sign in sign up
<<
Home , Baseball Talk, Baseball Wives, Billy Goat Tavern, Bill Dwyre, Bleacher Bums, Bob Scheffing

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 [First Page] 12 13 [-1], (1) 14 15 Lines: 0 to 20 16 17 ——— 18 * 395.58398pt PgVar ——— 19 Normal Page 20 21 * PgEnds: PageBreak 22 23 [-1], (1) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page i / Printer proof / and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 [-2], (2) 14 15 Lines: 20 to 21 16 17 ——— 18 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Normal Page 20 21 PgEnds: TEX 22 23 [-2], (2) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page ii / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 Baseball and the Media 9 10 11 How Fans Lose in 12 13 Today’s Coverage of [-3], (3) 14 15 the Game Lines: 21 to 53 16 17 ——— 18 * 195.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Normal Page 20 21 George Castle * PgEnds: Eject 22 23 [-3], (3) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 University of Nebraska Press 38 Lincoln and London

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page iii / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 © 2006 by George Castle 13 All rights reserved [-4], (4) 14 Manufactured in the 15 of America Lines: 53 to 99 16 ⅜ϱ ——— 17 Library of Congress * 18 Cataloging-in-Publication Data 130.824pt PgVar ——— 19 Castle, George. Normal Page 20 Baseball and the media : how fans lose in today’s coverage of the 21 game / George Castle. * PgEnds: PageBreak p. cm. 22 isbn-13: 978-0-8032-6469-4 (pbk. : alk. paper) 23 isbn-10: 0-8032-6469-0 (pbk. : alk. paper) [-4], (4) 24 1. Baseball—Social aspects—United States. 2. Mass media and 25 sports—United States. I. Title. 26 gv867.64.c37 2006 796.3570973—dc22 2006015462 27 28 Set in Janson Text by BookComp, Inc. 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page iv / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 4 5 6 Contents 7 8 9 10 11 12 Preface ...... vii [-5], (5) 13 Introduction ...... 1 14 1. A Long, Strange Journey to the Press Box and Clubhouse ...... 5 15 Lines: 99 to 150 16 2. Old-Time Players and Scribes ...... 19 17 3. The Baseball Beat Writer ...... 35 ——— 18 * 63.669pt PgVar 4. Celebrity Players or Upstanding Role Models? ...... 51 ——— 19 5. Not Baseball’s Golden Children ...... 66 Normal Page 20 21 6. LaTroy and Carl as Jekyll and Hyde ...... 82 * PgEnds: PageBreak 22 7. A Lot Less Chewin’ the Fat with Managers ...... 91 23 8. All the News That’s Not Fit to Print ...... 101 [-5], (5) 24 9. The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism ...... 116 25 26 10. The Politics of Baseball Media ...... 143 27 11. a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town ...... 163 28 12. No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse ...... 191 29 13. Sports-Talk Radio ...... 210 30 14. No More Harry Carays ...... 228 31 32 15. Old versus New Media ...... 241 33 Afterword ...... 253 34 35 36 37 38

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page v / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 [-6], (6) 14 15 Lines: 150 to 151 16 17 ——— 18 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Normal Page 20 21 PgEnds: TEX 22 23 [-6], (6) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page vi / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 4 5 6 Preface 7 8 9 10 11 [First Page] 12 Baseball is the eternal game, melding past, present, and future in a 13 sport that never dies. In fact our oldest professional sport prospers [-7], (1) 14 after all the knocks it takes—labor disputes, greed, venality, man- 15 agement incompetence, and petty politics—through the decades. Lines: 0 to 26 16 No wonder we talk about baseball 24/7/52/365. The free-agent ——— 17 era brought the end of the off-season as traditionally perceived. But 18 0.5pt PgVar if truth be known, baseball fans never took a month or two off. ——— 19 We’ve always talked, debated, and argued baseball year-round, even Normal Page 20 if the news slowed to a trickle. We could always time-travel to some 21 * PgEnds: Eject previous era to compare present achievers with those in the good 22 old days, which often seem more glamorous in hindsight. Now the 23 never-ending parade of player movement and related developments [-7], (1) 24 provide fresh fodder even during the traditional downtime between 25 26 Christmas and New Year’s. As a result, for sheer athletic entertain- 27 ment value, the sport provides conversational grist and analogies 28 for other parts of life like no other. Baseball terminology pervades 29 so many facets of life, from politics to sex. 30 Measure its competitors—many say its superiors. The nfl is a 31 white-hot focus of office-cooler talk when betting pools are set up 32 on Fridays and settled on Mondays, sandwiched around the social 33 event of sixteen Sunday games. In between, however, these ama- 34 teur gamblers are not exactly talking up the merits of the slant play. 35 Most who call themselves nfl fans probably could not name their 36 favorite team’s starting offensive linemen or top defensive reserves. 37 “If gambling could somehow be outlawed, football would dry up,” 38 sportswriter-pundit-turned-travel-writer Alan Solomon said around

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page vii / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 1988, a feeling seconded by those who can see beyond the nfl’s 2 intensely choreographed marketing and media machine. 3 The betting aspect isn’t as prevalent in the nba, whose fine points 4 of the give-and-go and the triangle offense are not chewed over 5 by the average league follower. Aerial artistry, slamma-jamma, and 6 other deft body English are the main lures here. Professional bas- 7 ketball is intensely visual, a perfect made-for-tv winter game where 8 the players wear less than any other sport and whose identities are 9 not obscured by helmets. But the nba has been a big deal for only a 10 generation. “I’d love to have the history baseball possesses,” nba 11 commissioner David Stern once said. Indeed, when Joe DiMag- 12 gio was captivating the country and building up mythic legend by 13 hitting in fifty-six in a row, what passed for pro were [-8], (2) 14 vagabond teams playing for coffee money in small industrial cities 15 of the Northeast and Midwest. Lines: 26 to 42 16 Hockey? Remember that winter sport? After a brief upsurge in 17 the 1970s and into the 1980s, the Canadian import was steadily re- ——— 18 duced to cult status long before labor squabbles cashed in its 2004–5 -0.5pt PgVar ——— 19 season. Hockey faded behind other individual sports in popularity, Normal Page 20 falling totally off the table. PgEnds: T X 21 Golf, tennis, and nascar are all good visual theater. But they don’t E 22 cut to the base loyalties of the average sports consumer like baseball 23 does. In the end—and despite the criticism battering it from non- [-8], (2) 24 fans and football lovers—baseball remains the one sport so closely 25 intertwined with other classic Americana. 26 To be sure, the game was overromanticized by too many authors 27 and essayists. They read into it far more than it is. was 28 well-made Hollywood fantasy, but that’s all it was. Don’t try to whip 29 up assorted allegories for deeper human meanings. The game does 30 have some social significance. ’s color-line busting 31 of 1947 was a true landmark in American history, with a baseball 32 player representing progress that presidents and Congresses before 33 and after 1947 shamefully refused to foster. And in some cases, 34 a winning team is a psychological salve, uniting a disparate com- 35 munity and temporarily healing wounds, a function served by the 36 world-champion 1968 a year after their city burned 37 in horrific riots. Yet to apply all kinds of links to the human soul 38 that might puzzle Freud himself is unsuitable.

viii Preface

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page viii / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Simply put, baseball is the first sport we usually love. And if a 2 gaggle of propagandists don’t convince us we should have a passion 3 for other sports or forsake baseball entirely, it’s a game that sticks 4 with us a lifetime, passing down to our heirs in the process. 5 Baseball is a game we pursue at many levels. Almost all of us have 6 played it or its variant, softball, at the very least at a basic level. 7 Beyond park-league, flag-and-touch contests, football winnows 8 most competitors with its jarring contact, equipment requirements, 9 and sheer brute strength. Basketball has approached baseball in the 10 last two decades in year-round participation by both adults and those 11 at the formative stages of their sports loyalties, yet height and quick- 12 ness absent in most competitors will prevent it from being pursued 13 at a truly competitive level. [-9], (3) 14 Most sandlotters and park-district participants waive themselves 15 out by the time serious interscholastic competition begins. Yet the Lines: 42 to 54 16 love of the game simply is transformed into day-to-day interest in 17 the Major Leagues via the media, the prism through which we truly ——— 18 get to know the game and its stars. Long before the inception of 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 the Internet, that gateway usually was provided through published Normal Page 20 accounts of games near and far, along with the ubiquitous box score, PgEnds: T X 21 the collection of baseball hieroglyphics and codes that got more E 22 detailed as the twentieth century progressed. Poring over the box 23 scores and game stories was a morning ritual of countless millions, [-9], (3) 24 with even more up-to-the-minute accounts of day games featured 25 in afternoon before that genre began slipping away in 26 post–World War II America. 27 The and magazine coverage of the game was joined 28 around 1930 by radio play-by-play accounts. Fans’ favorite teams 29 were augmented by loyalties to announcers, who like hitters’ stances 30 and ’ deliveries offered up a myriad of well-remembered 31 styles. Voices of the greats still resound in millions of memory banks. 32 They range from the exciting, tell-it-like-he-thought-it-was war- 33 bling of , with conquering the pavilion 34 wall in old ; to the poetry-in-motion of 35 as channeled other-world lightning through his left 36 arm to throw a perfect game; to the vocal-chords-busting deliveries 37 of , , and when beloved 38 another out of .

Preface ix

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page ix / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Print and radio were joined by tv by 1950. At first restricted 2 by cumbersome equipment, the video presentation of baseball soon 3 became a classic directors’ game. Be it Harry Coyle’s capturing of 4 trying to gesture his home fair in the 1975 World 5 Series or Arne Harris working magic with just four cameras and one 6 replay machine in Chicago, baseball’s daily personality came alive 7 in living color. Advancements in replays, camera lenses, and other 8 equipment dissected the sport up close and personal as never before. 9 And, in turn, the march forward of broadcast coverage improved 10 the print coverage. Instead of sometimes purple prose offering up 11 a mere play-by-play of the game, quotes began to pepper game 12 stories. Notebooks and “sidebar” stories were added to coverage 13 [-10], (4) packages, taking the reader inside the clubhouse and executive suite 14 to explain the “whys” of the game. Clashes and divisions erupted 15 between print and broadcast, the former considering itself the old Lines: 54 to 68 16 guard protecting its turf, the latter demanding, but not always get- 17 ——— ting, equal access despite the mega-millions pouring into the game 18 13.0pt PgVar through broadcast rights fees. ——— 19 By the 1990s, the Internet finally grabbed a toehold in the baseball Normal Page 20 21 prism. But if in the early twenty-first century the online purveyors * PgEnds: Eject 22 were about as advanced as radio was in, say, 1928 or tv in about 1953, the cyberspace coverage of the game was not yet on equal 23 [-10], (4) 24 footing with the older forms of media. 25 Baseball and the media cannot get along without each other. From 26 the very day the opened for business in the Grant 27 administration, team owners could not afford to purchase the space 28 that newspapers allotted for baseball coverage, for which they paid 29 in writers’ and editors’ salaries. Nearly a century later, owners de- 30 pended upon raking in seven figures in revenue from radio and tv 31 rights. But it would have been unthinkable for the lords of the game 32 to have paid the broadcast outlets for three hours a day, at some 190 33 games a year (including and the postseason). Base- 34 ball has wised up in the nascent Internet era, owning a portion of 35 the leading online purveyor of baseball information. 36 Without the media conduits to the fans, who talk up the game 37 and eventually are its paying customers, baseball would go the way 38 of a gambling-free football. So you’d figure the sport and those who

x Preface

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page x / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 cover it would be one big, happy family. Figure again. Rather than 2 keep the slow, loving embrace going, baseball and the media have 3 allowed a gulf to grow between them. Both parties are still in it to- 4 gether, but increasingly at arm’s length. And the consumer at home 5 is the loser in the end. 6 Players and executives, in whose best interest it lies to make their 7 personas accessible through the media, are increasingly keeping 8 their distance. Soaring salaries allow players to morph into Hol- 9 lywood celebrities with a careful filter masking what they’re really 10 like, if not an outright wall around them. A careful corporate men- 11 tality has enveloped much of baseball. Fans have always felt close to 12 their baseball heroes, even if they’ve never met them, but now they 13 [-11], (5) are increasingly light years’ removed. Trust has been replaced by 14 bitterness. 15 But the media itself also has had a big hand in the breakdown. Lines: 68 to 82 16 Baseball writers don’t stay at their jobs long anymore, disrupting 17 ——— the continuity of coverage demanded by fans. Many on the beat es- 18 13.0pt PgVar chew relationships with players in favor of roaming clubhouses and ——— 19 foul territory in packs or cliques in what one writer calls “social- Normal Page 20 21 ized journalism.” Elitism and arrogance, as bad as any practiced by * PgEnds: Eject 22 wealthy players, exist among the pen-and-mike crowd. Columnists and radio sports-talk-show hosts often don’t show up at the ballpark. 23 [-11], (5) 24 That in turn creates ill will among baseball folk when the opinion- 25 meisters craft their output on the basis of second- and thirdhand 26 information to which their readers and listeners already have access. 27 “Entertainment” is liberally substituted for accurate journalism by 28 ratings-hungry broadcast executives. The presentation, or the “siz- 29 zle,” is perceived as more important than the truth, or the “steak.” 30 The fans deserve better, as they do from their politicians and busi- 31 ness executives. After all, baseball is supposed to be a passionate 32 escape from everyday worries. Instead the outside world intrudes 33 into the toy factory. Politics is political, sport is more political than 34 politics, and media is worse than both of them. 35 How things came to be, and how things could be better in how 36 baseball is perceived through the media, will be detailed in the next 37 couple of hundred pages. But there’s one reassuring certainty. The 38 game goes on. It’s so tough, it always gets up after being knocked

Preface xi

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page xi / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 down. It’s been buried and pronounced dead so many times that 2 you’d scarcely pay attention to the next such proclamation. 3 In an era of specialization, of five-and-fly starters, base- 4 ball itself still goes the distance. Harry Caray once said the names 5 change, die, and fade away, but the game continues on. Thank good- 6 ness for such small favors in a tough, tough world. 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 [-12], (6) 14 15 Lines: 82 to 89 16 17 ——— 18 * 413.28pt PgVar ——— 19 Normal Page 20 21 * PgEnds: PageBreak 22 23 [-12], (6) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

xii Preface

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page xii / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 4 5 6 Baseball and the Media 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 [-13], (7) 14 15 Lines: 89 to 102 16 17 ——— 18 * 414.71602pt PgVar ——— 19 Normal Page 20 21 * PgEnds: PageBreak 22 23 [-13], (7) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page xiii / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 [-14], (8) 14 15 Lines: 102 to 103 16 17 ——— 18 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Normal Page 20 21 PgEnds: TEX 22 23 [-14], (8) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page xiv / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 4 5 6 Introduction 7 8 9 10 11 [First Page] 12 ven though he was surrounded by a score of people, Wendell 13 EKim looked lonely as he stood, almost lost in his thoughts, to [1], (1) 14 the dugout side of the door to the weight room in the 15 clubhouse late on the night of July 19, 2004, in Wrigley Field. Lines: 0 to 17 16 Kim, the diminutive Cubs third-base , no doubt had a feel- 17 ing of dread about his employment for the following season after ——— 18 the events that had just transpired. The Cubs had just lost a tough 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 5–4 game to the archrival St. Louis Cardinals. Cubs starter Carlos Normal Page 20 Zambrano had an emotional meltdown at the wrong time, foolishly PgEnds: T X 21 aiming his pitches at parts of St. Louis slugger Jim Edmonds’ body, E 22 as the Cards widened their first-place lead over a team that had been 23 favored to reach the this season. [1], (1) 24 But Kim, whose reckless gambles sending runners home earned 25 him the nickname “Wavin’ Wendell” from Cubs announcers Chip 26 Caray and , lived up to his reputation on this night. 27 Aramis Ramirez was still gimpy from a groin in- 28 jury suffered two weeks previously. Ramirez doubled to lead off the 29 sixth in a 3–3 tie. Michael Barrett then blooped a single 30 to right. Kim waved Ramirez around rather than holding him up, 31 which would have fashioned a men-on-first-and-third, no-out situ- 32 ation. Cardinals right fielder Reggie Sanders cleanly picked up the 33 ball and gunned a huffing Ramirez out at the plate. Moments later, 34 Alex Gonzalez hit into an -ending play, drawing boos 35 from the standing-room-only crowd of 40,033. 36 Zambrano’s histrionics had attracted the main attention of the 37 media. Edmonds had clubbed a two-run homer off the strapping 38 right-hander in the fourth, prompting Zambrano to jaw at Edmonds

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 1 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 as he rounded the bases. “He didn’t say nothing,” Zambrano said. 2 “I just told him to run the bases, don’t be cocky.” Cubs pitching 3 coach Larry Rothschild quickly lectured Zambrano out of sight of 4 the throng. 5 But the lecture did not stick. Zambrano appeared to shake a finger 6 in Edmonds’s direction when he struck him out in the sixth. Then in 7 the eighth, after Zambrano served up Scott Rolen’s two-run homer 8 that gave the Cardinals a 5–3 lead, the plunked Edmonds on 9 the hip. Since a warning had been issued by the umpires, Zambrano 10 and Cubs were ejected. 11 That appeared to be the main storyline of the evening. Zam- 12 brano and Baker addressed their parts in the passion play in the 13 postgame interview room, a stifling little cubbyhole reachable by [2], (2) 14 a tunnel from both the dugout and ballpark main concourse. There 15 was little other information to garner about the incident when the Lines: 17 to 33 16 media then moved en masse into the clubhouse. 17 The regular beat writers, radio reporters, a stray tv crew, and a ——— 18 couple of other hangers-on gathered at one end of the clubhouse, 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 near the dual exits to the dugout and concourse, with the weight Normal Page 20 room off to the side. I joined them in my role of covering the game PgEnds: T X 21 for the Times of Northwest Indiana, the Chicago area’s fourth largest E 22 daily newspaper. I thought the presence of Kim among the media 23 was quite curious. Thirteen months earlier, Kim had foolishly waved [2], (2) 24 slow-footed catcher Damian Miller into a sure out at home plate in 25 a one-run loss to the White Sox at Wrigley Field. After Baker had 26 defended longtime chum Kim in his postgame talk in the cubbyhole, 27 I raced into the clubhouse in an attempt to snare Kim for his version. 28 But the coach had quickly ducked out, not ’fessing up to his mistake 29 until the next day. 30 So in light of that earlier incident the sight of Kim standing among 31 the media was amazing. He wasn’t talking to a fellow coach or player. 32 About two minutes transpired while I kept looking at Kim. All the 33 other media members’ collective gaze was focused on the center of 34 the clubhouse, perhaps waiting for Barrett or another player to ap- 35 pear. Nobody seemed to notice Kim. He could well have stood in 36 that spot until hell froze over. 37 Finally I approached him. “Wendell, can you comment on that 38 play with Aramis?” I asked.

2 Introduction

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 2 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “That’s why I’m here,” Kim responded. 2 As if given a Pavlovian cue, a whole mess of tape recorders, note- 3 pads, and microphones swung around 180 degrees and enveloped 4 Kim. 5 “I caused the loss,” he said. “I was aggressive at the wrong time. I 6 apologize to all the Cubs fans, the front office, and my teammates.” 7 Kim’s mea culpa wasn’t as astounding as another double-barreled 8 aspect of that scene. First, Kim had bridged the widening chasm 9 between baseball figures and the reporters who cover the game by 10 seeking the media out. Secondly, when presented a key figure in a 11 dramatic game for interviews on a silver platter, the assembled me- 12 dia did not make the first move, only asking questions when a group 13 formed and someone else took the initiative to start the interview— [3], (3) 14 almost as if there was a “safety in numbers” attitude. 15 I had seen innumerable examples of such passive behavior among Lines: 33 to 44 16 colleagues going back some fifteen years. Back on September 8, 17 1989, at the other end of the clubhouse in the manager’s office, Don ——— 18 Zimmer looked even more agitated than usual, his expressive eyes 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 bulging as the media assembled around him. Cubs general manager Normal Page 20 , his lifelong friend and sponsor, shuffled about at the back PgEnds: T X 21 of the media cluster, looking at the floor. The Cubs had just lost a E 22 crucial game 11–8 to these same Cardinals, who cut the hosts’ first- 23 place lead to half a game. Pedro Guerrero had slugged a three-run [3], (3) 24 homer off Cubs to enable the Cards to rally 25 from a 7–1 deficit. 26 Zimmer had started journeyman lefty Paul Kilgus, who had been 27 demoted to the bullpen, then to the minors, a couple of months 28 earlier. Kilgus had not been stretched out in a game in a while. I 29 remarked to radio reporter Bruce Levine in the press box that after 30 Kilgus had limited the Cardinals to just one run in five , Zim- 31 mer should pat him on the rear, say, “Good game,” and not press 32 his luck. But Zimmer, no handler of pitchers, let Kilgus go further, 33 and the Cardinals started their rally as a result. 34 As Zimmer stared into space in his office, the only sound in the 35 room was nervous shuffling, maybe a cough or throat-clearing. A 36 minute or more passed without one question directed at Zimmer. 37 Nobody, not even the beat guys from the downtown Chicago pa- 38 pers, wanted to make the first move. Perhaps they realized Zimmer

Introduction 3

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 3 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 wasn’t really the cuddly baseball lifer popularly portrayed. He had a 2 horrible temper, as I would find out a decade later when he lit after 3 me in the U.S. Cellular Field’s visitors’ dugout without any provo- 4 cation. But in that 1989 gathering, a palpable fear factor pervaded 5 the assembled media. It shouldn’t have. What was Zimmer going to 6 do? Lash out and bite them like a rabid dog? 7 I couldn’t take the silence any longer. “What went into your 8 thinking of stretching out Kilgus?” I asked Zimmer. That broke the 9 ice. He answered in a reasonable manner. Other questions, asked 10 sheepishly, then came forth from the group. 11 The Kim and Zimmer incidents were telling about the state of [Last Page] 12 courage and perception among those covering baseball. They also 13 gave clues as to the product that the consuming public receives each [4], (4) 14 day in print, broadcast, and Internet form. The experiences I would 15 endure weren’t what I expected when I first dreamed of baseball Lines: 44 to 49 16 writing back in high school, more than three decades before Wen- 17 dell Kim crossed the barrier and reached out to an unwilling media ——— 18 throng. 257.28pt PgVar ——— 19 Normal Page 20 21 PgEnds: TEX 22 23 [4], (4) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

4 Introduction

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 4 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 ONE 4 5 6 A Long, Strange Journey to the 7 8 Press Box and Clubhouse 9 10 11 [First Page] 12 he path to a Major League clubhouse is decided early in life. [5], (1) 13 TA select few have the natural gift to play baseball, sport’s most 14 mentally challenging game, at its highest level. A larger group is 15 athletically challenged, but either talented enough or lucky enough Lines: 0 to 24 16 or both to end up in the locker room with pen and notebook or tape 17 ——— recorder. 18 13.0pt PgVar But it’s not certain where a dual passion for writing and baseball ——— 19 originates. Normal Page 20 Some of it is environmental. Your mother brings home two news- 21 * PgEnds: Eject papers each day and you learn writing style by osmosis and repeti- 22 tion. The local team, in this case the Chicago Cubs, starts winning 23 [5], (1) 24 after two decades’ wandering in baseball’s desert, with saturation tv 25 coverage providing an easily opened window for you to get close to 26 the game. 27 Perhaps the rest is just embedded deep within you. Those who 28 are fated to be good in math go on to clean up in the tough courses 29 and, in many cases, help rule the world because they can work the 30 numbers so well. Baseball and basketball mogul was 31 surely a math whiz in school back in . Those less fortu- 32 nate go into literary or creative pursuits. I liked history and current 33 events, so naturally I’d read and follow the news. 34 In my formative 1960s, Chicago was blessed with four distinctive 35 daily newspapers—the Tribune, Sun-Times, Daily News, and Amer- 36 ican. By age thirteen, while living in West Rogers Park, five miles 37 northwest of Wrigley Field, I read three of the papers daily, the 38 Tribune excepted because it was reflexively conservative and Repub-

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 5 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 lican. Reading became a true gateway to the greater world in a tu- 2 multuous era. 3 When the Tribune started moving toward the center under editor 4 Clayton Kirkpatrick in 1969, I began reading the giant daily regu- 5 larly. Soon I’d get an even closer view during my first entrée into 6 the business around April Fool’s Day, 1974, while finishing up my 7 freshman year in college. A friend of my mother’s friend worked as 8 an executive in the Tribune’s insurance subsidiary. An opening for 9 a copy clerk on the 11:30 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. shift Fridays and Satur- 10 days was available. In true Chicago and media fashion, the word was 11 put in and I journeyed through the front door at 435 N. Michigan 12 Avenue. 13 Strolling into the fourth-floor Tribune’s city room was like taking [6], (2) 14 a trip through a modern-day Wonderland. I had my more mundane 15 gofer’s duties such as answering the switchboard, stripping the ap Lines: 24 to 36 16 and upi wires every half hour or so, moving copy from desk to desk, 17 and fetching coffee from the mailroom downstairs. The camaraderie ——— 18 was special on the night shift, also called the “dog watch.” The day- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 time caste system broke down to a degree. The old sea-dog desk Normal Page 20 guys would talk to you. Emphasize “guys.” In 1976, LeAnn Spencer PgEnds: T X 21 became the first woman to work such late weekend hours on the E 22 desk, her cries of “Copy!” many octaves above the typical bullfrog- 23 level summonses of the night crew. [6], (2) 24 Telegraph editor Bob Seals tipped me $20 every Christmas, a 25 handsome sum for a college student making $4.60 an hour (double 26 the minimum wage at the time). Veteran copyeditor Bob Corbet ad- 27 vised me to leave the paper eventually, work my way up elsewhere in 28 the business, and “come back here a star.” Falstaffian deskman Bob 29 Hughes rumbled down the aisles in the middle of the night, singing 30 “Amelia Earhart, Where Have You Gone?” When he wasn’t laying 31 out the final replate edition, George Schumann talked about how 32 he could “sleep in shifts” during the day to handle the overnight 33 hours while making a 120-mile round trip from his New Buffalo, 34 Michigan, home. 35 The secrets of the night shift stayed there, like inside-baseball 36 clubhouse information. The entire cadre of city-room copyeditors 37 was scheduled to work from 11:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. starting Friday 38 night. However, their editing completed about 3:30 or 4:00 a.m.,

6 A Long, Strange Journey to the Press Box and Clubhouse

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 6 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 they began drifting home one by one. I could even steal away one 2 of the nights around 4:30 a.m. during the baseball season to get a 3 few more hours’ sleep in order not to be totally bleary-eyed going 4 to the 1:15 p.m. ball game at Wrigley Field. “We don’t pay peo- 5 ple now for not working,” thundered Jim Dowdle, the number two 6 Tribune Company executive, when I told him of this featherbedding 7 situation twenty-five years later. 8 The Tribune sports department was off to one side of the news- 9 room. It might as well have been in a different world. If it took an ex- 10 ecutive’s recommendation to get a part-time job on the city-side dog 11 watch, what kind of internal politics did it take to become a mem- 12 ber of the sports department? The all-male staff of the time cer- 13 tainly wore their elitism proudly, if not arrogantly. Men in their late [7], (3) 14 twenties and thirties, even the summer intern, walked around with 15 mammoth, dirigible-shaped cigars stuffed in their mouths, the kind Lines: 36 to 43 16 of smoking accessory only the wise-guy types a generation older at 17 Friedman’s or at the Devon-Western newsstand logically would sa- ——— 18 vor. The stogies were seemingly a combination of macho, member- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 of-the-club rite of passage and a showcase of smug satisfaction with Normal Page 20 their employment. PgEnds: T X 21 Sports obviously operated in a different world than the rest of the E 22 paper, oriented toward a deadline dash when game results would 23 come in all within about a ninety-minute period. On Friday night, [7], (3) 24 August 30, 1974, I found Bob “Lefty” Logan, Cubs and Bulls beat 25 writer and top punster in Chicago sports, typing furiously on an Un- 26 derwood manual. Logan watched the Cubs-Padres twinight dou- 27 bleheader from San Diego on sports editor Cooper Rollow’s office 28 color tv. In those days, if a Chicago baseball team was well under 29 .500 and out of the race later in the season, the local dailies cut out 30 much of the road travel for their writers. Logan had not been sent 31 to the West Coast with the Cubs, forcing him to cover games off tv, 32 a not uncommon practice in the era. The next morning, the game 33 story was datelined “San Diego” with a “Special to the Tribune” by- 34 line. Logan’s name was nowhere to be found. It would not be the 35 first time, and is still far from the last, that baseball fans were not 36 getting the whole story—or truth in packaging—about their teams 37 from the media. 38 At age twenty, my own work would soon appear in the sports sec-

A Long, Strange Journey to the Press Box and Clubhouse 7

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 7 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 tion under another man’s byline. Gary Deeb was the new tv-radio 2 critic, imported from Buffalo. He soon became an overnight sensa- 3 tion and the most talked-about columnist in town this side of Mike 4 Royko with his take-no-prisoners criticism of bad programming, 5 talent, and executives along with some sharp broadcast-industry 6 scoops. Time Magazine called Deeb “the terror of the tube.” But 7 Deeb had also started a Tuesday sports tv-radio column in the jock 8 pages and needed someone steeped in Chicago sports knowledge to 9 do the legwork. I became that person, having met and conversed 10 with Deeb on the dog watch. He was a lone-wolf worker, prowling 11 in at night to type his column for the advance features-section dead- 12 line after doing a first draft in longhand at his nearby apartment. 13 Deeb paid me out of his own pocket. I assisted him by researching [8], (4) 14 critical columns on and White Sox color announcer 15 J. C. Martin and a praiseworthy piece on the Cubs radio teaming Lines: 43 to 51 16 of Vince Lloyd and . But the best-remembered Deeb 17 column, to this day, was his 1975 satire on Bears radio announcers ——— 18 Jack Brickhouse and . I gathered 90 percent of the in- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 formation in that piece, with Deeb using many of the lines I submit- Normal Page 20 ted in a preliminary column form. “Dat’s right, Jack,” Kup’s typical PgEnds: T X 21 response to Brickhouse’s request for analysis, became a catchword E 22 in Chicago sports. Brickhouse had helped develop an entire city’s 23 enthusiasm, me included, for its often-losing teams. Yet he was un- [8], (4) 24 intentionally comical working an nfl game as the public’s only live 25 media conduit during an era of home-game tv blackouts. 26 Decades later I’d become friends with Brickhouse and even put 27 together an historical exhibit on his career for the Museum of Broad- 28 cast Communications. Still the mid-1970s was a time when Brick- 29 house, who had close business ties to Chicago’s sports owners and 30 thus was never wholly objective, deserved some knocks. He was a 31 mediocre football announcer. Vince Lloyd told me in 2003 that 32 Brickhouse, to whom baseball and basketball broadcasting back in 33 his native Peoria were almost his birthrights, really did not under- 34 stand football’s intricacies. 35 Deeb even persuaded the features department to run my own by- 36 lined piece, appearing in his column space during his July 1976 vaca- 37 tion, on the lack of science-fiction tv shows in the gap between the 38 original Star Trek’s cancellation and the advent of Star Wars mania.

