Chua-ly Sheen

The showdown, #tigerblood v. the Tiger Mom. Amy Chua and Charlie Sheen. One is a Tiger Mom; one drinks Tiger Blood. But they both know how to WIN. Duh.

Sure, Sheen’s blazing self-confidence is probably the result of hypomania, but there’s a reason it’s so compelling. It’s a word, it’s a catchphrase, it’s a movement, it’s a T-shirt slogan, it’s a way of life, it’s an evolutionary necessity, it’s even a new parenting philosophy. It’s WINNING.

Chua sells us on the idea that we can help our kids win academically and win piano competitions, and ultimately, we’ll win their abiding love for believing they were winners in the first place. Sheen, well, without making light of his situation, which may indeed be dire, I have to say I kinda understand his appeal.

I’d like to have the best plan in the room, lambaste my enemies and burn with the fire of my own excellence and superiority. Parents became obsessed with Tiger Mom’s bold and badass dedication to her daughters’ excellence, the way she focused on getting the all-important “W” for her kids. Turns out, we like that quality in our insane, downward-spiraling TV stars, too.

In a world filled with participation trophies and a cloying, bogus focus on “self-esteem” that isn’t earned, there’s something satiating about this warrior attitude. Winners take all, so do warlocks, so do little girls who play the crap out of the piano.

Not to get too deep when talking about Sheen and how he’s kept the country spellbound, but there’s almost nothing more primal than the need to win.

Evolutionarily, our lives depend on it. We need to win strong, fertile mates, berries to eat, battles against predators and prey. If our sole biological purpose is to keep our DNA afloat, on some level, we need our kids to be winners, too.

That’s right, you may not even know why Tiger Mom and Tiger Blood have sunk their teeth into your world, but just think about the language. Blood. Tiger. This is brainstem stuff. It’s primal, like my need to win the McCarthy Middle School spelling bee back in seventh grade.

Say what you will about “doing your best,” but it isn’t winning. And anyone who has ever won anything, from a spelling bee to a sales contest to a spot on an all-star team, knows the difference. Winning is to self-esteem what nicotine is to Sheen’s lungs: deliciously satisfying.

There’s a timid, second-guessing, loser-like inner troll in me that responds deeply to the braggadocio of the tigers. Maybe I want a little of that swag to rub off on me. Just a little.