Athletes and the Media
“I like that you guys are out of the equation,” R.J. Hunter said emphatically. Jordan Mickey nodded in solidarity. That was it.
Without hesitation or contemplation, the Boston Celtics’ 2015 first-round selection decried his preference for “not too much exposure,” even stating that he had trimmed his social media presence.
But why? One could argue that, by carefully and deliberately cultivating everything they say, athletes, now exposed on virtually every front (a fact corroborated by Hunter attesting to being regularly ogled and photographed by fans everywhere), create their ideal brand. I disagree.
What negative thing could anyone say about NBA All-Star Kawhi Leonard? Much like his head coach Greg Popovich, he never speaks out of turn, is rarely seen celebrating, on or off the court, and generally appears to be a “model” athlete.
Here’s the catch: his brand is at a sum total of nothing. Bland. Boring. Dutiful. The 24-year-old is simultaneously the NBA’s best defender, capable of effectively take one of the association’s top players out of a championship game, and also one of its least memorable. He’s just so inoffensive! Sanitary!
Which is not to say that acting with poise won’t do a thing. Houston’s J.J. Watt has cultivated an image almost exclusively from benevolence. But unlike players such as Marshawn Lynch, infamous for his aversion to journalists, he speaks at press conferences, often candidly. And more importantly, he lets reporters convey his message as well.
Back to Hunter’s original statement. As a fan, I relish the opportunity to hear directly from my favorite athletes. It’s fun; it almost feels exclusive. But despite the fact that sites such as The Players’ Tribune and SportsBloghave gained serious notoriety, Matt McCue of Fast Company and Comcast Sportsnet’s Sean McAdam made convincing headway into proving that they, for now at least, won’t be replacing reporters any time soon.
For one, as McCue mentioned, “a quick scan of the latest posts,” on these sites, “reveal some editorial challenges”; a reporter’s filter has all the negative connotations in the world, but a trained writer will undoubtedly convey a clearer, more interesting message.
Secondly, as McAdam pointed out, by virtue of being written by the athletes themselves, the notion that the words being posted are “unfiltered” is simply false. What’s more is, reporters will be quick to recognize this, changing their focus rather than leaving the trail.
All athletes present, including the Providence Bruins’ Austin Czarnik, particularly Mickey, acknowledged this fact. So why even attempt to cut reporters out at all? A good reporter can articulate a story with greater clarity. A good reporter can better build an athlete’s brand (yes, including the positive and negative aspect of his game).
The fundamentally most enlightening aspect of the entire discussion was that the athletes before us were exemplifying precisely the qualities we were identifying – right in the midst of a conversation about athlete’s reluctance to speak to the media.
“I wanted to answer that one, but he [VP of Media Services, Jeffrey Twiss] was giving me that look,” Hunter joked about almost taking the bait on a controversial inquiry: ‘Did LeBron James get David Blatt fired?’
So what am I really getting at? I suppose, as a young professional, I partially resent this sort of athlete-reporter PTSD that has strained the relationship between the two parties– making athletes mistrustful and reporters disgruntled.
As a journalist, I worry about the splintering. As a fan, I’m terrified. It’s my sincerest hope that, rather than continuing to work at odds, athletes and reporters will recognize the equal, mutual benefit they serve to one another.
Get the story. Build the brand.
At the end of the day, Leonard got the trophy, but James wears the crown. To athletes everywhere I ask: What was it all for if you won’t be remembered?
Athletes as the Media
“I’m not a writer. My grammar was poor. I didn’t have all of the right commas.”
As I heard these words fall from Ryan Whitney’s lips, I felt my pen give way.
There I was, sleep-deprived and stressed out, chasing a dream which many I had met deemed impossible – writing sports. And there he was, discussing the process by which his opinion, one he “enjoyed expressing,” was ghost written for The Player’s Tribune.
I won’t waste time waxing on about the lack of justice served when athletes proceed to the front of the line simply because of their status or previous on-field (on-court, on-ice, etc.) experience. Nothing can or will change that. But I will briefly state my peace.
Being an athlete has always been, in my opinion, one part genetic predisposition and one part work ethic. I believe writing to be no different.
Call me vain, but it has always been my firmest contention that I was meant to be a writer. Should there be such a thing as destiny, then mine was to be a wordsmith. Regardless of the topic, time or place, I write. Of course practice and instruction have gone long ways to honing my skills, but the fact remains, this is what I was meant to do.
Anyone who chooses to commit themselves to this field has to work at becoming the best. Just as Whitney and fellow guest Dalen Cuff rose to the top amongst other hard-working athletes, however, some of us, by innate capability, inevitably will as well.
Losing the job to a fellow reporter is something that, although I won’t love, I can bear. Losing it to someone who has not undergone the formal training or acquired the necessary and relevant journalism experience, I cannot.
Certainly, I will never pretend that I possess equal or more knowledge about the inner workings of hockey or basketball than Whitney or Cuff. I likely never will. But is reporting, journalism and being a media member in sports solely about wielding the Xs and Os?
“As an analyst, you’re supposed to be an expert,” Cuff explained, reinforcing the importance of being present whenever possible for practices and games.
These men will undoubtedly be classified as experts in their respective sports. They may even be experts in others. As Cuff mentioned, he has great interests in soccer, and although I have a limited scope of knowledge on the sport, it seemed to me that he knew a great deal. He never played professionally or even collegiately, but I won’t disqualify him from reaching the “expert” status should he put the time and effort in.
In fact, I won’t disqualify myself or any of my classmates from reaching that status – athlete or otherwise.
My peer Ashley Boitz makes a tremendous comparison between athletes as media and athletes as coaches. Although knowledge and experience with the game will lend so much to the coaching process, as it does to work in media, there remains so much more.
Including, but not limited to, technical aspects such as lede writing or reading off of a teleprompter – both nuances of the field that Cuff admitted he was initially lacking.
And while those can be taught on-the-job, facets such as articulate phrasing won’t be.
Much like the Language Acquisition Device which predisposes us all to learn a variety of tongues at a young age, I believe that learning certain portions of the media field in a formal setting, working with professors and fellow students, is a crucial state of skill development.
One simply can’t go back and tweak their strange shooting mechanics (otherwise Shawn Marion likely would have), and one simply can’t rewind and acquire those aforementioned intangibles.
Which is not to say that an athlete (or anyone who doesn’t dedicate themselves to the field early on) won’t be successful or talented (notably separate things). The outcome, the product, the polished, final result of a reporter, however, will be substantially different.
My point: although it seemed to me that Cuff in particular viewed his on-court experience as a differentiating advantage to his work, I believe that my time spent building on my craft at an institution such as Boston University too provides a leg up.