8 A Long, Strange Journey to the Press Box and Clubhouse

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 8 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 The continuation of this apparent first big break came when John 2 Waggoner, the Tribune’s news editor and number three man in the 3 editorial department, offered me a summer internship for 1976.I 4 had gotten to know Waggoner as I started my Friday night shifts 5 while he was finishing up his deadline work. An internship was a 6 good entrée to being hired full time later on at the Tribune; if not, 7 it was certainly a sterling section on a résumé that would impress 8 another sizeable newspaper. Inexplicably, though, I froze up, telling 9 Waggoner I needed more published experience before I could work 10 as an intern. I had needed someone to get in my face to counsel 11 me that a phalanx of assistant city editors and copyeditors provided 12 layers of protection for my copy, and I wasn’t going to be assigned to 13 national politics or City Hall. A year later, with more published clips [9], (5) 14 at a college daily, I approached Waggoner to ask if the internship 15 offer was still good for 1977. “It’s a tough world out there,” he said Lines: 51 to 61 16 in telling me “no.” 17 That bad news took place after the Deeb work connection also ——— 18 had been severed, due to a disagreement over assigned research 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 not used and, in turn, not compensated. With the twice-a-week Normal Page 20 all-nighters finally getting to me physically, I left the Tribune in PgEnds: T X 21 April 1977 to assume a $135-a-week summer news internship at the E 22 Decatur Herald and Review, 180 miles south of Chicago. I probably 23 learned more at the smaller daily than I would have at the colossus [9], (5) 24 on Michigan Avenue. But a request for full-time employment at the 25 Herald and Review when I graduated from Northern Univer- 26 sity in 1978 had been nixed by my supervising city editor, who felt 27 he was stuck in the agribusiness-industrial city and did not wish the 28 same on me. 29 As life progressed, the alternate road I took became the only sure 30 way into the press box and locker room. 31 32 Following two other writing-related positions after college, I 33 learned a friend was leaving a part-time sports job at the weekly 34 ’ Chicago North Side main office, recommend- 35 ing me as his successor. I started in April 1980, glorying in what I 36 thought was my good fortune. It was not the Tribune, but it was a 37 sportswriting job in my hometown. 38 I soon began a sports column, which I tabbed “The Bleacher

A Long, Strange Journey to the Press Box and Clubhouse 9

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 9 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Bench,” after my summertime ballpark roost. My first effort was 2 about finding Mr. Cub, Ernie Banks, working as a management 3 trainee at the Bank of Ravenswood on Lawrence Avenue, two miles 4 from Wrigley Field. Banks was not exactly overworked while I 5 talked to him. In the middle of the bank lobby, he intently listened 6 to decade-old audio highlights of his teammates I had provided to 7 him. 8 The value of my Lerner sports position appeared to inflate even 9 more when I obtained my first press credential to cover games at 10 Wrigley Field. However the credential was only a daily pass. And 11 it had restrictions imposed by Cubs media-relations director Buck 12 Peden, mindful that I only worked for a weekly. I could not gain 13 access to the tiny, inadequate home clubhouse down the left-field [10], (6) 14 line. I also could not eat a pregame lunch in the Pink Poodle, the 15 media dining room behind home plate. However, in a twist, I was Lines: 61 to 69 16 allowed to use the Poodle’s kitchen phone to feed interview tape to 17 an Evanston radio station for which I aired a daily sportscast during ——— 18 the 1980 season. When I’d enter the Pink Poodle a half hour after 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 games, the place had an open bar with hard liquor, one or two or Normal Page 20 more for the road for the thirsty media. But in 1981, after Peden PgEnds: T X 21 was transferred to another job, a more friendly media-relations type E 22 finally granted me my first season credential with full clubhouse and 23 dining-room access. [10], (6) 24 The 1980 credential squeeze by the Cubs did not compare to what 25 I encountered back at 7519 N. Ashland Avenue as a first career les- 26 son in the kind of media management that negatively impacts base- 27 ball coverage. Company owner Lou Lerner had just acquired full 28 ownership of the chain from his mother, sister, and brother. Lerner 29 also had dabbled as a petty Democratic Party activist who was re- 30 warded for early support of with the ambassadorship 31 to Norway in 1977. But Lerner’s political and financial passions did 32 not extend to the team at and Addison. I did not know whether 33 Lerner hated the Cubs (one report had the West Rogers Park na- 34 tive a White Sox fan) or hated the Tribune Company, formerly the 35 archconservative antithesis to his late, liberal father-publisher Leo 36 Lerner. Maybe he just hated ambition among his help. 37 Whatever the motivation, Lerner certainly did not want any 38 straight-on coverage of the Cubs even though the team played

10 A Long, Strange Journey to the Press Box and Clubhouse

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 10 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 smack-dab in the middle of his circulation area. I had to come up 2 with a “local angle” for any Cubs-related story—the batboy hailing 3 from a local high school, community opposition to the installation 4 of lights in Wrigley Field, and so on. Management’s lame excuse 5 was that the dailies covered baseball so well that a weekly should 6 cover what the dailies didn’t. Yet if a murder occurred outside the 7 ballpark (as actually took place two decades later), the downtown 8 print and broadcast outlets would cover it just the same as the local 9 weekly. 10 Lerner and his puppet editorial director, Charles Mouratides, ig- 11 norantly demanded coverage of micro-interest, high-school sports 12 and summer-park district softball without ever being in touch with 13 what their readers really desired. This was the first indication to me [11], (7) 14 that media coverage of any event, baseball included, often is deter- 15 mined by the whims and fancies of the boss. In this mediawide trend, Lines: 69 to 77 16 baseball coverage sometimes yields to lesser, “local” sports, even in 17 newspapers not far from the teams’ home ballparks. Barred from ——— 18 more than scattershot Cubs coverage, I sought out some freelance 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 baseball writing opportunities, but instead I ended up authoring a Normal Page 20 tv-radio column for Pro Football Weekly and taking other freelance PgEnds: T X 21 work. E 22 An attempt to blast myself out of Lerner failed in 1984 when Ru- 23 pert Murdoch swooped in to buy -Times after Ted Field, [11], (7) 24 half-brother of primary owner Marshall Field, wanted to cash out 25 to finance his movie production company. Scores of news-side and 26 feature department staffers, worried about Murdoch’s low-rent rep- 27 utation in publishing tabloids, bailed out of the Sun-Times. Colum- 28 nist led the exodus, joining the Tribune, a paper he had 29 long baited in print. 30 There was one catch. Only three sports department staffers, in- 31 cluding sports editor Marty Kaiser and assistant sports editor Mike 32 Davis, departed. There was only so much more sensationalism Mur- 33 doch could inject into sports coverage. Besides, writers are usually 34 out of the office and divorced from the petty day-to-day office pol- 35 itics. Desk editors tend to work at night when the honchos are not 36 around. Employment at a big-city sports department was a sweet 37 plum, indeed, no matter who signed the checks. 38 The four hundred dollars I spent to buy a new suit, figuring I had

A Long, Strange Journey to the Press Box and Clubhouse 11

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 11 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 some angles to get a job interview at the Sun-Times, went to waste. 2 Other attempts to move on to bigger, better jobs in the Chicago 3 market fell short. Editors at dailies had a haughty attitude toward 4 writers on weeklies, wrongly believing they either weren’t good 5 enough or could not handle daily deadlines. The Newspaper Guild’s 6 contract for Lerner Newspapers’ editorial employees prohibited any 7 work for “competing” publications, thus precluding slipping in to 8 the downtown dailies or the suburban Daily Herald via the side door 9 of part-time gigs or stringing. This situation was exacerbated when 10 the Guild failed to secure a cost-of-living increase in the five years 11 an apparently cash-strapped Lou Lerner ran the paper. The Guild 12 went all-out for its “glamour” contract at the Sun-Times when the 13 crying need for improved wages and benefits was at smaller publi- [12], (8) 14 cations such as mine. 15 Why not simply leave the job, you say? I was advised by too many Lines: 77 to 81 16 pundits to move away from Chicago, the stereotyped manner to 17 move up in journalism and one that negatively impacts the wan- ——— 18 derers’ acumen in covering each new market. But move to where? 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Staffers of dailies from smaller cities throughout the Midwest were Normal Page 20 willing to move down in class at a weekly such as mine just to live in a PgEnds: T X 21 big city. Not everyone can uproot their family. In addition, Lerner E 22 Newspapers provided a steady, albeit modest wage with benefits, 23 the two most important factors when you have a young child. And [12], (8) 24 there was that not-insignificant fringe benefit of season Cubs and 25 White Sox credentials as sports editor of the North Side editions. A 26 quarter-loaf was better than none at all. 27 Still, continued confinement at Lerner Newspapers got ever more 28 stifling as the years progressed. An announcement was made early in 29 1984 that for the first time in tv history, several Cubs home games 30 would be blacked out locally to enable to have an exclusive au- 31 dience for its Saturday Game of the Week. That was historic—two 32 generations of Chicago fans had grown up never further from the 33 Cubs than their tv sets. I called Brickhouse, a North Side resident, 34 and several others for their reactions. Lou Lerner was so incensed 35 by the story that he crafted a memo to Mouratides that “no coverage 36 of professional sports” was to be permitted in the paper. Later, in 37 August 1984, Lerner spotted me in the basement composing room. 38 “Why don’t you go to [get a job at] the Tribune so you can get World

12 A Long, Strange Journey to the Press Box and Clubhouse

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 12 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Series tickets?” he huffed, mindful that the Cubs had just taken over 2 first place in the . “If I could, I would,” I re- 3 sponded. The Cubs barely missed the World Series in 1984. 4 Lerner, only forty-nine, died of a brain tumor a few months later. 5 His widow, Susan, soon sold the chain to Pulitzer Publishing of St. 6 Louis. The new management was a little more flexible. I soon gained 7 the support of Nick Van Hevelingen, Pulitzer’s executive dispatched 8 from St. Louis to run Lerner Newspapers. A format change in 1988 9 enabled me to write a weekly sports-media celebrity column in the 10 lakefront editions of the chain. Combined with freelance work for 11 the Cubs publications department, Sport magazine and several other 12 local and national publications, I wrapped up the 1980s more or less 13 covering the majority of home games at Wrigley Field. [13], (9) 14 More evidence of the whims and fancies of media management 15 became apparent, though, when I began doing fill-in baseball and Lines: 81 to 90 16 basketball work for the Daily Southtown, a daily circulating on Chi- 17 cago’s Southwest Side and southwest suburbs. Southtown covered ——— 18 the home games of all the city’s teams and had also had been bought 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 by Pulitzer. Normal Page 20 Some noneditorial people moved from Lerner to the daily, but PgEnds: T X 21 not a single writer or editor switched. Van Hevelingen, who knew I E 22 was frustrated at a weekly, had put in a good word at the daily to get 23 me the freelance fill-in gig. After a year, I called up Southtown edi- [13], (9) 24 tor Michael Kelley to pitch him on the idea of joining the staff. He 25 would hear nothing of it. “You’re a magazine writer,” the overopin- 26 ionated Kelley told me. He also used the magazine-writer put-down 27 to Ted Cox, a Southtown copyeditor who wanted to switch to writ- 28 ing. Five years later, Cox was tv-radio columnist of the larger Daily 29 Herald in Chicago’s northwest suburbs. Yet in 1991, after the sports 30 newspaper the National had folded, Kelley moved money around in 31 the midst of a recession to create a columnist’s position that pre- 32 viously did not exist. Kelley liked the National, so he snapped up 33 Tom Keegan, one of its writers in dire need of employment, for the 34 bargain salary of thirty-eight thousand dollars. 35 36 When I was not asked to stay on when Pulitzer Publishing came 37 within days of closing Lerner Newspapers before selling it to a local 38 investor in the fall of 1992, I actually got a huge break. I had built up

A Long, Strange Journey to the Press Box and Clubhouse 13

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 13 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 a portfolio of regular freelance assignments over the years and sim- 2 ply went to work on my own, making an aggregate fourteen thou- 3 sand dollars more than my base Lerner salary. Besides, I no longer 4 would be dragged down writing poorly read high-school sports or 5 having any artificial restrictions on baseball coverage, the latter of 6 which never totally went away long after Lou Lerner’s passing. 7 Within a year, I began my own weekly radio show, Chicago Base- 8 ball Weekly, on suburban fm station wcbr. I strongly believed that 9 baseball was undercovered by the newly hot format of sports-talk 10 radio, which went gaga first over , then the nfl overall. 11 Besides, wgn Radio, a logical originator for a weekly baseball maga- 12 zine show, restricted the amount of sports programming other than 13 its live baseball and football play-by-play, the better to protect its [14], (10) 14 perennial number one ratings position. 15 I paid two hundred dollars for the hour of live airtime at wcbr Lines: 90 to 96 16 and somehow rustled up enough advertisers to more than cover the 17 cost. Former manager John Felske was a spon- ——— 18 sor with his chain of quick oil-change outlets. Surviving the 1994– 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 95 baseball strike, I took the show to the Illinois Radio Network Normal Page 20 for production and distribution, renamed it Diamond Gems, and put PgEnds: T X 21 it into syndication via satellite as a taped program. By 1997 I had E 22 persuaded eighteen stations to carry the seasonal offering, which 23 ran from Opening Day till the end of the World Series. Two years [14], (10) 24 later, the affiliate count climbed to twenty-five, airing on stations as 25 far away as Anchorage and , while I entered into a better 26 and less expensive production deal with srn Broadcasting of Lake 27 Bluff, Illinois. All along I somehow managed to snare enough adver- 28 tising to keep the program going. In 2006, Diamond Gems marked its 29 thirteenth season on the air—three or four lifetimes by radio stan- 30 dards. 31 At the same time I began the radio show in 1994, I began covering 32 Cubs games for the Times of Northwest Indiana, based in Munster, 33 just a half mile east of the Illinois state line, thirty miles southeast of 34 downtown Chicago. The newspaper found it more convenient and 35 cost effective to employ a Chicago-based writer than dispatch one 36 of their staffers daily for the traffic-clogged drive to Wrigley Field. 37 Periodically I was used to back up on White Sox home games, and 38 even some of the dynastic Bulls nba Finals contests. Although the

14 A Long, Strange Journey to the Press Box and Clubhouse

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 14 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 per-story compensation certainly did not match the security of a 2 staffer’s regular paycheck and benefits, the arrangement was better 3 than I had enjoyed previously. I was working for a daily newspaper, 4 which is generally treated better than most other media genres by 5 the powers that be in baseball. 6 Factoring in other magazines and publications, for whom I had 7 already been covering baseball, I figured I had achieved my dream. 8 Sure, I lacked the pay and sheer circulation of the most privileged 9 baseball . Some of my more arrogant colleagues held my 10 part-time Times status and representation of—horrors, an out-of- 11 state, Indiana paper—against me. Welcome to the politics of big- 12 city media, more political than the pols themselves. 13 In addition to the baseball figures with whom I forged some im- [15], (11) 14 portant relationships while out at the ballpark almost daily, I be- 15 gan noticing how the game was being covered—or not covered. Lines: 96 to 113 16 Changes were afoot in the news business. Newspapers were losing 17 circulation at a time when stockholders demanded instant gratifica- ——— 18 tion and ownership was being consolidated. Sports-talk radio had 6.5pt PgVar ——— 19 burst onto the scene. tv stations and cable sports outlets sent more Normal Page 20 video cameras into the locker room. The average person cover- PgEnds: T X 21 ing baseball was getting younger and probably less knowledgeable. E 22 Putting all these factors together, I persuaded the Times of Northwest 23 Indiana sports editor Dave Campbell to let me write the following [15], (11) 24 feature. Appearing on October 8, 1995, the story is reprinted cour- 25 tesy of the Times: 26 27 chicago—Cubs manager stands in a corner of his 28 clubhouse, running the gauntlet of postgame questions. One long- 29 faced young man, appearing hardly older than senior-prom fodder, 30 thrusts a microphone toward Riggleman. 31 “Well, Coach, what did you think of . . .” begins his question as 32 the assembled reporters’ eyes roll. 33 The very junior radio reporter leaves to gather another sound bite 34 elsewhere. 35 Riggleman’s a low-key guy and just smiles slightly as someone says, 36 “Well, Coach, who’s going to start at running back next week?” 37 This image is a reminder of one of the worst downer years in base- 38 ball history.

A Long, Strange Journey to the Press Box and Clubhouse 15

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 15 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 How our most traditional game is portrayed in the media has a lot 2 to do with its image in the fractured 1994 and 1995 seasons. Two 3 separate but connected themes in crafting that image have emerged 4 in newspapers and on radio and tv stations: 5 (1) In an unsettled time when the game has enough off-the-field 6 troubles, baseball is being enthusiastically bashed, most often by col- 7 umnists, essayists, and sports-talk-show hosts who usually stay away 8 from the ballparks. 9 (2) In a trend long predating the 1994–95 strike, baseball has been 10 undercovered or miscovered, particularly by the broadcast media. 11 The quality and quantity of reporting on the game has dipped sharply 12 as early twenty-something rookies are sent out to cover events for- 13 [16], (12) merly reserved for the most experienced old hands. 14 Baseball offers by far the most access of any sport. Yet only a mi- 15 nority of media outlets and reporters take advantage of that open- Lines: 113 to 137 16 door policy, with superficial postgame sound bites comprising the 17 ——— sum total of a lot of broadcast coverage. 18 13.0pt PgVar White Sox manager Terry Bevington was the latest baseball fig- ——— 19 ure to point out the clubhouse and dugout absences of prominent Normal Page 20 21 opinionists. * PgEnds: Eject 22 Meanwhile, in a far more stage-managed sport where access is tightly controlled, every last Bears’ utterance was duly documented 23 [16], (12) 24 at summer camp in Platteville. 25 “The Bears are the most overcovered team in this town,” said 26 -Radio host Les Grobstein, one of the minority of sports-talk 27 types to regularly cover Chicago baseball games in person. 28 Baseball right now is like a bloodied boxer taking cheap shots with- 29 out a referee to step in. And the sport seems to have few advocates 30 among sports-media honchos. 31 “It’s fashionable,” said wmvp-Radio reporter Bruce Levine, for fif- 32 teen years by far the most active Chicago radio reporter covering the 33 game. “The reason why is because baseball hasn’t stood up for itself.” 34 “Baseball is down, so it’s a good time to get another punch in,” said 35 the ’s , a Hall of Fame enshrinee 36 who has been on the beat since 1957. 37 Mind you, the game deserves plenty of knocks as it is. The sense- 38 less strike, self-serving owners and union officials, boorish players, a

16 A Long, Strange Journey to the Press Box and Clubhouse

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 16 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 bungled tv contract, the hyperinflation of ticket prices, and lack of a 2 coordinated marketing plan all make easy and legitimate targets. 3 But often-absentee columnists and talk-show hosts seem to take 4 special glee in trying to lead public opinion into believing baseball is 5 dying. 6 Columnists showed up more often at baseball games in past years 7 than now. The Tribune’s Odds & Ins columnist , a Gary 8 native and present-day south suburbanite, said columnists were much 9 more frequently in attendance in the mid-1980s when he handled the 10 Cubs beat. 11 Columnists and beat writers have had to share their influence on 12 the public with sports-talk-show hosts, benefiting from the radio in- 13 [17], (13) dustry’s fastest-growing format of the 1990s. 14 Opinions, no matter how outlandish or misinformed, are put at 15 a premium over inside, information-style analysis. It’s “entertain- Lines: 137 to 164 16 ment.” 17 ——— Thus there’s little motivation for talkfest practitioners to work the 18 13.0pt PgVar clubhouses to find out the real story. ——— 19 “My stance is you should make the occasional visit to the ballpark, Normal Page 20 21 and maybe visit the clubhouse once in awhile,” said Jim Memolo, The * PgEnds: Eject 22 Score’s morning co-host, who grew up a Yankees fan in . “But it’s human nature to start going soft on people. They become 23 [17], (13) 24 your friends while you’re going hard on other people.” 25 A contrasting view was offered by Homewood’s Bill Motluck, a 26 ballpark frequenter in hosting and producing Talking Sports for the 27 past six years on wcgo-am (1600) in Chicago Heights. 28 “I still believe that your job is to put your listeners inside the locker 29 room or dugout,” said Motluck. “Otherwise, you’re no different than 30 the listener. What new can you offer them? You’re just reading the 31 paper or watching tv like they are.” 32 In fairness to many of the Chicago talk-show hosts, they face 33 schedule crunches in attempts to visit baseball locker rooms. Many, 34 like Memolo, work live studio shifts six days a week, an old radio 35 tradition. If they have families, they have to come home sometime. 36 Some talk-station executives don’t put a premium on baseball 37 knowledge anyway. 38 Several past and present workers at The Score say top manage-

A Long, Strange Journey to the Press Box and Clubhouse 17

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 17 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 ment called the studio in the middle of a show while the flow of 2 calls centered on baseball. The management edict: Book a basketball 3 guest, now! A writer out East was hurriedly called, and talk shifted to 4 the nba. But the same sources said an orgy of pro football talk would 5 not have prompted a mid-show demand for a basketball guest. 6 With the talk-show hosts studio-bound, the flow of good baseball 7 information is cut off even more with the increased dispatching of 8 young, inexperienced reporters to cover baseball. 9 Most do not bother to talk to players before the game. They also 10 act timidly after the game, particularly in a losing clubhouse. 11 “I think the work ethic leaves a lot to be desired,” said Levine, 12 often the first in the clubhouse each day. “Many seem to think their 13 workday begins with the first pitch, if then.” [18], (14) 14 Those who grew up with the game are out covering it. Those who 15 offer opinions do so in hit-and-run fashion. And many who call the Lines: 164 to 187 16 shots may know the way to the nearest skybox, but not 17 to the Wrigley Field bleachers entrance. ——— 18 * 58.35pt PgVar Beyond the precepts of the Times feature, there’d be a telling truth ——— 19 uttered by baseball lifer Jim Riggleman, a virtual saint in a sinner’s Normal Page 20 business, who still ranks as the most decent man among all the man- 21 * PgEnds: PageBreak agers and coaches I’ve covered. If all baseball people and reporters 22 could follow his simple advice, the game and its media conduits 23 [18], (14) would be a near-paradise. 24 “It does not have to be an adversarial relationship,” Riggleman 25 said. “The media is an opportunity to promote your ball club. The 26 way I put it to the Mets gm, when I interviewed for the managing job 27 there, was: ‘I look at the media not as a problem, but as an opportu- 28 nity. We have free advertising every day, a chance to talk about our 29 ball club. You could promote your players in the media.’ ” 30 Required to carry out this simple concept are talent, common 31 sense, and passion for the game. I would sometimes find all three 32 in short supply in a journey through baseball before and after the 33 millennium. 34 35 36 37 38

18 A Long, Strange Journey to the Press Box and Clubhouse

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 18 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 TWO 4 5 6 Old-Time Players and Scribes 7 8 9 10 11 12 aseball is all about truth. Yet myths comfortably coexist with [19], (15) 13 Bblack-and-white facts. 14 The fans always deserve the truth about their most traditional 15 game, though they haven’t always gotten it. On the other hand, Lines: 187 to 209 16 they would not have fallen in love with baseball without its excess 17 ——— of myths. 18 13.0pt PgVar A core of hard-bitten, almost elitist writers brought forth dol- ——— 19 lops of the truth, a heavy dose of myth, and a lot of gray-area ma- Normal Page 20 terial in between, ever since baseball became America’s first mass 21 * PgEnds: Eject spectator sport in the mid-nineteenth century. It was a three-way 22 relationship—between players, writers, and readers—that worked 23 [19], (15) 24 far more often than it didn’t for more than a century until explod- 25 ing player salaries, burgeoning new media, rising costs, declining 26 circulation, a thirst for profit margins, and an overemphasis on “lo- 27 cal” coverage made serious dents in the traditional way of conveying 28 baseball news through daily print journalism. 29 Indeed, where would baseball be without myths such as Babe 30 Ruth’s “called shot” in the —a seeming inven- 31 tion by newspaper lyricist Paul Gallico? How about the standoffish 32 Joe DiMaggio’s supposed regal elegance? Even in a more cynical 33 world, the Red Sox’s and the Cubs’ Billy 34 Goat Curse—both of which were utter nonsense—give color to the 35 sport that simply doesn’t exist in baseball’s more expertly packaged 36 athletic competitors like the nfl and nba. 37 “One of the great things about baseball is that it’s everyday and 38 it’s accessible,” said Scott Reifert, director of

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 19 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 communications. “It’s built this myth about baseball that’s existed 2 forever. Football doesn’t have it.” 3 The long, long season has always lent itself to a kind of living 4 passion play, full of heroes and (yes) goats, saints and sinners, good 5 guys and bad guys, that the consuming public eats up. For the major- 6 ity of baseball’s existence, the primary conduits for this were writ- 7 ers who traveled with the teams, becoming virtually extensions of 8 those teams. They revealed some truths, but held back a lot more, 9 and played along with the mythmaking that developed into a cot- 10 tage industry. Loyal baseball fans hung on almost every word of 11 these writers through long decades of purple play-by-play prose that 12 eventually yielded to quote-filled stories. It seemed like a dream ex- 13 istence for fans desiring to nudge up to their heroes. They could [20], (16) 14 have gotten a lot closer had the knights of the keyboard taken full 15 advantage of their inside-out vantage point in baseball for the first Lines: 209 to 225 16 seven decades of the twentieth century. 17 You’re a baseball writer? What fun it must be! The image was ——— 18 established eons ago and has never left. I’ve had attorneys and others 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 out-earning me by tens of thousands of dollars saying they wish they Normal Page 20 could have my job, with free admission to the ballpark and up-close- PgEnds: T X 21 and-personal access to ballplayers. E 22 In truth, baseball writing was never as glamorous as it was made 23 out to be. The tedium, routine, and strains of the job often out- [20], (16) 24 weighed its joys for those who undertook the profession. Neverthe- 25 less, the job’s perceived glamour was an irresistible lure to writers for 26 several generations and never more so than in the era when news- 27 papers were still the country’s predominant medium. 28 “It was the paradigm job at the paper,” Reifert said. “It was the 29 job everyone wanted.” 30 By the mid-twentieth century, the writers were buttressed by ra- 31 dio broadcasts. But the broadcast play-by-play went in one ear and 32 out the other, in one dimension. Two other dimensions were always 33 available with the printed word, which could always be analyzed and 34 chewed over further before the newsprint became birdcage liner. 35 The image of the baseball writer was as an extension of the team— 36 real and perceived. “They were like our twenty-sixth, twenty- 37 seventh, and twenty-eighth players,” former ace 38 said of the three beat writers who covered him in the

20 Old-Time Players and Scribes

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 20 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 early and mid-1970s. That image never really died long after the gulf 2 between the scribes and the players began to grow into a chasm. 3 “A lot of them feel like we’re paid by the team,” said veteran writer 4 Larry LaRue of the Tacoma News Tribune. “There hasn’t been a year 5 gone by in the last ten years where a rookie doesn’t ask me if I make 6 the (Major League player) minimum. I tell them three to four guys 7 on the beat, pooled, might make the minimum. They’re making the 8 least they can make in the majors, and they think you’re on that 9 level.” 10 Hal McCoy, the Major League’s senior beat writer with the Day- 11 ton Daily News, also has heard the players’ belief that the writers 12 are on the team payroll. “You’d criticize them and they’d say, ‘How 13 can you do that? You’re paid by the team.’ ” he said. “You’d have to [21], (17) 14 correct that impression.” 15 Several generations of La Rue’s and McCoy’s predecessors com- Lines: 225 to 240 16 ported themselves as if they indeed drew paychecks from the teams 17 they covered. The traditional baseball writer enjoyed privileges ——— 18 granted by both their teams and their own newspapers that few other 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 journalists could access. Normal Page 20 The writer—usually a man (no women, period), thirty-five or PgEnds: T X 21 older—traveled on the team train, then plane, along with the team E 22 buses from the hotel to the ballpark, and then to the train station or 23 airport. [21], (17) 24 “We’d hold the team bus for the writers [on getaway day],” Bly- 25 leven said. “We flew mainly commercial flights. They were with us 26 at the airport at 5:00, 6:00 a.m. after a night game.” 27 The traveling writer roomed in the team hotel, his luggage was 28 handled along with that of the players, and he socialized with the 29 players in transit and after hours. He consumed free food and liquor 30 at the teams’ expense throughout ballparks during spring training 31 and the regular season. Such freebies, along with the convivial at- 32 mosphere of a boys’ club or stag party, often wedded writers to the 33 owners’ line even into a supposedly more enlightened era. 34 “Most of them did side with Calvin Griffith more than the play- 35 ers,” Blyleven said of his former, penurious (to players) owner. “He 36 was feeding them and gave them luxury box seats for their use. The 37 owners took care of writers. Calvin had one of the best postgame 38 places, a bar downstairs. He made sure the writers drank as much

Old-Time Players and Scribes 21

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 21 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 as they wanted and ate as much as they wanted. hung 2 out in the press room after the game. Some of the older, more es- 3 tablished players went in there to talk to the writers and Calvin. But 4 when it came down to a battle between the players and Calvin Grif- 5 fith, he made it known he wanted those writers to side with him, not 6 the players.” 7 Management was used to doling out gifts to writers. Raised in 8 baseball and with his idol, the late Bob Logan remem- 9 bered the Christmas holidays when Pat Williams, raised in baseball 10 and with Bill Veeck as his idol, was general manager of the Chicago 11 Bulls in the early 1970s. 12 “Pat handed me a one-hundred-dollar gift certificate as a ‘Christ- 13 mas present,’ ” remembered longtime Chicago sportswriter Bob [22], (18) 14 “Lefty” Logan. “He seemed surprised when I handed it back, saying, 15 ‘Ed Stone and the other (beat men) took it.’ Lines: 240 to 255 16 “I never regarded a seat on the team plane or bus, or a free meal, 17 as a privilege. The paper paid for transportation and if food wasn’t ——— 18 available in the press box, I would have gone to a concession stand.” 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Press-box food was free well into the 1990s before rising player Normal Page 20 salaries and other operating costs forced charges of five dollars to PgEnds: T X 21 eight dollars per meal. Even the famed brats dipped in “secret sta- E 22 dium sauce,” previously free and often consumed in triplicate at 23 , were only available with a full meal [22], (18) 24 purchase at spanking-new Miller Park starting in 2001. And as a 25 sign that the good old days were gone in an era of Mothers Against 26 Drunk Driving, the open pressroom bars disappeared. Alcohol was 27 not served or welcomed anymore in the press box, although into the 28 mid-1990s I’d see warhorse columnist Bill Gleason quaffing some- 29 thing held in a paper bag. 30 Further examples of Williams’s holiday good cheer also came to 31 an end. The Cubs used to send out Christmas gifts to media. One 32 December a very efficient, soft-cover black briefcase came in the 33 mail with the Cubs logo on the side. I still use it, almost twenty 34 years later. But the briefcase was the last of its line. 35 Logan’s ethical stance was in the minority. A baseball writer’s job 36 in the good ol’ days was akin to a ward committeeman. He was a 37 man who received and dispensed favors, a man to whom it was vital 38 to get close if you liked baseball.

22 Old-Time Players and Scribes

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 22 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 At the newspaper, the beat writer, more often than not virtually 2 appointed for life in the manner of a Supreme Court justice, had 3 what was perceived to be the plum job. To his colleagues and friends 4 he was a source of both free tickets and inside information about 5 baseball. He could use his position to gain favors and obtain some 6 services free. In his seminal book The Summer of ’49, David Hal- 7 berstam told of one New York writer who traded favors to get the 8 phone company to install without charge an expensive monitoring 9 system connected to a neighbor’s apartment. This way, the writer 10 and his wife could go out for the evening while not having to pay for 11 a babysitter. If the writer’s kids woke up, the neighbors thus would 12 be summoned. That’s child neglect in both 1949 and the twenty- 13 first century, but a tactic one could more likely get away with in the [23], (19) 14 earlier year. 15 The scribes all belonged to the Baseball Writers Association of Lines: 255 to 261 16 America, which was begun early in the twentieth century to im- 17 prove sometimes-terrible working conditions at the ballpark. Even- ——— 18 tually, though, it morphed into a powerful, exclusionary group that 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 seized control of voting for the Hall of Fame and postseason awards Normal Page 20 and overall media access to press boxes into the 1970s. Manning a PgEnds: T X 21 baseball beat also meant a shot at automatic outside income for the E 22 game’s “bible,” The , which received a subsidy from 23 . [23], (19) 24 The working conditions for the old-time writer outwardly were 25 punishing. Garbed in tie even in hot weather, he worked spring 26 training and then every regular-season game, 154 and then 162 27 games, just like the players he covered. He usually did not get off- 28 days at home on weekends. In the off-season he was switched to 29 football, basketball, or hockey with little rest. There was only the 30 occasional wintertime trade or press luncheon story to write. 31 Despite the grind, the beat man often manned his post for fifteen, 32 twenty-five, even forty years till he simply wore out. He had built-in 33 breaks, though—better deadlines and few of the off-the-field stories 34 with which his present-day counterparts must deal. Uncommon was 35 the advance story about a trade or manager hiring before it was of- 36 ficially announced. In the days prior to ’s startling 37 appointment as Cubs manager on October 25, 1965, the Chicago 38 daily newspapers had no advance word that the hiring was immi-

Old-Time Players and Scribes 23

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 23 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 nent, even though it had been discussed earlier in the month at the 2 World Series. 3 “We didn’t have the business side of the sport to write about,” 4 said John Kuenster, baseball beat man for the in 5 the 1950s and 1960s, before he left to become editor of the monthly 6 Baseball Digest. 7 “They put me on the hockey beat in the off-season,” Kuenster 8 said. “My vacation would be in December for two or three weeks. 9 During the season, road trips were much longer, three weeks. You 10 did that a couple of times a year. I had eight children and a wonderful 11 wife who took care of the kids.” 12 The same mentality to endure the travel and hardships lasted 13 through the 1980s, when Tacoma’s LaRue came onto the beat. [24], (20) 14 “A lot of the early sportswriters and to a degree us old-timers were 15 mavericks in journalism,” La Rue said. “We didn’t like working in Lines: 261 to 277 16 offices. We didn’t like working with a sports editor or news editor 17 looking over our shoulder.” ——— 18 But through his labors and time away from the family, the baseball 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 writer of baseball’s so-called golden age did not have a horrific daily Normal Page 20 deadline grind. PgEnds: T X 21 “Our workload was easier,” Kuenster said. “You didn’t have the E 22 laptops you have now. We had our typewriters. We’d punch out the 23 story and hand it to a Western Union operator to transmit. It was a [24], (20) 24 little slower process.” 25 If he was employed by a morning paper, the beat writer simply 26 crafted up to two versions of a game story containing play-by-play 27 only, without quotes. Notebooks, accompanying stories, features, 28 and other “inside-baseball” pieces by the beat writer were scarce. 29 Through the 1960s such a style prevailed. When was 30 zeroing in on sixty-one homers for the Yankees at the end of the 31 1961 season, veteran New York Times baseball man 32 simply wrote the play-by-play. Maris’s reaction to each game was 33 segregated into a sidebar story by Louis Effrat. As late as June 11, 34 1967, a day Adolfo Phillips slugged four homers for the Cubs in a 35 Wrigley Field doubleheader sweep of the Mets, no Phillips quotes 36 were featured in Jerome Holtzman’s game story in the Chicago Sun- 37 Times the next morning. One sparse Phillips quote was featured in a 38 short sidebar that included the reaction of his more glib teammates.

24 Old-Time Players and Scribes

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 24 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Writers for afternoon papers, such as Kuenster’s, would pen a 2 “running” story with play-by-play only for their final editions if cov- 3 ering a daytime game. After the game, day or night, the “pm” writer 4 could more leisurely craft a “featurized” version of the story to hand 5 in, in the middle of the night, for his first edition that came out late 6 morning. Kuenster had the luxury of typing such a story on the team 7 train or plane on getaway day, then filing it when he reached the next 8 city. 9 But the story behind the story often would not be covered. Off- 10 the-field escapades, racial and ethnic discrimination, management 11 ineptitude, and all the other elements of baseball Babylon often 12 were kept out of the public view. ’s profligate off-the- 13 field lifestyle would stock tabloid newspapers and tv along with [25], (21) 14 sports-talk radio now, but in the 1920s it was soft-pedaled, if not ig- 15 nored. Hence the real malady—a case of venereal disease—behind Lines: 277 to 283 16 the Babe’s famed 1925 “bellyache” did not make print by writers 17 with whom the slugger had generally good relations. , ——— 18 later commissioner of baseball, was Ruth’s confidant and ghost- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 writer as a scribe, keeping the faith for the Babe’s record Normal Page 20 when Frick decreed an asterisk for Maris’s record, accomplished in PgEnds: T X 21 162 games to Ruth’s 154. E 22 Despite their desire to work independently of newspaper office 23 routine and distance themselves from day-to-day office politics, the [25], (21) 24 average baseball writer was no flaming revolutionary on his beat. 25 His publishers were more often than not conservative Republicans, 26 rich men who did not encourage crusades. The culture of sports, 27 particularly baseball, was more conservative and slower to change 28 than the country at large. With the writers as virtual extensions of 29 the team, they were not going to vary from their routine of chrono- 30 logically written game stories to toss journalism bombs around. 31 “I knew quite a bit about their peccadilloes,” Kuenster said of the 32 players. “I didn’t write that stuff. I told those guys if I saw them 33 out after curfew, that’s their business. However, if I found out you 34 seriously broke curfew and the next day you goof up mentally on 35 the field, I’m going to get on you really good. They understood 36 where I was coming from. In Washington dc, I saw a White Sox 37 player sneaking out the side door. He didn’t come back till 7:00 a.m. 38 They played a doubleheader that day, and it was hot as hell. The

Old-Time Players and Scribes 25

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 25 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 guy comes up to pinch hit. I’m thinking he’ll get killed, he probably 2 doesn’t even see the ball. He hits a double, scored the tying run, and 3 his tongue is hanging out.” 4 The seminal change in baseball history, its integration by Jackie 5 Robinson in 1947, was covered largely in down-the-middle fashion. 6 Daily updates of Robinson’s progress in spring training of ’47 were 7 duly reported, but without much hype in the one-story-a-day ration 8 typical of newspapers of the time. Robinson’s progress was confined 9 to the sports section. Page 1 had yet to glom onto sensational sports 10 stories to lure readership. 11 At a couple of points, though, the reporting drifted to the bor- 12 derline of controversy. That quality could not be avoided with the 13 breaking of the color line at hand. [26], (22) 14 “No player on this club will have anything to say about who plays 15 or does not play on it,” Dodgers president Branch Rickey was quoted Lines: 283 to 299 16 by ’s Roscoe McGowen on March 31, 1947.“I 17 will decide who is on it and (Leo) Durocher will decide who of those ——— 18 who are on it does the playing.” 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 But then McGowen penned a forerunner of decades-later “in- Normal Page 20 side” reporting with this sentence on the politically astute Rickey’s PgEnds: T X 21 actions, albeit with the turgid copy so common to baseball writing of E 22 the era: “It is pertinent to interpolate here that if the Dodger presi- 23 dent has no concern about what his players think, why has he asked [26], (22) 24 many of them how they regard the idea of the Negro star joining 25 the club?” 26 When Robinson was officially purchased by Rickey from - 27 A Montreal on April 10, 1947, the news did not make page 1 of 28 the New York Times, the serious rock of American journalism be- 29 ing more concerned with issues of the world. The promotion was 30 the lead headline on page 20. Louis Effrat’s story called Robinson 31 a “well-proportioned lad.” Then Effrat reported what would dog 32 Robinson for his debut season and years afterward—the evidence 33 of prejudice from fellow big leaguers: “He may run into antipathy 34 from Southerners who form about 60 percent of the league’s playing 35 strength. In fact, it is rumored that a number of Dodgers expressed 36 themselves unhappy at the possibility of having to play with Jackie.” 37 Robinson’s actual big league debut on April 15, 1947, also was 38 kept off page 1 of the Times. The advance stories that day and the

26 Old-Time Players and Scribes

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 26 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Dodger game piece on April 16 were not focused on Robinson. The 2 play-by-play style held sway despite the earth trembling. It was left 3 up to Arthur Daley in his Sports of the Times column to analyze the 4 implications of Robinson’s arrival and reveal more inside informa- 5 tion, just at the time of another controversy—Durocher’s suspen- 6 sion from baseball due to alleged associations with shady characters. 7 On April 15, Daley wrote: 8 Did you notice, by the way, the deft manner in which the Deacon 9 (Rickey) of the Dodgers brought up Robinson? He practically smug- 10 gled him in. Just as the excitement of the Durocher episode reached 11 its apex, Rickey quietly announced that Jackie was being signed to 12 a Dodger contract. Thus did he hope that the precedent-shattering 13 [27], (23) implications of Robbie’s promotion would be smothered by the pub- 14 licity engendered by the Lip’s suspension. 15 It is merely an attempt to lighten the pressure on Robinson’s shoul- Lines: 299 to 325 16 ders . . . Yet nothing actually can lighten that pressure, and Robbie 17 ——— realizes it full well. There is no way of disguising the fact that he is not 18 0.0pt PgVar an ordinary rookie and no amount of pretense can make it otherwise. ——— 19 Normal Page 20 On April 16, Robinson’s debut was only the third headline in a PgEnds: T X 21 multisegmented Daley column: E 22 The muscular Negro minds his own business and shrewdly makes 23 [27], (23) 24 no effort to push himself. He speaks quietly and intelligently when 25 spoken to and already has made a strong impression. “I was nervous 26 in the first play of my first game at Ebbets Field,” he said with his 27 ready grin, “but nothing has bothered me since.” 28 A veteran Dodger said of him, “Having Jackie on the team is still 29 a little strange, just like anything else that’s new. We just don’t know 30 how to act with him. But he’ll be accepted in time. You can be sure 31 of that. Other sports have had Negroes. Why not baseball? I’m for 32 him, if he can win games. That’s the only test I ask.” And that seems 33 to be the general opinion. 34 In Chicago, John Kuenster faced some similar editorial indifference 35 as the reporting of race relations in sports lagged behind the news 36 side of newspapers in this era as the civil rights movement got un- 37 derway in earnest. 38 “The Sox were training in ,” Kuenster said. “Four black

Old-Time Players and Scribes 27

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 27 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 players on the team had to get off a bus in the pouring rain to stay 2 in the black neighborhood in Tampa. They had to stay in private 3 homes. I wrote stories about the situation, but the paper buried it 4 on page 2 and trimmed it. I was surprised at that.” 5 Even with gatekeepers often shutting the door to controversial 6 stories, the writers themselves acted as their own self-censors, and 7 not just concerning accounts of after-hours high jinks. Sometimes 8 the relationship between players and writers prior to the 1970s got 9 amazingly close. In her 2002 book Sandy Koufax: A Lefty’s Legacy, 10 author Jane Leavy described how the families of of the 11 Long Island Press and Dodgers catcher Roy Campanella babysat for 12 one another during spring training at Dodgertown in Vero Beach, 13 Florida. Later in Koufax’s career, Leavy detailed the friendship be- [28], (24) 14 tween the left-hander and Phil Collier, Dodgers beat writer for the 15 San Diego Union-Tribune. Koufax confided in Collier in the middle Lines: 325 to 333 16 of the 1965 season that he would play only one more year due to 17 his aching elbow. Collier kept the confidentiality and then was re- ——— 18 warded with the official scoop when Koufax finally pulled the plug 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 on his career after the 1966 season. Koufax supposedly wanted to Normal Page 20 announce his retirement on the plane returning to from PgEnds: T X 21 the 1966 World Series, but Collier dissuaded him on the grounds E 22 that it would “screw” every morning newspaper in the country. Such 23 a dynamite scoop couldn’t be sat upon for more than a year in to- [28], (24) 24 day’s media climate—and it’s doubtful a player the caliber of Koufax 25 would whisper it to a media member anyway. 26 When Frank Thomas (not the White Sox all-time batsman) came 27 to the Cubs in 1960, he had dinner at Kuenster’s house. “He’d get 28 out on the street and hit fly balls to kids,” Kuenster said. “Ernie 29 Banks came over to my house when I was working on a story. It was 30 more of a personal relationship then.” Such rapport was still possible 31 all the way up to the early 1980s. 32 Hal McCoy worked all sides of baseball starting in 1973, when he 33 was placed on the Reds beat by the Dayton Daily News. More than 34 three decades later, his eyesight fading due to a rare virus, McCoy 35 soldiered on at the same beat, able to out-report and outlast col- 36 leagues despite his narrowing vision. Like a predator being able to 37 sniff out its prey without seeing it, McCoy can sense a story at fifty 38 paces.

