Why Iowa political races matter

     As I write this, we still don't know which Republican won the Iowa caucuses, but it doesn't matter.
     Iowa's standing in deciding national political leaders is almost exactly as important as Carroll County's standing in determining Maryland politics.
     Iowa and Carroll County have a lot in common, besides not mattering much, politically.
     Both are better known for farming than for generating positive change in public policy. That's because both are populated largely by people who don't thing change can be positive.
     Both Iowa and Carroll County are known for corn. People who have never visited Carroll County -- I knew a few such people when I worked in Baltimore -- think this county is just about as corny as you get. Iowa gets that same disrespect on a national scale.
     Hogs do better in both locations than Democrats. Butchering takes place every fall and every election in both places.
     But even those who make jokes about Iowa -- and Carroll County -- agree that they're good places to live. If you're white, that is. And Christian, preferably conservative Christian. And heterosexual. If you're none of those, it is assumed that you are a Democrat.
     Baltimore reporters -- any news people who were born somewhere else -- are a little smart-alecky about country news assignments. They see working here, or Iowa, as just a stepping stone in their careers. They cover the politics here to get the experience they need to get a job covering more important stories in bigger, more urban markets.
     It's more fun to cover the coverage of Iowa than it is to try to find the substance of the issues at stake. The only thing funnier, if you can keep your sense of humor, is to stand off a little to the side and add up the silly things that candidates and their frantic staffers do to try to get attention.
     It's a little like letting the kids take over the playground without the teachers around to keep everything civil. You can have name calling over by the basketball hoop, harassment down by the monkey bars, mugging behind the see-saw and a rock-toss on the ball fields.
     Just like right here.
     By the time this piece sees daylight, the politicians will be gone. The caucus-goers will be tut-tutting around the tables at the local diners, but at least they'll have their coffee in peace, without some slick and her or his entourage, followed by lights and cameras, for a hand-shake session, fresh from trying to milk cows out at the Dutch boy farm.
     The cows will be happy to see them go.
     The good thing is, we'll go through this frenzy in New Hampshire, then again in South Carolina, and I guess Florida.
     By that time, we can start counting the days until pitchers and catchers report for spring training.