Lockard is an Iowa resident who regularly contributes to regional newspapers and periodicals. She is working on the second of a four-book fictional series based on Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice."
So, what could Nelson Mandela and Caitlin Clark possibly have in common?
Both are conclusive proof that “the times, they are a-changin’.” Also, neither the former president of South Africa nor the basketball superstar “shrink” to accommodate others’ ideas of how they should live. Neither “plays small.”
Mandela helped end apartheid in South Africa 30 years ago. In his inaugural speech in May 1994, as he was sworn in as the country’s first Black president, he spoke of what it takes to overcome the most daunting obstacles, often those we have no control of, like the color of our skin.
Other things we have no control of: our sex (at least at birth,) and our height. Just 30 years ago, women, still considered the “weaker” sex, were preferred smaller. They needed “bigger” men to “take care” of them — basically a parent/child relationship, unfair to both sexes. “Shrinking” girls were common then.
How exactly does one shrink, anyway? Oh, there are ways. A tall girl can shrink herself by slouching, wearing whisper-thin shoes, remaining seated — anything not to tower over the boys. A short boy might do the opposite: sneak lifts into his shoes or hang upside down like a bat to “stretch” himself. Not long ago, tall girls and short boys were considered an unfortunate result of genetic dice, or even medical problems. Hormonal therapies were available to help a short male attain increased height by delaying his puberty. Hastening a tall female’s puberty had the opposite effect: Though it likely would not qualify her to shop in the petite section, she might “shrink” to a more desirable height.
Fast forward 30 years and bring on 6-foot-tall Caitlin Clark from Des Moines, Iowa, one of the most recognized figures in sports, men’s or women’s. Her NCAA legacy is the stuff of legend. All-time leading scorer, breaking the men’s Division 1 record with a career total of 3,685 points. (But who’s counting?) The Big Ten’s all-time leader in assists and a unanimous AP preseason All American. The list of her accomplishments goes on and on. After sporting No. 22 on her University of Iowa jersey (now retired), she was picked first in the WNBA draft in April and now plays for the Fever wearing the same No. 22. She is all of 22 years old. Must be her lucky number.
But it is not luck. It is not shirking, and not shrinking. It is a combination of talent and hard work, with a huge dose of commitment thrown in. Renowned for her shooting range, but just as much for her passing ability and assists, Clark shares both the ball and the accolades with her teammates. She will not lose her false eyelashes during the game, and won't be assessed fouls for using profanity. She is real; she is nice. Little girls want to be like her when they grow up; big girls want to be her now.
Caitlin Clark makes Iowans proud. She makes sports fans everywhere proud. But sports fan or not, one cannot help but be dazzled by her. “The Caitlin Clark effect” has been credited for the surging popularity of women’s basketball, changing everything for women’s sports.
Keep the faith, share the ball, make the most of your abilities, practice what you’re good at. Basketball and life are not so different. The stakes are high in both; both are tough and often unfair. Mandela spent 27 years in prison. Then he became first Black president of South Africa? A “girl” breaking the NCAA Division I scoring record? Impossible! Or so they said.
Oh, no! Neither Caitlin Clark, when missing a shot, nor Nelson Mandela, when missing a third of his life in prison, “shrank” so others wouldn’t feel insecure around them. They simply got on with their game. Whether “Caitlin Clark fever” continues with the Indiana Fever remains to be seen. This much is certain, however: She will not “play small.”
If looking for a sign the world is going in the right direction — often two steps forward, one back, yet still the right direction — remember Nelson Mandela from South Africa and think of Caitlin Clark and tall girls from Iowa, from everywhere. Tall girls and short boys, Black people and white people and sky-blue or pink people, all people.
We each bring something no one else can to that big table called Life.
We each bring our one and only self.
U.S. President Donald Trump delivers the State of the Union address during a joint session of Congress in the House Chamber at the Capitol on Feb. 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump delivered his address days after the Supreme Court struck down the administration's tariff strategy, and amid a U.S. military buildup in the Persian Gulf threatening Iran.
