predicted in November—to my dad and my roommate—that they would win the title. But there is a difference between knowing that a team can win a title and actually being this close to it happening.