Bottom line: rightly or wrongly, they balance each other out. Cuff seemed, in a roundabout way, to agree.
When I asked both men about the value of journalism, he replied that he could have benefited from some. But upon entering work in media, he didn’t feel unqualified. He simply presumed his minutes on the hardwood would sufficiently fill the gaps.
The state of sports media has proven his assumption to be true. I, myself, tune in to watch former athletes commentate and analyze the sports I love. It doesn’t mean that they’re the only ones capable of filling that role.
As a woman who spends a great deal of time writing about football, I already know that my credibility in the way of on-field experience will be none. At some point or another, most men have lined up for at least one snap of the pigskin. Obviously, I have not.
Because I staunchly contend that I bring a variety of other tools to what I do, however, I won’t accept being considered the second or even third option.
I’ve dressed for the job I want (in a blazer, not shoulder pads). I’ve spent countless hours honing my craft (with a tablet, not tackles). I’ve dedicated my education to telling a story the best way possible, and that’s precisely what I plan to do.
So to athletes untrained in media, I say this: quitting your day job does not mean automatic entry into mine.
Beat Reporting
It’s Houston Texans training camp, August 2015. The heat has graduated from absurdly unbearable to nearly lethal, the HBO Hard Knocks crew are blatantly and frequently muscling past everyone, and I’m about to run out of water. In a word, it kind of sucks.
But none of the aforementioned elements make this afternoon truly miserable. No, the most challenging, grueling aspect of my day was standing two feet away from J.J. Watt, my microphone pointed in his direction, my right thumb frantically typing tweets into my phone, and not asking him for an autograph.
Truth be told, as the weeks went on, I completely failed to keep my professional composure. After posing him a few questions one-on-one, I asked DeAndre Hopkins to sign my hat – yes, the Texans draft hat I purposefully toted with me, nestled in my bag (I collect them all, and have gotten every single one John Hancocked).
I’d spent the previous five years on the other side of the ropes, cheering my favorite players on, shouting for their attention like the rest of the masses of fans. Finally, I had complete access, a lanyard around my neck, was casually walking among the athletes, but had never felt more restricted. So I gave Whitney Mercilus a high-five anyway.
Needless to say, Doug Kyed, Tim Britton and Adam Himmelsbach would have disapproved.
Although I’d like to defend my behavior, a large part of me agrees with them. I’m not in public relations. I don’t give lip service. I can’t allow my passion to suggest such falsities as “the Texans’ secondary will be one of the league’s best.” If I start rubbing shoulders with Brian Cushing, I can’t omit the fact that his missed tackle may likely have cost the game.
Kyed advised that “riding the highs and lows” of a team can influence one’s work, and that, in order to remedy this and report accurately and fairly, all fandom must be put aside. In fact, he went so far as to say that he loses respect for his fellow reporters when they fail to do so.
According to Britton, the task of shedding one’s enthusiasm is an easy task. In his own words, “The fandom gets beat out of you.”
I suppose my question is: Do I want it to?
Allow me first to clarify. I never wish to be the reporter leaping from their seat in the press box. As Himmelsbach attests, it is, understandably, “the cardinal sin” of beat reporting.
It is also never my intention to be a “homer.” Much like the three visiting reporters attested, Trevor Solway of the Calgary Journal wrote in “Why Being a ‘Homer’ Could be Bad for Sports Broadcasting” that retaining any semblance of idolization can lead to softball questions, a decrease in journalistic integrity and even misrepresentation.
So if not those things, what, then, am I trying to say?
Following my classmate Rachel Blauner’s assessment of beat reporting through a comparison to the life of an athlete and factoring in all of the discussed sacrifices and commitments a beat reporter makes, it almost seems masochistic not to revel in the exciting times.
I can imagine myself, toiling away for years, harping on Houston’s lack of a franchise quarterback, hearing the frustration from star players. And suddenly, a legitimate shot at a deep postseason run emerges. If the team is finally getting it right, if things have well and truly turned around, how dare I not allow myself a moment of excitement to finally joyously report the state of the Texans for what it really is – a championship-caliber team?
Even something as simple as classmate Alex Smith being on-hand for the color commentary as Boston University women’s basketball dramatically notched their second win. I would never dream of passing judgement on the obvious elation in his tone.
In a sense, I fear falling out of love with the sports I hold dear. I don’t believe that any of us have selected this profession because we like the idea of the brutal lifestyle or the unimpressive pay. It’s because we can’t stop watching, analyzing, talking about, reporting on, obsessing over sports. I feel as if stripping that away would leave, well, the brutal lifestyle and the unimpressive pay. In other words, a fairly sad existence. No one wants to eat a dessert they don’t enjoy, get a sore stomach and consume an extra 1,000 calories. Much like the thrill of shaking Peyton Manning’s hand for the first time, the payoff of the diet-breaking glory is the sweet satisfaction of chowing down on some chocolate.
I’m also a firm believer in the benefits of enthusiasm. While I would undoubtedly crossly regard any reporter hamming it up with a player, congratulating them on a sensational dunk, as Himmelsbach suggested he’s seen being done, I can’t shake the thought that the response from an athlete might be improved depending on a reporter’s demeanor. Happiness is infectious. While there will be some sour moments, the players we’ll be covering are living out their dreams, and as far as I’m concerned, should I be working in sports, so too will I be. There’s no need to make monotonous something as incredible as that.
Many people regard beat reporting as one of the coolest, most enviable jobs in the world. “You know Arian Foster?!” I’ve often been asked in an astounded tone. Clearly, there’s more to it than that. I’ve barely begun to scratch the surface myself, and already I’ve experienced the sting of a snapping Bill O’Brien (a pupil in the ways of the Master of All Things Austere, Bill Belichick).
But these people aren’t wrong. I still believe that being so intimately familiar with the on-goings of a team you care about can be some of the most rewarding, exciting work. Why intentionally lose your sense of wonder?
All good things in moderation. The daily grind of beat reporting could use some spicing up. If I plan to dedicate every waking moment to something for months at a time, I better be enjoying it. Suffice it to say that, when the time comes, I’ll be ready to ask about a missed potential game-winner, but I’ll never once try to wipe the ear-to-ear grin off of my face when I find myself standing at the Super Bowl.
ESPN
I did not watch Saturday night’s epic tilt between the Golden State Warriors and the Oklahoma City Thunder.
I did not see Stephen Curry’s triumphant, record-breaking, game-winning, 32-foot buzzer beater live.
I did, however, see it several times on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. ESPN made sure of it.
