Dartmouth soccer players taunt Harvard squash players

Of course this is all so horrifying and unseemly and ungentlemanly. But I really need to have a sit down with Susan Cohen.

You see, Mrs. Cohen, your son is a competitive squash player at Harvard whose parents travel to see his matches.

You named him Franklin, and he STILL goes by Franklin. Not Frank. Not some made up name like Bill to end-around what his parents did to him on his birth certificate.

Franklin.

I realize he didn't get to choose his parents. He didn't pick the religion he was born into. ... and he is probably a great kid. ... But. ... you named him Franklin, and he STILL goes by Franklin. Franklin Cohen.

Even if your kid isn't a douche. ... to the world you put him in, Mrs. Cohen, he's not just a douche: he's a Jewish douche. I know. It's not fair. But that's the way it has been since the moment you and your husband Jerry opened up the checkbook to enroll him at that elite prep school somewhere on the eastern seaboard.

It's the tradeoff. Sure you could have kept him in the nice local public school your thousands of dollars of property taxes pay for. You know, the one with the Finkelstein kid he went to Hebrew School with--the one who is now pre-med at Brandeis. I'm sure the public school had a decent tennis team. ... even if he would have missed out on the magic that is an adolescence filled with competitive squash.

But you didn't go that route. Nothing wrong with that, Mrs. Cohen. No one is being critical here.

The thing is. ... now your sense of justice is askew, and you seem so confused by this tragic turn of events at Dartmouth. Your sense of outrage and victimization has been sparked. And why shouldn't it be? You go to all the same philanthropic events as those kids' parents. The ones in New York or Boston or wherever it is you come from. And even though you don't go to church on Sundays, you and Jerry consider yourself good people. You voted for a black man and you donated a turkey to a food bank this year!

What happened to Franklin is not right. And I agree. But did you really think the little shits at Choate or Exeter or whatever you sent him, weren't thinking EXACTLY what those boorish Dartmouth students actually verbalized, because, well, that nasty, nasty Dartmouth-Harvard rivalry can make even the most well-heeled 19-year-old forget the things he is not supposed to ever actually say? Are you really still this surprised by the world, Mrs. Cohen?

Look at it this way. Franklin gets to go to Harvard because you and Jerry set him up so well for life. He'll graduate from Stanford Business School or Yale Law with honors. He is a smart kid and he works hard. Hell, he's not even half bad at that silly sport you invested $52K worth of lessons and private court time in.

And it's not like he has to wear a Scarlet J everywhere he goes, Mrs. Cohen. Really. He can wear striped ties if he wants, just like Chip and Theodore and all the other kids in the dorm who snicker at the fact that he plays squash.

The unfortunate reality, though? ... every time he sticks out his hand and introduces himself as Franklin Cohen, there is a high likelihood that someone will be thinking "Jewish douchebag."

It's just the way it is, Mrs. Cohen. I feel bad being the one to break it to you. But you need to know.

Is it really THAT bad? I mean, a six-figure salary and lunchtime squash every day goes a long ways to soothing bruised feelings. ...IF he has any, Mrs. Cohen.

I say, "if," because honestly, doesn't he go by Franklin because he already fancies himself Franklin D. Wasperbush when he closes his eyes at night? Wasn't that the whole goal? Didn't you and Jerry dream about that day?

Be honest with us, Mrs. Cohen!

Put it in that perspective, and who cares what others think? And if it matters that much, look at the bright side. He could be one of the dorky Asian kids he plays behind on the squash team. ... you know, the one who didn't get to have a childhood, because at the age of 9, he knew squash was his ticket to Harvard. Worse, HE has to wear his Asian shame on his face and double up on math credits because his overbearing parents are even kookier than you and Jerry! Things aren't so bad for Franklin, are they?

He gets to introduce himself as Franklin if he wants to. And when his parents embarrass him by showing up to his squash matches, he can retreat to the dorm and smoke a bong with Chip and Theodore, who don't mind getting high with him (but someday will have reservations about letting him join their country club), and are thinking, "I wonder if the Jew has anything to eat" when the munchies set in.

Do we REALLY have to feel sorry for Franklin, Mrs. Cohen? Can't we let it slide?