The Big-Tent Blog

Agree with Cousin Dan -- big up to Sip and Cousin Tonks for completing their epic cross-country drive and finally reaching the coast. Like Lewis and Clark, these two, only better looking and with less chance of being hassled by unfriendly natives. Except, ironically, in L.A. That's life.

Speaking of better looking, while flipping through the Times' Arts and Leisure section yesterday (long story, please don't ask), I came across this write-up of a special night at the Opera:

"Kristen Chenoweth made a zany entrance onto the stage of the Metropolitan Opera House on Friday evening, outfitted in a New York Mets baseball shirt and cap, waving a banner and pretending to be a ditsy sports fan arriving late for a game ... After this clever feint Ms. Chenoweth, the tiny, explosively talented blond tornado from Oklahoma, whirled offstage for a few seconds before bouncing back looking like Daisy Mae, in a tight pink dress and grinning ear to ear."

Holy shit, that's hot. Really, really hot.


Wait a second ... yep. Still really hot. Jesus, it's warm in here.

I have no way of knowing how well-acquainted the Y2K readership is with Chenoweth, a wonderously intriguing 4-foot-11 sexpot out of Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. She's most celebrated for her work in musical theater, which isn't really the purview of this blog. I've seen about a million ads around for that show "Wicked," the one about the witches from the Wizard of Oz, and Chenoweth was nominated for a Tony for that. The point is, she's apparently good at what she does.

On top of that, a couple of truly awful movies ("Bewitched," "RV"). She also showed up on the last two seasons of "The West Wing," which was funny because she'd previously gone out with "West Wing" creator and noted drugged-out lunatic Aaron Sorkin, who was so broken up by the relationship that he wound up writing "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" just to work through his emotional issues. Whoops.

If you've seen "Studio 60," Sorkin is basically writing himself as Matthew Perry's character and projecting a whole range of variously nauseating emotions onto the Chenoweth character. It's very nearly as creepy as the whole Kevin Williamson/"Dawson's Creek" exchange, and believe you me, friend, that's saying something.

So, talented and smoking superstar bursting out of a tiny little Mets t-shirt ... that should be enough, right? For a number of things, yes. But it goes beyond that. For Chenoweth, all her Broadway magic and curves considered, is at root a citizen of the heartland, and there's symbolism here worth elaborating upon.

I mentioned she was from Broken Arrow, a desolate little town outside of Tulsa which was NOT named after the Christian Slater joint. Chenoweth, in a nice twist, happens to be one-quarter Cherokee. She was also a pageant-winning sorority girl at Oklahoma City University (think Rutgers, but with fewer well-paid assistant football coaches).

Then, there's her religious side. She is apparently quite public about her faith, having released a CD of contemporary Christian music and appeared on "The 700 Club" to peform. (The avowedly athiest Sorkin made this the plot arc of "Studio 60"'s pilot episode). She doesn't drink or smoke, and she previously gave the Times this juicy quote: "I feel my purpose is to be a Christian actress, to show people that there are nonjudgmental, liberal Christians." This is hot.

But my fetishes aside, it's also meaningful. If the Mets are truly to become the best and most popular baseball club in these United States, they must be able to appeal to fans the country over. The brand must be grown; Mr. Met's family must be fruitful and multiply. Sip's been doing his part to create new supporters, going from city to city and bar to bar in his quest to spread the word about Y2K, and his outreach tour is undoubtedly paying dividends even as we speak.

But he's only one man, we are only one site, and you need to look at the demographics and ask yourself where these new Mets fans will come from. From the city and surrounding regions, yes, but many of these folks are already Mets fans, and the Yankees-Mets fan exchange process is largely a function of team success, and orthogonal to organic independent outreach.

Moreover, much of the team's current audience is well-saturated. The Mets already get the thinking man's vote, and have the urban hipster market on lock. I think it's safe to say that the Jewish contingent isn't going anywhere. The gays are pretty safely in the Amazins' camp. New immigrants to the city largely flow to Queens and Brooklyn, this making them in the current epoch Mets fans by default.

In other words, any true growth is going to have to come from elsewhere. Now, for the reasons contained in the above paragraph, you wouldn't think that red-blooded Oklahomans would be so quick to add some "NYM" gear to their closet full of Sooners swag. And indeed, you can certainly understand why your average meathead from Spavinaw might not think he has a lot in common with all those effete city-dwelling latte-sipping punks wearing the orange and blue and generally carrying on as if they'll be on the first train to Kansas City in the morning. It's a perception problem, and a sizable one.

But comes now an ally in Chenoweth, a real Bible-toting gospel-singing half-injun from the plains who -- get this! -- is down with the Mets. These people love this chick, and if she can teach them to love our team too, well, God bless her. This is what Y2K is all about.

(I know what you're thinking. "Cheddar, did you even read the article? Is she really a Mets fan? Isn't it far more likely that the whole Mets t-shirt thing was nothing more than an introductory word joke, that Chenoweth was just slumming it up at the Opera for a pun and a laugh? What's wrong with you?")

First of all, get out of my head. That's not cool. Secondly, if you don't have any imagination to speak of, that's your problem. Certain things in this world are worth standing up for, and saying, "That's just so damn cute."