28 Old-Time Players and Scribes

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 28 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 He began by simply signing up almost the entire Reds clubhouse 2 as sources. Sometimes there would be conflicts. Almost always Mc- 3 Coy and the players he covered enjoyed mutual respect. 4 “I did associate more with players,” McCoy said of his early days 5 on the beat. “I used to play tennis with them in the mornings. I trav- 6 eled on the charter and spent more time with them. Still, if you’re a 7 professional, you know the line and don’t cross it.” 8 McCoy quickly fell into the cookie jar for writers—the famed Big 9 Red Machine of the 1970s. The star-studded team was a ’s 10 dream with a story by every locker and master storyteller Sparky 11 Anderson holding court in his manager’s office. 12 “Sparky would lay out by the swimming pool and all the writers 13 would be out there with him, every day,” McCoy said. “It was the [29], (25) 14 best team I ever covered. Ask one question and that’s all 15 you needed—he’d fill up your notebook. and Johnny Lines: 333 to 350 16 Bench were the same way. [Tony] Perez and [Davey] Concepcion 17 had the [Spanish] language barrier, but they were cooperative.” ——— 18 Pitcher-turned-author defined such connections. “It 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 was an older-brother relationship, and they were the older brother,” Normal Page 20 he said of the writers of bygone days. “They knew more about what PgEnds: T X 21 baseball was about than what we did—or so they thought.” E 22 “At that time the media kind of protected the players,” Blyleven 23 said. “They knew what the players were going through. They knew [29], (25) 24 it wasn’t an easy haul over 180 days with all the traveling. You had 25 a closer relationship with the writers. I became friends with Sid 26 Hartman [later the mainstay Twin Cities sports columnist]. I used 27 to tackle Sid in the clubhouse. One day I hid his tape recorder in 28 Boston. He was steaming in the press box. In the eighth inning, I 29 put the tape recorder back to where it was on the table.” 30 Brosnan, finishing his career with the White Sox in 1963, endured 31 a rough flight to next to a sportswriter. “We thought we’d 32 crash,” he said, so he and the writer decided to ensure a farewell 33 drink. “I was sharing some sort of his bourbon, Gentleman 34 or something.” Brosnan also hoisted a few with legendary Los Angeles 35 Times columnist Jim Murray. 36 Sportswriters and baseball players enjoyed closer relationships in 37 the fifties and sixties for another reason. The wage gap between 38 writers and players was close—and sometimes went in favor of the

Old-Time Players and Scribes 29

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 29 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 writer. Rookies made a six-thousand-dollar minimum salary through 2 much of the 1960s—less than senior beat writers. Both groups of 3 men were working stiffs. 4 Having seen baseball from the inside-out as a pitcher with the 5 Cubs and Cardinals, Brosnan believed that the reticent nature of the 6 baseball writing of the time needed supplementing. Possessed of his 7 own literary bent, he authored The Long Season and Pennant Race, 8 in 1959 and 1961, respectively. These were the first two books that 9 took a realistic, honest look at big league life, sans the profanities. 10 “They weren’t [bugging the players for quotes], but they should 11 have,” he said of the writers who covered him. “The reason why the 12 books came out is I didn’t believe what I was reading [about the daily 13 news in baseball].” [30], (26) 14 Brosnan’s books made a small impact, but nothing would change 15 and improve baseball print journalism like effective daily media Lines: 350 to 364 16 competition. The newspapers had the only daily conduit for baseball 17 information besides live play-by-play broadcasts of games. Some ——— 18 changes took place from within—the ’s Dick 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Young began regularly working the clubhouse for quotes. “He al- Normal Page 20 ways told me, give them something no one else has,” sportscaster PgEnds: T X 21 George Grande said of his own youthful advice from Young. A E 22 group of iconoclastic New York writers, branded the “chipmunks” 23 for one guy’s toothy grin, began to ask tougher questions of players. [30], (26) 24 But increasingly sophisticated live tv coverage and game high- 25 lights on the 6:00 and 10:00 p.m. news forced sports editors to man- 26 date their writers to follow Young’s lead and start stocking game 27 stories with quotes, while adding regular multi-item notebooks with 28 further clubhouse and dugout comments. Some writers grumbled at 29 the extra work. But they more loudly resisted the first incursions of 30 tape-recorder-toting radio reporters who the writers feared would 31 “steal” their quotes in putting them on the air soon after they were 32 recorded. 33 The late Red Mottlow was one of the pioneers of recording the 34 pre- and postgame comments of baseball figures for Chicago’s 35 wcfl-Radio, starting in 1965. Mottlow was the only day-in, day-out 36 radio regular at Wrigley Field covering the Cubs’ aborted pennant 37 run in 1969. When the Cubs played the Mets at in 38 the ill-fated “black cat” series in September of ’69, Mottlow ob-

30 Old-Time Players and Scribes

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 30 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 tained proper credentials from the Mets. But when he attempted 2 to enter the Shea press box, Jack Lang, by then a Baseball Writers 3 Association of America heavyweight, blocked his path. “This is my 4 press box,” Lang told Mottlow, reasoning that radio people did not 5 belong in the same work quarters with writers. Mottlow was relo- 6 cated nearby and got his tape, but the hidebound writers continued 7 to object to radio’s encroachment for the next two decades. They 8 would try to force the broadcasters into inferior press-box seating 9 while preserving instances of superior access to sources. Well into 10 another century, the bbwaa held onto its favored position with base- 11 ball’s establishment. 12 “It really is kind of unfair they wield that much power,” said 13 [31], (27) Sharon Pannozzo, media relations director of the Cubs and a 14 twenty-three-year veteran of baseball public relations. “tv people 15 had no say, radio people have little say. The bbwaa is the only or- Lines: 364 to 374 16 ganized group, a very powerful lobby. The broadcast people never 17 ——— organized themselves. The bbwaa in the early 1980s could almost 18 13.0pt PgVar prevent you from being in the press box. The bbwaa could say radio ——— 19 people can’t sit in a certain area. It was one of those long-standing Normal Page 20 21 traditions that carried over, which is what a lot of things are.” * PgEnds: Eject 22 Radio men weren’t the only ones who found the press-box doors barred when they first tried to enter. Women made their initial at- 23 [31], (27) 24 tempts to cover baseball from the accustomed ballpark perch at the 25 end of the 1960s. The traditionalists also kept them locked out, at 26 least for another half-decade. 27 But while they crabbed at the new media and the other gender for 28 trying to gain an entrée, the writers’ output dramatically improved 29 as the 1970s got underway. Competition, in the form of media that 30 could deliver more immediate information, was good overall for the 31 industry. The writers had to report realistically on baseball. They 32 could tap into the same kind of clubhouse access and relationships 33 they had long enjoyed. Despite some wear around the edges, the 34 1970s and most of the 1980s might be called a golden age of baseball 35 reporting for newspapers. Some old-timers used to simply writing 36 a play-by-play game story groused, but were forced to adapt. The 37 reader got more for his money with the dramatic increase of daily 38 notebooks and features, while the gap had not yet formed between

Old-Time Players and Scribes 31

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 31 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 multimillionaire players and media. Baseball’s inside story was cov- 2 ered like never before, to the benefit of fans. 3 4 Many of the writers maintained their close relationships with play- 5 ers and managers. They still flew on the team plane and rode the 6 team bus. Even the newly arrived radio reporters traveled with the 7 players. The late Red Mottlow recalled that he got into a little tiff 8 with Durocher while riding the team bus in 1972 in St. Louis. 9 Still, familiarity did not usually breed contempt. 10 “I flew with the team when I started,” ’s Tom 11 Gage said of his debut season (1979) on a Tigers beat he still held 12 down twenty-six years later. “It allowed the players to see you in 13 a different setting. You were more relaxed and you weren’t always [32], (28) 14 needing something from them. They didn’t look at you as someone 15 they had to put up with. I think we got to know the players a lot Lines: 374 to 392 16 better than now. They just accepted you more as a presence than 17 you are now.” ——— 18 In addition to the traditional relationship with players, the writ- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 ers’ responsibilities expanded as the labor side of baseball began to Normal Page 20 heat up with the first strike in 1972 and the subsequent advent of ar- PgEnds: T X 21 bitration and free agency. The management side of the game began E 22 to be scrutinized as never before, as all aspects of baseball began to 23 be well documented in print. Hard on their heels were hard-working [32], (28) 24 radio reporters like Mottlow, battling access issues on top of trying 25 to snare interviews and report on the game. 26 Those executives who tried to hang on to the good old days of 27 the reserve system bumped into reporters, like Hal McCoy, who 28 always tried to report honestly. At the cusp of the 1980s, McCoy 29 ran afoul of Reds general manager Dick Wagner, a true front-office 30 martinet. Decades later, the two still have not spoken. But McCoy 31 wasn’t finished clashing with the brass. 32 McCoy chronicled the travails of the ownership 33 regime, in which the frustrated widow kept the entire front office 34 on edge. Schott figured the way to a man’s heart was through his 35 stomach. 36 “Marge banned me from the [] dining room 37 four years in a row, when meals were free,” he said. “In those days we 38 had a dining-room card. After I wrote anything critical, she’d have

32 Old-Time Players and Scribes

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 32 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 a pr guy come up to me, hold out his hand and say, ‘You know what 2 I want.’ She banned [fellow writers] Jerry Crasnick and Rob Parker. 3 and Tim Belcher sent up pizzas to me in the press box. 4 The other writers took up a canned-goods collection and put the 5 cans in my seat. I just bought my lunch from Subway.” 6 The bonds of friendship were torn asunder when the gambling 7 cloud began to engulf Rose, by then the Reds’ manager, in 1989. 8 “After every game, the pr director would stand and monitor ques- 9 tions and say, ‘Baseball questions only,’ ” McCoy recalled of Rose’s 10 media sessions. “As soon as a nongame question was asked, the in- 11 terview would be over. It was the toughest year of my life. Every day 12 I had to take the information we learned and ask Pete about it. He 13 would deny it every day, but we still had to ask it. That cost me a [33], (29) 14 pretty good friendship, because Pete and I were pretty close. It was 15 a kill-the-messenger mentality. He looked upon me as the enemy Lines: 392 to 406 16 after that.” 17 But the contentious relationships that McCoy endured as the ——— 18 1980s progressed still were the exception in baseball. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 “If I pitched poorly and the next day I picked up a newspaper, Normal Page 20 then what I read was I pitched poorly,” former Tigers pitcher Dan PgEnds: T X 21 Petry said. “Somebody didn’t take a shot at me. The next day, I’d E 22 run into him and say, ‘How ya doin’, ?’ Nobody shied 23 away from anybody because nobody ever said something that was [33], (29) 24 not true. They just reported what they saw and that’s all you could 25 ever ask of anybody.” 26 “I sensed more collegiality when I broke in [as a Cub] in 1986,” 27 ancient Mariners lefty Jamie Moyer said in 2004. “The beat writers 28 were on the plane. They were respecting our space. There was a 29 professional side and a friendship side. There was a balance between 30 the two.” 31 Two years before Moyer came up, Cubs general manager Dallas 32 Green invited the Chicago media to travel on the team plane to the 33 National League Championship Series (nlcs) in San Diego. Red 34 Mottlow, along for the ride for Chicago station wfyr-fm, recalled 35 the treatment as “first class.” 36 But as the 1980s drew to a close, the old system of athlete-media 37 relationships—and the benefits the fans derived from the improve- 38 ments of the previous two decades—began to break down. When

Old-Time Players and Scribes 33

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 33 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 the Cubs flew to San Francisco for the nlcs in 1989, the media 2 was barred from the team plane to prevent distractions. As more tv 3 money flowed into the game, with the first billion-dollar network 4 contract from taking effect in 1990, salaries skyrocketed. The 5 way media began to do business also began to change with more cost 6 controls, more sophisticated tv coverage, and the onset of sports- 7 talk radio. 8 “The attitude really began to change in 1988–89, when the money 9 really began to flow,” said John Hickey, then a young baseball writer 10 in Oakland who would move on to the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. 11 Lasting two decades in the game, Moyer can only shake his head 12 at the contrast of the people who now want a minute of his time for 13 one quote or a sound bite. “Now I sense the attitude of ‘I gotta get [34], (30) 14 in to get what I need, and I don’t care how I get it or where I got 15 it,’ ” he said. Lines: 406 to 413 16 Moyer made that statement with a sense of regret. The journal- 17 istic professionalism and insight to which he was first exposed at ——— * 18 career’s start would not always be matched by the people who cov- 231.28pt PgVar ——— 19 ered the game or those who, in turn, hired them during Moyer’s Normal Page 20 sunset journey in baseball. 21 * PgEnds: PageBreak 22 23 [34], (30) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

34 Old-Time Players and Scribes

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 34 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 THREE 4 5 6 The Baseball Beat Writer 7 8 9 10 11 12 ongues were wagging in press boxes all over the country in 13 Tmid-summer 2004. Some of that verbiage suggested that Mur- [35], (31) 14 ray Chass was almost blasphemous in the acceptance speech he had 15 just given for the Spink Award, given annually to a veteran baseball Lines: 413 to 429 16 writer during the Hall of Fame induction ceremonies. 17 Chass had dedicated his long New York Times career, in which he ——— 18 was recognized as one of the game’s preeminent baseball writers, to 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 searching for the truth in the game. Now he believed he spoke of Normal Page 20 the same in his own business. “I covered baseball and pro football, PgEnds: T X 21 but there came a time when I had to choose between them,” Chass E 22 told the multitudes in Cooperstown. “It was an easy choice. With 23 games every day and news developing year-round, baseball was the [35], (31) 24 more legitimate and challenging beat to cover. 25 “Unfortunately, too many baseball writers of recent vintage don’t 26 want to cover the beat. So many of them don’t like the daily grind or 27 don’t like all the off-the-field developments that have intruded on 28 the game on the field. I feel I [thrived] on the off-the-field part of 29 the game. I thoroughly enjoyed [covering] nongame issues as well 30 as nonbaseball stories, the World Series earthquake, for example, 31 because they challenged me as a reporter and I thought of myself 32 as a reporter who happened to cover baseball. I would encourage 33 young baseball writers to adopt that attitude. They will be better 34 for it.” 35 Then Chass suggested that not all that many of his junior col- 36 leagues might heed his advice. “But the first thing they have to do 37 is cover the beat for more than the few years, if that long, that they 38 cover it these days. In New York, for example, the turnover has been

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 35 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 startling. In recent years, baseball writers for the major newspapers 2 have averaged two years or less on the beat. In many instances be- 3 fore they’ve learned much, even though they think they know ev- 4 erything, they want to become columnists. Then when they write 5 columns, instead of picking their spots to criticize, they often display 6 their ignorance, or worse, show a mean-spirited attitude toward the 7 people they write about. Their style shows a decided lack of profes- 8 sionalism and that absence hurts all of us with the people we cover.” 9 Finally, Chass decried the insular nature of many writers in not 10 extending their scope of coverage. “There was an instance some 11 years ago when the Yankees were on the road and one of the veteran 12 reporters, Ross Lee of the [Newark] Star-Ledger, was talking to an 13 official of the home team before a game. When he was finished, one [36], (32) 14 of the other writers asked who he had been talking to. None of them 15 knew or even recognized .” Lines: 429 to 437 16 Hitting a lot of folks right between the eyes, Chass accurately 17 summed up the changes—many for the worse—since he had started ——— 18 in the business. Instead of a lifetime, Supreme Court–like appoint- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 ment, many baseball writers viewed their jobs as a way station to Normal Page 20 something better. The baseball beat, once thought of as each news- PgEnds: T X 21 paper sports department’s preeminent job, if not for the entire pa- E 22 per, had been greatly devalued. It was a stressful position in which 23 an ambitious writer would put in his time until he could move up [36], (32) 24 to a columnist’s gig or, failing that, the easier, more choreographed 25 beat of an nfl writer. 26 To be sure, baseball writing could not duplicate the conditions 27 of the mid-twentieth century, when the position was glamorized to 28 young journalists coming up through the ranks. The demands for 29 copy are so much greater now. Writers must “feed the monster” 30 with almost nonstop copy every day in-season and frequently in the 31 fall and winter, instead of a more leisurely pace of updated game 32 stories and very occasional off-season contributions. Athletes and 33 baseball officials alike are less accessible and amenable to conversa- 34 tions. Travel is tougher, particularly in a post–9/11 era, when writ- 35 ers no longer can hop the team chartered plane. They are squarely 36 on the ballplayers’ schedules and itineraries without their exclusive 37 privileges and, certainly, their salaries. 38 Even with the hassles of life covering baseball in the twenty-first

36 The Baseball Beat Writer

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 36 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 century, aren’t there thousands of worse ways to make a living? Af- 2 ter all, isn’t it glamorous to hang around some of the most famous 3 celebrities in the country, be admitted to the ballpark free, and get to 4 attend postseason baseball every now and then? Some writers with 5 seniority make more than one hundred thousand dollars a year. Top 6 scale at most unionized newspapers of size is bumping a thousand 7 dollars a week or more. I’ve had attorneys who probably earned four 8 times my pay drooling over the thought of switching jobs. 9 That was observing the job at face value, though. The covetous 10 would-be writers never considered the standing-around time, the 11 frustration, the stay-at-your-post through three-hour rain delays 12 and eighteen-inning marathons, the inability to have much of a per- 13 [37], (33) sonal life, even during a homestand, and the brutal travel for the 14 decreasing number of writers dispatched on road trips through the 15 six-month season, on top of the six weeks away from home in spring Lines: 437 to 449 16 training. 17 ——— The answers for the skeptical baseball rooter are simpler than 18 13.0pt PgVar he’d believe. If vastly increased turnover, growing cynicism, and lack ——— 19 of passion envelop the beat-writer jobs, the resulting lack of conti- Normal Page 20 21 nuity hurts the overall coverage of baseball. That statement is stark. * PgEnds: Eject 22 Despite the explosion of newer media, the old-fashioned newspaper still remains the most unfettered conduit of information about the 23 [37], (33) 24 game. 25 “I have a bias,” Bob Dvorchak, former Pirates beat writer for 26 the Post-Gazette, said of his status as a print journalist for 27 nearly forty years. “There’s no better media to cover baseball than 28 print media. There’s more space, more time. As much as we com- 29 pete with broadcast, it’s still the best, most complete, in-depth way 30 to cover baseball.” 31 An inherent cynicism drifts into baseball coverage, past and pres- 32 ent. Some of the old-time writers were hard-bitten, two-fisted 33 drinker types. Others toadied up to management. Yet some level 34 of baseball knowledge and instinct, plus an overall love of the game, 35 had to filter in to their work. Same with the best of the latter-day 36 writers. If they stick with covering baseball, they must have started 37 out as a fan of the game. Why else would they put up with what 38 they do? Obviously the lack of continuity that Chass decried stems

The Baseball Beat Writer 37

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 37 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 partially from the fact that the job-changers can take baseball or 2 leave it (and often do). 3 Months after his speech, Chass expounded at length about his 4 beloved business and why so many others don’t share his longtime 5 passion. 6 “Things started with the creation of free agency in 1976,” he 7 said at the end of 2004. “There always were off-season trades be- 8 ing made. But free agency made the off-seasons much busier. It 9 demanded more time of baseball writers. Depending on how you 10 reacted to that, the writer either liked or disliked the job. 11 “I enjoyed all the off-season stuff, and I was in the minority. To 12 me, it was being a reporter. There was so much more of the games to 13 cover. I remember in the 1981 players’ strike, the [New York] Daily [38], (34) 14 News had three baseball writers who wanted no part of [covering] 15 the strike. They called in a labor writer, who was at a disadvantage Lines: 449 to 473 16 with a lack of connections. 17 “It’s not the preeminent [sportswriting] job anymore. That hap- ——— 18 pened when other sports became big time. The nfl was not big time 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 before tv. The nba didn’t exist sixty years ago.” Normal Page 20 Chass may be a bit cloistered as a national writer who does not PgEnds: T X 21 have to jump on planes every other week as a harried beat writer. E 22 Down in the trenches, Drew Olson, formerly of the Milwaukee Jour- 23 nal Sentinel and former president of the Baseball Writers Associa- [38], (34) 24 tion of America, summarized the reasons why the traveling baseball 25 writer turns over every few years. 26 “The travel is worse,” Olson said. “There are fewer day games 27 because of tv. There are Sunday night games. There is the Inter- 28 net to deal with, which creates a constant thirst for scoops and new 29 analysis. The off-season never ends. There was a time when a lot of 30 papers didn’t even feel compelled to have an off-day story when the 31 team wasn’t playing. That isn’t the case now. 32 “For people with families—or even a desire to lead something 33 close to a ‘normal’ and balanced life, the baseball beat is very de- 34 manding.” 35 One poster to SportsJournalists.com in 2005 summed up the 36 stresses of baseball travel. “It’s a marriage-killer,” he wrote. 37 A diminishing number of writers hang on with multiple-decade 38 service, but younger colleagues are not following in their wake.

38 The Baseball Beat Writer

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 38 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “You don’t see many guys with even fifteen-plus years,” said the 2 Detroit News’s Tom Gage, who started on the Tigers’ beat in 1979. 3 “When I was first on the beat, there were people on the beat who 4 were there forever. It was considered a plum job.” 5 The writer who both sticks around and does consistent good work 6 is someone who wanted to be there from day one. 7 “People come into the beat not wanting to be a baseball writer,” 8 said the Dayton Daily News’s Hal McCoy, the game’s senior traveling 9 writer. “I grew up wanting to be a baseball writer and nothing else. 10 I had opportunities to be a columnist, be other things. I didn’t want 11 them. I was lucky enough to get a job and keep it. Others want to 12 do it two, three years and do something else. 13 “They don’t have the passion and don’t take the time to gain the [39], (35) 14 knowledge, and don’t stick around long enough to make the con- 15 tacts. I can pick up a telephone and call about any general manager Lines: 473 to 487 16 in baseball, and he’ll take my call. You take someone on the beat 17 two years, a lot of guys [baseball executives] say, ‘Who is this guy?’ ——— 18 And if they do take their call, they won’t be forthcoming.” 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Even before the baseball writer knifes through the thick office Normal Page 20 politics of media and the vagabond, rootless existence required to PgEnds: T X 21 rise in the business, he ought to have an affinity for the game. Jerome E 22 Holtzman insisted there was no cheering in the press box, but no 23 demerits were given to starting out life as a fan, rooting from the [39], (35) 24 cheap seats, and soaking up the nuances of baseball through osmosis. 25 After all, bard-of-writers Holtzman recalled sneaking into Wrigley 26 Field during the Great Depression to avoid the admission charge. 27 Larry La Rue, another two-decade veteran covering the Mariners 28 with the Tacoma News-Tribune, started with a good base of interest 29 and added on. 30 “It hurts that they don’t learn,” La Rue said of younger writers. 31 “All of us came to this beat thinking we knew baseball. And most of 32 us learned a lot on the beat talking to the people who played it and 33 managed it, past, present, and future. We try to understand their 34 game. No matter how much we know about the game, it’s theirs. 35 We’re here to describe the game.” 36 Wrigley Field was as good of a place as any to learn about baseball 37 close-up, growing up. I did so, from every vantage point, including 38 the $1.25 bleacher seats. Mike Klis, former Rockies beat writer and

The Baseball Beat Writer 39

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 39 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 national baseball writer of , enjoyed some of the same 2 views on youthful excursions from Oswego, Illinois, forty-five miles 3 west of Chicago. 4 “I’m not sure of the percentage of ball writers who grew up ball 5 fans,” Klis said. “None of my friends was as devoted a Cubs fan as 6 I was. I thought I was the biggest Cubs fan ever until I met you 7 [the author] and you told me, at a moment’s notice, the score of 8 the game late in the 1966 season when Kenny Holtzman, a rookie 9 for the last-place Cubs, beat Award winner and soon-to- 10 retire Sandy Koufax of the first-place . That 11 was the first game I ever saw as a seven-year-old watching a black- 12 and-white tv.” 13 Former sportswriter Drew Olson was not as big of a born fan as [40], (36) 14 others he knew in the business. “My appreciation of the game has 15 grown during the time I have covered it,” Olson said. “There are Lines: 487 to 499 16 a few hardcore ‘seamheads’ who are now working the beat. I’d say 17 Tyler Kepner of the New York Times fits that description. As a kid, ——— 18 he and his family published a baseball newsletter. The job is really 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 all he wanted to do. Others, like myself, are simply newspaper sports Normal Page 20 guys who happen to cover baseball.” PgEnds: T X 21 But even a youthful love for the game often isn’t enough to over- E 22 come the increasing negatives of writing baseball on a daily ba- 23 sis. Brian Hanley of the Chicago Sun-Times appeared to achieve his [40], (36) 24 dream job in his early thirties in 1992. He and his family had owned 25 Cubs season tickets. Hanley, whose father was a stockbroker, even 26 owned one share of Cubs stock under the former Wrigley family 27 ownership. 28 “The last stockholders meeting [to approve the sale of the team 29 to Tribune Company in 1981], there were four hundred of us in a 30 room downtown. Gene Siskel, who also owned stock, was two rows 31 behind me. The four hundred of us all say no to the sale, but the 32 lawyers came out with written proxies. The sale had been [temporar- 33 ily] screwed up.” 34 Politics of another nature marked his ascension to the Cubs beat 35 more than a decade later. 36 “That was the sad part of it, going on the baseball beat, and then 37 finding out how it burns you out pretty quickly,” Hanley said. “The 38 White Sox were good to be around, but the Cubs under [manager

40 The Baseball Beat Writer

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 40 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Jim] Lefebvre were a disjointed team, a divided clubhouse. Lefebvre 2 surrounded himself with those [players] who he thought could 3 his job. It was a miserable team to be around. After just a year, I said 4 I’m not enjoying it. It was a grind. 5 “The sad part of covering baseball is you realize as much as you 6 love the sport, you don’t love the people involved. It turned me off 7 to baseball the next couple of years.” 8 Leaving the beat after the 1993 season, Hanley pulled a quicker 9 hook on himself than most of his contemporaries. They usually last 10 two to three full years before the weariness sets in. Even more so 11 than the distasteful personalities Hanley and others claim they en- 12 counter, the grinding nature of travel through the long seasons that 13 often causes ballplayers to pull the plugs on their careers in their [41], (37) 14 thirties pushes writers away from baseball. 15 If a writer develops a wealth of knowledge about a particular team Lines: 499 to 514 16 growing up, that fountain of information sometimes goes to waste 17 when he follows the mandated path for advancement—moving from ——— 18 market to market in search of the better job. Shortcuts are taken by 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 those who play the relationship game the best and thus don’t have Normal Page 20 to perform like a military family with a different posting every year PgEnds: T X 21 or so. But for those not as lucky, the business seems to demand such E 22 wanderings. 23 But the rootlessness that results is never good for anyone—writer, [41], (37) 24 reader, even employer, who has stored away the moving-van com- 25 pany number. In the mid-1980s, then--sportscaster George 26 Grande summed it up best: “You move from one city to another, 27 keep moving, and after ten years you look up and ask yourself: 28 Where am I and where am I going?” 29 Susan Goldberg, executive editor of the San Jose Mercury News, 30 likes what she termed “institutional knowledge.” “It makes us a 31 smarter newspaper. Every now and then, we make a hire from the 32 outside, feeling maybe this is an excellent journalist. Having that 33 home-team knowledge is helpful.” 34 Even so, when their beat [since discontinued] 35 opened up before the 2004 season, the Mercury News hired Chris 36 Haft, who had a decade-long run in shuttling between 37 the Enquirer and MLB.com. Haft had previously covered the Hous- 38 ton Astros. Haft, now covering the Giants, is a quality writer. Sports

The Baseball Beat Writer 41

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 41 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 editors often won’t look from within, however, instead tapping into 2 the networking of the business to snare a beat writer who already 3 has experience covering a team—even if he has to start stone cold 4 over again when relocating. 5 “I think people feel they can get a bigger and better opportunity 6 elsewhere,” Goldberg said. “The only way to get that next step is 7 to change your newspaper. Other people have been here twenty or 8 thirty years, and have reinvented themselves. I’ve been here two dif- 9 ferent times. Some journalists have itchy feet.” 10 Bottom line—when a freshly arrived writer begins covering a 11 team, he often does not possess the historical track about how that 12 team got to where it is. Baseball is the one sport that melds past 13 and present. Years of management changes and the ebb and flow [42], (38) 14 of good fortune determine the fate of a team. Coming in cold, no 15 matter how skilled the reporter is as a scribe, affects the continuity Lines: 514 to 526 16 of coverage for the reader. And the moving from city to city plays 17 havoc on family life, if the writer indeed possesses one. It’s a pre- ——— 18 cursor to the stresses suffered when traveling with a team through 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 the long season. Normal Page 20 Greg Couch, columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times, hopped on PgEnds: T X 21 the advancement railroad after growing up a Cubs fan in Chicago’s E 22 western suburbs. He journeyed to papers in Savannah, ; Wi- 23 chita, Kansas; and Akron, Ohio, before pestering the Sun-Times to [42], (38) 24 finally allow him to come home in 1997. 25 Couch does not believe readers lose out when an outsider comes 26 into the market and must play catch-up ball in debriefing himself 27 about the nuances of his adopted home’s teams. 28 “When I was a columnist in Akron, people knew more about 29 Cleveland sports than I did,” he said. “But you try to immerse your- 30 self. You can research things quickly. You do get up to speed, but 31 not right away. You start providing an outsider’s perspective. Give 32 them a fresh set of eyes. You can get too much in the woods. It’s 33 okay to have an outsider’s look at things.” 34 But can a newly arrived writer really catch up on what makes a 35 team—and a town—tick when he has to rush to catch the next plane? 36 The original glamour angle of baseball writing was traveling with 37 the players on the Pullman sleeper trains, sharing card games, half 38 pints, and overall camaraderie. When airplanes replaced trains in

42 The Baseball Beat Writer

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 42 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 the 1950s, travel time was cut dramatically, but the writer-player 2 road bond continued. 3 “My friend Phil Collier did it twenty-five years and he went to 4 the Hall of Fame,” said Tom Krasovic, a veteran of a decade as 5 the Padres’ beat writer for the San Diego Union-Tribune. “His line 6 was, ‘When I did it, there was a lot less heavy lifting.’ He traveled 7 on chartered planes and the bus with the team. Travel was much 8 better.” 9 When airline supersaver fares and mileage points became com- 10 monplace in the 1990s, combined with some teams’ reluctance to 11 keep allowing writers such up-close-and-personal travel arrange- 12 ments, the writers were on their own. They had to book their own 13 flights and tote their own luggage from airport to hotel instead of [43], (39) 14 having it delivered with the team’s directly to the hotel room. Now 15 the writers usually do not stay at the team hotel. It became more Lines: 526 to 545 16 important to amass Marriott bonus points. 17 The on-your-own system meant harried and hurried efforts to ——— 18 catch the last flight out Sunday night on the road, or working on 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 short rest to get one of the first flights out the morning of a game Normal Page 20 in another city. Not to mention extended separation from families. PgEnds: T X 21 “Travel shreds the home life,” said Krasovic. “Guys can do it only E 22 so much. Six weeks in spring training, winter meetings, gm meet- 23 ings, the postseason. [43], (39) 24 “Being single most of those years was probably an advantage. If I 25 had had a couple of kids and a wife, it would have been a lot harder. 26 That’s the bottom line. I was married in November of 2000. My wife 27 would prefer if there was less travel. She would prefer the Padres 28 play 162 games in San Diego. Travel some day will knock me off 29 the beat. When that day comes, I don’t know. But I won’t do it as 30 long as Phil [Collier].” 31 By virtue of his longevity, Hal McCoy has endured more than any 32 other writer. 33 “It’s tough on family life,” he said. “You need a special wife. You 34 don’t see your family growing up. Both my sons were good baseball 35 players, but I never got to see them play. I was married twenty-two 36 years to my first wife and to my second wife for sixteen years.” 37 Paul Hoynes of the Cleveland Plain Dealer surprisingly does not 38 mind the travel.

