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Soapbox Philosophy: The truth about talking versus trolling
by Gregory R. Norfleet · Op-Ed · November 13, 2014
The elderly gentleman in a ball cap, glasses and flannel jacket stepped up on the bleachers with his pop and pizza and sidled up next to me to sit down.
Even while fiddling with the camera to prepare for the North Cedar-West Branch volleyball game, I could tell through my peripheral vision he was the friendly, conversational type. It’s Halloween night and I came here almost right from the office, so I’m still dressed in all black with a red tie and looking a bit out of place amongst all the purple in the North Cedar Middle School gymnasium.
After the camera, I yanked out my cell phone and pulled up the newspaper’s Twitter account, snapped a photo of the Bears warming up and uploaded it to the Web. I thought for a moment about a recent column I read, about how the U.S. government is funding a new project called “Truthy” to collect and analyze “social pollution,” with the goal of “correcting misinformation,” and targeting “partisanship” on Twitter. I cynically wonder if they’ll troll anyone tweeting this volleyball game.
Next, I flip open my notebook and scribble a simple chart to help me follow the score and make game notes.
Camera, Twitter and notebook. A night of multi-tasking.
The gentleman leans a bit toward me and asks where I’m from. I’m also covering the game for the Tipton Conservative, yet it seems he is asking because he wants to get to know me. Obviously he’s already figured out what I’m doing there. Like I said, friendly. I tell him I’m from West Branch, so now he understands my black-and-red getup.
Even with volleyballs rolling and bouncing nearby, the conversation quickly changes to football. North Cedar gave West Branch its most exciting gridiron game of the season so far. We chatted about North Cedar’s quarterback, Jayden Johnson, and his similarities to another tall quarterback of Knights fame, Jordan Hay.
The volleyball game starts. Following a fast-moving game like this is tough through the tunnel vision of a camera lens, so I have to focus hard to keep up with my notes. Was that an error or a kill point? Oh, wait, everyone is giving Maddy Russell hand slaps, so she got a kill. Got it.
The gentleman gives encouraging shouts to the North Cedar players. I’m sitting on the North Cedar side because it’s closer for pictures. He makes a statement-question about how momentum can shift in a game, can’t it? I’ve got the camera up to my eye, but say something in agreement.
Set one ends. North Cedar led for quite a bit, but the Bears came from behind to win. I pull up Twitter and post an update that West Branch is up 1-0. I think again about the “Truthy” project, and whether government has the authority — not duty, just authority — to monitor Twitter for mistakes and partisanship. I don’t see why not. The information is out there in public. It’s a whole lot different than mining phone data or reading my e-mails. Oh, wait, they’re doing that, too.
The gentleman looks at his program and asks me about the West Branch player with No. 16 on her jersey, saying that she’s pretty good but there’s no one with No. 16 on the roster. Hmm, he’s right. Must be a mistake. That’s Bailey Lukavsky, I tell him, and add that she’s listed as No. 10 on the program. I scratch a correction on the program for my notes. “Perhaps I should report the mistake on Twitter and alert Truthy?” I ask myself facetiously, annoyed by this government project’s waste of taxpayer dollars.
West Branch plows through the second set in dominant fashion. The gentleman interjected a few generic yet frustrated shouts to the Knights from the stands, though with an encouraging lilt in his voice about playing to their potential.
As I tweet about game two going to West Branch, the gentleman switches the conversation back to football.
“How come West Branch doesn’t use that newer football field at the high school?” he asks.
A fair question. I tell him about how there’s a lot of tradition and history at the Oliphant Street field, how it was dug out by farmers and teams of horses so long ago, how the community wanted the team to keep playing there because of that history and tradition, and the feel of parking up on the hill to peer down into the bowl.
He seems to accept that, and I wonder if, at his age, he understands that better than a younger man would. It felt good to share this with him.
At this point of the conversation, I can somewhat understand the government’s temptation to want to “correct misinformation” on Twitter, but that project feels more like Big Brother than a friendly chat between a reporter and a volleyball fan.
Game three distracts both of us from the subject, because North Cedar’s netters come out like barnstormers. It’s do-or-die time, and they’re not going down without a fight. The game is neck-and-neck, but the Knights pull ahead and win this one.
When I tweet that North Cedar won game three, I can’t help but also mention that West Branch is still ahead 2-1. Yes, this is partisanship on Twitter, from a newspaper no less. Can you blame the West Branch guy for being a Bears fan? Perhaps the U.S. government will send me a letter, something to the tune of the girl crying on YouTube we should all “Leave Britney alone!”
Game four is much like game two. The Bears rumble through, outpacing North Cedar. The gentleman sighs, apparently predicting the way this game is going to end. He’s not happy about it, and turns to me again. Apparently my earlier answer about the football field helped his understanding, but something within him was not completely satisfied. He lets his frustration out on me, just a little bit, with his another statement-question, “But it’s so cold sitting on the visitor side at a West Branch football game!” he says, alluding to how Bears fans have buildings to block some of that cold, northwest wind.
“Well,” I said in reply. “The newer field is up on a hill and it’s a lot windier up there than it is down in the Little Rose Bowl.”
“Oh,” the gentleman said as the scowl melted away. This time his understanding seemed complete, and he actually appeared glad to have had this conversation, even though his volleyball team saw their season end that night.
I tweet about West Branch’s win. The fans start filing out. The gentleman says no more as he gets up to leave.
Score one for the Bears, and score one for a better way to “correct misinformation.” A polite conversation beats trolling people’s Twitter accounts any day.
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