“What were you feeling when . . .?”

In the history of interviews, perhaps going back to Julius Caesar being interviewed by a reporter for the Roman Forum, this is perhaps the most absurd question of all time, in just about any context. Presidential candidates that have just lost the election, for example. We’re pretty sure how the winners feel – although the incumbent could be a noticeable exception. He didn’t look too happy two years ago. It was more a “holy crap” expression both on his and his wife’s faces. So I need somebody to tell me, in what context is this an appropriate question?  

The Boston Red Sox just won the World Series. “What were you feeling when you hit that game-winning home run?” Can an athlete even begin to describe such a moment? Can mere words bring that feeling of euphoria to life?  So we end up with, “yeh – that felt pretty good.” Pretty good? Are you kidding me? A morning walk or a trip to the bakery feels pretty good. That first cup of pumpkin spice coffee in the fall is pretty good. Is that really the best question these professional reporters can come up with? You can’t ask how they adjusted their swing, were able to read the pitcher, maybe describe the look on the pitcher’s face when the ball left the bat? Do we really want to know first and foremost what their inner feelings were? I, for one, might like to hear an unexpected response like,  “Well, the parking attendant really pissed me off, and I didn’t get enough cheese on my cheeseburger in the clubhouse, so I took it out on that 0-2 pitch.”

The nation has been besieged by calamities from hurricanes and flooding all across the country. We here in New England had a major catastrophe as a natural gas pressure issue reduced many homes to smoldering rubble. In the face of disaster, we again get this brilliantly insightful question, “What were you feeling when you saw your home erupt into flames?” The family is in tears, for heaven sake. They look bedraggled and emotionally spent. They’re trying to explain that everything they owned just became a pile of ashes. Does that give you a clue, Mr. or Ms Reporter? What are they feeling? Just to see a reporter’s face, maybe someone could respond, “We’d been working with a designer to redecorate the kitchen and living room anyway, so now we’ve got a clean slate.”  Guaranteed dead silence and a look of utter confusion from the reporter.

Do “feelings” enter into the equation in analyzing a situation? Any situation? Isn’t there a logical process here? Our New England Patriots have a terrific coach that can only be described as a “minimalist” in post-game interviews. In particular, he doesn’t respond well to questions about feelings – either his or his team’s. He’s just not a “feelings” kind of guy. Those types of questions elicit an answer much as one might expect Napoleon to respond should someone ask him about his feelings as he’s leaving Waterloo. Something like, “I may have to hurt someone that asks me about my feelings.”

I’ve noticed a trend too in interviews with first responders. They’ve often explained that they’ve done what they humanly could do, which in some cases due to time and available resources seemed to them inadequate. And here comes the question: “How did you feel about that?” How do you answer that? A crazed shooter has left bodies strewn about. How would one feel? Part of the problem is that those doing the interviews are dependent on gaining and holding the viewer’s attention. The interviewee, however, often hasn’t even had time to process what’s just happened. From their perspective, the reporter is much like a mosquito buzzing around you just after you’ve gone to bed and shut off the light. So, the person being interviewed fumbles along as best he or she can, trying to look pleased or at least not traumatized that there’s a microphone the size of a bowling ball stuck in their face.

So, why the compulsive need to ask about somebody’s feelings? Has this question surfaced among mental health professionals? Are they the ones suggesting that athletes and victims of disaster really need to “get it out”, to “get in touch with their feelings”? And should that catharsis happen on the air, with thousands or millions of folks watching and listening? Why do we seem to revel in other peoples’ misery? Watching the Dodgers in the dugout wasn’t necessary. We can all understand their supreme disappointment. We don’t need to see their faces. Or a flood victim. Do we really need to talk to them while their home drifts away? Just seeing the home washing down  the river tells me pretty much everything I need to know. Our local newspaper has a compulsive need to place right on the front page a picture of someone holding a photograph of a loved one – perhaps a victim of a drug overdose, an unsolved murder about which they want answers, or more critically a cat that’s been missing for four days straight. (I may be able to help with the cat – remember that picture of a coyote two weeks ago on page six? Connect the dots.) There is pain and suffering in their eyes and on their faces. I always feel a double edged emotional sword – a) I’m so sorry for you, and b) why are you showing me these? Slow news day? Perhaps you could show all Americans what the caravan of people moving north from Central America have left behind so that many who think it’s a vacation jaunt, all expenses paid by a political party, can understand a bit better? That’s news. In current times, there’s really no such thing as a “slow news” day. It’s more a, “sweet Mother of God, what’s he said or done now?”, but I digress.

Here’s the real irony. As our world develops more and more technology that moves us progressively farther from human understanding and interaction, communications outlets seem to focus on the “feelings”. It’s almost like, “We know you’re becoming less humanoid, so we’ll give you a little taste of what people used to be.” Maybe every video game should have a question at the end – “how did you feel about the fictitious characters you just blasted into oblivion?” Or, “What were your thoughts as you were grand thefting autos?” That might be more suitable “feelings” moment than asking the manager of the Boston Red Sox what his feelings are about winning the World Series. I think I have that one pretty well covered.