If it seems that there’s even the slightest bit of bitterness in my tone, it’s because, well, I’m quite frankly exhausted with any and all things related to the Baby Faced Assassin. Our tremendous guest, Mr. Rob King (who’s personal qualities I will commend later), described anything to do with No. 30 as “crack” that his sports-loving audience flocks to, but I must say, it has quite the opposite effect on me.
I know that, despite the vast majority of people who are enamored with Curry (after all, he did cite the impressive data analytics), I am not alone. You see it all the time. For nearly every major athlete in the world, there is the hater battle cry: “This guy is so overrated.”
But what they’re saying isn’t quite what they mean to. What they’re really trying to say is, “This guy is so overexposed.” Back to this point shortly.
As my classmate Timmy Lagos described, King spent a considerable amount of time outlining the aforementioned data collection and utilization process, all of which I found to be tremendously interesting. He explained the curation of content, ensuring at all times that 80 percent of his audience be happy, and then detailed some of the particular programs which make that metrics gathering possible.
He even summarized all of these things into an answer, once and for all, to age-old question: “Why is my favorite team not on SportsCenter?” For a few minutes, I even bought his response, with all of his flashy statistics and easy disposition.
But still, I couldn’t wave my inner, disgruntled fan away. As it turns out, I had a good reason.
Of all the technology King mentioned, SpredFast most caught my attention. Via his explanation, I gathered that the software relayed to ESPN what their fans, followers of ESPN’s social media, discussed across a variety of online platforms. Would it not follow, however, that at least a portion of what motivated that discussion was the content posted by ESPN itself? After all, if I see that there’s a trade rumor involving Al Horford on their Twitter, I’m vastly more likely to respond.
Media has always had the power of agenda setting. The responsibility of swaying popular opinion is huge because it is so easily done. Obviously, no one is coming to SportsCenter for unbiased breakdowns, but is it not entirely possible that, by selecting what to focus on, ESPN, the flagship of sports media, the veritable mecca of all things highlights, analysis and player news, is influencing what people want to see?
I’m sure that, as King likely would have attested, come the NFL season, Odell Beckham Jr. consumes an enormous amount of attention. He’s talented, he plays in a tremendously sized market; it all adds up. But even despite his jaw-dropping catch, if all network conversation around him had abruptly stopped, would people care?
In essence, I firmly believe that this process is not as linear as King depicted. It’s not simply the consumers telling ESPN what they want to see. It’s a cycle. They see an amazing play. They talk about it online. ESPN spends six minutes discussing it on SportsCenter and posting the highlight to every available forum. The consumers relive it, and further break it down, then go hunting for more information about the athletes involved, which ESPN provides (and so on, and so forth).
Even I, however, can’t decide where it begins or ends. How did the Red Sox and Yankees matchup get to be so popular in the first place? Likely because of media coverage. As someone who was an avid follower of an irrelevant (if I’m being perfectly honest) sport, equestrian, I frequently heard complaints about how broadcasts, when they even occurred, would take place at odd hours in the night. What would happen if a big-name sports network were to suddenly make a tremendous fuss over such a little-known competition?
Perhaps nothing (or worse). Not everything, after all, has the same potential for widespread appeal. But maybe, should they get the opportunity to watch more of his highlights, national viewers would earn more respect for a top-flight receiver like Allen Robinson – a member of the one NFL team King said didn’t make it into the Top 100 squads sports fans cared about.
At what point does a pioneer like ESPN stop regurgitating the same few names because they’re the most popular? As I mentioned earlier, the practice has already begun to sour. Every major sports fan has a name they can’t stand to see pop up. Tim Tebow? Conor McGregor? LeBron James? JJ Watt? Tiger Woods? Tom Brady? Ronda Rousey? Johnny Manziel? And yes, now, Steph Curry.
I appreciated King’s candor about the negative qualities of ESPN. Respectfully, I’d like to add this to the list. It will never be the thing to take down the titan, but, should a vibrant, innovative group begin showcasing less-known but equally (or more) impressive talent, the household name may soon have some serious competition. For this reason, I commend their exploration of the unknowns through their #SCTop10. If only some of those people weren’t the oversaturated in the making…
Now, a quick word on King himself. Wow. I didn’t know what to expect, but after a tight-lipped reception a week ago, this was a breath of fresh air. Of all the fantastic things he had to say, perhaps my favorite was his journey.
As a writer, I often toy with the possibility of spanning the gap into television and broadcasting, but too frequently see the median between the two as an insurmountable wall, a barrier cautioning me to stay on my side. I was heartened, however, to hear that King spent the better part of his career working in “the newspaper business.”
His determination to pursue work as an editorial cartoonist was both amusing and inspiring, reminding me that any dream worth pursing may not always readily be in reach. Many of my peers and I have almost tangible aspirations, but often, we dismiss them as being unreachable. It would seem that, according to King, so long as your legs keep churning in the direction of your passion, everything will be fine.
After all, as he described, there’s a home for everyone. Too bad he made ESPN seem like such a desirable one!
Finding the First Job
Versatility. Quality writing. Confidence. Tenacious reporting. Patience.
Four facets. On paper, they seem simple to achieve. In reality, I don’t know that I could truthfully say that I possess sufficient quantities of them all.
But after absorbing the advice from our guests Greg Lang and Katarina Luketich, it has become evident to me that, in order for success to emerge on my horizon, I soon will.
Panicked? You could say that I am.
Unlike Luketich, whose boldness and courage I respect tremendously, I have not yet reached the point where I feel I have infused within myself the confidence that my skills merit. However, contradictory as it may be, I’ll be the first to admit that the prospect of packing up for a middle-of-nowhere town is fantastically unappealing.
After all, I ventured to Boston from Texas. Returning to similar circumstances would almost feel like a failure.
Which, of course, it isn’t. It’s a stepping stone – a respectable and necessary one. Still, I find myself unable to displace my longing to bypass it.
I wonder if soon, the avenues around the traditional highway of journalism, in both print and television, will be circumvented. After all, sports media outlets such as Bleacher Report and SB Nation are providing people of our age opportunities to showcase their work on a national scale. Similarly, outside of sports, far-reaching companies like Buzzfeed and Complex are hiring young talent straight out of the gate.
The nature of the work options available to us, too, has possibly shifted the well-worn path. Bill Simmons’ pioneered couch reporting and Katie Nolan’s comedic, biased vlogging has sparked a legion of new perspectives on the means by which one can contribute to the sports conversation.
With social media and the nature of virility and popularity, virtually anyone can forge their own way, much like former guests Joon Lee and Jared Carrabis have.
Even Lang conceded that, given a talented enough writer/reporter, large market outlets such as the Boston Globe would consider a candidate with non-traditional experience – a former published blogger with no small-paper experience. Considering the mass shift to an online world, and the evolving styles of writing, it isn’t all that surprising.
