Play catch with a major league starting pitcher? Most of us will never get the chance. But thanks to Twitter, it might be a good idea for us to cart around a glove.
Earlier this week Jeremy Guthrie, the opening day starter for the Colorado Rockies, sent out this tweet: “Anybody on lunch break & up for a catch with me?”
Well, turns out there was. “My man!” fan Woody Roseland tweeted back. “I’m downtown and have my glove. lets do this!!” The two played catch for an hour or so in the heart of Coors Field—a dream come true for many a baseball fan. But the story gets better: Roseland is apparently a five-time cancer survivor.
We talk a lot about celebrity at Plugged In. Our culture sometimes seems obsessed with it—more now, I think, than at any other time in my life. Part of that is because today’s famous and fortunate seem more like us. You don’t need to be a movie star or major league pitcher: You just need to be interesting enough to land on a reality show. Celebrity now feels in our reach, as illustrated by the thousands who come out of the woodwork to answer casting calls for shows like American Idol or Big Brother or, perhaps, Zombie Families of the Ozarks. (“Well, I’m not really undead,” a prospective mother might tell the casting director, “but I am very pale.”)
But there’s a flip side to this era of approachable celebrity. Just as a normal 16-year-old kid might be thinking to herself, “I wanna be rich and famous,” the already rich and famous have—thanks in large part to Twitter and social media—the ability to say, “Hey, I’m just like you.” Call it the democratization of celebrity.
Consider the access (or, at least, perceived access) that people have to their favorite stars thanks to Twitter. Celebrity tweets foster a sense of direct communication between the famous and their fans. Followers of Ashton Kutcher or Shaquille O’Neal or scads of other celebrities get their “news” right from the source, not from an intermediary like the National Enquirer or TMZ. And fans feel comfortable returning the favor: They can tweet right back to Kutcher if they want—knowing he just might answer. Suddenly, these folks aren’t locked away behind their Beverly Hills gates: They’re just a tweet away.
This week, USA Today published a story on how many high schoolers these days are actually asking celebrities to prom. Eighteen-year-old Brooke Dutridge is trying to woo American Idol contestant Scotty McCreery through a Facebook page (which now has 1,700 followers). Georgetta Wuo asked NBA star Ricky Rubio via YouTube. The video has 84,000 hits. And, as Mila Kunis and Justin Timberlake proved last year (when they both accepted invites to attend military dances) you never know when someone might say yes.
Fifteen years ago, this sort of interaction wouldn’t have been possible. Stars were separated from their fans by guards, gates and layers of PR protection. And in truth, most of them still are. But it doesn’t feel that way, and maybe that’s what’s important: Celebs no longer have the aura of airbrushed and untouchable demi-gods. Now we know they really are just like us … just with thousands more Facebook fans and a couple more zeroes at the end of their paychecks.
Like everything, this democratization of celebrity is a mixed bag. It’d be nice if Brooke and Georgetta turned to their own classmates for dates, for instance. I think they’d have more fun at prom with friends.
But having the chance to play catch with a major leaguer? I think that’d be pretty cool.
So Jeremy, if you’re reading this and happen to be in Colorado Springs, give this southpaw a holler. I’ll keep my glove in the car, just in case.
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