There have been a couple of incidents in sports this week that reminded me why I am no longer a metropolitan sportswriter for a living. Basically, if you are around this scene for a while, it starts to kill your soul.
You lose your passion for sports, which is why you chose this profession in the first place. You might be surprised to learn that it’s not just the athletes I am talking about … I walked away, by and large, because I got tired of the hypocrisy of the fellow sportswriters.
The knock on these guys is that they are freeloaders who live for handouts, and cynics who look for any reason to bash an athlete without ever giving him the benefit of the doubt. Unfortunately, I found this stereotype to be true more often than not.
It seemed many scribes showed up to Oakland Raiders games
for no reason other than the Sunday brunch the club offers the media around
Many of them also are obese, and it would seem to harm one’s credibility to chastise an athlete for his work ethic, when the critic was a 400-pound-plus blob who couldn’t walk up the stairs to the press box without nearly having a heart attack.
These guys would then mercilessly bash the club in their columns, and some of this criticism was well-deserved – they are the Raiders, after all – and such critique is in the job description of a columnist. But the more I hung around this atmosphere, it was clear there was more at play here than just shrewd critical analysis.
Sportswriters can be a bitter bunch. Most of them are failed former athletes themselves who got into the profession as a way to sort of live vicariously through those whose lives they wish they had. They harbor much resentment toward athletes who make anywhere from 10 too 100 times or more the salary that they take home, and this jealously often influences their work.
They will look for any reason at any time to unload an ink-drenched assault on a coach or a player. Ask them if they ever consider that pro athletes, no matter how much money they make, are still real human beings who deserve a modicum of respect, and you’d get an answer like this: “Screw them. For as much money as they make, I can say whatever I want.”
Well, yes and no. The Constitution does protect freedom of the press, and we certainly don’t need sportswriters who are awe-struck by the athletes they cover and go out of their way to kiss their asses. Those guys exist as well. But if you’re going to criticize, the motive should be more from the standpoint of a public watchdog for the best interests of the sport, the fans and the general public, not to exercise a personal agenda of animosity towards those who have something you don’t.
But there is another side to this. Getting repeatedly blown off or publicly berated by these multi-millionaires who get paid a king’s ransom for playing a child’s game can take a toll. No wonder some of these guys are hardened and cold-hearted. I wonder what I would think today had I stuck with this grind for a living.
This week, Manny Ramirez cited a “bad economy” while announcing his decision to make a huge sacrifice and sign with Dodgers for just $45 million. Carmelo Anthony proved that while there’s no “I” in team, you can’t spell Carmelo without “me.”
The Nuggets star refused to come out of a game when coach George Karl beckoned a substitute for him. What’s more, this superstar ball player stands by the defiance. After his suspension for this act was announced, Anthony made a point of emphasizing to he media that he cleared things up with Karl but did not apologize because, in his view, he had nothing to be sorry for.
Thanks buddy.
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