The Baseball Beat Writer 43

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 43 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “My kids are twenty-six and twenty-four,” he said in 2004. “It was 2 tough. I had a great wife. I’m just lucky. My kids understood and my 3 wife understood I liked the job. They never asked me to come off 4 the beat.” 5 While Tom Gage said the Detroit Tigers bar writers from flying 6 on the team plane, the Indians still permit their presence, although 7 it is more expensive than traveling commercial with the airline fre- 8 quent flyer miles. 9 “After 9/11 it became tougher,” Hoynes said. “You’re in line and 10 strip-searched. Planes are so crowded now. You’ve got to get the 11 aisle seat. It’s really changed the way you travel.” 12 Hopping the team train or chartered plane, the present writers’ 13 forebears often typed out their stories en route. But their overall [44], (40) 14 workload was much less. They might do two versions of a quoteless 15 game story and no notes or sidebars. They quickly filed their stories Lines: 545 to 559 16 on getaway days and traveled with the team rather than sweating 17 out finishing their stories so they could catch the last commercial ——— 18 train or flight out of town—or rise early the next morning to do the 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 same. Normal Page 20 “It’s a lot of work,” said Michael Morrissey, former Mets beat PgEnds: T X 21 writer for the New York Post. “It’s not an easy job to do. Just as I E 22 can’t join a construction crew and pave a highway, not everyone can 23 carve out a notebook along with early and late ‘gamers.’ Over the [44], (40) 24 course of the years, it wears you down. With the Internet, there’s a 25 huge amount of reading you must do. I know guys who read virtu- 26 ally everything that’s written [about baseball daily on the Internet]. 27 There’s the sheer number of phone calls you have to make.” 28 “Feeding the monster” means several versions of a game story, 29 notes (sometimes revised), a match-ups box, scouting report, and a 30 “how they score” play-by-play that ends up in small type. 31 “The high turnover can be attributed to the work grind,” Den- 32 ver’s Mike Klis said. “I’ve said this many times: the laziest beat writer 33 works harder than anyone else at his newspaper. The travel, the 34 heavy off-hour workload, and small pay diminishes the quality of life 35 to one week of winter Marriott hotel points. It’s not a good life.” 36 The beat writer cannot afford not to be at the ballpark from 37 the moment the first player reports for the day. “In those days, it 38 was not uncommon to get to the ballpark at five o’clock or five

44 The Baseball Beat Writer

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 44 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 thirty,” was the 1980s memory of covering the Oakland Athletics for 2 John Hickey, now Mariners writer for the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. 3 “I leave for the ballpark today at two o’clock.” 4 Dayton’s Hal McCoy does the work of two writers. He is so pop- 5 ular with west-central Ohio baseball fans that he takes over large 6 news holes of the sports section on Saturday and Sunday. He writes 7 a Saturday column, then fronts a forty-inch Baseball Insider notes 8 column and a thirty-inch Ask Hal feature in which readers e-mail 9 him questions. 10 “I used to do just a ‘gamer’ and notes each day, no columns,” 11 McCoy said. “Friday is a nightmare, with the ‘gamer’ and notes and 12 all the weekend material. I write two hundred inches of copy on 13 [45], (41) Friday.” 14 Larger papers employ national writers like Chass, who write big- 15 picture stories, focus on other teams, pen features about players in Lines: 559 to 575 16 their own markets, and sometimes fill in for their beat writers. Part 17 ——— of the monster they must feed weekly are Sunday notes columns— 18 13.0pt PgVar McCoy thus is doing double or triple duty—first popularized by ——— 19 in more than two decades ago. Normal Page 20 21 However, no individual national writer could be everywhere at * PgEnds: Eject 22 once, covering the entire Major Leagues. So as part of the built- in clubbiness and networking in their business, they began sharing 23 [45], (41) 24 notes over the phone. With the development of the Internet, the 25 notes became institutionalized. All the writers had access to a com- 26 mon file to which they had contributed. 27 But there were inherent drawbacks. The lack of originality and 28 the possibility that notes items could be inaccurate, then spread 29 throughout the country in that form, was very real. 30 “It’s the worst thing,” Chass said of the notes package. “I have 31 not participated for years. I’ve never done an item in the Sunday 32 notebook that is not original. I just don’t believe in it. I would be 33 appalled if the Times felt it had to run something like that in the 34 Sunday notebook. 35 “, when he was president of the Oakland A’s, called 36 me one day when he was calling around the country correcting 37 something in writers’ notebooks. It had multiplied. The readers are 38 not served. I don’t know how solid the information is.”

The Baseball Beat Writer 45

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 45 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Chass said Bill Madden, a fellow multidecade veteran with the 2 New York Daily News, writes his own Sunday material. 3 Mike Klis was another advocate of obtaining his own material, 4 one-on-one if possible, while on the baseball beat. That’s the good 5 old days compared to his most recent assignment in the chore- 6 ographed, group-interview world of the nfl. 7 “A few years back, Denver Post editors refused to allow us to re- 8 print quotes without attribution,” Klis said. “Because I thought it 9 made me look lazy if I centered a note around a quote from an- 10 other paper, I stopped using them, deciding instead to get my own 11 national stuff from the visiting locker room.” Before he moved to 12 football, Klis used the national notes network only as a guide for 13 ideas. [46], (42) 14 But Paul Hagen, the respected national writer for the Philadelphia 15 Daily News, said that going the Chass-Madden-Klis route is not en- Lines: 575 to 590 16 tirely practical. “I have the same concerns,” Hagen said. “While I 17 have nothing but respect for Murray, he’s almost always going to ——— 18 have his calls returned. That’s partly because he’s done a good job 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 of developing sources over the years, but, let’s face it, partly because Normal Page 20 he works for the New York Times.” PgEnds: T X 21 But whether they grind it out on a daily basis or write fifteen hun- E 22 dred words, original or borrowed, for Sunday, the new century’s 23 baseball writers must often do so in hurry-up fashion. The contin- [46], (42) 24 ual money-saving tactics of newspapers have rolled back deadlines 25 that once easily accommodated night games, but now cause a race 26 to the finish to file a completed, though bare-bones, story in time 27 to make home-delivered papers. If a morning-newspaper employee 28 has a first deadline of 10:45 to 11:00 p.m., his or her lucky stars are 29 thanked profusely. 30 Bill Ballou of the Worcester Telegram and Gazette must file his Red 31 Sox game stories between thirty and forty-five minutes earlier than 32 he did in the late 1980s when he began on the beat. He does not 33 make West Coast road trips because the stories simply would not 34 make any edition with the three-hour time difference. Other East 35 and Midwest newspapers have not staffed West Coast trips, costliest 36 on their schedule, for the same impossible-deadline reason. 37 Baseball iconoclast Charles O. Finley may have had the right idea 38 in concept when he pushed for night World Series games that even-

46 The Baseball Beat Writer

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 46 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 tually began in 1971. But with the slower pace of games dictated 2 by network tv, young fans in the East and Midwest end up not 3 watching the late innings on school nights. Worse yet, with these 4 deadline-busting game times, their parents won’t get a quote-filled 5 story in their home-delivered paper the next morning. 6 “All the trends point toward decreased access and an unfavorable 7 environment for the print media,” said San Diego’s Tom Krasovic. 8 “During the postseason, the games start late and they take forever. 9 Deadlines are blown because of that. Being on the West Coast does 10 help, but the overall situation hurts. It is not better for print media 11 compared to the 1960s and 1970s.” 12 I can attest to this stressful situation personally. On October 14, 13 2003, at Wrigley Field, I was writing the story for game six of the [47], (43) 14 Cubs-Marlins National League Championship Series for the Times 15 of Northwest Indiana. With about an hour left before my first dead- Lines: 590 to 598 16 line and the Cubs’ seemingly on cruise control in the 17 sixth inning, I asked my seatmates from the paper if I should go for ——— 18 it and start the story. I had been thinking about how I would write 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 a kind of heartfelt “Cubs make the World Series” lead for a week Normal Page 20 while they wriggled through the playoffs against the Marlins and PgEnds: T X 21 Braves. The boys said start writing. E 22 The prose flowed out about the curse-originating billy goat being 23 put out to pasture, the 1969 black cat running under the Shea Sta- [47], (43) 24 dium stands for good, and the ghosts of , , 25 and other summarily traded homegrown Cubs no longer dragging 26 their balls and chains through fans’ psyches. I was proud of the ef- 27 fort. Then Steve Bartman deflected a foul ball, Dusty Baker froze 28 at his dugout post, Alex Gonzalez booted a possible inning-ending 29 double play grounder, and all hell broke loose. The wonderful lead— 30 so I thought—was put on ice for the next night and, of course, never 31 used. But with the 10:30 p.m. first deadline ticking steadily away, I 32 had to crank like never before. The game moved faster than most 33 other postseason affairs, yet it was a struggle to make deadline even 34 with a skeletal, quoteless story, let alone a detailed explanation of 35 the Bartman fiasco. 36 The deadline-dodging was far worse during the 2005 postseason. 37 Assigned to cover the White Sox’s run by the Times of Northwest Indi- 38 ana, I could not file a story with postgame quotes for the newspaper’s

The Baseball Beat Writer 47

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 47 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 first edition, which had close to a 10:30 p.m. central time deadline. 2 With games beginning not much before 8:00 p.m. central and drag- 3 ging on through commercial breaks and other stoppages to three 4 hours, the deadline dash was almost impossible. Usually I had to 5 resort to a “plugger,” a short filler-type story with pregame quotes, 6 for the first edition. I was lucky to get a play-by-play game story, 7 again without quotes, for the second edition, put to bed shortly 8 after 11:00 p.m. The dragged-out night games of the World Se- 9 ries meant quotes only for an 11:30 p.m. deadline—just barely. The 10 record-tying fourteen-inning affair in game three blew away all the 11 deadlines except the final, around 1:30 a.m. 12 Wrestling the deadlines in October is the annual culmination of 13 travel, workload, and regular-season tight deadlines that instigate [48], (44) 14 burnout. Thus the concept of business as usual in deploying baseball 15 writers must change, the sooner the better. The burden is almost too Lines: 598 to 612 16 much for one individual. 17 To some extent, people like Leon Carter, sports editor of the New ——— 18 York Daily News, are listening. “It’s a very demanding beat,” Carter 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 said. “What has worked for us is we pick certain trips and one week Normal Page 20 in spring training for our backup guys to work. After we talk to our PgEnds: T X 21 beat guys, the substitution works. Having strong backup guys on E 22 both of the teams has worked out quite well.” 23 Some papers give their regular writers three-day weekends off [48], (44) 24 during home stands. But Detroit’s Tom Gage said a diligent writer 25 never can make up via comp time all the extra hours put in on the 26 job, during and after the season. 27 The developed a unique approach to the brutal beat 28 writer workload. The paper in essence developed a platoon system, 29 much the same as left- and right-handed hitters sharing the same 30 position. Clark Spencer and Kevin Baxter divvied up the Marlins’ 31 beat to each man’s satisfaction. 32 “We decide before the season,” Spencer said. “I’m the primary 33 guy. I take one hundred games, he takes sixty-two. It’s a grind. 34 “I always make sure we each get one West Coast trip. We make 35 sure one guy doesn’t get stuck going to Philadelphia all three times. 36 We give it variety, some spice. I’m not going to stick him with 37 nonglamour cities—the Cincinnatis, the Milwaukees. Kevin also 38 does national stuff.

48 The Baseball Beat Writer

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 48 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “If you’re covering a team out of the race, by July it gets tough. I’d 2 rather have a fresh writer than a guy who was dog-tired by the end 3 of the year. Still, I didn’t have a day off the last six weeks of 2003.” 4 Although the two-decade veterans somehow chug along, the 5 baseball beat is not a veterans’ game anymore. The likes of Jerome 6 Holtzman and Joe Goddard of the Chicago Sun-Times putting in 7 their time on high schools before being promoted to baseball writer 8 in their thirties have almost been relegated to another era. Now, in 9 a trend that is not all positive when broadcast assignments are fac- 10 tored in, journalists just a couple of years out of college are suddenly 11 working what used to be the penultimate job. 12 “I’m not an editor,” former Milwaukee sportswriter Drew Olson 13 said, “but when you’re asking someone to work close to eighty hours [49], (45) 14 a week for about eight months of the year and to be on the road for 15 extended periods of time, it just makes sense that it’s easier for some- Lines: 612 to 626 16 one just starting out—who isn’t tethered by family obligations—to 17 do that.” ——— 18 The appointment of twenty-four-year-old Chris Snow, who had 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 distinguished himself in a short time in Minneapolis, as Red Sox Normal Page 20 beat writer for the Boston Globe was almost as much a conversation PgEnds: T X 21 starter in the 2004–5 off-season as ’s Cooperstown E 22 speech was months earlier. And some eyes rolled when Jeff Passan 23 penned a feature that included mention of Cubs ace ’s [49], (45) 24 clubhouse flatulence in May 2004. Passan also was just twenty-four, 25 charged with serving much of the role of the Kansas City Star’s na- 26 tional baseball writer. 27 “What struck me was the gap in writers’ ages,” Murray Chass said. 28 “In a number of settings I was the only older guy there. Other guys 29 from the [New York] Times . . . I could be old enough to be their 30 father.” 31 Maybe twentysomething writers can better get through to players 32 of the same age cohort. Certainly some who are old enough to be 33 the players’ fathers aren’t relating as well as before. 34 “The chasm gets bigger as the money gets bigger,” said Dan 35 Shaughnessy, sports columnist for the Boston Globe. “I get older and 36 they get younger. We have very little in common. I don’t think they 37 care about any of us [even the perceived more glamorous broad- 38 casters].”

The Baseball Beat Writer 49

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 49 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “I don’t talk to players as much as I used to,” Chass said. “Gaylord 2 Perry was the last player in baseball who was older than I was.” 3 Life changes, of course. Newspapers ain’t what they used to be. 4 And the working conditions covering baseball ain’t the same. Again, 5 newspapers imitate the game they cover in more ways than their 6 executives realize. Change is slow to come for both, but come it 7 must. The readers will demand it or speed up taking their business 8 elsewhere. 9 10 11 12 13 [50], (46) 14 15 Lines: 626 to 629 16 17 ——— 18 * 389.85pt PgVar ——— 19 Normal Page 20 21 * PgEnds: PageBreak 22 23 [50], (46) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

50 The Baseball Beat Writer

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 50 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 FOUR 4 5 6 Celebrity Players or Upstanding 7 Role Models? 8 9 10 11 12 ust when you think you’ve seen and heard everything in base- 13 Jball, something new comes into your gaggle of experiences. [51], (47) 14 Breezing past a group of reporters early in the 2004 season, Cubs 15 catcher Michael Barrett asked us, “Do you guys need to interview Lines: 629 to 649 16 me?” The answer almost always to such a question would be “yes,” 17 but I never heard a player verbalize the obvious in a daily clubhouse ——— 18 routine. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Months later, Barrett explained himself at length. “My personal Normal Page 20 opinion is that bad publicity is better than no publicity at all,” he PgEnds: T X 21 said. “There have been articles in the paper I haven’t enjoyed. But, E 22 hey, my name is in the paper. To me, it’s an honor to have your 23 name in the paper, good or bad. [51], (47) 24 “The perfect example was in 2000. I made two errors that cost us 25 [the Expos] the game and I was booed out of the stadium. But even 26 in one of the worst moments of my career, it’s a cool feeling to know 27 people care about what you’re going through right now. If you’re 28 honest with the fans [through the media], they realize how much of 29 a person you are and they can relate to you, and that’s what makes 30 baseball the game it is.” 31 An addendum to such sentiments was offered by , 32 longtime centerpiece of the , whose clubhouse could 33 have been rated for years as one of the most media friendly. “We 34 always looked at it as the media has a job to do and we have a job 35 to do,” Bagwell said. “We have to work together. If you appease 36 each other I think things work out in the long run. Both sides have 37 to handle themselves. There’s a big if there. It has to work both 38 ways.”

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 51 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Amazingly, too many players don’t get it. Today’s Major Lea- 2 guers give off the image of aloofness, if not outward hostility, to the 3 phalanx of media that provide them publicity their teams otherwise 4 could not afford to purchase. 5 The best-paid players are being compensated like Hollywood ce- 6 lebrities, and they can live their lives as such. Tinseltown stars often 7 throw a moat around themselves. Yet part of the age-old appeal of 8 baseball is its accessibility, both in person to fans and through the 9 media. If the mainstays of the sport ever become as distant as the 10 stars of the big and small screen, something is lost forever. Baseball 11 ceases to function in its traditional mold. 12 For all its faults in marketing and promotion, compared to the 13 [52], (48) nfl and nba, baseball remains the most media-accessible sport. For 14 a 7:05 p.m. game, the home and visiting clubhouses typically open at 15 3:35 p.m. The media is shooed out of the home locker room during Lines: 649 to 661 16 practice at around 4:20 p.m., but additional player-manager 17 ——— access is possible in the dugout and field while the visiting clubhouse 18 13.0pt PgVar remains open until around 5:30 p.m. Unless occasional team meet- ——— 19 ings interfere, the home clubhouse doors swing open again at that Normal Page 20 21 juncture for another forty-five minutes. * PgEnds: Eject 22 It may have been said amid a tense, angry, postgame, losing club- house back in August 1984, but there was more than a shred of truth 23 [52], (48) 24 in the comeback that Chicago radio reporter Bruce Levine directed 25 at several then. “Without us, you wouldn’t have 26 jobs,” Levine said. Indeed if few came out to cover big league games, 27 the crowds would not have followed and, in turn, the cash flow en- 28 abling players to achieve instant affluence would be absent. 29 But with frequent turnover on newspaper baseball beats, lack of 30 ballpark presence by the majority of radio sports-talk-show hosts, 31 and a sizeable number of newspaper columnists, pressure to get 32 short sound bites by radio and tv reporters, and thrown-against- 33 the-wall information by nascent Internet blogs, players have a 34 sharply decreasing appetite for fulfilling what seems a necessary part 35 of their jobs. Just when technological advances enable an explosion 36 of information to be enjoyed by the average consumer, players in 37 the most media-accessible professional sport are increasingly keep- 38 ing their distance, increasingly watching what they say and when

52 Celebrity Players or Upstanding Role Models?

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 52 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 they say it, and withdrawing some of the trust that naturally should 2 be present. 3 The end result is an ill-served public, which does not receive a 4 wholly accurate picture of a favorite sport, overeager media spoiling 5 the working conditions for more responsible colleagues, and players 6 who can be unfairly portrayed as overpaid, insufferable jerks. 7 The latter is an image that can hardly be affixed to Pirates first 8 baseman , a glib man who during his long tenure with 9 the Reds understood one important role of players. 10 “I realize with the media, you guys have a job to do, too,” Casey 11 said. “You guys get a paycheck, support a family, pay the bills by 12 what you write and what you can relay to the fans, and how they 13 perceive athletes. I try to be as cooperative as I can. You have bills [53], (49) 14 to pay as I do. 15 “I look at it as everyone does what they’re passionate about. Some Lines: 661 to 681 16 people do things they’re not passionate about. They just show up at 17 work every day. I never want to forget that. My dad instilled in me ——— 18 that nobody is more important than anyone else. Everyone in life 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 has a job to do. You bring great joy in what you write. You bring Normal Page 20 different emotions to people by what you write.” PgEnds: T X 21 Dealing with the media is part of a big leaguer’s job, according E 22 to longtime left-hander Jamie Moyer, who first began talking to re- 23 porters as a Cub in 1986. [53], (49) 24 “There’s a certain professionalism that goes along with every- 25 body,” Moyer said. “Not just media, but players also need to give 26 that respect back to the media. I’ve been on some clubs where if 27 things go well, players are standing in front of their locker with their 28 chests out, smiling and happy, and willing to talk to anybody. But 29 when things go bad, they don’t want to talk to the media. That’s 30 wrong. You deal with the media and be upfront. If you say you don’t 31 want to talk, you’ll get together tomorrow.” 32 left-hander C. C. Sabathia believes you get 33 more with sugar instead of vinegar. “You want to interact with these 34 guys,” he said. “For the most part, they’re going to believe what 35 Hoynsy [Cleveland Plain Dealer beat writer Paul Hoynes] writes. 36 “They’re in here [locker room] so much. I think if you are a good 37 guy, it’s a great career move to do as much stuff with the media as 38 possible.”

Celebrity Players or Upstanding Role Models? 53

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 53 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Completing a media-friendly lineup is reliever Ray King, who 2 made a name for himself with the St. Louis Cardinals in 2003–5 3 before moving on to Colorado. There’s a practical business reason 4 for good diplomatic relations with the media and fans. “You never 5 want to burn a bridge,” King said. “This game is not forever. You 6 never know where you’ll be tomorrow. All of a sudden, there might 7 be two or three media guys who are higher up in certain places where 8 you want to get a job or get your foot in the door.” 9 If the hubris of the past few decades was swept clean and all could 10 start out fresh, the odds may favor players who are of the Barrett- 11 Bagwell-Casey-Moyer-Sabathia-King mold. But cynicism, mixed 12 with a healthy dash of realism, might counter such positive state- 13 ments. The sense of mistrust works both ways. Just listen to vet- [54], (50) 14 eran Chicago sportscaster Tom Shaer, who cut his teeth working in 15 tough media market Boston. Lines: 681 to 691 16 “Players make so much money, they care so little about market- 17 ing the game,” Shaer said. “They’ve been convinced by the players ——— 18 union and their agents that they don’t need to care. They don’t give 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 a damn about selling tickets. They don’t figure there’s any percent- Normal Page 20 age in doing media stuff. They do media stuff if they feel like being PgEnds: T X 21 nice. E 22 “The majority are not good guys. The majority are either indif- 23 ferent or adversarial. It didn’t used to be that way. The standard in [54], (50) 24 players’ contracts is that they are supposed to engage in reasonable 25 efforts to promote the sport. No one has ever, ever enforced that. I 26 blame the owners and players.” 27 Shaer has some basis in his criticism. During gigs with several 28 tv stations, he had to work clubhouses, dugouts, and batting cages 29 to snare those ever-pesky sound bites. The players are not always 30 available at the snap of a finger from a large broadcast media outlet. 31 Although Shaer frequently was in attendance at ballparks, in con- 32 trast to many of his contemporaries, he may not have had the extra 33 time to “work” players one-on-one, an absolute necessity in bridg- 34 ing the inherent eyebrow-lifting at media intentions. 35 I found a different Major Leaguer than Shaer did. Toiling in club- 36 houses for the better part of two decades, I discovered that Bag- 37 well’s analysis was no empty platitude. Building relationships and 38 minimizing conflicts involved arriving early each day and talking

54 Celebrity Players or Upstanding Role Models?

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 54 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 to players person-to-person, in a noninterview setting. Not every 2 communication with a big leaguer should be a media member need- 3 ing an interview. The tape recorder, camera, or notebook should be 4 sidelined at this point. More often than not, the successful bridging 5 of the gap was accomplished by talking to the players about them- 6 selves as individuals even away from baseball, inquiring about their 7 families, social and civic interests, and leavening the whole discourse 8 with a little humor—basically treating them like the normal people 9 that they’d be if they did not possess the singular skill to play baseball 10 at the highest possible level. 11 “ ‘Hello, how ya doing?’ goes a long ways with me,” former, long- 12 time slugging outfielder Ellis Burks said in 2004. “People acknowl- 13 edge your name, not just put the microphone in your face and say, [55], (51) 14 ‘Answer this.’ I like for a person to introduce themselves to me and 15 I do the same thing before I answer questions. I want to know who Lines: 691 to 699 16 you are. That way, when I see you the other time, it will be that 17 much easier.” ——— 18 Some of the most animated, even entertaining conversations have 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 been off-the-cuff all the way up to a publicity-hating fellow like Normal Page 20 . Perhaps some information would be filtered into my PgEnds: T X 21 written or broadcast work, but the original purpose is an effort to E 22 get to know the player and let them get to know you. If the end 23 result is access when the interview going gets tough, so be it. That’s [55], (51) 24 also Journalism 101, practiced by reporters in any City Hall or cop 25 shop in the country away from sports’ toy factory. Familiarity does 26 not breed contempt if you handle yourself the right way. 27 That all said, anyone working in baseball media is dealing with 28 high-profile types enjoying a radically different pay scale and poten- 29 tial lifestyle than anyone else in the room. With a minimum salary of 30 three hundred thousand dollars—compared to sixty-eight thousand 31 in the late 1980s—the players can attain affluence available only to 32 the top 1 percent of American wage earners. Their perspective can- 33 not be the same as it was when they were struggling through the 34 minors on fifteen hundred dollars a month. 35 And when salaries skyrocket toward the twenty-million-dollar 36 mark, the ballplayers are now on a par with Hollywood celebrities, 37 who by nature and necessity have to cast a moat around themselves 38 to ward off intrusive media and overzealous fans, if not outright

Celebrity Players or Upstanding Role Models? 55

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 55 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 stalkers. It is in this classification, of whether they are near or at 2 the top of celebrity rankings, and whether instant affluence changes 3 them for the worse, that players are divided. 4 Longtime catcher Todd Pratt pointed me in one direction at mid- 5 summer 2004 when he told me that money does change, and spoil, 6 many of his fellow big leaguers. Perhaps the sweaty, straining po- 7 sition behind the plate gives an honest appraisal of life, 8 because Michael Barrett believes the rise in earning power has an 9 effect. “It’s a little bit of that, a little bit of perception,” he said. 10 “It’s the way people put some players on a pedestal. We’re just like 11 normal people who have been blessed with an opportunity to play 12 at a Major League level and make a substantial amount of money. 13 With that comes a great deal of responsibility. [56], (52) 14 “A lot of players aren’t equipped to handle that as well. We don’t 15 make the best decisions a lot of times. We try to be good role mod- Lines: 699 to 709 16 els . . . If you ask the average person to live our lifestyle, it would be 17 very difficult. It’s not like a guy makes $15 million, $20 million for ——— 18 ten years and has time to adjust to that lifestyle. If he’s making $10 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 million, it’s one year, two years. To be able to adjust to that lifestyle, Normal Page 20 you have very little time to make that adjustment. You might come PgEnds: T X 21 across as a guy who’s changed. In reality, money does change people E 22 a lot. At the same time, I don’t believe when you step on that field, 23 the amount of money has anything to do with how you play the [56], (52) 24 game. On the field, you’re all playing the same game.” 25 Another plain-speaking type, almost the Harry S Truman of base- 26 ball during his time, was Rod Beck, former Giants and Cubs closer. 27 Beck was as down-to-earth a player as I ever met during his short 28 Chicago tenure in 1998–99. “I came into life like that,” Beck said. 29 “I was taught by my parents and every coach I had to not pull any 30 punches. I learned to talk about it in truth. If people don’t like the 31 truth, that’s their own problem. I’m one of those guys if you don’t 32 want to hear the truth, don’t ask me.” 33 A true throwback, Beck would hold court in his locker in his 34 skivvies, beer in hand, long after games, before repairing to Bernie’s, 35 a popular bar a block northwest of Wrigley Field, to mingle with 36 fans. While rehabbing his arm at class-A Iowa in 2003, he invited 37 fans to join him for libations after games at his trailer in the stadium 38 parking lot.

56 Celebrity Players or Upstanding Role Models?

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 56 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “I’m not sure money is the root of all evil as much as stature,” 2 Beck said. “You become a celebrity when you become a superstar. 3 Everybody wants a piece of you. 4 “A lot of it is putting up a guard. They don’t want to be taken 5 down from that stature. People who achieve fame at a high level 6 wish to keep it. It’s a survival instinct kicking in. The scary part is, 7 why can’t you keep it while being honest? Wouldn’t that make it 8 more so, solidifying your stature? But for some people, that’s fright- 9 ening. That’s their defense mechanism kicking in—everyone keep 10 away.” 11 Offering the contrary view was lifetime Houston Astro Craig Big- 12 gio, still as dirty-uniformed a player on the cusp of forty as he was as 13 a young catcher in the late 1980s. “I speak for myself, whether you [57], (53) 14 have two dollars in the bank or twenty dollars in the bank, you treat 15 people the way you want to be treated,” he said. “It was the way you Lines: 709 to 722 16 were raised. You just remember who you are. Money might change 17 some people but for the most part it doesn’t change everybody.” ——— 18 Meanwhile, money was not the push to Jamie Moyer, even though 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 he had amassed a comfortable paycheck after twenty seasons and had Normal Page 20 high overhead at home with six children to support. “I can honestly PgEnds: T X 21 say I wasn’t looking for fame and fortune,” Moyer said in 2004.“I E 22 played because I love the game and still do. I see a lot of players to 23 whom money really doesn’t matter. They live lives where it doesn’t [57], (53) 24 affect them. Others spend frivolously. If you live within your means, 25 great. That’s your personal side. As a family man, I have responsi- 26 bilities.” 27 But the players are able to spend like few others in the country. 28 John Hickey, Mariners beat writer for the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, 29 remembered pitcher cataloguing a shopping trip in 30 the clubhouse while Hickey covered the Oakland Athletics in the 31 1980s. 32 “He pulled out the receipt,” Hickey recalled. “He said what the 33 heck did I buy for eighteen hundred dollars? Two sweaters, eight 34 hundred dollars each. Two pairs of socks, one hundred dollars each. 35 Who needs a pair of one-hundred-dollar socks? They’ve moved into 36 a nouveau riche class. They buy a house; they don’t buy their furni- 37 ture at . They have a craftsman make ’em.” 38 Then comes a telling Moyer statement that automatically creates

Celebrity Players or Upstanding Role Models? 57

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 57 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 at least a little gulf: “We are entertainers and we are in the enter- 2 tainment business.” 3 You won’t get an argument from Cubs ace Mark Prior. “Obvi- 4 ously the money’s great,” he said. “We understand we are enter- 5 tainers. With that brings a lot of responsibility in the public realm. 6 On the flip side is your public and private life, where people try 7 to dig in and merge them. I try to find a happy medium, what your 8 public responsibility is and private responsibility is. Instead of going 9 to movies, fans come out for three hours to watch a baseball game. 10 I don’t mind entertaining. But I also know who I report to—the 11 twenty-four other guys on the team, the manager, and the coaches.” 12 Problem is, as “entertainers,” as celebrities, the ballplayers have 13 lost their means for privacy. And in a scary age, previous restraints [58], (54) 14 that governed social civility don’t exist. The media is seen as a con- 15 veyance of private information the players do not want let out. Lines: 722 to 737 16 “That’s where it gets scary,” Prior said. “That’s where you find 17 where standoffish people are trying to be distant with the media. In ——— 18 this day and age, in the world we live in, you don’t know who’s out 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 there. It’s not back when Babe Ruth played, [not] even the 1980s. Normal Page 20 People follow you home, want to know where you live. That’s where PgEnds: T X 21 you get scared. You don’t know if they’re fans or have a malicious E 22 intent. We’re probably the only professional athletes where people 23 know our schedule, when we’re home and not home, and they know [58], (54) 24 exactly how much we make.” 25 Prior and fellow Cubs pitcher Kerry Wood found their privacy 26 invaded when their home addresses became a matter of public rec- 27 ord. Property transfers—the sale of homes—are available to the 28 general public. Newspapers have now started regularly publishing 29 celebrities’ home purchases, sometimes with an accompanying 30 photo. Prior’s Chicago residence was listed. In addition to one fan 31 following him home on the interstate from a game in Milwaukee, 32 the right-hander was awakened by others calling his name outside 33 his bedroom window at 2:00 a.m. 34 “Maybe one out of a thousand people know how to use that,” 35 Prior said of the property transfer process. “But you don’t have to 36 put it on the front page of the section. That’s where you have a lot 37 of trouble. That’s why guys get away, try to bolt out of town, and 38 don’t live in the cities where they play.”

58 Celebrity Players or Upstanding Role Models?

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 58 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Wood was even more blunt. “In my opinion, if it’s public record 2 and the public really wants to find out about it, let them dig it up 3 and find it,” he said. “Don’t print it in the fuckin’ paper you sell to 4 millions of people. What kind of shit is that? People found their way 5 to my house just from a photo of a restaurant right next to it.” 6 Wood’s anger was even more white-hot when the subject of Fox 7 Sports was brought up. While he mowed down the Braves in 8 during two victories in the 2003 National League , 9 the angle-hungry Fox production crew kept focusing on the reac- 10 tions of Wood’s wife, Sarah. Ballplayers feel they are macho enough 11 to protect themselves, but they don’t want members of their families 12 exposed to an uncertain public. 13 “The first time they had Sarah the whole game, I told them [59], (55) 14 I didn’t want her on,” Wood said. “Not because I’m trying to be a 15 dick, but it’s a security issue. She gets recognized without me. She’s Lines: 737 to 749 16 not a public figure. I told Fox to keep her off tv. Sharon [Pannozzo, 17 Cubs media relations director] talked to them. But they put her on ——— 18 tv the next game. They wanted to put me on after the game. They 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 asked me three times. I said I wasn’t going to do it. I’m not going to Normal Page 20 honor their request to talk. I gave them a chance. PgEnds: T X 21 “At some point I’ve got to look out for the safety of my family. E 22 They don’t care. Was it really necessary to have a split-screen of 23 me and my family in the postseason, or were they trying to make [59], (55) 24 it a drama because she gets excited in the game? If just having a 25 playoff baseball game on your station isn’t enough, then maybe you 26 shouldn’t have playoff baseball on.” 27 The Woods love taking their pug and Jack Russell terrier out and 28 about, including to a Chicago neighborhood dog park called “Wig- 29 gly Field,” but found it almost impossible during the 2003 nlcs. The 30 pitcher was mobbed. They have to attend movies at 2:00 p.m. on 31 weekdays. He also reported the couple was the object of aggressive 32 fan adulation while out to dinner. 33 “At times it becomes frustrating,” Wood said. “We were out for 34 Sarah’s birthday. The table across from us, they called someone on 35 their cell phone. Fifteen minutes later, people in Cubs gear sit down 36 and stare at us. You’re eating dinner in a fishbowl. 37 “I want to live a normal life, but I don’t have a normal job. Before I 38 got into the big leagues, I never recognized celebrities. I would have

Celebrity Players or Upstanding Role Models? 59

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 59 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 recognized [a childhood hero], but I wouldn’t have said 2 a word to him. I would have been way too intimidated.” 3 Even a normal-guy manager like the Twins’ 4 finds that he’s recognized more, and more is desired from him, as he 5 moves about off the field. “, to be a normal, everyday 6 guy, he couldn’t do it,” he said. “He couldn’t go anywhere without 7 someone wanting something. I’ve had to change the way I do things. 8 People see me, recognize me. I’m honored, but I don’t want to be 9 disruptive in any way. It’s flattering. It does changes your life. You 10 have to make adjustments.” 11 Seattle writer John Hickey said many players have even with- 12 drawn from public contact on the road, instead using the ballpark as 13 a home away from home. “Players didn’t spend as much time in the [60], (56) 14 clubhouse as they do now,” Hickey said. “Eddie Guardado gets to 15 the clubhouse at noon for a 7:00 p.m. game. He plays cards, talks on Lines: 749 to 762 16 the phone, reads. The clubhouse becomes your home. When you’re 17 on the road, a lot of players choose to spend time in the hotel room ——— 18 and clubhouse. Players don’t embrace the city they’re in. Chicago, 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 they’d go to the Art Institute. San Diego, to the beach. But this Normal Page 20 doesn’t really happen anymore.” PgEnds: T X 21 Given that their private lives are anything but, given such fan re- E 22 action and the prying media, the ability of players to function as role 23 models and allow their fans to know more about them through the [60], (56) 24 media is increasingly compromised. So is their ability to offer can- 25 did appraisals of their own and their teams’ performances. Assuming 26 the hero’s mantle for their young fans is hard when segments of the 27 media and public are alternately criticizing and stalking them. 28 29 The purist’s definition of a role model is one’s parents or teachers. 30 Iconoclast Mike Marshall said in 1974 he would not 31 sign an autograph for young fans unless they also showed him the 32 autograph of a truly significant role model, such as a teacher. 33 “As far as being a role model, we shouldn’t have to be,” Rod Beck 34 said just before his career ended in 2004. “But we are whether we 35 like it or not. You shouldn’t have to divulge your personal life, unless 36 you choose to reveal it. As far as how you affect the game, things that 37 pertain to the sports world, there is some obligation [to the fans].” 38 Reliever Ray King believes that players have an obligation to the

60 Celebrity Players or Upstanding Role Models?

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 60 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 fans. “The media is kind of like our bridge [to the fans],” he said. 2 “You feel good, the fans feel good, and the media feels kind of good. 3 You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours to where we can both make 4 each other feel good. The more people read your articles, the better 5 you’re going to feel.” 6 King’s former Cardinals teammate Jim Edmonds agrees. “I defi- 7 nitely think the fans are why you’re out there,” Edmonds said. “It’s 8 okay for the people to understand who you are and where you’re 9 coming from. The biggest problem is that the information doesn’t 10 get out where it’s supposed to be. The obligation is to get the story 11 right, not a story just to fill the void.” 12 Yet even if the flow of information is not cut off by more sus- 13 picious baseball celebrities, they are more guarded in their com- [61], (57) 14 ments. Cleveland Indians outfielder Casey Blake confirmed that he 15 and others think about what they’ll say after games when the media Lines: 762 to 774 16 horde is admitted. So many players and managers feel they’ve been 17 burned after on- or off-the-record comments that they tend toward ——— 18 the bland when they open their mouths. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 “I do that myself,” Jeff Bagwell said. “I stay away from contro- Normal Page 20 versy. I always have to think about what I say—otherwise there will PgEnds: T X 21 be problems with the media.” E 22 Jamie Moyer said that the editing process in print and broadcast 23 skews the true meaning of what players really say. “You watch some [61], (57) 24 of these shows take part of the interview out and embarrass the 25 player,” he said. “It’s all looked upon as being funny. That’s hor- 26 rible, personally. I really try to pick and choose who I talk to and 27 what I say, and that’s unfortunate.” 28 The Cubs rarely, if ever, give their “A” material for public con- 29 sumption when being interviewed. “To be perfectly honest, I’ve 30 been that way since day one,” Mark Prior said. “I know what I be- 31 lieve and I know what I think. Not all what I think needs to be said. 32 ‘B’ material? Maybe my ‘C’ material. They say I’m nonchalant in my 33 press conferences. Literally every on this staff can 34 write on a piece of paper the answers before they’re asked. It’s the 35 same questions: ‘How did you feel? If there was a certain pitch that 36 changed the course of a game, what were you thinking with that?’ ” 37 “We’re all aware things get twisted in the paper and nothing gets 38 done about it,” Kerry Wood said. “You try to be as careful as you

Celebrity Players or Upstanding Role Models? 61

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 61 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 can talking to people and give them no chance to twist anything. 2 You’ve got reporters coming up the next day and asking about what 3 you said, and it’s totally opposite of what you said. You’ve got one 4 reporter who printed it and ten more standing there who printed it 5 a different way. That’s what gets guys frustrated. 6 “Understand our jobs. You’ve got guys getting down on you. Ob- 7 viously it would be boring if you wrote everything we said. I’ve been 8 saying the same shit for five years. I mix it up every now and then, but 9 it’s mostly the same shit. It makes your job tougher than it should 10 be, but we’re guarded for a reason. It’s pretty bland answers, to be 11 honest with you.” 12 But if players and other baseball types who grew up talking plain 13 [62], (58) English weigh their words carefully, imagine the turmoil endured by 14 Spanish-speaking players who struggle to add English as a second 15 language. The huge influx of Latin players over the past twenty years Lines: 774 to 791 16 has made media-player communication that much more difficult. 17 ——— These big leaguers’ audio comments often are not used by radio 18 13.0pt PgVar stations because their English is so broken or garbled. With tv, the ——— 19 visual element can somewhat cover the audio problems. Print re- Normal Page 20 21 porters can try to clean up the broken English. * PgEnds: Eject 22 The majority of big league teams have invested heavily in their Caribbean development programs, so they have added English 23 [62], (58) 24 classes for their imports. Some players take to the language well, 25 while others haven’t. At least the situation is improved compared to 26 the 1950s, when Orlando Cepeda felt almost all alone coming into 27 the Giants system from Puerto Rico. 28 “It was very hard,” Hall of Famer Cepeda, now a Giants instruc- 29 tor, said. “They didn’t have too many Latin players [in the National 30 League]. Maybe five—Tony Taylor, , Roman 31 Mejias, Felix Mantilla, Juan Pizarro. You had to struggle to com- 32 municate. 33 “It was an unfair situation. Many times they [media] didn’t want 34 to know where we’re coming from. It was a big difference coming 35 from Puerto Rico to the States. The food, language, everything. It 36 was very hard for us. Some of the coaches labeled us hothead, hot 37 dog, lazy. We were just confused. It was tough being black and Latin 38 in Virginia in 1955.”

