Legally Speaking

The Great American Pastime is, of course, taking people to court.

No, I’m kidding. The Great American Pastime is baseball; an event in which small teams of highly skilled and carefully trained individuals convene in a specially-designated location to compete by following a complicated set of rules under the watchful eyes of a team of impartial judges. So, come to think of it, baseball isn’t that much different from court. Except, wouldn’t court be a lot cooler if the lawyers had to wear knee-breeches? It would at least make it easier to identify the prosecutors from the defenders.

On the other hand, what if we used baseball to settle our differences? Imagine that a land developer is interested in turning a hundred acres of forest land into a mixed-use multi-family residential/commercial zone. The current tenants of the land prefer that it be preserved in its natural state. Sure, they could all hire lawyers and battle it out in a stuffy courtroom for a decade or so, but wouldn’t be a lot more pleasant for everyone if they took their fight out onto the ball field some summer afternoon?

The color commentary alone would be worth the price of admission.

Really.

“The Developers will be batting today and first up is Mr. Potter. Taking the pitcher’s mound for the residents of the Hundred Acre Wood is Tigger. There’s the wind-up and the pitch….it’s a screwball. Potter catches the edge of it and he’s off. The ball goes to center field where Roo catches it while inside his mother’s pouch. He throws to Eeyore at first, but Eeyore has his head down and isn’t watching. The ball rolls off! Potter is racing to second and Pooh bear is muttering to himself. Tigger bounces out to get the ball and throws it to Roo who stops Potter at second. Next up, coming out of retirement and batting for the Developers, its Sammy Sosa!”

Come to think of it, this is a terrible idea. The developers would probably use their money to bring in a highly-paid expert to play for their team while the poor hundred acre wood citizens would be stuck using whomever they could find that was sympathetic to their cause. If they went to court instead, both sides would be on an equal footing so long as they could each afford the best lawyers available.

Which is the whole point of our legal system; law is all about bringing civility to conflict. The brutality of an earlier age has been replaced by the sophistication of the courtroom. Simply being the strongest is no longer important; now you must have the strongest lawyer.

It’s a shame that it has taken us so long to get to this point. Many earlier … messier … conflicts could have been avoided if the participants had chosen court instead of combat. For example, the American Revolution would have been much less violent if the Founding Fathers had simply declared that the Colonies and Great Britain had irreconcilable differences and then hired a lawyer to sue for separate maintenance.

With a little foresight, the thirty-second gun battle between the Clantons and the Earps could have been turned into a months-long trial instead. Fewer people would have died, but classic films like Gunfight at the O.K. Corral and Tombstone would have to be replaced with less-thrilling versions like Motion to Suppress at the O.K. Corral and Law and Order: Tombstone.

Romeo and Juliet would have taken on a whole different tone if Shakespeare had written it as a legal drama. When Juliet’s father realized she was hanging out with that no-good Montague kid, he could have just hired the law firm of Squire, Squire, Hackam and Dudley to draft up a routine Cease-and-Desist letter.

Dear Romeo Montague;

Mine noble servants have brought to my attention thy interest in the affairs of my daughter. As thou are no doubt aware, our families’ interests are at odds and no commerce can be given or received between our two most noble houses. Thou must divert thy attentions to other maidens for mine cherished child is forbidden thee. If thou dost not comply, I shall see thee in the court of Verona where I shall relieve thee of thy tights. In simpler terms, keep your mitts off my little girl or I’ll sue the pants off you.

Not that Romeo would have listened. He would have used his legal team to counter-sue for alienation of affection or (more likely) unauthorized misuse of the language of Shakespeare.

I don’t even want to think what might have happened if my children had decided to apply the power of law to routine domestic squabbles. A simple matter such as an overlooked chore might have led to a full-blown living room trial with a jury of Star Wars action figures and a stuffed rabbit as a judge. I’d hate to have been called to the stand on that one.

Perry Mason: Mr. Cummings, you claim that your son didn’t take out the trash last night. Correct?

Me: Well, yes. You see it’s right …

Perry Mason: Did you actually see him not take it out?

Me: What? No. I mean, it’s still right…

Perry Mason: So it could have been anybody who didn’t take out the trash.

Me: That doesn’t make any sense. It was his job!

Perry Mason: It might have been you who didn’t take out the trash. Isn’t that right Mr. Cummings?

Me: But it wasn’t my job.

Darth Vader Action Figure: I believe we’ve heard enough. Execute the witness.

I’m even more grateful that my wife never caught on to the idea of using legal pressure to change my behavior. My occasional, inadvertent lapses in the putting my-dirty-clothes-directly-in-the-hamper-instead-of-on-the-ground-in-a-room-more-or-less-near-the-hamper-department would probably have earned me a threatening letter from Crane, Poole and Schmidt.