As Mad Men nears the middle of its fourth season, the meaning and protocol of industry awards was clearly on creator Matt Weiner's mind. How propitious was that as Don Draper and gang sweated out a fictional ceremony, hoping for Clio recognition for their cinematic Glo-Coat commercial, Weiner and his team were anxious about a possible third consecutive Emmy win for best drama series. I watched Mad Men, with the Emmy broadcast PIP (picture within picture); it was a privileged live moment for experiencing the prophetic intermingling of the real and the fictional.

A major theme of Sunday's "Waldorf Stories" was crediting, who deserves a slice of the awards pie. Copywriter Peggy Olson was sulky throughout the episode, complaining the boy in the nominated commercial was her idea. She wasn't even invited to the ceremony. (We never saw the creation of this "revolutionary" commercial so everyone in the SCDP office has his or her own Rashomonesque perspective.) Senior partner Roger Sterling groused that they don't give awards for what he does, such as hiring the people that get the awards. Flashbacks proved otherwise; wonder boy Don's employment resulted as much by chance as any executive foresight by Roger. Draper personally exulted in triumph, but everyone knew the golden boy was severely tarnished, his creative juices gone dry. 

Matt Weiner is no longer the wunderkind of serial drama. Influential reviewers questioned his current artistic mojo, openly hawking The Good Wife for top honors. Even these tumultuous times can't justify this network push by many members of the critical establishment for more standard TV fare; maybe it is just the time for a new face of quality TV.  Early during the telecast, the Academy showed it didn't buy this argument, honoring Mad Men for Outstanding Writing. In his acceptance speech with cowriter Erin Levy, Weiner came off as the anti-Draper, proclaiming he solicits notes from the entire production staff.  In marked opposition to his protagonist, he foregrounded the team accepting his individual award. 

But at 10:51pm the orbits of Mad Men and the Emmy awards were in total sync, with roles now seemingly reversed. As Peggy castigated a post-bender Don for his plagiaristic professional and private shortcomings, Weiner began his acceptance for the major award of the night, Outstanding Drama. For the group award, he found the "I" in team. He started his remarks rather pompously "So where was I..." (For the TV historians out there, this is a variant of the self-obsessed Jack Paar returning to his series after a prolonged exile.) Ego had begun to take over; and Weiner the writer was proven right, awards do change everything.

Having watched Weiner integrated into my mashed up Mad Men, I couldn't help notice the physical similarities between the creator and the fledgling Danny, who had been confidently hounding Draper for a job at the opening and close of the episode. Beyond the short and balding, perhaps this was the auteur as a young man: gripped with one idea and seeing the past as his own. (How sweet that Danny saw part of his vision in that landmark Volkswagen campaign, the ad referenced many times on the show.) Maybe Weiner is telling us that the hunger for the golden trophy begins here. With even more hardware, let us hope that Mad Men continues to be the cure for common television.