62 Celebrity Players or Upstanding Role Models?

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 62 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 The situation had improved to a degree by the time Tony Pena 2 broke in as a Pirates catcher in the 1980s. But even learning the 3 language in shotgun fashion at the center of the action—first be- 4 hind the plate, then as manager—Pena realizes 5 the effort to communicate is sometimes a struggle. And thus media 6 accounts of Hispanic players may not paint a true picture due to the 7 language barrier. 8 “It was hard for me to put the words together,” Pena said. “I have 9 to do it every single day. You guys have a job to do like we do. I 10 always spend time to give you as much information as I can. Still, 11 Latin-American players have a fear to express themselves. Our cul- 12 ture is different. Latin-American people are very sensitive. We have 13 a lot of pride. If we’re afraid, we don’t want to talk. [63], (59) 14 “We use a lot of shortcuts in our language. Try to use the same 15 shortcut in English, it doesn’t work.” Lines: 791 to 811 16 Even a veteran player like outfielder Moises Alou, who grew up in 17 a storied baseball family and attended junior college in the United ——— 18 States, struggles to use English correctly. “I learn a word or two 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 every week,” he said of the process continuing even after fifteen sea- Normal Page 20 sons in the majors. PgEnds: T X 21 Alou realized he would not get the same coverage in broadcast E 22 interviews because of his thick accent. “I don’t [sound good], and for 23 me as a Latin person, I totally understand that,” he said. “I would [63], (59) 24 like to do some tv work when I retire, but I know I won’t be able to 25 get a job on an English-speaking station because of my accent, and 26 maybe there are some words I don’t know. Spanish-language [tv]I 27 can do if I want to.” 28 The language barrier has caused some Hispanic players to with- 29 draw within their ethnic group in the clubhouses, Alou said. 30 “There’s a case of some players who don’t want to learn the lan- 31 guage,” he said. “There’re a lot of guys who don’t want to do it. 32 They isolate themselves hanging out with Spanish [speaking] play- 33 ers, listening to Spanish tv, radio, and music. 34 “Anyone who has been in the big leagues for awhile, if you are 35 smart enough to play the game, you’re smart enough to learn the 36 language. They should be ashamed they don’t learn the language.” 37 The linguistics process should work only one way—media mem- 38 bers needn’t learn Spanish in their own country, both Pena and Alou

Celebrity Players or Upstanding Role Models? 63

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 63 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 agree. “I don’t think you guys should learn Spanish,” Pena said. 2 “The players should make an effort to get better, to help the team.” 3 “I don’t think you should make an effort to learn the language,” 4 Alou said. “You should make a better effort to understand the guy. 5 For me, there are a lot of people who don’t think I’m a nice guy 6 because I’m moody. I’m a guy who wants to have my time, read 7 about my horses, play cards. They misread me. Not because of the 8 language, but overall. It makes it a little more difficult to understand 9 the player. You should appreciate the effort a Latin player is making 10 to do an interview.” 11 The gulf within a gulf—Hispanic players versus the media—is 12 worsened when only a handful of Hispanic Americans, who can 13 more easily understand the language and culture, work in main- [64], (60) 14 stream media. The Spanish-speaking writers and broadcasters have 15 gravitated to Spanish-language media outlets. tv stations have Lines: 811 to 824 16 boosted their hiring of Hispanic-surnamed on-air talent, but those 17 reporters and anchors have tended to move over to the news side, ——— 18 not sports. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 In any language, there are ways to narrow the gulf and minimize Normal Page 20 conflicts. Hall-of-Famer-to-be , for one, learned to PgEnds: T X 21 deal with all kinds of coverage over two decades. By his definition, E 22 his chroniclers needed to just be fair. 23 “The only time when I was taken aback was when it was below [64], (60) 24 the belt,” Clemens said. “I can deal with it, but my family doesn’t 25 want to deal with it. One hand flips the other. For me to have the 26 privilege, wearing a uniform, I get to go to the Middle East and talk 27 to the troops. I get to go do that to raise people’s spirits. 28 “But yet, I know there’s going to be a chance where I’m going to 29 be unfairly judged in another way. You have to deal with the good 30 and the bad. Things get blown out of proportion because someone 31 didn’t do their homework.” 32 Ray King said the players and media can easily cooperate to create 33 a semblance of trust and a relationship. “Spring training is the best 34 time to get to know players,” he said of putting down notebooks and 35 tape recorders and just chatting informally. “You introduce yourself, 36 get insight. If they want to interview you, they should ask in advance 37 how much time you need. Do you need to ice down? After the game, 38 some guys are in their own space. Some guys are ready to talk to the

64 Celebrity Players or Upstanding Role Models?

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 64 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 media right away. Some guys like to do certain things before they 2 talk. You can get to know that person on a personal level instead of 3 being the starting pitcher tonight.” 4 believes players need thick skins to play in the ma- 5 jors. King said players must accept negative news because that’s sim- 6 ply the flow of the game. “It comes with the territory,” he said. “You 7 could go ten games without giving up anything. Next game after 8 that you’re going to lose the game. You’re going to be one of the 9 first guys to be interviewed. You’ve got to stand up and say, ‘They 10 beat me.’ You can’t get mad at the media if the headline says, ‘King 11 blew the game for Cards.’ Because that’s what you’ve done. Read it, 12 accept it. You can’t get mad. I can’t fault another person because I 13 didn’t do my job.” [65], (61) 14 C. C. Sabathia also understands the politics of player-media re- 15 lationships. “Always try to put a positive spin on it and make things Lines: 824 to 836 16 work to your advantage,” Sabathia said. “You can’t let a guy sitting 17 behind a desk at a newspaper affect what you’re doing on the field. ——— * 18 It never has and never will affect me.” 101.28pt PgVar ——— 19 Basic human relationships mean a lot to Mark Prior. “My biggest Normal Page 20 thing, and it has nothing to do with baseball, is more respect,” he * PgEnds: PageBreak 21 said. “Respecting what I need to do on a given day. On the flip side, 22 I understand the media people have a job to do, too. If they have a 23 specific question on my performance or what I need to do, I’ll talk [65], (61) 24 to them or have someone come get me.” 25 Prior’s definition of media fundamentals? “You’re writing the 26 truth, writing , not manipulating statements and quotes,” 27 he said. “Not being sneaky with reporting. Not eavesdropping on 28 private conversations. Not building you up to tear you down.” 29 The tough part is to get both players and those who need their 30 insight to follow the guidebook to a more harmonious working life. 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

Celebrity Players or Upstanding Role Models? 65

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 65 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 FIVE 4 5 6 Not Baseball’s Golden Children 7 8 9 10 11 12 y battle plan for “working” Barry Bonds was two-fold. Con- 13 M sidered the National League’s best all-around player in 1996, [66], (62) 14 but with the concept of a seventy-three-homer or even sixty-homer 15 season still virtually science fiction, Bonds was a prime quarry for an Lines: 836 to 858 16 interview for my Diamond Gems radio show and my weekly National 17 League column in the Times of Northwest Indiana. Having developed ——— 18 at least a talking relationship with the normally media-averse Bonds, 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 I figured I’d try to set him up for a future interview in the Giants’ Normal Page 20 first season trip to Wrigley Field from April 18 to 21, 1996. PgEnds: T X 21 First, I’d pitch Bonds on the idea of the multimedia interview at a E 22 later date. I wouldn’t rush him to do the interview during the April 23 trip. Each day I’d informally converse with him without a notebook [66], (62) 24 or tape recorder. Second, I figured I’d make a further impression on 25 the moody slugger by giving his father Bobby, the Giants’ hitting 26 coach, a dub of vintage videotape from the 1981 season. The elder 27 Bonds had finished his career with the Cubs in ’81, so I had clips of 28 the pair of two-homer games he had authored in his swan song. The 29 video, recorded by a neighbor off an old top-loading vcr, probably 30 wouldn’t have otherwise been available to the Bonds family. 31 The tactic worked. Barry Bonds agreed to an interview during the 32 Giants’ other two-game stop in Chicago at midsummer. So on July 33 30, 1996, Bonds and I sat down in the visitors’ dugout before a game. 34 I started rolling tape on my brand-new Marantz cassette recorder. 35 My first question dealt with why Bonds kept a distance between 36 himself and the media—and, in turn, the fans who might otherwise 37 have embraced his five-tool game. I got more than I bargained for 38 in the superstar’s quirky stream of consciousness.

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 66 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “I wasn’t the ‘Golden Child,’ so I wasn’t picked to be,” Bonds said. 2 “And not too many famous children of famous people are. The mar- 3 ketable people, the ones loved in society, are the unknown names. 4 They’re the ones who shock people by surprise. 5 “You check the stats. How many [famous] fathers’ children have 6 become the marketable stars, the public figures? You can’t think of 7 them, except Ken Griffey Jr., and his father [Ken, Sr.] wasn’t the 8 main guy on the . , Pete Rose, Joe 9 Morgan overshadowed him. 10 “We of famous parents aren’t the ‘Golden Children.’ Michael 11 Jordan, , Shaquille O’Neal, Joe Montana, Muham- 12 mad Ali, they’re the unknowns. They take the world by surprise.” 13 [67], (63) Bonds admitted he “rebelled” against the media. He then re- 14 counted his family connections. Godfather, . Cousins, 15 and . Lines: 858 to 881 16 “You’re a young kid trying to make it. You’re going through sit- 17 ——— uations [where comments are directed at you like], ‘Can you be Mr. 18 13.0pt PgVar October like your cousin?’ or ‘Can you be as great as your god- ——— 19 father?’ or ‘Will you ever do 30-30 like your father?’ Normal Page 20 21 “Then people in the media come up to you and say, ‘Oh, Bobby. . . * PgEnds: Eject 22 oops, Barry I mean.’ The media never grasped Barry Bonds. That’s where our misunderstanding came in, that’s where the tangles came 23 [67], (63) 24 in, that’s where the battle came in. 25 “As much as I wanted to mingle when I first started my career 26 in the minors, when I was so accessible, they never embraced Barry 27 Bonds. They always embraced the son of a great family. So I rebelled 28 against them. 29 “That was my own mistake. But you can’t tell a young child at the 30 time he’s making a mistake. You’re not mature enough to under- 31 stand it or see it. The only thing you want is for people to embrace 32 you as a human being. I never was embraced by the media for what 33 I was doing.” 34 In a moment there were comparisons with the athletic royalty of 35 the day. I detected a hint of an inferiority complex. 36 “When Michael Jordan makes a great move, it’s ‘Oh, Michael.’ 37 When Dennis Rodman makes a great move, it’s ‘Oh, Dennis.’ When 38 Barry Bonds does something, it’s ‘Bobby. . . oops, I mean Barry. He

Not Baseball’s Golden Children 67

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 67 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 does things just like his godfather, but he hasn’t been able to come 2 through in the playoffs like his cousin Reggie yet.’ 3 “No one’s ever been able to embrace me, so I haven’t been able 4 to give them the time back,” he said. “I tried to in the beginning, 5 but now I refuse to, because I think it’s their turn.” 6 A couple of minutes later, after a few more questions, I finally 7 stopped the tape. I had enough grist for two radio interviews, two 8 columns, maybe even a magazine story. Bonds’s train of thought 9 astounded me. What kind of “embracing” did he need? Didn’t he 10 get more than enough acclaim and credit for his feats to cancel out 11 any perceived naysayers? 12 Bonds was glib, good looking, and robotically productive. He 13 seemed to be throwing away a possible role as baseball’s spokesman, [68], (64) 14 not to mention a huge supplement to his growing fortune. The ul- 15 timate role model worked a few miles away from Wrigley Field at Lines: 881 to 896 16 the . 17 So I put the question to him man-to-man while we still sat in ——— 18 repose in the dugout: “Why can’t you be ? Jordan has been 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 decent to the media most of his career. There’s millions of dollars Normal Page 20 to be made [in endorsements] if you’re just nice to those who talk PgEnds: T X 21 to you.” E 22 Bonds had no response. He looked at me impassively without 23 even a shrug. The question seemed to wash over him like a gen- [68], (64) 24 tle wave. The concept of being a good guy, looking interviewers 25 squarely in the eye like Jordan, and reaching out to the fans just did 26 not connect. You could not graft Jordan’s persona onto Bonds. Yet 27 common sense seemed to dictate that a smart guy like Bonds would 28 grab the millions in extra income when he could. It simply made 29 smart business sense to be a nice guy to one and all he touched. 30 Bonds was the most up-close-and-personal example I had en- 31 countered of standoffish, star baseball players offering up an expla- 32 nation of their behavior. I had long heard of the legends of Ted 33 Williams, spitting in the direction of the press box in the 1950s; 34 clamming up through most of his work as the best 35 post–Sandy Koufax left-hander; ’s borderline anti- 36 social behavior, despite terrific acclaim in his Chicago hometown; 37 and ’s aggressive antipathy toward media who tried to 38 get too close to his personal space. Much more recently, left-handers

68 Not Baseball’s Golden Children

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 68 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 such as and Kenny Rogers came out of left field to 2 accost tv camera operators they perceived as getting too close and 3 personal. 4 I could never figure out why these brilliant examples of baseball 5 prowess, obviously intelligent enough to reach a high level of per- 6 formance, would intentionally trash their status as heroes, throw 7 away surefire additional endorsement income, and wreck whatever 8 potential they possessed to promote the very sport that provided 9 their base livelihood. 10 The media itself, considered a pain in the collective posterior to 11 many millennium-era baseball figures, was not really the provoca- 12 teur for such standoffish-to-hostile behavior. In the majority of the 13 cases the players themselves instigated their problems with the me- [69], (65) 14 dia and, in turn, ruined any chance they had to become heroes with 15 a fandom that only wanted to embrace them. Lines: 896 to 908 16 Ah, there’s that word again. If Bonds felt he wasn’t “embraced” 17 at the start of his career, he seemed to change his tune when I sat ——— 18 down with him one-on-one at the Giants’ spring training camp in 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Scottsdale, Arizona, in 2002 to discuss the impact of his seventy- Normal Page 20 three-homer season. Once again, the interview was earmarked for a PgEnds: T X 21 special Diamond Gems program on the slugging feat, with accompa- E 22 nying print-media transcription offshoots. 23 “All I ever wanted to do was enjoy the game like I was in Lit- [69], (65) 24 tle League and your parents came out to the game,” Bonds said. 25 “Whether you did bad or good, everyone always cheered for you. 26 It’s taken me nine years in San Francisco where I was embraced by 27 baseball, I was embraced by the media, and I was embraced by the 28 fans. I finally had my dream come true. I finally got to enjoy playing 29 the game of baseball. Everyone around me enjoyed it, too. It was 30 the best feeling in the world. It took seventy-three homers to be 31 embraced by that, but better late than never. 32 “I don’t feel less of a person because I play baseball and I don’t 33 have a Chevy commercial or something like that. There are a lot 34 of people who are homeless or have little in their lives, and I have 35 an opportunity to make millions of dollars playing baseball. I have 36 nothing to complain about.” 37 But the good feeling engendered by the record-breaking season 38 soon dissipated. The clouds of steroid accusations began to form

Not Baseball’s Golden Children 69

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 69 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 in 2003. They coalesced into a storm by the off-season of 2004–5 2 when, among other horror stories, Bonds’s own grand-jury admis- 3 sion of steroid use—claiming he did not know the true nature of the 4 juice—tainted him and his accomplishments. 5 Any media honeymoon that existed in 2001 had long since dissi- 6 pated by the time Bonds faced the press, inquiring about his reaction 7 to the flurry of steroid stories, on February 22, 2004. 8 “All of you have lied,” he shot back at reporters assembled at the 9 Giants spring-training camp. “Should you have an asterisk behind 10 your names? All of you have dirt. When your closet is clean, come 11 clean someone else’s. Right now, baseball needs to go forward. You 12 guys need to turn the page, let us play the game. We will fix it. Don’t 13 turn it into a spectacle because you have the freedom to come into [70], (66) 14 our office and snoop and make up stories.” 15 None of the pre-Bonds, media-fan antagonists had a brush with Lines: 908 to 920 16 scandal in this manner. For whatever internal psychological reasons, 17 they simply decided to keep their distance and shut off the public ——— 18 from whatever special feeling fueled their talents. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Steve Carlton was the biggest name of the zipped-lip crowd in the Normal Page 20 1970s and early 1980s. Prior to that period, nontalking athletes were PgEnds: T X 21 not a problem, with little premium put on quotes or in-depth inter- E 22 views. ’s sporadic hostility did not disrupt the game- 23 oriented coverage of Boston writers. Besides, the Splendid Splinter [70], (66) 24 could be as animated and glib as they come when in the right mood. 25 But as print journalism expanded into the verbal flow of the club- 26 house with broadcast purveyors on their tail, the ballplayer who 27 shunned quotes stood out like a sore thumb. His silence became 28 an ongoing issue unto itself. 29 Carlton, always high-strung and edgy, was not particularly dis- 30 tant from the media during his early Cardinals years. But once he 31 said the wrong thing at the wrong time, which the late announcer 32 Harry Caray theorized was the start of his distancing himself from 33 the public. The day after Carlton struck out nineteen Mets, but lost 34 4–3 on a pair of two-run Ron Swoboda homers in September 1969, 35 Caray interviewed him on the St. Louis radio pregame show. Caray 36 recalled he asked where one of the home-run pitches to Swoboda 37 had entered his hitting zone. The answer, according to Caray: “It 38 was cock-high.” Without any five-second delay, the utterance went

70 Not Baseball’s Golden Children

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 70 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 out live to ruffle the sensibilities of Middle America listening in on 2 the Cardinals’ far-flung radio network. 3 Spun out of St. Louis before the 1972 season by a ridiculous salary 4 dispute begun by autocratic owner Gussie Busch, Carlton got im- 5 mediate revenge with a twenty-seven-victory season for the Phillies 6 team that won just fifty-nine overall in ’72. He was still on speak- 7 ing terms until he was buffeted by typical City of Brotherly Love 8 criticism of his slump to twenty losses in 1973. 9 The loss of Carlton’s voice robbed the public of a fascinating look 10 at a disciplined athlete. The pitcher’s training methods, such as im- 11 mersing his arm in a bucket of rice, were ahead of their time. The 12 explanation of how he could break off his biting slider was kept in the 13 clubhouse. Carlton could not publicly express joy in how he helped [71], (67) 14 lead the Phillies from bottom-feeder to contender status, and even- 15 tually to their first World Series title, as the 1970s progressed. Fans Lines: 920 to 936 16 never really knew what made “Lefty” tick through the bulk of his 17 346 victories. ——— 18 “Lefty never let anybody know what was going on his world,” 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 said former Phillies pitcher Dickie Noles. “He was a very reserved Normal Page 20 person. He kept his distance. It was almost hysterical to see a press PgEnds: T X 21 person go over to his locker, then Lefty would come over to shoo E 22 him away.” 23 Carlton tried to persuade the likes of Noles and other young play- [71], (67) 24 ers just coming up also to boycott the media. His already legendary 25 status was a powerful lure for the kids to play follow the leader. 26 “If Lefty ain’t going to talk to them, we weren’t going to talk to 27 them,” Noles said. 28 Noles eventually began conversing with reporters as he shed his 29 own considerable immaturity, a holdover from a troubled child- 30 hood. And Carlton began talking long after his career was over— 31 the old “they start to say hello when it’s time to say good-bye.” Sure 32 enough, Carlton got in trouble with his mouth, being rebuked for 33 statements that at the turn of the millennium made him out to be 34 some kind of right-wing loon. 35 Silence was golden to Carlton. Much more verbal was the Tigers’ 36 , who extended some of his combativeness to the media. 37 Sometimes glib, sometimes surly, Gibson could still shoo you away 38 long after his career was over, when he was a Detroit broadcaster.

Not Baseball’s Golden Children 71

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 71 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Reporters covering Detroit had to work for their time with Gib- 2 son, a certified tough guy as a former standout Michigan State foot- 3 ball player. The Detroit News’s Tom Gage, on the beat then and 4 now, remembers Gibson grudgingly giving respect to reporters who 5 stood up to him. 6 “He used to run over and second basemen, so he would 7 also steamroll the media if he could,” Gage said. “If you thought you 8 were right, you just had to dig in and go toe-to-toe with him. There 9 were a couple of times I did. That’s something he respected.” 10 In his distant replay, a bit mellower Gibson, who became Tigers 11 bench coach, realizes he could have toned down his responses. 12 “I’m not going to say I wasn’t moody or brash at times,” he said. 13 [72], (68) “There were times where I had situations if I had to go it over 14 again, I’d do it differently. I am who I am. I honestly can tell you 15 I was overwhelmed when I came out of Michigan State as the next Lines: 936 to 956 16 , thanks to Sparky [Anderson’s hype], going back to 17 ——— my hometown. A lot was expected of me.” 18 13.0pt PgVar Gibson’s status as the local-boy-making-good made him the cen- ——— 19 ter of media attention, a status he probably could have done without. Normal Page 20 21 “You could talk to me,” he said. “There were games where things * PgEnds: Eject 22 would happen and I’d say I don’t think it’s a very good time to talk. There were people who felt that was an opportunity to get some- 23 [72], (68) 24 thing foolish out of me. Those type of people I have a problem 25 with.” 26 Gage seconded Gibson’s notion. 27 “He has changed a lot,” he said. “He would admit even then he 28 was difficult. I think he finally understood we had a job to do. We 29 weren’t trying to irritate him on purpose.” 30 Gibson said prying interviews broke up his game-preparation sys- 31 tem. As an athlete coming up through the regimentation of big-time 32 , he was a creature of habit. 33 “My routine started at 2:30, 3:00 p.m. in the batting cage,” he 34 said. “Once I started, I was here to do that. Some of my problems 35 with the media were with guys who didn’t respect that. People came 36 up to me and said they had a deadline. There’s an old saying, ‘A 37 lack of preparation on your part doesn’t constitute an emergency 38 on mine.’ ”

72 Not Baseball’s Golden Children

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 72 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Gibson figured many interviewers had already made up their 2 minds about him. 3 “I don’t like prewritten stories where people have the context of 4 the stories already made and they cut your comments up,” he said. 5 “I don’t like people who infringe on private matters. I got burned 6 big-time early in my career. I invited a guy out and he burned me 7 bad. Anything pertinent to the game, fine.” 8 Gibson also claimed he took it for his team with the media, pulling 9 off a kind of misdirection play. “There were several times I did fool- 10 ish things to put the spotlight on me so they wouldn’t put it on oth- 11 ers. I could handle it. They’d come to me instead of them. It was part 12 of who I was as part of the team. I didn’t care. I felt I was resilient 13 enough to take it. [73], (69) 14 “I stuck up for my teammates. To this day, I don’t like hit-and-run 15 guys. Guys who come in and maybe write something controversial, Lines: 956 to 978 16 then not show up.” 17 One reporter who did show up, but still earned Gibson’s rebuke, ——— 18 was the ’s Mike Downey. With media still traveling 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 on the team plane in the mid-1980s, Downey’s sartorial style did not Normal Page 20 meet with Gibson’s approval. The tension between the two spilled PgEnds: T X 21 over into another century. E 22 “Mike Downey hates me over one incident,” Gibson said. “We 23 had a dress code [on the plane]. He came on with a pair of jeans and [73], (69) 24 a crappy old ugly shirt. I just confronted him and said you have to 25 adhere to the dress code. From that day on he hated me. He should 26 have said, ‘You’re right.’ ” 27 Gibson still won’t get that out of Downey two decades later. In 28 fact, he gets a response with compounded interest. 29 “Kirk Gibson is as insincere as Madonna saying ‘Ouch!’ on her 30 wedding night [I stole that line from Joey Bishop, the last of the 31 Rat Pack],” said Downey, most recently a Chicago Tribune sports 32 columnist. “Do not believe a word Kirk Gibson says. He might even 33 believe this completely made-up story he told you, but it’s just one 34 more example of what a rude, crude creature he was, is, and always 35 shall be.” 36 At least Carlton and Gibson did not get menacing in the manner 37 of Dave Kingman and Albert Belle, two poster children for the worst 38 kind of media relations.

Not Baseball’s Golden Children 73

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 73 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Kingman threw away acclaim in his hometown of Chicago like a 2 fisherman tosses his catch back into the water. Handsome and pos- 3 sessed of a good speaking voice, Kingman should have been the toast 4 of the town when he enjoyed his best Cubs season with forty-eight 5 homers, then the upper limit of slugging standards, in 1979. But the 6 moody slugger wanted no part of celebrity. 7 In two separate interviews, in 1992 and 2004, Kingman tried to 8 explain himself. “We’re all different,” he said. “We all put our pants 9 on different, I guess. Everybody goes about their business in their 10 own way. I probably wouldn’t make too many changes if I had to go 11 out and do it all over again. We all do our job the way we feel it’s 12 best for us. 13 [74], (70) “We all do things we enjoy doing and those [the trappings of 14 celebrity] are things I probably wouldn’t have felt comfortable with. 15 There’s other things I had more confidence in and could be com- Lines: 978 to 993 16 fortable with. 17 ——— “Avoiding the press was the way that gave me peace away from 18 13.0pt PgVar baseball. I’m still a very private person, and that hasn’t changed.” ——— 19 Kingman took umbrage at a humorous feature by the Chicago Sun- Normal Page 20 21 Times’s Joe Goddard in spring training 1979 that revealed he won * PgEnds: Eject 22 his teammates’ vote as the worst-dressed Cub. As a result, he de- clined most interviews throughout his dream power season. 23 [74], (70) 24 Then, in spring training 1980, an unprovoked Kingman dumped 25 ice water on the head of Don Friske, the beat writer for the Chi- 26 cago suburban Daily Herald. Later in 1980, while on the disabled 27 list, Kingman did not even attend his own T-shirt day at Wrigley 28 Field. He reportedly was seen riding a jet-ski on Lake Michigan off 29 , and he reportedly tossed a female tv producer into the 30 lake from his boat. In 1981, after a disgusted Cubs management had 31 traded Kingman to the Mets, he opened a short-lived ice cream par- 32 lor two miles west of Wrigley Field. The men’s room was labeled 33 “press room.” 34 Kingman tried to top himself in 1986 after he had moved on to 35 serve as a designated hitter for the Oakland Athletics. One day in the 36 press box, sportswriter Susan Fornoff opened a 37 gift package. It contained a rat in a cage, courtesy of Kingman. Fe- 38 male journalists in clubhouses still were relatively new on the scene

74 Not Baseball’s Golden Children

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 74 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 in the mid-1980s, a fact that Kingman apparently did not accept 2 easily. 3 In his heart of hearts, he probably is repulsed by memories of such 4 infantile behavior, that of a frat boy gone wild. The problem was that 5 dealing with the media was part of his job description. And some 6 questioned how dedicated the sometimes-clunky Kingman was to 7 baseball. He’d rather go fishing, and often he did. Cubs manager 8 recalled arriving at Wrigley Field to find Kingman 9 asleep in the trainer’s room. He had awoken before dawn to fish on 10 the lake and needed to service his sleep deficit. 11 In dealing with any media, Kingman seemed to trust broadcasters 12 a smidgeon more than writers. 13 “Sportscasters on radio and tv can tell it like it is,” he said then. [75], (71) 14 “They have no way of misinterpreting or inserting their feelings into 15 their report. When they ask you a question, the public can make up Lines: 993 to 1014 16 its own mind. 17 “In print, a writer will interpret his feelings toward an individual. ——— 18 Sometimes it’s unjust and unfair. The reader at times comes away 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 with a tainted feeling toward an athlete. I wasn’t out there trying to Normal Page 20 be in a popularity contest. PgEnds: T X 21 “I feel if you have a bad game between the white lines, you have a E 22 right to be criticized. If you lose a game, drop a last-inning fly ball, 23 that’s their option. I don’t think sportswriters should get carried [75], (71) 24 away with what happens outside the white lines.” 25 Kingman claimed he actually respected some scribes during our 26 1992 interview. 27 “There are quite a few writers who I respect and enjoy reading and 28 who have become close friends,” he said. “But there are many, many 29 bad writers out there who will write their columns, never venture 30 into the clubhouse, and never make the effort to really get to know 31 somebody before they write their articles. These are the people I 32 don’t have any time for.” 33 At least Kingman was consistent from his high school days in the 34 mid-1960s. Bob Frisk, then sports editor of the Daily Herald, de- 35 scribed the youthful Kingman as “different,” performing in front 36 of an involved father whose schedule as a United Airlines executive 37 permitted him to attend a lot of Kingman’s baseball and basketball 38 games.

Not Baseball’s Golden Children 75

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 75 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “Dave never gave us any problems,” said Frisk, now assistant man- 2 aging editor at his paper. “Most of these high school athletes are so 3 anxious to talk to media. At that age, they jump at the chance to see 4 the media. I never had the idea that Dave really cared one way or 5 another. He was kind of aloof. You usually don’t see that in a high 6 school kid.” 7 Years later, at his Cubs peak, Lloyd Meyer, Kingman’s American 8 Legion coach, witnessed two moods of Kingman at different games 9 at Wrigley Field. 10 “The first game, he comes into the dugout, and I reach around 11 the corner, holler at him,” Meyer said. “You knew he recognized 12 my voice. He would not look up. I must have stood around for five 13 minutes before he turned around and said, ‘Hi.’ At another game [76], (72) 14 he asked me, ‘Where have you been all season?’ It was like Jekyll 15 and Hyde. I’ve never tried to figure him out. I like him. I’ve had bad Lines: 1014 to 1027 16 kids, and Dave was not a bad person.” 17 Imagine what Downey would have thought of Albert Belle had ——— 18 he covered him as often as he did Gibson. Downey wouldn’t have 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 been able to crack a joke. Belle was the scariest right-handed hitter Normal Page 20 in baseball through much of the 1990s—and also the scariest Major PgEnds: T X 21 Leaguer for media, public relations people, teammates, and even E 22 innocent fans to deal with. 23 By the time I crossed paths with Belle, his persona was so touchy [76], (72) 24 that any reporter steered as far away as possible from his presence. 25 About 9:50 a.m. one Sunday in 1998 at then new , 26 I arrived early to interview another White Sox player for a feature. 27 Few players had arrived yet. Spying Belle by his locker, I stood as 28 distant as clubhouse dimensions permitted. A tv set on the other 29 side of the clubhouse was tuned to espn’s The Sports Reporters, hosted 30 by . Somehow Belle had rabbit ears at this distance. He 31 strode quickly across the room, changed channels, and pronounced 32 to no one in particular, “We don’t need this shit.” 33 By then Belle had dished out much of the same to so many who 34 had crossed his path, and crossed him. Almost a baseball scientist, 35 a hitter passionate about his talent and naturally intelligent, Belle 36 started drifting off-kilter early in his career with the Cleveland In- 37 dians and just got worse with each passing year. 38 “He was a strange dude,” said longtime beat writer Paul Hoynes

76 Not Baseball’s Golden Children

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 76 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 of the Cleveland Plain Dealer. “When he first came up, there were 2 times you could talk to him. He could charm the birds off a tree. 3 He was a great guy. He was good to talk to, with good points of 4 view, points of view you didn’t expect. But there were times he was 5 an sob.” 6 Those times seemed to increase tenfold as the Indians revived 7 from their daffy Major League days of the late 1980s to become an 8 powerhouse by 1994. 9 Belle became baseball’s bad boy with constant incidents. He 10 corked his bat in 1994. Teammate Jason Grimsley heisted the in- 11 criminating evidence from the umpires’ room at new Comiskey Park 12 by crawling through a hole in the false ceiling. Belle verbally ac- 13 costed nbc’s and other media members who got too [77], (73) 14 close to him. Camera operators were menaced by him in tunnels 15 leading from the field to the clubhouse. He used his own vehicle to Lines: 1027 to 1041 16 chase some Halloween trick-or-treaters who got too mischievous 17 with him. Teammates complained that he turned the clubhouse ——— 18 thermostat down to near meat-locker levels; and he rolled-blocked 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 the Brewers’ Fernando Vina at second base at old County Stadium Normal Page 20 in Milwaukee, touching off some bad blood between the Brewers PgEnds: T X 21 and Indians. E 22 “He was the worst guy I ever covered, just a pain in the ass,” 23 Hoynes said. “I think he was a little crazy, but I also think there [77], (73) 24 was some calculation behind every move he made. He intimidated 25 people, he tried to bully people. The people he did that to were 26 those with no recourse—clubbies, clubhouse managers—just to get 27 off on it. He would try to get rises from people for on reason. 28 “But if you stood up to him, if you told him to stick a thumb in his 29 ear, he was okay with it. He just liked scaring people. After games, he 30 would make it a point to sit in front of his locker, face the reporters, 31 and glower at them. He’d dare you to go up and talk to him, and 32 then he’d tell you to go fuck off.” 33 Indians media relations chief Bart Swain became Belle’s long- 34 suffering handler, if you could call him that. 35 “For years I tried to get through to him,” Swain said. “Every time 36 he would try to improve his image, he would shoot himself in the 37 foot. An example is when he came up with a candy bar and didn’t 38 show up for his press conference.