Some MAGA loyalists have turned on Trump. Why the rest haven’t
I recently watched "A Face in the Crowd" for the umpteenth time.
I had a better reason than procrastination to rewatch Elia Kazan’s brilliant 1957 film exploring populism in the television age. It was homework. I was asked to discuss it with Turner Classic Movies host Ben Mankiewicz at the just-concluded TCM Film Festival in Los Angeles. As a pundit and an author, I do a lot of public speaking. But I don’t really do a lot of cool public speaking, so this was a treat.
With that not-very-humble brag out of the way, I had a depressing realization watching it this time.
"A Face in the Crowd" tells the story of a charming drifter with a dark side named Larry “Lonesome” Rhodes, played brilliantly by Andy Griffith. A singer with the gift of the gab, Rhodes takes off on radio but quickly segues to the brand-new medium of television. He becomes a national sensation — and political kingmaker — by forming a deep connection with the masses, particularly among the rural and working classes. His core audience is made up of people with grievances. “Everybody that’s got to jump when somebody else blows the whistle,” as Rhodes puts it.
The film’s climax (spoiler alert) comes when Rhodes’ manager and spurned lover, Marcia, turns on the microphone while the credits rolled at the end of “Cracker Barrel,” his national TV show. Rhodes tells his entourage what he really thinks of the “morons” in his audience. “Shucks, I can take chicken fertilizer and sell it to them for caviar. I can make them eat dog food, and they’ll think it’s steak. … Good night, you stupid idiots.”
It was a canonical “hot mic” moment in American cinema. But the idea that if people could glimpse the “real person” behind the popular facade, they’d turn on them is a very old theme in literature — think Pierre Choderlos de Laclos’ "Les Liaisons Dangereuses" (1782) or Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s "The School for Scandal" (1777), in which diaries and letters do the work of microphones.
Kazan and screenwriter Budd Schulberg were very worried about the ability of demagogues to whip up populist fervor and manipulate the masses through the power of TV, in part because everyone had already seen it happen with radio and film, by Father Coughlin in America and Hitler in Germany. But as dark as their vision was, they still clung to the idea that if the demagogue was exposed, the people would instantly turn on their leader in an “Emperor’s New Clothes” moment for the mass media age.
And that’s the source of my depressing realization. I think they were wrong. It turns out that once that organic connection is made, even a shocking revelation of the truth won’t necessarily break the spell.
In 2016, a lot of writers revisited "A Face in the Crowd" to understand the Trump phenomenon. After all, here was a guy who used a TV show — "The Apprentice" — and social media to build a massive following, going over the heads of the “establishment.” Trump’s own hot mic moment with "Access Hollywood," in which he boasted of his sexual predations, proved insufficient to undo him. That was hardly the only such moment for him. We’ve heard Trump bully the Georgia secretary of state to “find 11,780 votes.” He told Bob Woodward he deliberately “played down” COVID-19. After leaving office, he was recorded telling aides he shouldn’t be sharing classified documents with them — then doing it anyway. And so on.
Trump’s famous claim that he could “shoot somebody” on Fifth Avenue and not lose any voters may have been hyperbole. But it’s not crazy to think he wouldn’t lose as many voters as he should.
In the film, Lonesome Rhodes implodes when Americans encounter his off-air persona. The key to Trump’s success is that he ran as his off-air persona. Why people love that persona is a complicated question. Among the many complementary explanations is that he comes across as authentic, and some people value authenticity more than they value good character, honesty, or competence.
This is not just a problem for Republicans. Maine Senate candidate Graham Platner once had a Nazi tattoo and has said things about women as distasteful as Trump’s “grab them by (the genitals)” comments, and the Democratic establishment is rallying around him because he’s authentic — and because Democrats want to win that race.
Many prominent MAGA loyalists are turning on Trump these days. They claim — wrongly in my opinion — that he’s changed and that the Iran war is a betrayal of their cause. But if you look at the polls, voters who describe themselves as “MAGA” still overwhelmingly support Trump. In short, he still has the Fifth Avenue voters on his side.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.