But it isn’t quite there yet. As much as I’ll admit his validation of such a trend was precisely what I wanted to hear (particularly as someone aspiring to bridge that gap), I acknowledge that the credibility of these online outlets has not quite reached the point of seamless (or semi-seamless) transition into a paper such as the Globe. While there will inevitably be some who successfully make the transition or even invent their own brand of writing or reporting, they will be in the vast minority.
And perhaps that’s OK.
Based upon Luketich’s tale of transition, I’ve come to a realization that experiences hold value outside of simply reinforcing an existing skill set. Even SportsCenter’s Rob King experienced a mid-career swap when he moved on from his cartooning aspirations.
In fact, I believe that, before even graduating, I have become enlightened to other possible avenues for myself – namely, advertising.
“It’s important to give everything a chance,” she said. This summer, by interning at an agency, that’s precisely what I’ll be doing.
Because whatever I pursue, I want to ensure that it’s what I truly want. As Luketich explained, taking less-resistant winding paths as a substitute for more strenuous, direct roads does not always lead to the same outcome.
For quite some time, I assumed that, should I be meant to pursue journalism versus advertising (or vice-versa), I could always make a shift. Should I have an interest in broadcasting, I could swap over from writing. But as evidenced by Luketich’s friend, locked into a producing position when she’d rather be reporting, that most likely will not be the case.
Regardless of the route, one thing is abundantly clear: it isn’t about us.
Forging long-term relationships with sources, explaining the value we bring to employers… from newbies to veterans and anywhere in the country, it seems that our biggest priority will be catering to those we need (including our audience) – a sentiment echoed by our guests as well as Professor Shorr.
Which, in a sense, recycles my earlier points about beginning as a big fish in a shallower pond. It isn’t about me, and particularly not about my ego.
“Embrace being low man on the totem pole,” said Lang. And if versatility truly is the name of the game as he so conveyed, then it seems as if being low man will be the ideal way to garner that quality.
In fact, after hearing from Luketich, the intermediate phases which await us are meant to be ideal ways to garner many of the aforementioned qualities.
“Your first job won’t be your last job,” said Lang. Although I, like I’m sure many others, have far greater aspirations than local coverage, I recognize that its value cannot be overstated.
Stepping stones serve to provide us safe passage to our ultimate goals, and while I would love to jump over them, I have no intention of tumbling all the way back down.
Gif-Making and Free Form
Would a gif of any other name (say, gif – pronounced differently) be as eye-catchingly effective?
Would a gif-maker of any other name (aside from our guest Pete Blackburn, of course) be as successful?
The young social media maestro seems to believe that, should he hypothetically collide with a bus in the near future, a gif-makers of many other names would, in fact, be successful.
“There are a ton of people making NHL gifs now,” he laughed, remarking his new suggested status as being replaceable.
Already at such a young age and early point in his career, however, Blackburn seems to have done precisely the opposite of taking well-occupied and well-tread paths – optinginstead for the untapped potentials.
Most impressive of all? He’s done it his way, honoring his branded style. It’s refreshing.
After a week of sweating over the reality of what may be my undesirable first gig, Blackburn gave me hope that, with enough insight into opportunity, I, along with the rest of my classmates, may very well be capable of pursing our passions straightaway (working from home rather than in an obscure town).
By building upon each successive success, Blackburn has reached an already sought-after point in his career. It’s a journey that any and all of us can relate to, given the relatively small age gap we share, and his easy demeanor perhaps sold me too well on the possibilities I may unlock.
After hearing him speak about his route to UPROXX, I was temporarily prepared to toss out all of my mature realizations from just a week prior. And then I remembered something of critical importance.
Let us refer back to my first line. Forced. Weak. Simply not funny.
Just as Blackburn suggested for us all, I have attained some level of self-awareness. Humor and I were not meant to be.
But as much as I’d like to stay clear of the temptation to inject any form of cleverness, I’m confronted with a few problems:
- The current social media sports audience has been conditioned to tune out anything lacking wit (particularly people of the younger generation to whom Blackburn even admitted his writing is best geared towards).
- Injecting even the slightest comedic element in your analysis or storytelling will inevitably always enhance your perceived entertainment value and subsequently the majority of reader interest.
- Much like Blackburn, I have zero interest in the cut-and-dry aspects of beat reporting. He was quick to identify the state of “misery” many of the people occupying those positions subscribed to just as I, too, found this to be the case earlier in our seminars.
It’s a personal problem to be certain (no doubt many of my peers, both in this course and outside of it, wield internet wittiness with ease). The point I am attempting to raise, however, is that, while it’s most important to follow one’s passion, it may not always lead to the road of greatest success.
We are all well-acquainted with the old happy/less professional renown versus discontent/career fame dichotomy. For my own selfish desires, however, I will express a hope that the newest trend or craze, the one we would all surely love to predict, will lend itself to those of us who are less comically inclined.
Fortunately, however, it won’t matter too much in the grander scheme. Because aside from pursuing passions or areas of strength, the greatest quality to attain (or more likely, to dredge up from within) may very well be initiative.
Time and again our guests always seemed to return to that one, self-motivating theme, and Blackburn was no different (finding both recognition, comfort and professional satisfaction).
Exploring an untapped source of recognition? Beginning his own blog? Exploring alternative avenues (such as podcasting)?
Blackburn did all of these things not because he was told to but because he was himself driven to achieve. He acquired skills in coding, began writing for no audience and assumed online responsibilities that those in established positions wouldn’t dare.
It doesn’t truly matter what, as Professor Shorr phrased the inquiry, “he wants to be when he grows up” or even what relevant technologies or trends will exist. Blackburn and people like him (namely, Joon Lee and Jared Carrabis) will succeed because they will already have their sights set, ears to the ground and adaptable attitudes.
And while, much like comedy, these traits are more innate than taught, there remains no reason why any of us shouldn’t become candidates for further seminar discussion in a few years’ time – this time on the other side of the classroom
Journalism 2016
Oh, the irony.
As I delved into Jason McIntyre’s piece, “Low Morale at CBS Sports.com as it Eschews Reporting in Favor of Aggregation,” published on USA Today’s web sports platform thebiglead, I couldn’t help but to be slapped by hypocrisy.
I scan the left-hand bar of suggested stories, posted under the same banner, the same brand as McIntyre’s, and read:
“Peyton Manning is Lucky Social Media Wasn’t Around in 1996 When He Allegedly Sat on a Female Trainer’s Face”
“Beyoncé Almost Fell, but Rocked It With Bruno Mars During Super Bowl Halftime Show”
“Roundup: Rob Lowe Takes a Shot at Cam Newton; Watch Two Alligators Fighting”
Yes, a story warning all about the apocalyptic demise of sports journalism via the hostile takeover of mindless, fluff material, is flanked by the very content it criticizes.
