Obama, Kanye West, Tommy Lasorda, and Jesse Jackson: Lessons of the Open Mic

After three Yankee hitters reach base, Lasorda heads to the mound to replace lefty Doug Rau. The pitcher does not want to come out of the game, and points out to his manager that the next hitter (Yanks' third baseman Graig Nettles) bats left handed. Lasorda responds with a profane tirade against the pitcher, who unfazed, offers a second line of defense: His arm feels fine, Rau says.

This mild plea sets Lasorda into orbit. In his ensuing diatribe, Lasorda lets Rau know that he, not one of his players, is The Decider, and he does so in language that does not invite rebuttal. "I don't give a s*** Doug!" Lasorda yells at his pitcher. "I'm the f****** manager of the f****** team, and I gotta make the f****** decisions to the f****** best of my ability. It may be the wrong f****** decision, but I'll make it."

As I listened to my friend's tape while sipping beer on a pleasant Georgia evening, I was struck by a devilish thought: What if newspaper reporters had access to such devices? And not only those covering sports. The mother lode of material out there had been glimpsed during John Ehrlichman's testimony to the Senate Watergate committee when Sen. Daniel Inouye had muttered "what a liar" into what he assumed was a dead microphone. Now that's the kind of candor that would spice up the system, I thought.

Well, this turned out to be a case of being careful what you wish for – because the future is here, and it ain't pretty. This September might as well be dubbed Open Mic Month, thanks to both athletes and politicians – and those diabolical microphones they keep forgetting about.

The first infamous episode was a career-ending gaffe by a Republican state legislator from Southern California named Michael D. Duvall. When freshmen legislators come to Sacramento, they are warned in their orientation about the perils of assuming a microphone is turned off. Duvall apparently was not paying attention, or he simply chose not to heed this warning. Moments before a July committee hearing that was to be aired on cable television, Duvall began imparting crude details to a fellow Republican lawmaker – and a microphone that was turned on – about sex he's had with female lobbyists. He mentions one of them by name, who, like Duvall, is married.

A week after that came to light, tennis star Serena Williams was called for a (dubious) foot fault at a critical moment in her attempt to scratch her way back into the match during the finals of the U.S. Open. Williams was obviously furious, as evidenced by her finger-pointing, tennis ball-waving, racket-swinging tantrum toward the lineswoman, but any chance of avoiding a fine and suspension were undermined by the courtside microphones that picked up her words to the hapless official: ("I'd take this f****** ball and shove it down your f****** throat," Miss Williams said.)

As CBS announcer Dick Enberg noted in his wrap up, "Well, with our sensitive microphones, we could pick up the profanities..."). Roger Federer, the best male tennis player on the planet, apparently didn't take sufficient note. Later, during a break in the men's final, a courtside microphone discerned Federer employing both the "s-h" word and the "eff" word. His forehand, and his backhand, as it were.

The very same day, while bantering with reporters immediately before a scheduled interview, President Obama was asked what he thought of rapper Kanye West bum rushing the stage to grab the microphone from teenager Taylor Swift while she accepted an MTV award – and blurting out that it should have gone to Beyonce.

"I thought that was really inappropriate," Obama said into a microphone we all know now was hot. "She's getting an award, why are you butting in? ... He's a jackass."

As presidential hot mic bloopers go, this was pretty mild fare. Ronald Reagan once joked during a sound check that the United States was about to bomb the Soviet Union. George W. Bush once referred to New York Times reporter Adam Clymer as a "major league a**hole." (He was talking to future Vice President Dick Cheney, who replied, "Oh yeah he is –- big time." But, because the directional mics were pointing at the president – where else would they be aimed – Bush was also speaking to the entire world.)

Bill Clinton, miffed over an erroneous news report that Jesse Jackson was going to endorse Iowa Sen. Tom Harkin instead of him in 1992, said into an open mic that this was a "dirty, double-crossing" move. Sixteen years later, Jackson was about to go on the air, and knowing that the microphone in his lapel might be live, whispered that he'd like to castrate Barack Obama. The microphone caught it all – including Jackson lowering his voice to a whisper.

So what are the lessons in all this? Here are a few:

-- In a world where telephones take photographs, cameras watch us in elevators, and time-honored concepts such as "off-the-record" are considered quaint, everything is on the record – literally – as there's likely to be a recording of your blooper.

-- Thus, the only way to really stay out of trouble is to neither do, nor say, anything off-color or stupid. New technology underscores the wisdom of an old admonition: If you can't say something nice about someone, don't say anything at all.

-- Not all gaffes are created equal. Kanye West was forced to apologize for ruining Taylor Swift's moment. President Obama was not required to apologize for calling Kanye West a jackass. In other words, truth is still a defense.

-- When the bloopee concludes that an apology is in order, a thorough – an even over-the-top – apology is the best antidote. Serena Williams didn't get this. Jesse Jackson, seasoned politician (and experienced gaffer) did: "For any harm or hurt that this hot mic private conversation may have caused, I apologize," Jackson said in a written statement. "My support for Sen. Obama's campaign is wide, deep and unequivocal. I cherish this redemptive and historical moment."

-- Time is on the transgressor's side. Who remembers Tommy Lasorda's profanity-laced rant of 32 years ago? Not the curator of the National Portrait Gallery. A painting of the colorful former manager is set to be unveiled there on next Tuesday. Lasorda was born on that very day, September 22, exactly 82 years ago. Wonder if he knows an off-color version of Happy Birthday?