Not Baseball’s Golden Children 77

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 77 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “He would use intimidation with media and people he considered 2 beneath him. I’ve never met anyone like him and I’ve never had a 3 bigger challenge. The challenge wasn’t to get him to talk, the chal- 4 lenge was to keep him out of the news.” 5 Swain sweated it out that Belle wouldn’t be in the police blotter 6 with the Indians defending lawsuits as a result of his actions. 7 “I had to make sure he didn’t throw a ball at a photographer or 8 push a writer,” he said. “I’ve had incidents at old Cleveland Stadium 9 from local tv cameramen he would cross paths with in the tunnel to 10 the clubhouse. He slammed them against the wall. There were no 11 witnesses, so he knew he could get away with it.” 12 Belle wrecked a potentially glittering image of a baseball master- 13 mind. [78], (74) 14 “He was a big student of the game,” Swain said. “He charted ev- 15 ery on index cards. He was very intelligent and smart. But Lines: 1041 to 1061 16 he was so intense with his pregame rituals. He was a slave to his 17 routine and you couldn’t approach him then. He was so much into ——— 18 his preparation that it affected what he did.” 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Swain had enough when Belle threatened Storm during the 1995 Normal Page 20 World Series. “He blamed me for having media in the dugout in PgEnds: T X 21 the World Series,” Swain said. “Media in the dugout in the World E 22 Series? Imagine that! After that World Series, we pretty much knew 23 he wasn’t coming back. He hasn’t talked with me since he was fined [78], (74) 24 in 1996 spring training, which we paid for.” 25 Belle helped drag down the entire Indians’ image, which is a cause 26 for regret for Swain since Cleveland should have been one of base- 27 ball’s feel-good stories at a time of horrific labor strife. 28 “In 1994–96, the image of our club was poor,” he said. “After he 29 left, the image began to improve as rose to the forefront. 30 Jim became a popular player, the most accessible guy on the team.” 31 Making life even more difficult for Hoynes and his colleagues 32 were the likes of and Kenny Lofton. 33 “Eddie just didn’t like dealing with the media, but was nice about 34 it,” Swain said. “I noticed that Kenny liked talking about anything 35 but baseball. And his locker was next to Albert’s. When he didn’t 36 talk, everyone went to Kenny. Other than Albert, I enjoyed being 37 around these guys.” 38 “It was a tough clubhouse in 1995,” Hoynes said. “Dennis Mar-

78 Not Baseball’s Golden Children

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 78 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 tinez, , Eddie Murray, Lofton, Albert. Orel was at 2 one end. He was working it. Dennis Martinez was worth a story 3 a day. He was always pissed off at somebody. Once Albert left, it 4 was like the whole clubhouse breathed a sigh of relief. It was always 5 Albert Belle and the Cleveland Indians. They were compared to the 6 Oakland Raiders and he was the Darth Vader of baseball. 7 “It kind of took of the club away. It should have been 8 the best baseball story in a decade after the Indians had forty years 9 of doing nothing.” 10 Belle moved on to the White Sox for the 1997 season. Amazingly 11 he began to open up ever so slightly for the traveling beat writers. 12 One night the Chicago Sun-Times’s Joe Goddard had a voice-mail 13 message in his hotel room. Belle had called him, desiring to talk. [79], (75) 14 Sure enough, the pair conversed. At other times Belle chatted in 15 groups. But the master batsman was the last guy the Sox needed to Lines: 1061 to 1079 16 play catch-up ball in their public-relations battle with the crosstown 17 Cubs. ——— 18 Belle faded from view after a few more injury-plagued seasons in 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Baltimore. He simply threw away a good thing. Normal Page 20 “He wouldn’t open himself up to the media and public,” Swain PgEnds: T X 21 said. “He could have owned Cleveland. His leaving Cleveland was E 22 met with so much disdain because he never opened himself to the 23 public.” [79], (75) 24 Somehow Milton Bradley took over where Belle left off in Cleve- 25 land. A talented but emotional outfielder, Bradley wore out his wel- 26 come at Jacobs Field in 2004. He landed with the Dodgers in mid- 27 season 2004. The change of scenery at first seemed to help. 28 “When he was acquired from Cleveland, Milton already had some 29 history,” then Dodgers bench coach Jim Riggleman said. “He had 30 problems with the manager. But he was a pretty good citizen for 31 us. He was not a problem in the clubhouse and got along with his 32 teammates.” 33 Bradley was susceptible to fits of anger, though. He threw a bag of 34 onto the field after an ejection and was suspended for four 35 games. “We made the point with him that we need you on the field,” 36 Riggleman said. “We handled it very professionally and privately.” 37 But during a late-season game against Colorado at Dodger Sta- 38 dium, Bradley fought fire with fire after a fan threw a plastic bottle

Not Baseball’s Golden Children 79

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 79 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 at him shortly after he made an that permitted two runs to 2 score. Bradley took the bottle and slammed it into the first row of 3 stands down the right-field line, just missing a fan, then went wild 4 on the field before being shooed into the clubhouse. 5 “That was so flagrant that Trace [Dodgers manager ] 6 had a long talk with him and said you need to get some help,” Rig- 7 gleman recalled. “This is something that’s beyond our expertise. 8 There were a lot of conversations privately with Trace to keep him 9 on board.” Bradley soon apologized for the bottle incident and said 10 he would seek help with anger management. 11 But the outfielder kept compounding his problems after he 12 returned from the suspension over the bottle incident for the 13 Dodgers-Cardinals National League Division Series. After an off- [80], (76) 14 day workout at Busch Stadium in St. Louis, Bradley talked to the 15 media, including beat writer Jason Reid. Cardi- Lines: 1079 to 1100 16 nals fans had booed Bradley in game one of the series, so Reid asked 17 Bradley about the catcalls. ——— 18 Irritated again, Bradley called Reid, who also was African Amer- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 ican, an “Uncle Tom.” “You’re a sellout.” Angered, Reid began Normal Page 20 yelling at Bradley. PgEnds: T X 21 A Fox Sports Net tv crew recorded the incident. But they caved E 22 in—without calling their office—and erased the tape upon the de- 23 mand of Dodgers public relations official John Olguin. [80], (76) 24 Bradley later told Los Angeles kcbs-tv that Reid kept pushing on 25 him. 26 “He was just one of those guys who wants to keep harping on it,” 27 Bradley claimed. “I told him what I felt about the situation and I 28 told him how I felt about how he was choosing to handle it.” Reid, 29 he added, “took offense to that and . . . started getting physical with 30 me.” The player claimed he began walking away “to leave the situ- 31 ation alone.” 32 Riggleman sided with Reid. 33 “He just said the magic words to Jason,” he said. “Jason was infu- 34 riated and was coming after him. To me it was over the edge. He’s 35 telling Jason he should [as a writer] be taking better care of him. 36 “I think Milton had just fair relations with the media in L.A. T. J. 37 Simers [Los Angeles Times columnist] was very sarcastic at the start, 38 but by the end of the season was getting along with him.”

80 Not Baseball’s Golden Children

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 80 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Bradley had more problems in L.A. in 2005, verbally tussling with 2 Jeff Kent. His tenure was merci- 3 fully ended with a trade to lower-key Oakland late in 2005. 4 Project ahead ten years. How many fans will have fond memories 5 of Milton Bradley? Perhaps he’ll mellow in the manner of Kingman 6 and Gibson. Kingman has attended a number of midwinter Cubs 7 Conventions since 1992, willingly signing hundreds of autographs, 8 posing for fans’ photos and, yes, even doing interviews. Gibson was 9 part of manager ’s staff in the Herculean effort to 10 revive the Tigers; hey, don’t all coaches this side of chew 11 the fat with media? Gibby was quite animated when I spoke to him [Last Page] 12 in Trammell’s office for half an hour in 2004. 13 But sometimes the old defiance shows through. Gibson declined [81], (77) 14 to chat about another subject in 2005. Bonds has said he’d simply 15 like to go off to a remote island and disappear after his career. Few Lines: 1100 to 1107 16 have heard from Belle or even want to after he called it quits. 17 The fans lose out due to their silence or petulance. In the end, ——— 18 baseball’s non–golden children have lost even more. 257.28pt PgVar ——— 19 Normal Page 20 21 PgEnds: TEX 22 23 [81], (77) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

Not Baseball’s Golden Children 81

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 81 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 SIX 4 5 6 LaTroy and Carl as Jekyll and Hyde 7 8 9 10 11 [First Page] 12 hen they’re at the apogee of their verbal skills, LaTroy 13 WHawkins and Carl Everett could be among baseball’s leaders [82], (1) 14 in the lively art of conversation. 15 But that high point is unpredictable in the lives of these two emo- Lines: 0 to 28 16 tional big leaguers who played on opposite sides of Chicago during 17 2004 and 2005, before Hawkins was traded from the Cubs to the ——— 18 and while Everett served as an outfielder and -0.5pt PgVar ——— 19 designated hitter for the White Sox. You could sit down and debate Normal Page 20 in long form the issues of the world with Hawkins and Everett. Or 21 they could dismiss you just as easily. PgEnds: TEX 22 Both veterans of highly charged confrontations with umpires, Hawkins and Everett sat down separately in midsummer 2004 to 23 [82], (1) 24 describe what makes them turn on and off their accessibility to the 25 media and, in turn, the baseball consuming public. 26 What emerged from the jawboning sessions are players thrust into celebrity status who want none of the trappings of the same. 27 Hawkins and Everett may be more sharp-edged in their public re- 28 lations stance than most of their fellow Major Leaguers. But their 29 explanations show a basic tenet: Athletes in many cases simply de- 30 sire to play their favorite sports, but not to have to deal with all the 31 ancillary duties that come with their new-found high profiles. 32 Hawkins and Everett also reveal a misunderstanding of the work- 33 ing style and motivations of the media that is prevalent among ath- 34 letes. It’s regrettable that they’ve sometimes thrown up barriers 35 between themselves and the media. Yet their words, tinged with 36 suspicion, can enlighten those baseball officials who truly care that 37 their highly paid charges properly represent their teams and their 38 sport.

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 82 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Hawkins beat me to the Wrigley Field dugout at 3:00 p.m. one 2 day, four hours before game time. I sent word into the still-closed 3 Cubs clubhouse that I had arrived, then ran around to the bench. 4 Hawkins already was sitting there. “I’m a punctual man,” he ex- 5 plained. 6 Eight miles south, Everett declined to talk pregame, as was his 7 custom upon arrival for his second tour of duty with the White Sox. 8 He would moderate that stance in 2005—and got himself in trou- 9 ble for controversial comments on social issues as a result of his ex- 10 panded access. For our chat, we finally decided on an emptying U.S. 11 Cellular Field locker room after a rare Saturday day game. As the 12 last of his teammates filed out of the locker room to enjoy an uncom- 13 mon night on the town, Everett sat down and held court without the [83], (2) 14 hint of a two-minute offense to wrap up the conversation. He had 15 been described as a good one-on-one talker by those who knew him Lines: 28 to 40 16 during his Houston Astros days. But his tenures in big markets like 17 New York and Boston were something entirely different. ——— 18 I wondered why each man couldn’t bottle such peaceful moments. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Hawkins was described by a fellow Cub as a “great teammate.” De- Normal Page 20 spite a string of controversies dating back to his Mets days, Everett PgEnds: T X 21 always is gainfully employed due to his switch-hitting skills. E 22 The same question I had posed to Barry Bonds in 1996 was put to 23 Everett. If you’re like Michael Jordan, who was decent to the media [83], (2) 24 with a pleasing public image much of his career, you’d make so much 25 more money, right? 26 “Be like Mike?” Everett answered a question with a question. 27 “Money doesn’t float everybody’s boat. You have your greedy play- 28 ers who want that attention. 29 “The people that are in contact with me know me. The rest of 30 it, it doesn’t matter to me. A lot of other guys who want that media 31 attention can’t go to the mall. I want to go outside and have people 32 leave me alone. My deal is I have the right to say no. If I don’t want 33 to sign your autograph, I’m not going to sign it. That’s what people 34 don’t understand. 35 “I’ve got a skill you don’t have. Don’t try to punish me because 36 you can’t do it. My time right now, I want to myself, I’m not giving 37 it to you. When I leave here, I don’t have to answer to nobody. I’m 38 not a ballplayer once I leave this ballpark. I’m only a ballplayer at

LaTroy and Carl as Jekyll and Hyde 83

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 83 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 the ballpark. When I leave here, I’m a human being. When I leave 2 this game, I don’t care if you remember me or not. Those guys I 3 compete against, they know who I am. I socialize with my small 4 group. I don’t care what they [the public] think about it.” 5 Both men feel they’re honest to a fault, a quality not possessed by 6 other players. 7 “I’m not a politician,” Hawkins said. “We have enough politicians 8 in the game. Believe me, we have enough. We have enough people 9 who candy-coat everything they say, make it look hunky-dory when 10 things aren’t hunky-dory. I don’t want to be one of those people.” 11 Everett never has applied sugar where he ended up using vine- 12 gar. In a 2005 magazine interview, he took a religious fundamental- 13 ist stance, criticizing gay lifestyles while proclaiming that dinosaurs [84], (3) 14 could not have existed, since they were not mentioned in the Bible. 15 “Guys are always worried about their image,” Everett said. “Then Lines: 40 to 56 16 they say things they shouldn’t say. Then they end up having to eat 17 their words. I’ve seen guys say things they shouldn’t have said to the ——— 18 media, that they should have only said to their teammates, and know 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 their teammates are saying, ‘I don’t really want to play with this guy, Normal Page 20 because he doesn’t want me as a teammate.’ A lot of guys they say PgEnds: T X 21 are great guys, they’re terrible guys. The majority of guys they say E 22 are bad guys are awesome guys, guys you want to hang with.” 23 Oddly enough, the kind of imagery Everett offered about the [84], (3) 24 ballplayer possessing a skill beyond the media person’s capability 25 ended up being chewed over in print and on tv and radio when 26 Hawkins uttered something similar during a bizarre June 7, 2004, 27 Wrigley Field news conference. On that day, Hawkins tried to sum 28 himself up when he was anointed Cubs closer after incumbent Joe 29 Borowski went down with a shoulder injury. The unusual train of 30 thought permanently damaged Hawkins’s relations with Chicago 31 media while ending up as grist for sports talk-show and column 32 satire. Much the same as Everett’s past style, it was a textbook ex- 33 ample of how not to handle yourself in public. 34 “I can do what you do,” Hawkins told the assembled, and aston- 35 ished, media. “You can’t do what I do.” 36 In the same breath, Hawkins announced he would not talk to the 37 media anymore—later amended to selective comments at his own 38 discretion.

84 LaTroy and Carl as Jekyll and Hyde

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 84 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “That’s why I did this,” he said at the press conference. “I’m com- 2 pletely done. Don’t hover around my locker. I’m not going to be the 3 guy to talk every day like Joe [Borowski]. I just want to do my job 4 and go home.” 5 Then Hawkins seemed to expect a response from the gathered 6 media. “All right?” he said. “I can’t hear you. All right?” 7 No one answered Hawkins. The press conference ended. Hawk- 8 ins exited stage left. Weeks later, he had calmed down when we chat- 9 ted in the dugout. 10 “I talk when I feel like talking,” he said. “The more you talk to the 11 media, the more chance you have to be taken out of context. They 12 switch little words around and make it seem like you’re happy, make 13 it seem totally in a different way than you said it. [85], (4) 14 “I’m my own person. I handle things totally different than a lot of 15 other people. It was the way I was raised. I pretty much am similar to Lines: 56 to 72 16 my mom in a lot of the ways she handled things. She was reserved, 17 but she said what was on her mind. Good or bad, she was going to ——— 18 say it. But she said she doesn’t bother anybody. I’m the same way. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 I don’t bother nobody. I don’t want you bothering me. Just let me Normal Page 20 do my job and let me go home to my family.” PgEnds: T X 21 Hawkins, a native of Gary, Indiana, came home when he signed E 22 with the Cubs, who play thirty-five miles up the road. He knew he’d 23 jumped up far in class from middle-market Minneapolis–St. Paul to [85], (4) 24 world-class Chicago. But he did not want to shout for joy when he 25 saved his first game as a Cub earlier in 2004, claiming he would call 26 those friends and relatives who needed to know rather than sit for 27 an interview. 28 “You’ve got to take the good with the bad as a celebrity,” he said. 29 “I don’t want to be a celebrity. But I have to come to the conclusion 30 that since I came to Chicago I’m sorta, kind of, am a celebrity. I 31 don’t like it. It doesn’t matter what position you are with the Cubs, 32 you’re a Cub. In Minnesota, you can hover up under the radar. Here 33 you can’t hover up under the radar. Everything you do is above the 34 radar. That comes with the territory. I’m slowly learning to deal 35 with it.” 36 Ballplayers cannot deny they are celebrities, Everett said. 37 “That’s what we are,” he said. “We are entertainers. We entertain 38 our audience. We have skills others don’t have. That’s another thing

LaTroy and Carl as Jekyll and Hyde 85

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 85 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 fans don’t understand. You don’t boo guys who can’t play, because 2 they’re not going to do anything anyway. If a movie sucks, you don’t 3 see it. If a player sucks, you don’t see him. If a guy can’t play, don’t 4 pay him no mind.” 5 But whether they play in Chicago, Boston, or smaller markets 6 such as Tampa Bay or Kansas City, players like Hawkins and Everett 7 will end up with unwelcome notoriety, leading off the highlights on 8 SportsCenter, should they stumble into controversy. 9 Everett’s career was perhaps the most stormy of any active big 10 leaguer. A calm, measured man during our interview, his temper 11 has gotten the best of him too many times. 12 His two children were temporarily removed from his custody, 13 [86], (5) amid charges of child abuse, while he was a Met in 1994. Everett 14 engaged in shouting matches with triple-A manager Sal Rende, Red 15 Sox manager , and pitching coach Joe Kerrigan, Red Lines: 72 to 87 16 Sox teammate Darren Lewis, and Boston Globe columnist Dan 17 ——— Shaughnessy. He went into the stands after fans once and got upset 18 13.0pt PgVar on a commercial plane flight. ——— 19 Everett was lucky he didn’t draw long suspensions after run-ins Normal Page 20 21 with umpires. He made an obscene gesture at Larry Poncino. His * PgEnds: Eject 22 most famous duel was with Ron Kulpa in 2000. Kulpa accused Ev- erett’s foot of being illegally outside the batter’s box. Everett ap- 23 [86], (5) 24 peared to head-butt Kulpa. A year later, Mariners pitcher Jamie 25 Moyer also complained of the positioning of Everett’s feet in the 26 batter’s box. Moyer hit Everett with a pitch, prompting the out- 27 fielder to holler at Moyer and point twice to the Fenway Park 28 bleachers. Two at bats later, Everett homered off Moyer. As he 29 rounded the bases, Everett grabbed his crotch and spit in the di- 30 rection of the mound. 31 The incidents are a matter of public record that Everett cannot 32 deny. That said, he insists he was inflamed even further by what he 33 claims is the only “unfair” media market in which he has played. 34 “It’s unfair for the entire team for what that particular media is 35 trying to do,” Everett said. “They don’t want that team to win. They 36 always want a division in the clubhouse. I didn’t talk to the media, 37 but I had quotes every day. They made them up. Nobody cares when 38 it’s a guy they’re trying to bring down.”

86 LaTroy and Carl as Jekyll and Hyde

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 86 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Life has been calmer for Everett once Red Sox gm Dan Duquette 2 dispatched him from Boston, the most intense media town in the 3 majors. He was rightly roasted for his actions. No doubt he has ma- 4 tured since then, helped out by the spotlight being off him in such 5 low-key media markets as Chicago’s South Side with the White Sox, 6 Dallas–Fort Worth, and Montreal. But he still has a hard line toward 7 those who cover him. 8 “People would not buy the paper if they just wrote what went on 9 in the game,” he said. “You guys come in here, ask a question to a 10 guy who hit a home run. What were you thinking when you were 11 at the plate? Well, same thing I’m always thinking. I was trying to 12 make solid contact. 13 “Criticism is different than lying. No one has to explain if you’ve [87], (6) 14 messed up in a game. This game is tough. Someone who hasn’t 15 played can’t be critical in that area [hitting fundamentals] because Lines: 87 to 102 16 they have no idea what they’re talking about. Guys go into a slump 17 because of that or that, how would you know? You never played, ——— 18 you never swung a bat, you never faced a ninety-five-mile-per-hour 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 fastball.” Normal Page 20 Hawkins was far more low-key until the afternoon of July 21, PgEnds: T X 21 2004. Only minutes after serving up two ninth-inning Cardinals E 22 homers, including Albert Pujols’s third of the game and twenty- 23 sixth this season, Hawkins began jawing with plate Tim [87], (6) 24 Tschida over two disputed pitches that were called inside. The con- 25 versation got more heated, so Hawkins was ejected. The reliever 26 started to lunge at Tschida while Cubs manager Dusty Baker tried 27 to hold him back. Baker was not successful. Four of Baker’s coaches 28 joined in and barely prevented the straining Hawkins from getting 29 to Tschida. The five-on-one struggle was a draw for a few seconds 30 before Hawkins finally was wrestled back to the dugout and into the 31 clubhouse runway. 32 Hawkins had no media boycott afterward. He calmly described 33 what he believed was an affront from Tschida from an August 16, 34 2002, incident at the Metrodome, when the umpire supposedly told 35 Hawkins to move his bullpen chair into foul territory. 36 “He doesn’t like me, plain and simple,” Hawkins said at the time. 37 “I didn’t curse at him or nothing. He threw me out of the game.” 38 Hawkins said his blowup had nothing to do with being charged

LaTroy and Carl as Jekyll and Hyde 87

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 87 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 with the loss after serving up the homers to Pujols with a man on 2 and to Reggie Sanders in the three-run Cardinals inning. 3 “The damage was already done,” he said. “They hit two home 4 runs. Fine. I’ve always said you can hit me and beat me. I’ve got no 5 problem with that. Not when I was throwing the ball, two pitches 6 down the middle.” 7 Tschida denied holding a grudge against Hawkins. 8 “I would say his imagination is a little fertile,” Tschida said. 9 Hawkins should have been able to fight through such negatives. 10 He wanted to sign with the Cubs, for whom he rooted growing up 11 in Gary. He took a salary concession to come to Wrigley Field. But 12 Hawkins almost proved that you cannot come home again in 2004. 13 “Coming home to play definitely was one of those moments in [88], (7) 14 my life that I’m very proud of,” he said. “My family was very excited 15 about it. I grew up a Cubs fan. Being a fan, I’ve been through all the Lines: 102 to 122 16 ups and downs with the players and organization.” 17 But Hawkins did not like the questions posed during his intro- ——— 18 ductory press conference as a Cub. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 “When I got here, the first day I came into controversy,” he said. Normal Page 20 “Me coming over here as a setup man and [Joe] Borowski was the PgEnds: T X 21 closer. Word got out that I had in my contract [additional] money E 22 for games finished. The first question they asked in the news confer- 23 ence was about me coming to be the closer and taking Joe Borowski’s [88], (7) 24 job. 25 “I told them I’m not coming to take the closer’s job, I’m coming 26 here to set up Joe and help the team win, to make Borowski’s job 27 easier. I felt from day one they were trying to drive a wedge be- 28 tween Borowski and myself, and we were determined not to let that 29 happen. They kept trying, and it got to the point where I thought 30 I should tell them how I thought about them, period. Because they 31 were wrong, totally wrong, in what they were trying to do. What 32 they were trying to do was sell newspapers. 33 “That was the straw that broke the camel’s back, from the start. 34 They kept prying at it. It was total disrespect to Joe. He was trying 35 to pitch through the pain.” 36 Hawkins’s homecoming truly turned nightmarish down the 2004 37 stretch. Up two games in the loss column with nine games to go 38 in the National League’s wild-card race, the Cubs simply stopped

88 LaTroy and Carl as Jekyll and Hyde

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 88 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 hitting, losing seven of those games and being eliminated from the 2 postseason on the next to last day of the season. Hawkins com- 3 pounded the misery by blowing saves in two of the losses, to the 4 Mets and Reds. Immediately after the season, in an analysis of the 5 roster, Chicago Tribune beat writer Paul Sullivan, never a Hawkins 6 favorite, termed the reliever a “serial clubhouse killer.” 7 Hawkins, though, already had taken shots at those he deemed ir- 8 responsible. 9 “Some guys are just lowdown, dirty snakes-in-the-grass,” he said. 10 “They’re never writing things that pertain to baseball or good things 11 about the team. They’re always looking for the negative things. You 12 see guys every day, you have to figure they’d write something pos- 13 itive about somebody. Or something that’s true. You can’t always [89], (8) 14 write bad stuff. 15 “I’m a good judge of character. I do a lot of observing. I go out to Lines: 122 to 140 16 the places people go and I people-watch. I check out my surround- 17 ings, I observe people.” ——— 18 Hawkins apparently did not do a good enough job observing me- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 dia covering him. Only a minority were out to do any character as- Normal Page 20 sassination. But his suspicious nature got the best of him when he PgEnds: T X 21 decided to zip his lips the majority of media-access time. E 22 Despite his stormy Boston past, Everett had a slightly more mod- 23 erate view of the media. However, his definition of “fair” might be [89], (8) 24 different than those who cover him. 25 “All media aren’t bad, all aren’t out to write a bad story and make 26 a name for themselves,” Everett said. “My thing is I’ll talk to any- 27 one who is fair. Once you lie, once you make something up, I have 28 nothing to talk to you about. That’s all the Boston media has ever 29 done. 30 “The media doesn’t stop my performance. A lot of stuff about 31 athletes and entertainers is made up. We as a public society have 32 always been brainwashed [by media]. We believe everything we read 33 and everything we see.” 34 Hawkins’s claim that he could do the reporters’ job, but they 35 couldn’t pitch, was based on a Web site to which he occasionally 36 contributed. Oddly enough, he said he might work the same way 37 the reporters he criticized did if he could put himself in their shoes. 38 “If I was in your guys’ position,” he said, “and I had a boss and

LaTroy and Carl as Jekyll and Hyde 89

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 89 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 deadlines and what the people want to hear about, I’d be like 50 2 percent of all of you—screw the players. Everybody’s under orders, 3 everyone has a boss, unless you own your own company. 4 “I got a job to do. They’re [the media] not going to pay my salary. 5 But you have to know there are repercussions. You might not get the 6 access to all the other guys in the clubhouse. You’ve got to take the 7 good with the bad. You all got a job to do. Remember, if you never 8 say anything positive, it will be tough to get interviews, very tough.” 9 Everett does not necessarily believe the theory that without the 10 media he would not have the high profile and affluence he enjoys. 11 “It works both ways,” he said. “Without us, they wouldn’t have 12 their jobs. When you talk about needing each other, you may need 13 each other to a degree. At the same time, never [90], (9) 14 talks to the media. Manny’s one of the top players in the game. His 15 performance on the field continues to get him a job. He’s shown the Lines: 140 to 154 16 world, ‘I don’t need you, I can play.’ ” 17 But the media isn’t going away anytime soon. Hawkins realizes ——— * 18 that fact. Any good image he enjoys with the fans is media driven. 140.28pt PgVar ——— 19 “They [media] play a big role,” he said. “People read the papers, Normal Page 20 they listen to the radio. They don’t know you personally, so they go * PgEnds: PageBreak 21 by what they read. They may have a misconception of you way off 22 the charts. Or they can wait till they meet you. Usually they go by 23 what the media writes about you.” [90], (9) 24 Understanding that fact is the first step. But achieving peace and 25 harmony for 162 games often is a challenge for Hawkins, Everett, 26 and other wary types akin to making the jump from triple-A to the 27 Major Leagues. 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

90 LaTroy and Carl as Jekyll and Hyde

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 90 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 SEVEN 4 5 6 A Lot Less Chewin’ the Fat with Managers 7 8 9 10 11 12 he manager’s office was the last cracker-barrel outpost in 13 Tbaseball. Now the cracker barrels are going the way of the one- [91], (10) 14 dollar bleacher ticket. Instead, it’s the interview room or a Tokyo– 15 subway-style packed dugout session. Lines: 154 to 172 16 Before managers’ communications with the outside world became 17 ritually stage-managed, they talked to their public in little alcoves ——— 18 tucked underneath the stands at ballparks, where the homilies of 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 the game would be dispensed. Half-dressed, mouths full of chaw, Normal Page 20 baseball’s skippers, or pilots, or whatever the convenient nickname PgEnds: T X 21 for manager was, held court one-on-one, or in intimate groups, to E 22 give at least the semi-inside tales of their teams and opponents. Sto- 23 rytelling was part of the package for the most adept conversational- [91], (10) 24 ists. 25 Part of a manager’s daily routine was to deal with the media and, 26 in turn, the fans. He usually was the front man for his franchise. 27 Even a people-politics-challenged chap like former Cubs general 28 manager Larry Himes said media relations was one of his three top 29 requirements for a manager. 30 Before the days of the onslaught of broadcasting crews with their 31 equipment, managers gabbed with writers as informally as possible. 32 If not in their offices, they’d lean back in the dugout to hold court. 33 Or they’d lean against the cage during batting practice for shorter 34 bursts of jabber. It was a time-honored tradition for this conduit 35 of information and opinion. The daily relationship of baseball em- 36 ployee to media messenger to fan depended upon it. 37 Some were masters at this game. could talk all 38 day if someone would let him in his incarnations as Reds and Tigers

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 91 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 manager. The inquiring media mind could get Sparky in a group, 2 or one-on-one, and walk away with more quotes and insight than 3 he could use. 4 was another favorite in such circumstances. “Pop- 5 eye” was a rougher version of Anderson. Get him agitated, and his 6 eyes would bulge like some kind of 1950s American International 7 sci-fi flick fiend. But several sessions with Zimmer produced some 8 surprising material. In a 1990 one-on-one in his Wrigley Field of- 9 fice, Zimmer said he did not have a metal plate in his head as com- 10 monly perceived. Instead Zimmer said he had a set of metal “but- 11 tons” that had held an old skull injury together from a 1953 beaning. 12 Furthermore Zimmer said, when he awoke from being stunned, he 13 thought it was the next day. His wife, Soot, told him it was an entire [92], (11) 14 week. Zimmer displayed his human, almost softer side here. Amaz- 15 ing how nine years later, spying my radio microphone near the right Lines: 172 to 181 16 side of his face in the U.S. Cellular Field’s visitors’ dugout, he sud- 17 denly bellowed, “I’ve been telling you to stay the hell away from me ——— 18 for the last fifteen years!” Whatever I had done to peeve Zimmer in 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 the ensuing years must have been incredibly subtle. If that was the Normal Page 20 case for me, how could it not have been for him, too? PgEnds: T X 21 Such outbursts notwithstanding, chewin’ the fat with managers E 22 was one of the most pleasurable aspects of covering baseball, which 23 included drawbacks like rain delays, extra-inning marathons, ninety- [92], (11) 24 five-degree days in underventilated, non-air-conditioned press 25 boxes and tiny interview rooms, and the end of free bratwursts with 26 their secret stadium sauce at Miller Park in Milwaukee. And the 27 ability to get up close and personal with the managers, getting to 28 know them on a first-name basis, was crucial to understanding the 29 psyche of a team, and why it won or lost. 30 The example that stood head and shoulders above the rest was 31 Jim Riggleman, who had a five-year run as Cubs manager following 32 his three seasons running the Padres. Riggleman would dutifully do 33 his group interviews during batting practice and after the game. But 34 the one-on-one sessions with him about once a month in his office 35 provided a comfort zone when I was not a traveling writer (who 36 receive the prime access available in a caste-conscious sport). 37 Riggleman provided such a good analysis of the Cubs that I did 38 not have to agitate myself trying to pry information out of semi-

92 A Lot Less Chewin’ the Fat with Managers

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 92 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 communicative general manager . But he did not give 2 away the entire store. I did not know for several months that he 3 verbally jumped both outfielder Lance Johnson and catcher Benito 4 Santiago, both of whom Riggleman believed were jaking it during 5 a massive midsummer collapse in 1999. Accused of being soft, al- 6 most milquetoast by columnists and sports-talk-show gabbers, Rig- 7 gleman was quietly tough—and rightly kept conflicts private. 8 “Sometimes things have to get real bad before things straighten 9 out,” he said. 10 Riggleman’s relations with the media were so good that when he 11 first returned to Chicago as a Cleveland Indians coach in 2000, after 12 being fired the previous fall as Cubs manager, he spent a full ninety 13 minutes receiving print and broadcast well-wishers in the visitors [93], (12) 14 dugout at U.S. Cellular Field. 15 “All of those writers who spent time with me meant a lot to me,” Lines: 181 to 196 16 he said. “I left on good terms with [Cubs management] and the 17 writers. ——— 18 “There were a couple of things I was taught when I started manag- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 ing [in the Cardinals farm system in the early 1980s]. George Kissell Normal Page 20 said something to me that always stuck with me: Treat people the PgEnds: T X 21 way you want to be treated. George was referring to players. I re- E 22 alized that everyone there is a piece of the machinery that makes it 23 go. People like ticket takers and the grounds crew. Everyone has a [93], (12) 24 job to do. 25 “I treat people with respect. You don’t be rude. I like talking base- 26 ball. I did not feel offended when anyone brought up a baseball ques- 27 tion. The thing I liked was the stuff I would not only do in my office 28 but also on the field. It has as much to do with common courtesy 29 as anything. You learn to deal with increasing numbers of media as 30 you move up. In the minors, there’s one writer in your office after 31 the game. Quite often there’s nobody in there. You do want to talk 32 about your club, so you’re not irritated when you make it to the ma- 33 jors. It’s a gradual process that’s an accepted part of the job coming 34 up through the minor leagues. 35 “In today’s world, the issue of the media comes up. They’re 36 thought of by some as sob’s. It’s immediately assumed it’s an adver- 37 sarial relationship—a lot by managers. But you guys are not coming 38 to the ballpark thinking you’re going to rip people.”