Rewind the hands of time, and one will also find yet another bit of irony. USA Today, now prominent as it may be, was considered to be the usher of print journalism’s downfall – the “McPaper” of reporting.
But enough conversation about hypocrisy, because I truly believe that the point the article makes, and the one that was discussed in class by Jen McCaffrey and Jason Mastrodonato is one of particular importance, especially for me and my peers.
As was discussed, there seems to be a universal consensus about the importance of accuracy, one that I unwaveringly subscribe to. There simply isn’t room for error. There is, however, a point that I contend with: the growing trend of clickbait/fluff pieces and page views.
In his CBS feature, McIntyre laments the laying off of experienced veterans for “untrained bloggers” who primarily focus on aggregating information from other sources.
While I wholeheartedly agree that “untrained bloggers” should not be taking the jobs of professionals many, many years their senior (and experience), I object to their classification as such because, well, we aren’t “untrained.”
I use the term “we” because I, by these definitions, would be classified as the precisely the kind of person who CBS Sports would be looking for to aggregate or curate material. The only difference is, rather than CBS Sports, I provide those services to Bleacher Report. My colleagues are all upperclassmen or graduate students, studying journalism, grasping at every work opportunity and rigorously held to many guidelines. So many, in fact, that the preparation, the training is nearly four months long.
My objection arises not from personal offense, but because, in my mind, I see these sorts of programs, not as the death of journalism, but simply as a new means to cut one’s teeth – much like covering high school sports. Many, however, do not.
Some may call this practice of pumping out fun, pop-culture/sports hybrid stories selling out, having a lack of integrity or any other combination of those sentiments. The simple fact is that people want to read it. Period. McCaffrey has turned to identifying her page view totals on her resume. I, myself, find, just like all those who voiced their opinion, this practice shocking because it indicates the weight that those numbers have. Obviously, those numbers shouldn’t represent a writer or reporter’s worth, but they do represent lucrative advertising, which, much as my classmate Gabbie Chartier remarked, is not all that different from newspaper circulation. These fluff pieces, the articles about David Ortiz’s haircut, may temporarily be the lifeblood of income that will fund greater, more in-depth journalistic pursuits. B/R’s totals in this area are massive. My own contributions for the month of January alone eclipse three million.
And that clearly means, once again, that the interest exists. So rather than consider these categories of work a necessary evil, I happen to enjoy them. Who decided that a world with fun, light-hearted stories was a bad one? All things, of course, should exist in moderation, but society will not devolve into a mindless void because I occasionally pass on the news that yet another athlete has chipped in to support Flint, Michigan. In fact, I think it only helps an athlete’s brand, making them more three-dimensional (to continue last week’s conversation).
Sports are largely forms of entertainment. It would therefore follow that, occasionally, some of the writing that pertains to them would also be entertaining. As Mastrdonato said during a conversation about Super Bowl media day, “Sports have become everything.”
As frightening as it may be, it’s a trend that websites will be forced to embrace. Just as websites today would call the idea of trying to sway readers back to reading primarily print versions of their work ludicrous, so too will the idea of getting “breaking news” from full-time reporters become. Someone, usually only a select few, will post that kind of information to Twitter (or whatever other service/site will then be prevalent), and it will be passed on. Notifications will continue to be pushed to phones, and within the span of 20 seconds, I’ll know that the New York Knicks fired David Fisher. “Sad” as it may be, there truthfully doesn’t need to be a legion of people fulfilling that role.
To begin my conclusion, I’ll refer to a quote from McIntyre that particularly struck me. He stated, “If you talk to enough people in the industry, you’ll hear sad but true statements like this: It’s more important to be successful on Facebook than it is to break news.”
A comment made by Mastrodonato best leads my discussion of this quote’s importance to me: “These are all things that journalists have been doing for years. They just used to be handled differently.”
Interesting. Could it be that Facebook, Twitter and social media are simply the USA Today’s of, well, today? What was once regarded as a devolution is now regarded with prominence. What is today regarded as shameful could potentially be regarded as an achievement. Is this not an evolution?
The man who was once looked down upon for ushering in an era of sensationalism in journalism is now the namesake of its most prestigious award.
Mastrodonato is correct. The state of journalism is not so “bleak.” For those who embrace it, pioneer its available avenues, seek out ways to convey their messages, carve out a niche, I’m confident it will prove lucrative.
Telling stories is as old as time, from the spoken word tradition and Homer’s epics to 140 character headlines. It will never die. Those who steadfastly grip to yesterday’s methods, however, might.
Media Relations
A week ago, I feared the eventual loss of my enthusiasm for the games I love if put in a beat reporting role. After this past week, however, I am convinced that any such zeal would be checked not at the door but in the parking lot should I find myself working in media relations.
This, of course, comes with no disrespect to Michael Jurovaty or Sarah McMahon on their career choices. In fact, as many of my classmates pointed out, their formulaic responses (McMahon to a less monotonous extent) revealed the extent of their belongingness in the field. Even the 23-year-old, however, so new to the job, admitted to already finding hockey at the bottom of her list of recreation, reality TV being at the top.
But I have no criticisms for their use of personal time (even if I continue to be sadden by the beaten-down and trodden-up inner fans). Instead, as a journalist, I, naturally, have objections to their vice grip on team-related content, information and messages.
Ironically, I can’t help, however, but think that, in the pursuit of shaping messages, media relations may in fact be perpetuating the spread of false information.
“I’m not in the business of confirming or denying rumors,” Jurovaty said. On the one hand, it’s a noble and legitimate pursuit. Stay above the fray and negative outcomes rarely occur. But would not ending the fray before it even began be best? Speculation exists only when there is a lack of definitive information, and sometimes, even if it’s false, that speculation can be damaging, particularly to a team’s image.
In the case of the New England Patriots in particular, their tight-lipped M.O. has allowed many possibly misconceived notions to be made by the general public. Sure, they may seem cool and collected in the face of a cheating allegation and investigation, but by sending out purely canned, reactionary content, the evidence suddenly becomes more implicating. While there is definitely something to be said about taking the high ground, a lack of denial can easily be spun into a confession. In other words, why not simply nip things in the bud? “No, we’re not at all interested in trading for Johnny Manziel.” There you have it. The end. The rumor mill, at least the reputable one, ceases churning.
