On David Beckham TM
By Simon J Black
Published: 02/26/2007
Unless you live somewhere in the Arctic Circle or the jungles of the Amazon, you’ll have heard the news about David Beckham. The postmodern prince of the sports world, with a career built more on style than substance, has signed a contract that stands to make any progressive weep. The terms of the deal, 250 million over 5 years, could build some affordable housing for his new home’s homeless; instead this money will line the pockets of one Mr. Posh Spice.Beckham’s due to ply his trade with the Los Angeles Galaxy of American’s MLS (Major League Soccer). Not since the arrival of Pele in the 1970s has American soccer been graced by such a big name player. But unlike his predecessors Beckham is not only a player but a brand, a phenomenon without comparison in the sports world. He is Naomi Klein’s sporting nightmare, an uber-logo to be emblazoned on everything from car air fresheners to baby’s bibs. Soon this brand will be launched full-scale in America and marketed to the hilt. Beckham’s image will occupy the best spots in Times Square and be seen on the billboards of Rodeo Drive knocking Britney Spears or Paris Hilton off the throne of most overexposed celebrity.
Beckham is like no other before him; a sports star with global appeal (and sex appeal) whose contribution to commerce far outweighs his contribution to the sport that he loves. Make no mistake, Beckham is a skilled player but as the late, great George Best (a man Pele considered the greatest player ever) said of him: “He (Beckham) cannot kick with his left foot, he cannot head a ball, he cannot tackle and he doesn't score many goals. Apart from that he's all right.” Beckham’s old club, the mighty Real Madrid, figured this out pretty quickly and as the star appeal of ‘Becks’ (as he’s known) was overtaken by the mediocrity of his play, he quickly became a case of diminishing returns for the Spanish soccer giants. And so the LA Galaxy takes him to the global home of image and dollars. Los Angeles seems built for Beckham, his natural habitat, like a fish in the sea or maybe a more fitting description given the nature of the city and the apparent financial motives for his move, like a pig in s**t.
But enough of the cynicism, let’s give Beckham his due: as a working-class lad from the mean streets of London’s Peckham district, he’s made a living off the sport he loves, avoiding the monotony and toil his fellow proles are condemned to. To millions of children, in the UK and beyond, he is a working class hero, a promise of what hours spent in the park with a ball, a coconut, or some other improvised sphere (of rags, plastic bags, or palm leaves depending on your geographic location and amount of pocket money) can do for you. For those millions of fans, Beckham is sporting God and a social hope to be worshiped and emulated.
Has Beckham TM made any positive contributions to the sporting world or for that matter humanity at large? Maybe this is too much to ask of him. Yet in the UK, he’s often described as an example of the “new man”, willing to blur the gender and race lines which often demarcate the world of fashion and aesthetics. Becks has never been afraid to adopt the stylings of black popular culture or wear the odd sarong knowing that come Saturday afternoon he was to be center stage in the hyper-masculine arena that is the British soccer stadium. Subject to often repulsive chants and abuse aimed at both his wife and children, Beckham refused to be baited, responding to opposition fans with a thunderous free kick or graceful pass. In this way, he remains an icon of sportsmanship amongst a crowd of spoilt sporting brats with too much time and money on their hands. Sure he’s no Brad or Angelina marking is celeb legacy with a little humanitarian intervention. Don’t expect to see Becks at a UN press conference anytime soon or divvying up his millions among worthwhile causes a la Bill and Melinda.
What we can expect of him is entertainment and a lesson in how 21st century capitalism survives as much on the exploitation of some working class lads as it did when Beckham’s father trudged off to the factories of South London. Yet now it’s not his labor but his image that’s being exploited and at a million dollars a week this is a little exploitation I wouldn’t mind a bit of myself.
Published in Canadian Dimension March/April 2007