A Lot Less Chewin’ the Fat with Managers 93

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 93 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Amazingly, had possessed some of the same 2 thoughts even after going through the dual media grinders of man- 3 aging the Philadelphia Phillies and . 4 “You try to treat people right and you hope they treat you right 5 in return,” Francona said. “Everybody has a job to do. I don’t wake 6 up in the morning and run to the newspaper to see what they said 7 about me. I just do my job. I show up early, prepare as best as I can, 8 and live with the results. If I let things on the periphery skew my 9 thinking, then I’m probably in the wrong job. 10 “I don’t have a problem with writers or media asking questions. 11 That’s their job. If I don’t have a good answer, then I’m not doing 12 my job. The more the [media] onslaught, that means there’s interest. 13 That’s good. It’s my responsibility to handle it and move on.” [94], (13) 14 Almost all managers’ stances are in the same ballpark. However, 15 the chewin’-the-fat era is giving way quickly to a more homogenized Lines: 196 to 209 16 system in which the manager is only available in large group settings. 17 Sensitive or tough questions—best asked one-on-one so as to not ——— 18 offend sensibilities or put someone truly on the spot—now have to 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 be risked for his larger audience. All the while, a media-relations Normal Page 20 official usually monitors the proceedings. If the manager does not PgEnds: T X 21 answer these queries or even shuts down the mass talkfest, another E 22 flow of information that has been present in the game for ages is cut 23 off from the baseball consumers. [94], (13) 24 Perhaps Riggleman spoiled me. Witnessing what followed him 25 both in Chicago and in the game overall, I realized he probably was 26 the exception instead of the rule. 27 turned out to be the anti-Riggleman as his successor. 28 Personally a decent man, Baylor did not encourage long sessions 29 with the media or one-on-one confabs in his office or around the 30 batting cage. 31 Baylor seemed to be leaning to exit, stage left, during his pregame 32 sessions in front of the Cubs dugout. One time I asked him all 33 three questions during a media talk, which were usually scheduled 34 early before batting practice, as if to get them out of the way. Af- 35 ter one Sunday game in 2000, I asked Baylor—then standing on the 36 steps leading to his office—the first question: Why did he leave wild 37 lefty reliever Daniel Garibay in to walk in the winning run during 38 the tenth inning? The answer was what I thought it would be—his

94 A Lot Less Chewin’ the Fat with Managers

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 94 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 bullpen had been worn out and Baylor had no choice but to keep 2 going with Garibay. But then I kept silent, as a courtesy, to wait 3 for a follow-up question from the collection of young tv producers 4 who had gathered around me with their camera operators. None 5 was forthcoming, so Baylor started to turn around to walk back to 6 his office before several other writers arrived to pull him back. 7 Usually managers announce big news at the start of a media ses- 8 sion, pre- or postgame. Halfway through a postgame conference 9 in August 2001, I asked Baylor if consideration was being given to 10 putting pitcher Kerry Wood on the disabled list. He replied in the 11 affirmative—Wood was being disabled immediately. But would he 12 have made the announcement on his own? 13 One or two brief encounters in the manager’s office revealed that [95], (14) 14 Baylor wasn’t all that enamored with top management. But I could 15 not get the true measure of the man, like Riggleman. Keeping with Lines: 209 to 220 16 their style, none of the traveling Cubs writers tried to cultivate a 17 one-on-one relationship even given their additional exposure on the ——— 18 road, where they did not have to compete with electronic media for 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Baylor’s time. The night before he was fired in July 2002, Baylor Normal Page 20 finally confessed to an reporter in Atlanta that he PgEnds: T X 21 felt undercut by the lack of support he received the previous Octo- E 22 ber, when he fired pitching coach Oscar Acosta. He made no such 23 statement a few minutes previously in his pregame group interview [95], (14) 24 with the traveling writers. 25 Wondering why Baylor appeared standoffish when he broke in 26 to the majors under old-school manager in Baltimore, 27 he had an interesting response. He later played for manager Dave 28 Garcia in Anaheim, “who spent more time with the media than his 29 players, and the players resented him for that.” 30 Riggleman saw both sides. “The Garcia comment was good,” he 31 said. “Players can’t feel you’re spending so much time in the office 32 with the press. But you can do both. You can spend time with the 33 press and be out with the players. If you start giving short, curt an- 34 swers, they’ll [media] resent it.” 35 If access to Baylor was fettered, it diminished further when Dusty 36 Baker took over as manager in 2003. Possessor of the top Chicago 37 celebrity manager’s ranking since Leo Durocher, Baker had one 38 group media session before the game, either in the dugout or the

A Lot Less Chewin’ the Fat with Managers 95

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 95 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 cramped interview room just inside from the dugout. Media inter- 2 rogators had to throw any hardballs and feature material in this mix 3 along with the garden-variety questions. 4 Baker, who was glibber than Baylor, used a verbal technique to 5 fend off some questions. He’d respond with another question, per- 6 sonally directed at the reporter, even trying to put the latter on the 7 spot. The old Marine reservist possessed a disarming technique. 8 Some of the questions were best asked one-on-one in private, 9 but Baker afforded little such access. So before one night game in 10 midseason 2004, I asked the manager if his team, which was run- 11 ning the bases like a bunch of drunken sailors, needed a “remedial” 12 course in base running. Baker objected to the use of the word “re- 13 medial,” apparently believing it was the equivalent of the old dunce [96], (15) 14 cap or being sent to the corner in school. Hours later, Corey Pat- 15 terson and Aramis Ramirez then went out to commit base-running Lines: 220 to 230 16 blunders in the same inning. The next morning, I prepared to ask 17 a follow-up question on base running. Baker sensed the subject and ——— 18 launched a preemptive strike. “You’re not going to bring up that re- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 medial stuff?” he said. Not being a Johnny Carson–style ad-libber, Normal Page 20 I bumbled a response. “What should I call it, Little League?” I said. PgEnds: T X 21 “Now you’re out of line,” Baker said. The exchange was deemed E 22 entertaining enough be rerun numerous times the next three days 23 on all-sports -Radio. [96], (15) 24 During spring training 2005, I slipped into Baker’s office at Fitch 25 Park in Mesa to suggest that such questions best be asked away 26 from the group setting. Baker understood the concept, but made no 27 promises. I wasn’t the only one who could not hang around the man- 28 ager’s office, the furnishings of which had been upgraded since Rig- 29 gleman’s day with photos of luminaries ranging from 30 to John Lee Hooker. Still, the very concept of one-on-one with the 31 manager had worked well on a limited basis with Baker. Around 32 the batting cage before game seven of the 2003 National League 33 Championship Series, with very little pregame access for any re- 34 porter other than staged press conferences, Baker admitted that he 35 had shortened his battered and increasingly injured bullpen. In the 36 same location, more than a month after the 2004 “remedial” tiff, he 37 shed some important light on the quietly deteriorating 38 situation before it mushroomed into a full-blown issue.

96 A Lot Less Chewin’ the Fat with Managers

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 96 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 If trying to get in Baker’s head was a challenge, imagine the labors 2 of beat writers, who were under the gun to pro- 3 duce scoops even though they could only talk to manager 4 in one big pregame scrum. Torre’s pregame movements around 5 ballparks were minded so closely by Yankees officials that no me- 6 dia person could steal time with him without being questioned or 7 preempted. 8 Given the restricted access to Baker, Torre, and other managers, 9 the continued presence of and Jack McKeon in the game 10 in 2005 was refreshing. These two managers were both old-school 11 and media savvy. McKeon, in fact, mingled with the media into the 12 wee hours at the postgame parties outside Pro Player Stadium dur- 13 ing the 2003 nlcs. He even ascended the bandstand to try out his [97], (16) 14 singing voice. 15 “I talk to anybody,” said McKeon, who would depart the Marlins Lines: 230 to 250 16 job after 2005. “I think it’s my job to visit with you guys and give 17 you some time. If I can help you do your job, I feel good about it. ——— 18 “I’m different. I like to be with the writers, tell stories, talk base- 2.19977pt PgVar ——— 19 ball. That’s the way it should be. But today we don’t have that men- tality. You want to protect guys. But you also want to sell [baseball]. Normal Page 20 We’re salesmen. They [the team] don’t stop me. I do what I want 21 PgEnds: TEX to do [with the media]. I take a lot of stuff on my own.” 22 Cox is found lounging on the bench before most Braves games, 23 and not just for a few minutes. He’s open for business. [97], (16) 24 “It’s easier that way rather than getting into a room with fifty or 25 sixty people at one time, and then it turns into a real news confer- 26 ence,” Cox said. “I like the informal, bs a little bit, go off-the-record 27 a little bit, tell a few stories, laugh. When you have those big things 28 in those closed rooms, it’s not as much fun for either the writers or 29 the managers. 30 “It’s fun. Writers are good people. They’re like umpires. Some- 31 times you disagree with them, but they’re good people.” 32 Cox said his style is easier to achieve in a smaller market. “It’s easy 33 for managers [in a big market] to do it all at one time,” he said. “In 34 a smaller market, you make yourself available on the bench anytime 35 you want.” 36 An open manager often translates into an open clubhouse. The 37 Braves have been one of the best locker rooms in the game while 38 Cox ran the show, since 1990.

A Lot Less Chewin’ the Fat with Managers 97

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 97 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “You’d prefer that,” he said. “You try to do your research. That’s 2 kept a lot of players off a lot of teams, to be honest. You might be a 3 good player but a bad apple. Maybe he doesn’t fit on our team, he’ll 4 fit somewhere else. We’ll try to make it as happy as we can and as 5 enjoyable for a player. 6 “You want to let players have a voice and be themselves. But you 7 have the last say. Everybody has a job to do, and we need to make 8 ourselves as accessible as possible. It’s free advertising for the game 9 of baseball. It’s part of our job.” 10 A manager who values character on an equal plane as talent is the 11 Twins’ Ron Gardenhire. 12 “If it’s questionable makeup, we’ll pass on a guy because it doesn’t 13 fit our clubhouse,” he said. “We want our players to understand [98], (17) 14 other people have a job to do, too. 15 “People want to know what you’re like. We have an obligation to Lines: 250 to 266 16 let you do your job. As long as you don’t overstep the boundaries, do 17 your job as much as you want to do. I think personal life is off-limits ——— 18 unless the player volunteers [information]. Their privacy should be 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 respected. But we are in the limelight.” Normal Page 20 Another media-friendly manager is the Astros’ . PgEnds: T X 21 Known as “Scrap Iron” for his hustling style as a 1970s infielder E 22 before he went on to manage the Brewers and Tigers before his 23 Houston gig, Garner understands that unfavorable stories some- [98], (17) 24 times have to be authored about him or his ball club. 25 “One of the first things I learned in managing is that if some 26 stories are painful and critical, if the story is documented and the 27 reporter worked to get the truth, then I have to deal with it,” he 28 said. “It’s not something you get angry about. One of the reasons I 29 have a good relationship with Tom Haudricourt [of the Milwaukee 30 Journal Sentinel] is he wrote some tough stories, but they were well- 31 rounded. He never wrote anything that was hearsay and threw it 32 out there to see if there was anything to it. I may not like that, but I 33 respect it.” 34 Garner understands that the print media is held to a higher stan- 35 dard because its representatives face the players on a daily basis. 36 “You better have backup,” he said. “You better corroborate your 37 story.” 38 He also realizes the pressure that other outlets face in building

98 A Lot Less Chewin’ the Fat with Managers

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 98 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 ratings or readership. That will be as much a managerial headache 2 as his closer failing in a save situation. 3 “What I’ve seen from different media outlets is they want the 4 in-your-face style of reporting, to push the envelope a little bit,” 5 Garner said. “What is controversial or creates controversy. Go back 6 to the twenties or thirties, media was part of the marketing arm of 7 clubs. Since then we’ve gone from one extreme to another extreme. 8 Some media might be on a mission to destroy what might be good 9 about some things. That’s what I see—taking something and twist- 10 ing it a little bit.” 11 A lot of the twisting would be done during crisis times, when man- 12 agers are especially tested on and off the field. A total of 119 losses 13 and an old-line franchise in free fall must have been galling to Alan [99], (18) 14 Trammell as a rookie Detroit Tigers manager in 2003—and former 15 team leader of Detroit’s champions. Then there Lines: 266 to 280 16 was the media to face before and after each disaster. 17 “I handled it to the best of my ability,” Trammell said. “Whatever ——— 18 profession, anybody just came to you and only wanted to talk to you 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 about bad things, negative things, it gets old. I knew that was part Normal Page 20 of the deal. What were they going to talk about?” PgEnds: T X 21 At least Trammel had good training. E 22 “I think I was brought up well, taught by the best—Sparky An- 23 derson,” he said. “Sparky taught us to not duck the media. If you [99], (18) 24 don’t want to talk to them, tell them and then leave. Don’t run and 25 hide or leave early. Thankfully, I listened.” 26 While there are still some cracker-barrel adherents among the 27 rampant choreographing of managers, made life more 28 difficult for the always-inquisitive Philadelphia media in his four 29 seasons as Phillies manager that ended in 2004. Although he played 30 under old-school managers like , , and 31 , Bowa’s bantam-rooster personality and built-in para- 32 noia created conflict with those who covered him. 33 “I think early on he tried,” said Paul Hagen, ace national baseball 34 writer for the Philadelphia Daily News. “But, remember, this is a guy 35 who on the day he was hired proudly announced several times, ‘I will 36 lie to the media.’ That’s not exactly the best way to get a relationship 37 started. And since the perception that [predecessor Terry] Francona 38 had been too cozy with the writers, he went to the opposite extreme.

A Lot Less Chewin’ the Fat with Managers 99

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 99 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 At the beginning of his first spring training, we weren’t even allowed 2 into his office to do our daily morning updates. We had to stand 3 outside the clubhouse, even when it was raining. So I think he drew 4 a line in the sand early.” 5 Bowa, who worked as an espn baseball analyst after his firing, be- 6 fore latching on as Yankees bench coach, responded that the media 7 often comes to work with an agenda or in search of conflict. 8 “If you just give the details of the game, it’s boring,” he said. 9 “They’d much rather have a player and manager not getting along 10 with each other, a pitcher and pitching coach not getting along with 11 each other. It’s a shame. All over baseball, you always had one or two 12 guys not liking the manager or pitching coach, and nobody made a 13 big deal of it. [100], (19) 14 “I know how it [media] works. One thing I really dislike is the 15 ‘unidentified source’ or ‘unnamed player.’ I’m not one. If I have Lines: 280 to 297 16 something to say, I’ll say it. Anybody can put that on any article.” 17 Bowa claimed that today’s baseball journalists do not seek out ——— * 18 one-on-one relationships with managers or players. 23.35pt PgVar ——— 19 “I don’t think they want that relationship,” he said, “because if Normal Page 20 they have a chance to take a shot, they’ll take a shot. If you have * PgEnds: PageBreak 21 a close relationship, they might back off. I’m not going to do that 22 [work with the manager] and get beat by two other writers. I’m not 23 going to give them ‘A’ material, controversy.” [100], (19) 24 Standing in while taking media fire is the mark of a stout-hearted 25 manager, Riggleman said. 26 “Jim Tracy is unbelievable,” he said of his former boss on the 27 Dodgers, now the Pirates manager. “T. J. Simers [Los Angeles Times 28 columnist] went out of his way to make smart-ass comments about 29 Tracy. His schtick is sarcasm. But Jim handled it tremendously. He’s 30 a brilliant guy. He’ll be guarded, but he’ll give you the time.” 31 And in the end, that’s all the messengers to the public want. 32 Enough time to pick a manager’s brain and then judge his heart and 33 soul. Press conferences with sharp-eyed and -eared minders don’t 34 accomplish this task. Baseball can’t reverse the hands of time. But it 35 ought to try, because cracker barrels are pretty cozy, and conversa- 36 tion pieces to boot. 37 38

100 A Lot Less Chewin’ the Fat with Managers

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 100 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 EIGHT 4 5 6 All the News That’s Not Fit to Print 7 8 9 10 11 12 “ umber twenty-one is the biggest asshole in baseball.” 13 N That evaluation from a source inside the Cubs clubhouse at [101], (20) 14 midsummer 2004 did it for me. I had to write a lengthy feature about 15 the increasingly fractious relationship between slugger Sammy Sosa Lines: 297 to 319 16 and manager Dusty Baker and his coaching staff. I had remembered 17 a former Cub, known as a good citizen in baseball, remarking a year ——— 18 before that Sosa “was the worst teammate you could possibly have.” 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 I approached another Cubs source, who confirmed my suspicions Normal Page 20 that the slumping Sosa did not want to be moved down in the batting PgEnds: T X 21 order and resisted moving closer to the plate. He described Sosa E 22 as “sensitive and selfish.” A catcher with another National League 23 team then confirmed that he no longer had to “bust Sosa inside” and [101], (20) 24 instead called for pitches off the outside corner, which Sosa could 25 scarcely reach from his outer-limits batting stance. 26 The end result, displayed on the front sports page of the Times 27 of Northwest Indiana, featured only one on-the-record comment— 28 from Sosa himself. The subject was such a lightning rod—the fall of 29 Chicago’s greatest modern-day baseball idol—that anonymity had 30 to be guaranteed to get the information needed. A week later, the 31 Sosa issue blew up publicly and raged through his eventual trade to 32 the the following February. 33 The manner in which the Sosa story was assembled tapped into 34 the accepted manner in which “inside-baseball” tales are now crafted 35 by the media in far greater quantity than during the mid–twentieth 36 century. The basic tenet is there’s no such thing as a free lunch in 37 obtaining such information. 38 An intricate web of relationships, quid pro quos, understanding

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 101 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 sensibilities, and off-the-record stances bring advance word of trades 2 and free-agent signings; private opinions about players, managers, 3 and owners; updates on injuries; and salary information that used to 4 be guesswork prior to the free-agent era. 5 If the truth be known, get twenty-five players, six managers and 6 coaches, and a bevy of front-office executives together, and the ma- 7 jority will talk on- or off-the-record. It’s human nature, despite 8 would-be modern-day “plumbers” like Cubs manager Dusty Baker 9 seeking to stem leaks. 10 “Part of it is there’s too many snitches,” Baker said in the spring 11 of 2005. “That’s where the problem comes in to me. You’re going 12 to print it, and I can’t blame you for that. But snitches in the club- 13 house? Too much stuff got out that shouldn’t have got out and got [102], (21) 14 exaggerated once it gets out. There’s a snitch everywhere. If I catch 15 who the snitches are, now we got a problem.” Lines: 319 to 336 16 But snitches, as Baker defines them, are in every corner of a ball- 17 park. “Deep Throat” was not invented for Watergate; his cousins ——— 18 stalked stadiums decades previously. Whether sportswriters used 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 their information depended on the standards of the time. Normal Page 20 Then and now, the media must protect these sources, or whatever PgEnds: T X 21 the polite or impolite term for them might be. In the process of such E 22 masking and filtering, a number of stories, comments, and opinions 23 never make print or broadcast. They are so inflammatory, offensive, [102], (21) 24 or sensitive that the originator of the information would be burned 25 badly if publicized—and the media messenger also would be singed 26 in the process. 27 A sign affixed in a clubhouse for decades exhorts baseball folks to 28 keep their lips zipped about private goings-on in their inner sanc- 29 tum. In essence, the sign said what goes on in the clubhouse stays 30 in the clubhouse. Of course, signs such as these are like speed-limit 31 postings—a guidepost, but never the absolute in practice. 32 The media partially adheres to that policy. To maintain relation- 33 ships and protect conduits for future stories, not all the potential 34 news and notes they witness or hear is fit to print or broadcast. 35 A basic adherence to the law of the press—prohibiting libel and 36 slander—is the first set of checks and balances. Anything written or 37 spoken that is either reckless disregard for the truth, or besmirches 38 an individual’s character, is potential grist for a lawsuit. Although

102 All the News That’s Not Fit to Print

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 102 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 libel and slander suits are difficult to win, the ones that are suc- 2 cessfully pursued cost media outlets millions of dollars in court- 3 mandated settlements. It is a gray area into which those who cover 4 baseball regularly tread lightly. 5 But even if libel per se is not involved, the access to the originators 6 of information among the players, managers, coaches, and executive 7 ranks cannot be risked if confidence or anonymity is betrayed or 8 stories that have to be sat upon out of necessity are made public. 9 Access is everything in the game. Without it, you might as well buy 10 a twenty-five-dollar ticket to get in and bring a lot more for inflated 11 concession prices. 12 Baseball types are willing to help the media in which they have 13 trust. In national politics or security issues, a “high-level adminis- [103], (22) 14 tration source” on a national political or security story could mean a 15 presidential press secretary, chief of staff, or cabinet member. Simi- Lines: 336 to 350 16 larly a baseball source, or “so-and-so told friends,” more than likely 17 is a key player, executive, or agent willing to provide background in- ——— 18 formation without risking any kind of public offense to the parties 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 involved. Normal Page 20 The media person must cover the team regularly, show a will- PgEnds: T X 21 ingness to handle information accurately and not publish a source’s E 22 name if anonymity is requested before he can tap into the huge well- 23 spring of baseball information. [103], (22) 24 “If I give you something without attribution, it’s for you to use 25 [in your own words],” general manager Bill Bavasi 26 said. “I trust you. I want to help. You’ve got mouths to feed and a job 27 to do. I think it’s good for you to talk about it [in the media person’s 28 own words]. But for me to talk about it, makes no sense. 29 “My concern is ripping players for other people. I won’t give that. 30 If I have to give you something off-the-record and without attribu- 31 tion at all, then it’s something sensitive. If it can help you, great. If 32 it’s something that can hurt people, I won’t even do that. 33 “I’m pretty tight-lipped and usually try to go on-the-record. I 34 don’t do a whole lot of off-the-record stuff. I especially don’t com- 35 ment on somebody else’s club or the job somebody else does, and go 36 off-the-record. That’s just chicken shit. When I read that, I really 37 get angry.” 38 Off-the-record is not plain-speaking Minnesota Twins general

All the News That’s Not Fit to Print 103

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 103 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 manager Terry Ryan’s style. The majority of material the longtime 2 scouting master divulges is for publication. 3 “I’m careful in confiding,” Ryan said. “With a question, there’s a 4 reasonable answer to give without having to go off-the-record all 5 the time. When I talk to people, certainly on the radio, I try to 6 be up-front and honest. Instead of going off-the-record, there are 7 ways around it. I’ve had my share of gaffes when I’ve said some- 8 thing I shouldn’t have. But I’ve always had good rapport with the 9 media.” 10 Ryan has learned to trust the regular writers traveling with the 11 Twins. 12 “We have a certain loyalty to each other and they know what they 13 can or might not use,” he said. “We don’t have that much difficulty [104], (23) 14 up in Minnesota.” 15 Emulating Ryan is Cubs general manager . The Lines: 350 to 367 16 broadcast journalism major at Spring Hill College in Alabama has 17 been one of the more open and accessible general managers in the ——— 18 game since he took over what he classified as his dream job in mid- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 2002. Although Hendry never gives away the store when he’s cook- Normal Page 20 ing up a deal, he’ll often provide reporters just enough to write their PgEnds: T X 21 stories, provided they’ve earned his confidence with the way they E 22 handle information. 23 “If you give the media their respect, then in return they’ll under- [104], (23) 24 stand there are a lot of things you can’t go into,” Hendry said. “I 25 think it’s a matter of understanding clearly you have a job to do. I’m 26 not here to say my job is more important than anyone else’s. I give 27 mutual respect and I think in return I’ve gotten that respect back 28 from your peers. 29 “It’s an acquired trust. I give more background information than 30 off-the-record. I was here in a lot of capacities before I was general 31 manager, and I had the advantage of a relationship with a lot of 32 media before I became gm. I certainly understand what our goals are, 33 and I don’t want the media to write anything but the facts. If we’re 34 not doing the job, if we’re not winning enough, then I understand 35 there’s also constructive criticism.” 36 Some general managers try to manipulate events and opinions 37 through the media. So then are they politicians in the purest sense? 38 “Oh, please,” Bavasi said. “Of course. I have no idea if it’s good

104 All the News That’s Not Fit to Print

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 104 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 or bad for the game. Everybody’s got to put their head on the pil- 2 low every night and get a sound sleep. Their level of ethics isn’t as 3 high as others. They’re not promoting the club; they’re promoting 4 themselves.” 5 Talk about money predominates baseball coverage. Players’ 6 multimillion-dollar salaries are nearly an obsession. So is the pay- 7 roll level of each team. Executives are more likely to reveal salaries 8 (which are disseminated by the Associated Press as soon as a sign- 9 ing becomes official). But they are much more circumspect when 10 discussing their own overall budgets, on- or off-the-record. 11 “Does the fact you talk about it bother me? No,” Bavasi said. “I 12 don’t know that any gm is expected to explain that. You operate 13 within the parameters of a budget. You make deals, free-agent sign- [105], (24) 14 ings. Questions you have to answer relate to the free-agent signings, 15 trades, minor leagues. Any gm who answers questions about payroll Lines: 367 to 377 16 budget is making a foolish move. 17 “From my point of opinion, fans want to hear about talent. Most ——— 18 people want to talk about baseball. The three clubs I’ve been with, 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 every dime of available payroll was spent on players. I was in Ana- Normal Page 20 heim, and in my years we never made any money. The only time PgEnds: T X 21 we were close to breaking even was when they prepared to sell out. E 22 In L.A. Fox was dedicated to trying to win. We were losing tens 23 of millions of dollars a year. Here in Seattle, this organization was [105], (24) 24 not making money. The money goes right back into the ball club. 25 The budget depends on how much we draw. Nobody’s walking away 26 with money in baseball. There might have been one owner making 27 money, and I don’t think he is anymore.” 28 Requests not to use information come all the time from players, 29 managers, and executives. And the fear of cutting one’s self off from 30 a vital source curbs the dissemination of much information. Jim 31 O’Donnell noted this fear in a 1989 suburban Chicago Daily Her- 32 ald column. O’Donnell chided reporters covering the 33 for not taking Michael Jordan to task for fathering his first child, 34 Michael Jeffrey, out of wedlock, before he married wife Juanita. The 35 reasoning: If Jordan cuts you off, you can’t cover him and the Bulls. 36 Sometimes even the commissioner of baseball requested a red 37 light on the information flow. The late Rick Talley, sports columnist 38 for Chicago Today, an afternoon daily owned by the Tribune Com-

All the News That’s Not Fit to Print 105

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 105 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 pany, was asked by Bowie Kuhn in the winter of 1969–70 to sit on a 2 story about Major League Baseball’s investigation of Cubs manager 3 Leo Durocher. Kuhn and his lieutenants feared they might have a 4 second on their hands. The commissioner feared 5 confirmation of reports that Durocher won sixty thousand dollars 6 betting against his own team in a September 9, 1969, game against 7 the Mets in Shea Stadium. Durocher had started ace Fergie Jenkins 8 on two days’ rest, then let him bat in the top of the fifth with the 9 Mets up 6–1. 10 Talley complied with Kuhn’s request to protect baseball. Duro- 11 cher also was investigated by the Internal Revenue Service and sev- 12 eral Chicago newspaper investigative reporters. The Today’s Bob 13 Glass later claimed that Cubs owner Phil Wrigley paid off “thou- [106], (25) 14 sands” in Durocher’s gambling debts in Las Vegas to clean his slate. 15 Lynn Walker Durocher, The Lip’s wife at the time, said several in- Lines: 377 to 385 16 vestigative types showed up at their doorstep in search of the truth. 17 Talley was fortunate not to print the story of the investigation. No ——— 18 entity found anything to pin on Durocher. He could have sued Tal- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 ley and others for one whopping libel accusation if they had written Normal Page 20 stories. However the media would not have been so sanguine even PgEnds: T X 21 two decades later. The Pete Rose saga dragged on for months before E 22 a final ruling by commissioner Bart Giamatti. Now, the mere fact 23 that Major League Baseball was investigating its most controversial [106], (25) 24 characters would be hyped to the heavens. 25 Durocher and Rose were linked to gambling, baseball’s top capital 26 crime. Most recently, the subject that most reporters needed to use 27 care in disseminating was the steroid issue. Many fans and even me- 28 dia pundits wondered why the baseball press did not jump all over 29 the issue when it was apparent players were injecting themselves 30 with steroids of all kinds as far back as the mid-1990s. 31 One of the harshest critics was Charles Yesalis, professor of 32 Health Policy and Administration and Exercise and Sport Science 33 at Penn State. Yesalis had researched the nonmedical use of steroids 34 and related supplements for nearly three decades, writing books and 35 testifying before Congress. 36 “This baseball scandal is by far the biggest drug and cheating 37 scandal I’ve ever seen in sports, including on an international level. 38 It eclipses even the [1998] Tour de France blood-doping scandal,”

106 All the News That’s Not Fit to Print

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 106 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Yesalis said in Barry Rozner’s March 15, 2005, sports column in 2 the suburban Chicago Daily Herald. “There’re a lot of people embar- 3 rassed that they made these baseball players out to be heroes when 4 they were cheating. 5 “Part of it is too many sycophant sports journalists who are not 6 seekers of the truth. They couldn’t make a living in journalism be- 7 having that way, except in sports, where you look the other way. 8 “Now they can either look the fool and protect the sport or all of 9 a sudden you come on board and write the mea culpa.” 10 One simple answer suffices: libel laws. A public figure simply can’t 11 be accused of illegal drug use unless absolute proof exists of such 12 actions. The truth is the media’s defense in libel or slander. But if 13 a reporter does not have the truth nailed down, he simply can’t run [107], (26) 14 with an accusatory story about the use of steroids or other illegal 15 drugs. That’s why the cocaine scandal in baseball in the 1980s did Lines: 385 to 398 16 not hit print until the famous Pittsburgh drug trial involving several 17 big leaguers. ——— 18 The steroid clues abounded, but concrete proof was not easily 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 available. The media types could not get into the private bathrooms Normal Page 20 of clubhouses where Jose Canseco supposedly injected steroids into PgEnds: T X 21 the buttocks of himself and others. Steroids were no doubt em- E 22 ployed off-site from baseball stadiums, away from the prying eye 23 of media, team officials, and law-enforcement personnel. If no play- [107], (26) 24 ers admitted it, and executives such as general 25 manager Kevin Towers kept their suspicions to themselves, then 26 the accurate sourcing of the scandal was largely cut off at the pass. 27 Steroids had insidiously crept into baseball early on in the process. 28 Former Phillies pitcher Dickie Noles said possible steroid use was a 29 conversation piece as early as the 1980s. Whispers about Canseco’s 30 linkage with the drugs began when he burst on the scene as a “Bash 31 Brother” with Mark McGwire in the closing years of the 1980s. 32 Washington Post columnist Thomas Boswell accused Canseco of 33 steroid use on a cbs tv broadcast in 1988. Yet until Associated Press 34 reporter Steve Wilstein noticed a bottle of andro in McGwire’s 35 locker during the 1998 season, no media representative ever caught 36 a player in the act or elicited an admission of use. 37 Media outlets “should have set the investigative forces on stam- 38 pede,” ESPN.com’s said in a Chicago Tribune article on

All the News That’s Not Fit to Print 107

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 107 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 February 25, 2005. “We should have been more aggressive. But I 2 don’t know how we would have proved it. And if you can’t prove it, 3 how would you write it?” 4 The New York Times interviewed twenty-five Major League play- 5 ers, executives, and strength coaches in an October 2000 exposé 6 that detailed how steroid abuse had become rampant. In 2002 the 7 late Ken Caminiti admitted to he had used steroids 8 while winning the 1996 National League’s Most Valuable Player 9 Award. The same year a just-retired Canseco finally spoke out on 10 the subject, claiming 85 percent of players used steroids—a grossly 11 exaggerated figure, but at least an admission of a problem. 12 The 2002 season was my first brush with steroids, on June 18 13 while covering the Cubs– night interleague game at [108], (27) 14 Wrigley Field. Earlier that day, Rangers manager Jerry Narron said 15 on wscr-am (670) that Chicago fans are knowledgeable enough to Lines: 398 to 417 16 know which players seem to be employing steroids. Producers at 17 the all-sports station believed the statements were curious enough ——— 18 to replay a half hour later. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 I tracked down Narron in the visiting manager’s office at Wrigley Normal Page 20 Field before the game. I asked him why he made the on-air com- PgEnds: T X 21 ments. E 22 “Just a super regard for the fans in Chicago, what outstanding 23 sports fans they are, how intelligent they are, and how well they [108], (27) 24 follow their clubs,” he said. “They’re such intelligent, good baseball 25 people.” 26 I then took the tape of Narron’s fresh comments across the field 27 to Sosa, who from time to time had fielded questions about whether 28 he used steroids to bulk up his physique since 1998. Sosa always de- 29 nied the steroid suggestions, originally claiming he used “Flintstone 30 vitamins” for energy during the ’98 home-run race. 31 Sosa listened intently to the Narron comments for five minutes 32 by his locker. “Ask him,” he responded when queried why Narron 33 would make such a statement. 34 The slugger then closed the subject without further comment 35 once the tape had been turned off. 36 “I’m not in the mood for that,” he said. “I’m here to play baseball.” 37 I then asked Cubs president Andy MacPhail, at the time dou- 38 bling as general manager, for his reaction. He refused to talk about

108 All the News That’s Not Fit to Print

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 108 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 steroids, claiming it was a subject of Basic Agreement bargaining 2 sessions with the Major League Baseball Players Association in 3 which he was participating as a management negotiator at the time. 4 However, he was clearly upset by Narron’s left-handed implications 5 about alleged Chicago baseball steroid users. 6 Narron also said he had no specific knowledge of steroid users. 7 He theorized that the number of juiced-up players is much less than 8 the numbers claimed in comments by professed former users Ken 9 Caminiti and Jose Canseco. 10 “There’s no way it’s anywhere close to the 50 percent or what- 11 ever,” he said. “There’s probably somebody in baseball using them, 12 but it’s probably a very, very small minority of players.” 13 Steroids, along with other illegal drugs, cross the pale when they [109], (28) 14 affect a player’s performance. If a reporter can prove such use, re- 15 strictions on what he writes are thrown off. But other bits of baseball Lines: 417 to 430 16 figures’ personal lives, such as their marriages or other relationships, 17 are usually regarded as out of the public eye if they don’t impact ——— 18 their work. Rumors of sex scandals usually stay the subject of press- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 box chatter, sometimes elevating themselves to urban legend status Normal Page 20 when they spread word-of-mouth to the fans, simply because of that PgEnds: T X 21 libel rule. My own rule of thumb is if a player or executive volunteers E 22 information, I’ll use it. But I won’t go prying. 23 [109], (28) 24 Near the end of the 2002 season I discovered that one player’s on- 25 field problems could have been related to his marital woes. His wife 26 told me that she and her husband were separated and had consistent 27 conflicts over his most recent choice of teams. The wife was bringing 28 the couple’s brood of kids to the ballpark to see their father. I real- 29 ized that the family was going through enough agony, so they did 30 not need to see their problems offered up for public consumption. 31 Still another challenge is holding back on continued evidence of 32 primordial racial and religious attitudes, which have reared their 33 ugly heads in baseball since it went professional in 1869. Again the 34 question of keeping good relations with sources and being able to 35 prove private, derogatory comments are the top considerations in 36 not sharing the information with the public. 37 During the 2004 season, Cubs manager Dusty Baker and relief 38 pitcher LaTroy Hawkins received hate mail with the epithet “nig-

All the News That’s Not Fit to Print 109

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 109 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 ger” included. Hawkins even showed me a scrawled hand-written 2 letter, seemingly penned by a seven-year-old. “My God, this shows 3 that what Jackie Robinson and Henry Aaron went through is still 4 going on in the twenty-first century,” I told Baker. Although it was 5 a legitimate story, neither Baker nor Hawkins wanted it used. “You 6 won’t change their minds, and you’ll only make it worse,” Baker 7 said. I had to honor their wishes. The story was not published at the 8 time. When Baker revealed the hate mail after Hawkins was traded 9 in May 2005, I was able to use their names there. But a story isn’t a 10 story if the people involved won’t confirm its facts and cooperate at 11 the time. And if a reporter deals with these gentlemen on a regular 12 basis, he cannot burn his bridges in a mad dash for a scoop. 13 “He said, she said” accusations also applied to a series of club- [110], (29) 14 house statements that would be outrageously offensive if made pub- 15 lic. And if they were not recorded as evidence, libel would be in play, Lines: 430 to 441 16 let alone pariah status in the clubhouse for the reporter. 17 One prominent white player, raised in traditionally conservative ——— 18 areas of the country, referred to an African American player on an- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 other team as a “nigger.” On another occasion, he asked me if I Normal Page 20 “knew those guys with the long beards . . . can they do a rain dance?” PgEnds: T X 21 With rain closing in on Wrigley Field, the player obviously meant E 22 Orthodox Jewish rabbis. I replied that I did not and that no faction 23 of Judaism engages in such mystic, tribal behavior. And on a third [110], (29) 24 occasion, the player said that Reds owner Marge Schott was being 25 piled on after her ignorant comments about Hitler doing a good job 26 for the German people, but ending up going too far. I rebuked such 27 thinking, but could do nothing with such comments in print or on 28 the air. 29 Such mistaken interpretations weren’t confined to the clubhouse. 30 One time, a baseball executive, chewing over current events and 31 history, wondered why so much trouble in the Middle East resulted 32 from the state of ’s existence. “Why couldn’t they settle the 33 [Holocaust] refugees in Arizona and New Mexico?” he wondered. 34 Obviously this honcho did not do well in his American history 35 classes, since Harry S Truman would have been impeached, or 36 worse, had he opened the doors to millions of displaced persons in 37 1946–47. Such an opinion might have been on a par with Al Cam- 38 panis’s statement about not possessing the “ne-

110 All the News That’s Not Fit to Print

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 110 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 cessities” for management. But it was said one-on-one, off-the-cuff, 2 with no recording devices whirring. 3 Sometimes a personality being interviewed does not even know 4 the ethnicity of his questioner. A controversial former baseball per- 5 sonality railed against the “Jewish owner [Jerry Reinsdorf] of the 6 Bulls” and the “Jewish general manager” [Jerry Krause] while I 7 talked to him at his home. Without missing a beat, I asked him “if 8 he minded being interviewed by a Jewish reporter?” He was taken 9 aback. “Oh, no, I don’t mind,” he blurted out. “Some of my best 10 friends are Jewish . . . Back then [the 1950s], Jewish girls were the 11 only ones who would give you blow jobs.” 12 This last statement was an extension of the sexual-scatological 13 subculture of the clubhouse. If everything witnessed among the [111], (30) 14 scratchin’ and spittin’ crowd was made available for public consump- 15 tion, the end product would be a combination of Hustler magazine Lines: 441 to 453 16 and Animal House. Most experienced media just figure a baseball 17 team is a boys’ club and leave it at that. ——— 18 Some of the sounds and sights are hilarious in recounting idle 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 press-box moments. Back in the mid-1980s, I witnessed a promi- Normal Page 20 nent Cubs pitcher call out to his buddy across the clubhouse: “Hey, PgEnds: T X 21 faggot, come here and blow me. Give me some head.” It was not E 22 what he said but the way he said it, and no offense meant to homo- 23 sexuals. No publicity, either. Winding the clock forward ten years, [111], (30) 24 I was running my radio tape recorder for an interview with the glib 25 in the San Diego Padres clubhouse. Across the way, 26 some kind of flatulence noises were emanating from a grinning Ken 27 Caminiti. I had no choice but to keep the tape rolling and hope 28 the machine did not pick up the apparent expulsions. Turns out 29 Caminiti had some kind of gag gizmo that produced the faux gas. 30 That was Caminiti’s public image of fun contrasting with his mount- 31 ing private hell of steroid and other drug abuse that would culminate 32 in his premature death. 33 But in the early years of the twenty-first century, the line, however 34 shaky, that had kept most of the clubhouse high jinks and jawboning 35 out of the public eye began to be crossed, further widening the gulf 36 between baseball people and media. An advocate of realism without 37 strict boundaries in had taken root in quintessen- 38 tially Middle American Kansas City, of all places.