McMahon echoed a similar sentiment by saying that she is “not usually the one to give out scoops,” attributing the information leaks to the Providence Bruins’ head coach instead. This I find much more understandable Jurovaty’s statement. There’s no place in professional journalism for gossip, especially not the kind which begins from within the team itself, but, in “certain circumstances” (as the pair preferred to say), I could almost see how leaking information could best serve the goal of controlling the message.
They, obviously, aren’t the only ones attempting to mediate and mold what exists their facilities. The Yankees, in addition to posting that intriguing sign, have required players to view examples of Cam Newton and Russell Wilson’s post-Super Bowl loss press conferences, drawing from the former how not to act while instilling within them the positive qualities of the latter (http://bleacherreport.com/articles/2618727-yankees-emphasize-russell-wilson-over-cam-newton-qualities-in-media-training). As classmate Rachel Blauner delves into, this could soon be an issue of non-information, a barrage of monotony as it were. With journalists attempting to break through the repetitious responses and media relations professionals reinforcing their resolve, a stalemate is inevitable, and, in the end, although journalism careers will rarely be taking off after a breaking news incident, fans will be the ones to suffer the most. Something will have to give, and, unfortunately for those finding employment in brand management, the ones to take the lead on ending that stall of vibrant, meaningful conversation will likely be the athletes themselves.
For as much as there is friction between media relations and journalists, however, there is, interestingly, a common enemy: The Player’s Tribune and outlets like it (albeit for different reasons). Despite linebacker Jerod Mayo’s own declaration of retirement on social media, Jurovaty didn’t seem keen on confirming the news (which interestingly refers back to my frustration with the lack of confirmation and/or dispelling of rumors). Even McMahon admitted to some more-than-mild Twitter monitoring for messages ill-conceived by the young Bruins.
Journalists, including my classmates and past seminar guests, have expressed a distaste for all of these platforms because of their attempts to extract them from the equation. It seems, however, that athletes are also trying to give their media relations pals the boot as well, perhaps tired of the confines with which they are allowed to express themselves (if it can be even referred to as such). Is it possible that the players in question are ick of the short leash they’re being kept on? If so, this could prove to be advantageous for any reporter who has the trust of an annoyed athlete keen on bypassing the stuffy protocols set forth. Simply food for thought.
Mutual nemesis, however, weren’t the only common ground I discovered. I was heartened by the relative accessibility someone such as myself could have with requesting interviews. It isn’t as if I ever imagined myself sauntering in for a feature, human-interest piece on a player anytime soon, but, after speaking to both professionals, it seems that, with the proper reasoning and demeanor, there may be greater availability than I had anticipated.
Which, at the end of the day, was the greatest takeaway. While I had been dead set on enthusiasm holding the title of “Universal Key,” it seems that a composed, dutiful disposition is the way to go. So long as the more refined approach doesn’t lead to the austere, I’m more than willing to button up to get the job done.
Play-By-Play
When you love your job, it shows.
The kind of passion Jeff Mannix and Chris Sedenka have for play-by-play does not merely show, however. It radiates.
“It’s always been a part of me,” beamed Sedenka, relaying his obsession with sports radio and early vocal talent discovery.
Mannix conveyed a similar sentiment while reminiscing on his time spent at his grandmother’s house, doing much of what Professor Shorr described – playing sports and practicing the call.
Becoming the literal storyteller for the events one loves is undoubtedly a dream. Yes, the word is overused and has become trite, but there is simply no other way to describe it. As Sedenka put it, he’s being “paid to watch a basketball game.”
But despite the sought-after nature of this employment, I can’t help but be impressed.
Prior to their arrival, I mentioned such to classmate Alex Smith (who, ironically, knows a thing or two about play-by-play).
I, myself, have always relied on written word, and, corny as it may be, regard the pen as my sword. Faced with a situation in which the words would have to be spoken simultaneously to their composition, I feel they might fail me. Both men agreed that they have developed the ability to let the occasional stutter or blip pass without mention. The amount that would fall from mine, and the subsequent wrath I would unleash upon myself in response would be insurmountable. I can’t convey the respect I have for the profession enough.
Yet Mannix brushed off the awe bestowed upon hockey play-by-play, and he even conceded that radio, because of its singularly auditory nature, can cover up mistakes.
Which isn’t to say that either professional allows for them. In the interest of accuracy, they acknowledged that, given the appropriate time, they would correct their work.
It’s all part of “painting the visual picture” as Mannix described it.
Sedenka’s take fell along the lines of “telling a visual story for someone who can’t get to a TV.” He then went on to distinguish the role of commentating the two mediums by explaining that in TV, broadcasters “are helping to set the scene, but radio is telling the whole scene.”
It’s a point that stood out to me.
Obviously, any television play-by-play is, relative to radio, acting in a more supportive role. Whereas an airwave listener is entirely reliant on the narrative for understanding, TV provides context via visual representation as well.
With all due respect to Sedenka (who is undoubtedly in a position of greater knowledge and experience in this field than I), however, I believe that TV broadcasts do more than simply aid storytelling.
Of all the courses my peer, the aforementioned Smith, may have been thinking of when discussing the Boston University classes that failed to further his pursuits, COM 101 may be the most poignant example. In this case, however, it is proving to be helpful.
While taking the course, I distinctly remember discussing the dominance of the auditory senses while consuming visual media such as TV. Despite the “vision” component of “television,” hearing programming is still more critical than viewing it. Take, for example, muting a game versus leaving it on while attending to something else (and therefore having it out of sight). For the majority of the population, the greatest level of understanding of the game’s events will come from the latter – listening to it alone.
How many times have television calls created a whole different echelon of importance for a play? As evidenced by the mere fact that any sports fan can immediately call to mind a standout commentating moment – more than one can count. And how did we all come to know so much about the games and players we love (particularly when, like Mannix and Sedenka, many of us were not the most talented of athletes)? If not for play-by-play, my own understanding would be profoundly shallower.
Perhaps most poignant an example is my inability to watch games called by certain broadcasters. Were they really to be relegated to an assistance role, I probably would hardly notice.
In this sense, I compare play-by-play in a TV broadcast to a co-star as opposed to supporting actor whereas radio is, naturally, a one-man show.
And clearly, it’s a task that both guests, literal one-man shows, relish. Despite the discussion of time wasted on sports talk radio, the long hours of separation from friends and family, the less-than-glamorous tasks completed before landing their current work, and the inevitably low wages, there was never any qualification from either party that the gigs they held were anything short of their dream jobs.
As they stated multiple times, it was what they were meant to do, what they always wanted to do. Simply put, it was refreshing – a wonderful mix of journalistic professionalism (for a variety of reasons including the ones discussed by classmate Timmy Lagos) and unburdened enthusiasm.
On camera or off of it, over the airwaves or in the press conference, narrating or writing; there can’t be a better combination of attributes.
…
As for my favorite call, I think it’s one that many here in Beantown will recognize. There’s nothing quite like Kevin Harlan’s passionate “LeBron James, with no regard for human life!”
Race and Gender
Because I’ve been nothing but perfectly candid thus far, I’ll admit it: I found this seminar to be the most awkward by far.
Perhaps it was the absurd heat in the room, but more likely it was the conversation which caused me to frequently, and unnecessarily, sip my water.
From my perch in the front row, I shifted in my seat to glance back, and as Professor Shorr noted, noticed the room’s notable lack of diversity.
Dr. Kyoung-yim Kim and Zuri Berry in particular, spoke at length about the courage it requires to delve into issues surrounding race with someone of a different one. Obviously, I was not as brave or prepared as I believed myself to be.
Perhaps this was why I gravitated to the emerging conversation about athletes as role models.
After listening to seminar discussion, and reading through my peers’ comments, it seems to me that I fall furthest along the spectrum; I firmly believe that athletes are, unequivocally, role models. Period.
Berry said that the notion that athletes have social responsibility is an “illusion.” Fair. Fine. But as I discussed with him after the seminar’s end, accepting social responsibility and acting as a role model are very different things. Taking an active stance, beginning a movement, discussing challenging, often politically charged issues – that is social responsibility. Being a good role model? That, to me, is as simple as being a mature, responsible, kind human being.
Citing LeBron James as an example, Berry went on to propose that “hype” emphasizes this responsibility. He criticized James’ hesitance to respond to the Tamir Rice situation after so publicly responding to other controversial situation-led movements and conversations like it. It was difficult for me, unabashedly a tremendous fan, to disagree.
But James as a role model is a tremendous success. Married to his high school sweetheart, father of three, caring son… Many disapprove of career decisions or the influence he wields; he isn’t perfect. And perfect a role model need not be.
As my classmate Sarah Kirkpatrick addressed, a lack of felony behavior is a pretty low standard. My own definition of a good role model extends well beyond avoiding criminal charges, but it doesn’t demand flawlessness. It doesn’t demand conformity. It doesn’t demand changing or diminishing personality. Athletes are human, after all.
And while I am sympathetic to the fact that, as high-profile individuals, every less-desirable thing they do is sensationalized and scrutinized, I refuse to “contextualize away” (to borrow a term from Berry) any poor decision-making. It simply isn’t OK that Johnny Manziel has irresponsibly squandered his NFL opportunity. Parents wouldn’t tolerate that kind of behavior from their college-age kid, and Browns fans shouldn’t tolerate it from the young man they counted on to improve their team.
Because at the end of the day, the only reason athletes earn rich salaries and are afforded the ability to play the game they love for a luxurious lifestyle is because of fans. Every single individual who purchases a jersey or a pair of sneakers or shows up with season tickets has a vested interest in the players, and consequently, the players themselves must recognize that they are, responsible to those fans – as people and players.
Just examine the results Dr. Kim relayed. Americans absorbed more views of the players they love simply standing around conversing during Super Bowl 2014 than anything else. The domestic audience is already used to seeing athletes as more than just sports talent. Why is it then a surprise that they should expect something from them beyond that?
Berry, however, as previously discussed, firmly holds the opposite view. He expressed not just reluctance but staunch disagreement with “placing athletes on a pedestal.” He said he didn’t want his son to idolize athletes. He told me later that his own mother didn’t allow him to do so either, barring him from wearing any jerseys.
Suddenly, I had wandered firmly into race territory.
It occurred to me that, as Kirkpatrick wrote, many commonly considered ideal athlete role models are white. My own lead-in to the conversation was the blonde-and-blue-eyed, Wisconsin-born J.J. Watt. But Berry’s opposition to player admiration goes beyond the narrow standards.
In our discussion, he explained how his mother attempted to turn his attention to people of different occupations – lawyers, doctors… in short, as Berry attested, the kind of careers that young, black men in his community didn’t dream of becoming. They all, however, dreamed of being pro players.
It’s a revelation I am unsure of what to do with. Clearly, Berry’s refusal to accept athletes as role models stems from the fact that the practice has become racially significant. It’s no secret that many diverse, underprivileged youth (from the streets of Chicago or the Domincan Republic) have utilized sports to elevate their socioeconomic status, creating a better life for themselves and their families. It seems to me that Berry wishes to steer his son away from those stereotypical aspirations.
Obviously, this unfair racial expectation has influenced his perception on the issue of player role models, but, just as obviously, his attitude is not unfounded. But it also seems to me that Berry’s rationale is a personal one. He disagrees with the idolization of pros because he doesn’t want his son to subscribe to a discriminatory idea – that his goals as a black child should include being a NBA player.
But just because Berry doesn’t want his own child taking those sort of cues from athletes doesn’t mean that other children won’t look to them, with or without their parents’ consent, not just for career aspirations, but also to decide how to act. Berry is entitled to steer his son away (and his reasons for doing so have stirred an intrigue that may very well coax me into one of those aforementioned uncomfortable conversations), but for the sake of all others, players should still be held to certain standards. Although many would like to believe that firm parenting will counteract any negative influences, that simply isn’t how psychology and media interact. Kids and adolescents of all ages and races are absorbing how their favorite players behave. As fans contributing to each athlete’s popularity, they’re owed some level of respect – a good example.
And seeing as how being a good role model is simply being a good, responsible human being, is holding that expectation really, therefore, so much to ask?
Rising Stars
“For real, I’m kind of offended,” I remember saying to some classmates prior to the arrival of Jared Carrabis and Joon Lee.
After all, as Professor Shorr mentioned, both are essentially of the same age as I (Lee in particular), and, until that point, I felt that I, too, had built up some distinguishing experience.
My pride was shaken. My ego attempted to compensate. I immediately felt resistant.
Simply put, similar to Jake De Vries, I found it difficult to conceive that much value would be taken away from two hours of conversation.
But there was. Perhaps not from a technical or logistical standpoint, but certainly in attitude.
“People liking you is more important than people liking your work,” Carrabis stated – essentially conveying the truth that many (or possibly all) of us have come to realize. Contacts are vital. Networking is a necessity. It’s the sort of thing that COM has failed to convey. No matter how talented any one person is, who they know may very well trump what they know.
I, also like De Vries, was heartened to hear the merits of assertiveness – not only in the more vocal, opinionated branch of sports writing which Carrabis has pursued, but also in the “traditional” or “orthodox” side of work Lee operates within.
As a Houston-raised young woman, I can’t help but wonder if what Carrabis considers being aggressive has particularly succeeded because of the Boston market. Here, it’s likely that a little forwardness (and what I perceived as Carrabis’ “devil may care” style) goes a long way to earning respect. In Texas, a place where tradition, hospitality and almost painful politeness reign supreme, I don’t think it would be so well received.
Obviously, his remarks were aimed to inform us about our current location, but, seeing as many of us may in fact be sent to a variety of locations, perhaps even in the south, it’s a point I felt was worth making.
But it isn’t the only distinction of note. I found it particularly interesting that, whilst I am formulating my own definition of journalism, Carrabis stated his nonconformity with the label – while attempting to justify the legitimacy of Barstool Sports, no less.
Although I will hold most of my thoughts until our later discussion, I will say that his assessment and my own are not very different. I respect his “Bill Simmons approach,” for what it is – quality, entertaining commentary. And that’s fine! Just as De Vries pointed out, there is a need for that kind of content. While I can’t say that I share the same redeeming view of Barstool as Carrabis does, I firmly believe that, despite the fact that he isn’t directly interacting with players and coaches, the work he is doing is both meaningful and valid.
Lee, by contrast, is the quintessential, textbook journalist. While Carrabis shares a beer with David Price, Lee dutifully protects his tremendous Deflategate source. There’s no doubt that the work he does is of value and meaning (and his integrity is nearly impossible to call into question).
Both, however, meet on one list, neither more worthy than the other.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure if these guys made me feel better or worse about my future in this field. I still have yet to decide.
On the one hand, I’m elated to know that there is acceptance of youth among more established professionals, something that Carrabis confirmed. However, I can’t help but feel that, despite my many efforts and bylines, I simply haven’t done enough.
Because while these two young men differed in style, they both share real tenacity, ambition and determination. I wonder if I could ever begin to approach their level of self-motivation.
Perhaps then, what I considered to be the most valuable aspect of this discussion was Lee’s noncommittal answer regarding his future. “I just want to write,” he laughed. For all of his constant grinding and hustling, he simply has yet to figure it all out.
A 20-year-old college student. Uncertain. Relatable. Imagine that.
I don’t have a resume like his. I don’t have all of the contacts. I don’t have a legion of Twitter followers. But I, too, just want to write. If arriving at Lee’s destination is my short-term goal, then that seems like a terrific start to getting there.
Sports Talk Radio
Chalk it up to differences of taste; while I enormously respect what our guests Rob “Hardy” Poole and Jim Murray do (and am tremendously appreciative of the time they spent with us), I simply didn’t find them entertaining.
In fact, while I find the concept of their professions immensely interesting, I left the seminar with this one conclusion, scribbled at the bottom of my notebook: the only difference between the kind of programming Poole and Murray produce and the sort of content created by the wildly popular Top 40 radio station I used to intern for (104.1 KRBE) is that the latter will actually elicit a laugh or two in the morning.
Once again, I emphasize difference of taste. I, myself, have always had a strong aversion to the dry, sarcastic style that Murray particularly enjoyed employing. Especially when discussing the backlash they receive from angry listeners, the deadpan personalities projected a sort of defensive, tough-guy mentality – one that I understand must be essential (having only briefly tasted criticism of that kind before).
“Some days you don’t have the thick skin for it,” explained Poole in what I felt was, outside of discussing their love of rock music, was one of the few earnest things either of them conveyed. I, personally, wish they would have set aside the act for a little bit longer.
But I won’t harp on their styles. Instead, I’ll focus on their work.
Journalism or no? I have to firmly side with Jake De Vries’ point, and say no – with one caveat.
I don’t believe, based upon his comments before Murray arrived, Poole, would have disputed that claim. He defined his role as “giving an informed opinion,” which, by its very biased nature, rules out most journalistic pursuits.
He then explained that his two greatest concerns were garnering the greatest number of listeners possible, and, subsequently, generating the most advertising revenue. Once again, both things that quite readily conflict with any sort of “journalistic code.”
I will, however, agree that there was an attempt to convince; in this case, I believe our guests may have beefed up the perception of the work that goes into producing these kinds of shows. I won’t pretend that my four months of work on morning radio give me ultimate authority in making these claims, but, just by observing the above included link of Poole and Felger, it’s clear that there isn’t the kind of stress or rigor to the environment that a beat reporter might experience.
It’s a talent, to be certain. As Poole pointed out, not everyone could speak on end for four hours, five days (or sometimes six) a week. They’re relatable. But part of what makes them relatable is because, at some point, all of us have sat with friends and had the same conversations. In many cases, those of us who have spoken to the athletes themselves may be “more qualified” to do so than a guy like Murray who refuses to.
While I was beginning to consider all of these things, Professor Shorr’s question to me reemerged: Do I listen to sports talk radio in Houston? It’s a rarity. But, strangely enough, my radio is perpetually playing.
To piggyback off of Rachel Blauner’s prognosis for the future of sports talk radio, I firmly believe that, with the exception of a few markets such as Boston (which both men admitted to be uniquely passionate about sports), the end is near.
Murray stated that, despite the eventual dismantlement of radio towers, the format of radio seems to be sustainable. I don’t disagree.
Morning programming like KRBE’s “Roula and Ryan Show,” is pure entertainment. It promises nothing but a distraction from your commute and a dash of pop culture debate. It’s a forum where, quite conceivably, an entire four-hours could be dedicated to Skittles. No one would be disappointed.
But there is real potential for disappointment in sports talk radio. At what point does sports talk radio cease being about sports at all? As was established throughout the course of the seminar, there’s little sense in conveying what happened in a game (or at least dwelling on such a topic). Push notifications have reduced and simplified such a task to a headline. Sports news itself, beyond the radio, has experienced a collision with pop culture. Should a station such as The Sports Hub begin spending increasing amounts of time discussing topics such as Alex Rodriguez’s new girlfriend or Big Papi’s new haircut (to bring back an old argument) like the rest of the mobile sports world, it’s entirely possible that it will find itself, somewhere down the line, much further away from the golden age of AM radio and at the doorstep of a program hosted by 104.1 (which, ironically, is produced by Eric Rowe – a good friend of 98.5’s Rich Shertenlieb).
They discuss JJ Watt’s possible romantic flings, too.
It’s inevitable that the show relies on entertainment. No one tunes in to be bored, but it cannot be at a cost to the sports content.
Which, coincidentally, they are steadily losing a grip on. If I can get my scores from a tab on the right side of my phone (a feature provided to my android via Yahoo! Sports), my analysis from an ESPN app and trending sports news from Bleacher Report, there’s effectively no need for me to turn my radio on except for pure enjoyment.
And I’ll find my jokes elsewhere.