All the News That’s Not Fit to Print 111

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 111 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Kansas City Star sports editor Mike Fannin dramatically improved 2 his section, elevating it to an aggressive stance in a part of the coun- 3 try that does not really expect such coverage. Fannin believes in a 4 cutting-edge approach in which the classic game story is “almost 5 dead,” with readers instead expecting “breaking news or analysis, 6 something they can’t get anywhere else.” 7 “Beat writers get blinders on,” Fannin continued. “They go into 8 places and talk to people that readers can’t. We should go where 9 they can’t go or can’t see on tv or the Internet. They can allow 10 readers to be part of the process. Don’t we owe that to the fans? 11 “I don’t think our readers pick up the paper to read baseball game 12 stories. They want to know who likes who, who feuds with who.” 13 Early in the 2004 season, Fannin commissioned twenty-four- [112], (31) 14 year-old Jeff Passan, who had previously worked in Newark, Buf- 15 falo, and Washington dc, to craft a feature on the Chicago Cubs, Lines: 453 to 475 16 then coming off preseason predictions of their first World Series 17 berth since 1945. Passan hooked up with the Cubs during their first ——— 18 trip to St. Louis. His piece ran in the May 4, 2004, edition of the 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Star. Within days of its publication, he had the Cubs clubhouse in an Normal Page 20 uproar, their already edgy mood toward the media tilting downward PgEnds: T X 21 as a result. E 22 Passan first wrote of a conversation between Cubs general man- 23 ager Jim Hendry and surgery-rehabbing pitcher : [112], (31) 24 “I gotta pay your bills to fly back and forth?” Hendry asked. 25 “Hey, I have to keep doing rehab,” Dempster replied. 26 “Well, you better be going coach on the way back,” Hendry said. 27 Players accused Passan of eavesdropping on a private conversa- 28 tion with that exchange. At first and second glance, that doesn’t 29 seem to be offensive, especially if one knows Hendry’s sense of hu- 30 mor. But a few paragraphs further down really got the Cubs’ ire up. 31 Passan described ace pitcher Kerry Wood arriving in the middle 32 of the clubhouse, where teammates were watching tv or lounging. 33 “Wood didn’t care what they were doing,” Passan wrote. “He 34 lifted his leg, expelled a stream of wind and sat down like noth- 35 ing happened. ‘I’m sorry,’ Wood said. ‘I felt it coming back there. I 36 sprinted in here. Had to do it.’ Teammates hiked up their shirts to 37 shield their noses. Wood grinned devilishly.” 38 The remainder of the story was a garden-variety clubhouse mood

112 All the News That’s Not Fit to Print

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 112 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 piece. But the Cubs were angry. Wood tried to call Fannin and 2 missed connections. Fannin did not at first believe Wood’s voice was 3 the one on the message. Passan attempted to return through 4 the Cubs and failed to reach the pitcher. Fannin again passed along 5 a message to Wood after the season to call him. Eventually Wood 6 just let it go, but said many others wouldn’t have been as calm. 7 “If they had done it about somebody else and if that kid [Pas- 8 san] came back in the clubhouse, there might have been a problem,” 9 Wood said. “You’re talking about guys’ personal stuff that obviously 10 wasn’t meant for the paper, and you printed it. That’s going to piss 11 some guys off.” 12 Passan could not believe the fallout. 13 “I was definitely surprised with the reaction,” he said. “It was a [113], (32) 14 feature story to capture their [Cubs] personality. It was a story about 15 why the Cubs were cool. When you deal with baseball players as a Lines: 475 to 495 16 feature writer, access is limited. You try to capture the best you can 17 in limited time. Kerry Wood is one of the faces of the Cubs.” ——— 18 Passan did not see the flatulence reference as making fun of 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Wood’s personality. He also would have deleted it if asked by Fan- Normal Page 20 nin or his deputies. PgEnds: T X 21 “It was light-hearted enough to see it as a gauge of his personal- E 22 ity,” Passan said. “I come from a generation where you have differ- 23 ent types of media, guys going crazy on . Our job is [113], (32) 24 to give something different. I’m trying to go for a different angle.” 25 Fannin said the story was humanizing players in a realistic manner 26 consistent with the standards of the times. 27 “Readers like to read about people,” Fannin said. “If you don’t 28 bring a certain level of humanity to storytelling, you lose out.” 29 But was the reference to the expulsion of gas necessary, since most 30 assume the boys’ club of a locker room trends toward the scatolog- 31 ical and cruder-than-crude anyway? 32 “The only complaint we got about that story was from Kerry 33 Wood,” Fannin said. “Barriers have been pushed back. We live in a 34 real world where people die in Iraq. To put someone farted in the 35 paper is not comparable to people dying in Iraq. People look in the 36 sports pages for relief. 37 “Baseball writers have a long and undistinguished history about 38 not writing about things. We should write what we see and write

All the News That’s Not Fit to Print 113

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 113 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 what we hear. Jeff was not eavesdropping. Jeff’s job was to swoop in 2 and write a story about the Cubs. It’s about what’s going on in the 3 clubhouse, it’s about camaraderie.” 4 Fannin would have to push most writers to cross the barrier. Few 5 would go as far as Passan in writing a no-holds-barred description 6 of the boys’ club. 7 “Guys pulling pranks or burping in the clubhouse, I don’t think 8 that’s appropriate to put in the paper,” said Bruce Miles, the subur- 9 ban Chicago Daily Herald beat writer since 1998. “I don’t see why the 10 reader would care. The clubhouse is their domain and we’re guests 11 there for a limited amount of time. To me that’s eavesdropping type 12 of journalism. 13 “I read the Kansas City story. I can see both sides of it. If you [114], (33) 14 let people in the clubhouse, technically I guess they’re free to write 15 about what they observe. On the other hand, if players get upset Lines: 495 to 512 16 about private conversations being recorded in the paper or having 17 personal habits and hygiene put in the paper, if you don’t want that ——— 18 in the paper, don’t let people in. But if you are let in, you have to 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 respect people’s privacy.” Normal Page 20 Miles claims he’s his own self-censor. PgEnds: T X 21 “All the judgment has been mine. My rule has been the rule of E 22 players: Write what you want, but don’t get personal. You can say 23 a gm made a bad trade, but that doesn’t make him a bad guy, a bad [114], (33) 24 father, a bad husband. You can say the pitcher made a bad pitch, but 25 that doesn’t make him all the bad other things.” 26 Curbs on profane or guttural language in the average newspa- 27 per also clamp down on capturing the true flavor of the clubhouse. 28 George Carlin’s old seven bad words are absolutely prohibited, so 29 “bleep” or the first letter of the word, followed by a series of short 30 dashes are used instead of an obscenity. Many newspapers even 31 frown on the word “ass,” so “butt” or some other substitute has to 32 be used. 33 Even though Passan crossed the barrier at Fannin’s direction, he 34 is not without his own standards, despite being raised in Generation 35 Y or whatever. 36 “The time when you write about somebody’s personal life is when 37 it starts affecting the way he performs on the field,” he said. “If 38 someone comes in hung over in the morning and has a good game,

114 All the News That’s Not Fit to Print

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 114 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 I will not write about it. But if he consistently does it and it affects 2 his play, and the general manager says so, that’s when it becomes an 3 issue.” 4 Fannin’s intentions may have been forthright and honest. But 5 by breaking down a barrier about reporting boys-will-be-boys be- 6 havior, the aggressive editor may have closed a door where he in- 7 tended to open one. The Passan story seemed like a fulcrum point 8 at which the Cubs, whose players made up a pretty open clubhouse 9 during their near-dream season in 2003, began withdrawing from 10 the media. 11 Players increasingly populated a rump lounge with folding chairs 12 amid the bare cinder-block walls of the equipment room, just to get 13 away from the media, in a cramped clubhouse where the lounge, [115], (34) 14 weight room, and trainer’s room won’t hold the entire team. “It’s 15 all concrete back there, under the stands, it’s dark and nasty,” Wood Lines: 512 to 529 16 said. “It’s just a place to sit in silence because you can’t do it at your 17 locker.” ——— * 18 Meanwhile media members had to stand at one end of the Wrig- 36.28pt PgVar ——— 19 ley Field clubhouse to wait for players while tv cameras were ban- Normal Page 20 ned pregame. Fewer players were available before and after games. * PgEnds: PageBreak 21 “Unfortunately the good writers and good reporters kind of got 22 screwed by that, but it’s guilt by association,” Wood said. 23 The spiral continued downward toward season’s end, with the [115], (34) 24 twin rhubarbs of Sammy Sosa’s unauthorized first-inning departure 25 from the clubhouse on the final day and players’ complaints against 26 the tv broadcast team of and Steve Stone. 27 Entering the books was another example of the distancing be- 28 tween two parties who need each other to survive when all other 29 pretense is stripped away. The delicate balancing acts and gentle- 30 men’s agreements to convey some stories while leaving others on 31 the cutting-room floor still stood in media-baseball relations. 32 But the strong motivations to conduct business as usual were 33 ebbing. The question yet to be answered is whether the public will 34 end up knowing too much and turning away from whatever positive 35 emotional attachment they have with baseball. 36 37 38

All the News That’s Not Fit to Print 115

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 115 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 NINE 4 5 6 The Red and Blue States of 7 Baseball Journalism 8 9 10 11 12 aseball commissioner Bud Selig and Rich Levin, his ever pre- 13 Bsent public relations chief, may not be fully aware of a problem [116], (35) 14 on their hands, having been smothered in a cocoon of national, big- 15 newspaper and broadcast-outlet coverage that tails them wherever Lines: 529 to 549 16 they go. 17 Their beloved game, which has long depended upon the printed ——— 18 word to spread its aura and legend, is actually suffering a rollback 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 in original newspaper coverage in America’s heartland—the “red Normal Page 20 states” as first defined in the 2000 election, then codified four years PgEnds: T X 21 later. E 22 Simply put, if you are a baseball fan in the wide swath of the 23 world’s breadbasket in between the mountain ranges, you’ll be hard- [116], (35) 24 pressed to enjoy a diversity of original, comprehensive media cov- 25 erage of baseball unless you live in the actual big league markets. 26 Smaller dailies in the outer ring of fan-interest geographic ar- 27 eas, and even those within a short drive of big-league ballparks, 28 have in many cases rolled back staff-originated baseball coverage, 29 using nuts-and-bolts, down-the-middle Associated Press accounts. 30 A combination of money-saving, profits-preserving management 31 styles is the culprit, one that gathered the momentum of a hurricane 32 with two thousand jobs lost in the newspaper industry during 2005. 33 Added to that was an additional groping by management for a local 34 “niche” that other outlets cannot supply in a hyper-competitive me- 35 dia world. In the place of baseball and other pro coverage is “nar- 36 rowcasting” to the tenth degree: reams of high school sports and 37 other community and amateur athletic copy that appeals to far fewer 38 readers in aggregate, but also is much more economical to produce.

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 116 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Contrast this with rabid rooters in the old-line baseball cities of 2 the East Coast—certified “blue states.” The population- and news- 3 paper-heavy region offers fans a wide potpourri of media choices, 4 extremely competitive coverage, and literally an all-you-can-eat 5 flow of baseball information. The curse-purged Red Sox backer en- 6 joys a minimum of two writers each from the Boston Globe and Boston 7 Herald at all road ports of call, including faraway Seattle. When the 8 Red Sox go to New York, the Boston papers will deploy a small 9 army of writers and columnists. If he lives outside Boston, the Sox 10 fan can read traveling writers from newspapers in Providence, Hart- 11 ford, and Worcester, among others. 12 The complete definition of “blue states” also includes California, 13 Oregon, and Washington. For many years, baseball coverage on the [117], (36) 14 “Left Coast” mimicked its Atlantic-hailing cousins in quantity, if not 15 always quality. But the turn of the millennium has shifted coverage, Lines: 549 to 555 16 particularly in the three California big league markets. Concentra- 17 tion of ownership of newspapers in fewer companies in both the Los ——— 18 Angeles and San Francisco areas has dampened the total number of 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 different newspapers originating coverage. Normal Page 20 But crossing all geographic boundaries is what should be a dis- PgEnds: T X 21 turbing trend for the likes of Selig, who grew up with two traveling E 22 writers covering the Braves in Milwaukee. The number of newspa- 23 pers electing to travel full time with teams has declined since the [117], (36) 24 economy, especially the advertising market, nosedived in 2001 and 25 some advertising, such as help-wanted, shifted for good to the Inter- 26 net. Travel is, after all, an optional expense. Wire services provide 27 a cheaper alternative, even if the story angle focusing on the local 28 team often is diffused. Baseball built what passes for its publicity 29 machine on teams being covered by multiple traveling writers so 30 players’ feats from all over the country were personally conveyed to 31 eager readers. The sharpest decline in travel was in the Los Angeles 32 area. Baseball’s power structure, including its elite writers associa- 33 tion and media-relations departments, was slow to acknowledge the 34 evolving trend. 35 At first it all sounds like some esoteric business practice that 36 should be of little interest outside the media industry. But fans in 37 Illinois, Iowa, Indiana, and western Michigan want to read and hear 38 about the Cubs. Ditto with those red-garbed loyalists following the

The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism 117

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 117 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Cardinals in Missouri, southern Illinois, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and 2 other mid-South locales. 3 Some editors and publishers will simply bail out on the concept 4 of a well-rounded newspaper. They’ll concede pro coverage to the 5 wire services, metropolitan daily newspapers, the Internet, tv, and 6 sports-talk radio. But there’s an inherent flaw in such thinking. In 7 addition to writing down-the-middle game stories, the ap’s game- 8 notes package, also spread between the two participating teams, was 9 cut in half in recent years, according to ap sportswriters. MLB.com, 10 which covers every team, cannot present 100 percent unfettered 11 coverage given its partial ownership by the baseball establishment. 12 tv offers highlights and interview snippets, but nothing in-depth, 13 informative, or illuminating. Sports-talk radio is nothing more than [118], (37) 14 what its own management desires—entertainment, and if we can 15 work a little journalism in, fine and dandy. National tv and radio Lines: 555 to 566 16 do not focus on individual teams, except inflating everything con- 17 cerning New York and Boston to far beyond even their legitimate ——— 18 importance. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 As outmoded as they seem in their deadlines and delivery sys- Normal Page 20 tems—compared to more immediate, more technologically ad- PgEnds: T X 21 vanced media—newspapers remain the most in-depth conveyors of E 22 news that exist today. Baseball was a newspaper sport through most 23 of the twentieth century and remains so. For any baseball fans, the [118], (37) 24 layout of stories, photos, and above all, box scores, is a morning rit- 25 ual that can scarcely be duplicated by any other media. At the same 26 time, a newspaper dispatching its own writer shows a commitment 27 to go beyond the very basics. Even if some editors’ intentions are 28 more basic—keeping up with competitor papers’ coverage or sim- 29 ply to feed a feeling of ego and prestige—the reader is better served 30 when newspapers take their own baseball coverage seriously. 31 And that rating goes beyond the sports pages. 32 “Newspapers probably do a better job than any other media serv- 33 ing the public interest,” said die-hard Cubs fan Mark Gibson, ad- 34 vertising manager of State Farm Insurance in Bloomington, Illinois, 35 130 miles southwest of Chicago. 36 Witnessing Chicago press boxes full of traveling writers from 37 New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Los Angeles, and San Francisco 38 when I started working baseball regularly at the end of the 1980s,

118 The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 118 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 I wondered how sociological and economic factors were different 2 on the two coasts. After all, Chicago was a sports–media-light town, 3 with only two traveling writers from the metro papers covering the 4 Cubs and White Sox from 1978 to 1988. The trend continued well 5 into the present. For about half of spring training in recent seasons, 6 just three Chicago writers plus an MLB.com writer were posted at 7 the Cubs’ spring training base in Mesa, Arizona. And I scratched 8 my head about why such a baseball-crazed town like St. Louis could 9 have one traveling writer for years in the Post-Dispatch’s Rick Hum- 10 mel and successor Joe Strauss. In the first half of the 1990s, I could 11 walk into Cards manager Joe Torre’s office during his Chicago visits 12 and chat one-on-one, a stark contrast with his latter-day New York 13 Yankees duties. [119], (38) 14 Simply put, baseball fans on the East Coast demand competitive 15 coverage. Lines: 566 to 582 16 “You’ll get the real story here,” said columnist Jackie MacMullan 17 of the Boston Globe. “Guys [media] in New York are fearless, Philly is ——— 18 fearless. We’re writing for fans who are more educated about their 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 teams than we are.” Normal Page 20 “Readers are demanding,” said sportswriter Michael Morrissey of PgEnds: T X 21 the New York Post. “They’re not going to waste time reading some- E 22 thing that doesn’t tell them anything. They’re not going to waste 23 time when life is so fast-paced, especially in the Northeast.” [119], (38) 24 Even in a video- and Internet-saturated age, the heavy public 25 transportation users in the big Eastern cities keep the newspaper 26 habit relatively strong. The concentration of colleges in the New 27 York, Boston, and Philadelphia areas also boosts literacy. 28 “Boston is one of the most literate cities,” said Morrissey, a Boston 29 native. “New York is up there. Reading newspapers, even though it’s 30 declining overall, is still part of their lifestyle.” 31 So is winning. The forgiving nature of the heartland would never 32 play within sniffing distance of the Atlantic. 33 “People in New York demand a winner, people in Boston demand 34 a winner,” Morrissey said. “Stuff that plays at U.S. Cellular Field 35 and Wrigley Field would never play at Shea Stadium. The Mets 36 alienated a lot of fans from 2001 to 2004.” 37 You’d figure the Red Sox would have alienated all of New Eng- 38 land after their myriad of stretch-drive and postseason pratfalls,

The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism 119

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 119 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 along with the lifetime of humiliation administered by the Yankees 2 that ended in the greatest postseason comeback ever in the 2004 3 American League Championship Series. But a collective, strange 4 neurosis developed. Through the millennium, the aura of failure 5 only increased Boston’s popularity and the craving for microscopic 6 coverage. 7 The Worcester Telegram and Gazette’s Bill Ballou, whose nineteen 8 seasons on the beat ranked him in 2005 as the longest-serving trav- 9 eling writer among the Boston press corps, said the Red Sox are the 10 only team whose appeal was intimately tied to failure. The longer 11 the BoSox fell short of their World Series title, the more their pop- 12 ularity grew. 13 “The Red Sox are the single biggest story in this city,” MacMullan [120], (39) 14 said. “The Red Sox are treated like a national treasure in this area.” 15 Every move by every Red Sox personality is scrutinized and Lines: 582 to 604 16 hyped. 17 “Johnny Damon got his hair cut in Lowell, so it’s a huge photo ——— 18 on page 1 of our paper,” Lowell Sun sportswriter Rob Bradford said. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 “One night, sitting in the office, we heard that Bronson Arroyo was Normal Page 20 sitting down at the White Castle bar. We were asked if we were PgEnds: T X 21 going to send a photographer and reporter. E 22 “We have the Lowell Spinners single-A team here. Pedro Mar- 23 tinez came to a game once, and it was crazy.” [120], (39) 24 Meanwhile the explanation of New York coverage is simple. The 25 Big Apple is the world’s media capital. Competition is cutthroat. 26 But how Boston equaled New York in intensity of baseball cov- 27 erage, ranking second in sheer numbers despite not rating top-five 28 status as a metropolitan area, relates more to the collective neurosis 29 involving the Red Sox and the sheer density of the population. 30 “The Boston Globe covers sports like the elections and Iraq,” said 31 MacMullan. “It’s a very competitive market.” 32 If Boston is “the Hub,” cities large enough to sustain daily news- 33 papers with heavy Red Sox coverage radiate out on the spokes of a 34 wheel throughout New England. 35 “Worcester is a separate market with a separate paper, and it’s 36 only thirty-five miles from Boston,” Ballou said. “Worcester is Mas- 37 sachusetts’ second largest city. You go ninety miles west of Boston, 38 and you’re almost in New York.”

120 The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 120 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 The Providence Journal and Hartford Courant, which also travels 2 with the Yankees, dip into the exchequer to go on the road with the 3 Red Sox to keep their cities’ readers from patronizing the Boston 4 papers. 5 “Two days after the 2004 trade deadline, after scouting the Cape 6 Cod League, I picked up the Providence paper,” said longtime scout 7 Gary Nickels, now working for the Dodgers. “It was like reading a 8 Boston paper with its baseball coverage. Everything about the Red 9 Sox was there.” 10 Of course, many Red Sox players and executives will term the 11 Boston media competition nasty, or worse. The sheer number of 12 media squeezing into a tiny home clubhouse at Fenway Park cre- 13 ates tensions. Todd Walker, who played second for Boston in 2003, [121], (40) 14 recalled how when one player started talking to one reporter at his 15 locker, he was immediately swarmed by a media mob. Lines: 604 to 619 16 17 “We have developed a reputation as a tough media town,” Mac- ——— 18 Mullan said. “People within our business have developed standards. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 We’re not here to kiss guys’ rear ends.” Normal Page 20 Ted Williams, the all-time Boston baseball icon, had no use for PgEnds: T X 21 many aggressive, critical Boston writers and columnists. After a ca- E 22 reer spent spitting, sneering, and otherwise flipping off those who 23 covered him, Williams stepped it up in spring training of 1961. Im- [121], (40) 24 mediately after his retirement, new hitting instructor Williams had 25 to be pulled away from trying to fight a visiting Boston writer when 26 the former spotted him in Red Sox camp in Arizona. 27 , just after Williams among the group of all- 28 time Red Sox favorites, departed for the Cubs in a July 31, 2004, 29 trade amid months of media sniping. But the rest of the season spent 30 in Chicago seemed such a contrast that on the season’s final day, he 31 thanked the local media for their “professionalism.” 32 The only way for players to deal with the Boston media onslaught 33 is straightforward, according to Tim Wakefield, the senior player on 34 the 2004 Red Sox world champions. 35 “Honesty is the best way to deal with any kind of media,” knuck- 36 leballer Wakefield said. “If you fail, I’ve always been a man who 37 was taught to stand up. Be a man and accept responsibility for your 38 actions. I’ve done that for the ten years I was here. Writers have a

The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism 121

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 121 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 lot of respect for that. They don’t like people who make excuses for 2 anything that happens on the field. I’ve earned that respect from the 3 writers. 4 Don’t duck the Boston media, Wakefield advised. “You just open 5 yourself up for more criticism if you do that,” he said. “That’s just 6 the way I handle it personally. That’s the advice I give a young player 7 who comes here.” 8 All-time Red Sox-turned-Yankee-then-Astro Roger Clemens has 9 no publicly bad memories of his Boston days in spite of the attendant 10 controversies and the stories he had heard of Ted Williams’s and 11 ’s media run-ins. 12 “For the most part I enjoyed it,” he said. “Coming onto the scene, 13 striking out twenty, kick-starting my career in that manner—base- [122], (41) 14 ball in the East to me is the ultimate. We had the tradition, the very 15 high standard of winning at the University of Texas. The College Lines: 619 to 632 16 World Series enabled me to handle Major League Baseball.” 17 But throw race into the mix, and media-player relations in racial- ——— 18 harmony-challenged Boston got volatile. Somehow outfielder Ellis 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Burks, one of the game’s gentlemen, learned how to survive and Normal Page 20 keep his sanity during two tours of duty with the Red Sox. PgEnds: T X 21 “It was a bit of a surprise to me the first few years,” Burks said. “As E 22 a player in Boston, you got used to it. It’s tough where there were a 23 lot of times you got dragged into it [controversy, such as ones that [122], (41) 24 enveloped and Dennis ‘Oil Can’ Boyd]. Things happen 25 in a city that’s had a lot of racial tension. As an African American 26 player, you’re the first one that questions are brought to. It’s tough, 27 you don’t want to put your foot in your mouth. But when it comes 28 down to it, I will tell you what’s on my mind.” 29 Burks would have had even more chroniclers in New York. 30 Gotham is Boston, cubed, with the famed tabloids, the Daily News 31 and Post, duking it out daily for a hard-fought piece of the ever- 32 shrinking readership pie. Their back-page sports headlines, all in 33 the spirit of the Post’s classic “Headless man in topless bar” style, vie 34 for attention and are often reported in news dispatches across the 35 country. The tabloids prod more sober competitors like the New 36 York Times and a bevy of satellite-city and suburban dailies in three 37 states to pant in the same pursuit of readers. With the Yankees es- 38 tablishing a latter-day dynasty and the Mets ranging wildly between

122 The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 122 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 contenders and expensive flops over the past decade, baseball is the 2 main sales tool. 3 Stories circulated of supposed mandates to New York baseball 4 writers to produce regular scoops or be booted off the beat, if not 5 fired outright. The Post’s Michael Morrissey and Daily News sports 6 editor Leon Carter did not disabuse me of this stereotype. 7 “The New York media is the toughest in baseball in the coun- 8 try,” said Morrissey, who handled the Mets beat from 2001 to 2003. 9 “There really is a mandate to break stories and keep ahead of the 10 other tabloid. In Boston, it’s not so much a circulation war. Boston’s 11 a pecking order. In New York, it’s every man for himself. 12 “I just know there are certain expectations when you cover a beat 13 in New York. Those expectations are that you’ll break news regu- [123], (42) 14 larly. It’s pretty clear soon whether you’re breaking news or not. It’s 15 not subjective.” Lines: 632 to 646 16 Carter, like his cohorts at the helm of other New York sports sec- 17 tions, plays the big brother role for his writers. He’s always watch- ——— 18 ing and waiting for the next story to lure the readers away from the 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 competition. Normal Page 20 “They come into the job knowing that they have to break stories,” PgEnds: T X 21 Carter said. “No one says that you have to break a story seven days E 22 out of seven. You come into the job knowing you have to know what 23 goes on, on your beat. When I read the other New York papers in [123], (42) 24 the morning, when I see a story, I make that story known to that 25 beat writer. I want to know what’s going on in the beat.” 26 Mimicking the game’s year-round pace, Carter said New York 27 baseball fans “eat up baseball now almost every day in the off-season. 28 That was not always the case. In 1994 the Knicks were very good. 29 The Knicks and football kept everyone warm [in the off-season]. But 30 in 1996, when the Yankees won the World Series, baseball fever 31 returned. That brought baseball back to an all-time high in New 32 York. And when came aboard, whatever level was 33 there was taken up two levels. It’s rare that starting with the last out 34 of the World Series you can go two consecutive days with a Yankees 35 or Mets five-hundred-word story. That was not the case in 1994.” 36 Carter or his deputies will field calls from readers wondering 37 about the status of the regular Yankees writer if his byline is absent 38 for a period of time. The passion extends to cult sports. Long before

The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism 123

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 123 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 the nhl went dark for the 2004–5 season, the Daily News would get 2 letters or calls from fans in Long Island if the paper used an ap story 3 on an Islanders road game. 4 The newspapers cannot afford to cut coverage even in losing sea- 5 sons. “In the second half with the [losing] Mets, we would still keep 6 the beat writer or backup on the road,” Carter said. “That doesn’t 7 mean there won’t be news. The worst feeling in the world is to com- 8 promise coverage.” 9 With hyper-interest in the two New York nfl teams, newspa- 10 pers like the Daily News came up with a creative way to divide the 11 coverage baby on football Sundays in September and October in 12 order not to anger readers. The tabloid had a special twenty-eight- 13 page nfl section on Mondays starting in 2000, while the baseball [124], (43) 14 teams still hold forth on the trademark back page. “We did not want 15 football to take away from baseball, so we did that special section,” Lines: 646 to 660 16 Carter said. 17 The New York baseball reporter’s job is even harder simply be- ——— 18 cause the sheer number of on-site competitors cuts down on the 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 one-on-one reporting encounters necessary for scoops. That taxes Normal Page 20 both the imagination and relationship-building talents. PgEnds: T X 21 “The number one technique is hard work,” Morrissey said. “You E 22 have to develop relationships. Working hard and working smart go 23 hand in hand. The way you develop a rapport [with sources] is being [124], (43) 24 knowledgeable about the sport. You show yourself as hard-working. 25 You have to ask the right questions. 26 “You can develop one-on-one relationships with guys. It’s not the 27 same as two generations ago when all reporters had good one-on- 28 one deals with most players. If you’re lucky, you’ll have good inter- 29 personal relationships with half the guys, if you’re good. But every 30 guy in New York worth his salt is a one-on-one operator.” 31 The seven to eight traveling writers are supplemented by report- 32 ers covering the Mets and Yankees for all-sports wfan-Radio. The 33 fifty-thousand-watt giant, occupying the old -Radio 660 fre- 34 quency, is the only station in the country besides komo in Seattle to 35 send a reporter on the road full time. 36 “You just try to develop sources,” veteran wfan Mets reporter Ed 37 Coleman said. “One advantage I have is I’m there every day. Maybe 38 guys trust me more. When [Bobby] Valentine was there, something

124 The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 124 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 always was going on. Valentine had his select guys he leaked stuff 2 to.” 3 Amazingly, veterans of playing in New York recalled being able 4 to manage their media experiences without going crazy. 5 “New York’s a little different [than Boston] because of the [win- 6 ning] track record,” Hall-of-Fame-bound pitcher Roger Clemens 7 said. “You better have that high of standards. I enjoyed it.” 8 Outfielder Rondell White, a media-friendly chap, could have 9 been fodder for constant criticism as a free-agent Yankee in 2002. 10 “I played terrible there,” he said. “They didn’t dog me out as 11 much like they could have. The reporters there were great with me. 12 Nobody ever said I couldn’t play the game. It’s what you make of it. 13 If you go in with a negative attitude, it will be a negative situation.” [125], (44) 14 Minnesota Twins manager Ron Gardenhire enjoyed a relatively 15 forgiving Midwestern market first as a top aide to , then Lines: 660 to 681 16 as Kelly’s successor. But he had a turn at handling the fishbowl in 17 New York as a 1980s Mets infielder. ——— 18 “You have two choices,” he said. “You can either be at war with 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 them and say, ‘No comment,’ or you can oblige them and let them Normal Page 20 do their job. If you let them do their job, there will be no problem. PgEnds: T X 21 They will ask tough questions. A lot of those guys’ jobs are to stir E 22 it up a little bit. Answer them as best as you can. If I screwed the 23 game up with an error and they come in, I just tell them I blew it. [125], (44) 24 No bullshit that the sun got in my eye. I just told them I missed the 25 ball. It wasn’t anybody’s fault but mine. They really can’t do much 26 with that.” 27 The extra space both New York and Boston media outlets can 28 clear for such sensationalized, saturated baseball coverage happens 29 because amateur sports do not have the standing in their markets 30 that editors deem they have in the heartland. 31 “New York always was a strong pro town,” Carter said. “It never 32 was a strong college town.” 33 “High schools are not predominant here,” the Lowell Sun’s Brad- 34 ford said. “On our front page, if we have a Red Sox story, that’ll 35 almost always lead the paper.” 36 The lack of distraction by lower-interest sports enables media 37 talent to build up their political cachet. Not only do they have a 38 chance to gain attention with breaking stories, but they also have a

The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism 125

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 125 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 prime opportunity to get noticed by national media. Since most ma- 2 jor news organizations are headquartered in New York, with espn 3 not far up the road in Bristol, , the aggressive, enter- 4 prising—and more important, politically astute—baseball scribe or 5 broadcaster can break out onto an even bigger stage. That’s one im- 6 portant reason much of the slant of national coverage is New York– 7 or Boston-oriented. 8 espn’s lead reporter Peter Gammons made his reputation with 9 his groundbreaking Sunday notes columns in the Boston Globe. Gam- 10 mons may seem an extension of the Red Sox at times and throw a lot 11 of rumors against the wall that don’t stick, but he’s overall “still good 12 for the industry,” said Seattle Mariners general manager Bill Bavasi. 13 ’s good work on the Yankees for a few years at the New [126], (45) 14 York Times also netted a prime espn gig. Jayson Stark, formerly a 15 Philadelphia Inquirer baseball mainstay, made an easy transition to Lines: 681 to 689 16 ESPN.com. The formula is simple. If national media management 17 sometimes appear in the East Coast ballparks, they’ll befriend and ——— 18 hire the local talent. In comparison, the top Kansas City, Minneapo- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 lis, or Cleveland baseball writer only has a ghost of a chance to go Normal Page 20 national. PgEnds: T X 21 “Sure, you do it subconsciously,” said Steve Friedman, former ex- E 22 ecutive producer of The Today Show and cbs’s . Even 23 though he was a Chicago native who also worked in Los Angeles, [126], (45) 24 Friedman fell into the pattern of hiring those who crossed his path 25 at his New York base. 26 “You see them, and whoever comes to mind [gets the job]. You see 27 [baseball] through their prism. The center of the baseball universe 28 is Boston and New York. It’s also easier to get to Bristol [for espn 29 studio appearances] from Philly than it is from Houston.” 30 But there’s far more to baseball than just the Eastern corridor, a 31 fact that rankled discerning fans when Ken Burns’s memorable pbs 32 Baseball series aired during the early months of the strike in 1994. 33 At the time, it seemed Burns extended all the old Yankees, Red Sox, 34 and Brooklyn Dodgers legends to fill the majority of the series while 35 teams west of the Appalachians were given short shrift. The careers 36 of Stan Musial, Ernie Banks, and a host of others were downplayed 37 compared to the already heavily publicized legends who were lucky 38 enough to draw a New York or Boston team paycheck. Burns’s work

126 The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 126 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 continued the trend of churning out books romanticizing the 1920s 2 to 1950s era of the Dodgers and Yankees, and preceded a blizzard 3 of books celebrating the Red Sox’s 2004 feats. 4 Richard Lindberg, author and semi-official White Sox historian, 5 called Burns’s work “The espn Fly-Over Zone.” That was a refer- 6 ence to “the great expanse of land stretching from the Ohio Valley 7 to the western edge of the Rockies—Baseball was a disappointing 8 and futile exercise of East Coast elitism, shutting out the cluster 9 of teams situated in the heartland. Lindberg called historian Doris 10 Kearns Goodwin’s nostalgia for her youthful Brooklyn Dodgers 11 “dewy-eyed.” There was no similar storyteller for the Cubs, Car- 12 dinals, or Reds, three teams in business for more than a century at 13 the time of the documentary. [127], (46) 14 Lindberg claimed that the program had “very little to say beyond 15 thirty-second sound bites about the Tigers, Reds, Twins, Brewers, Lines: 689 to 701 16 White Sox, Cubs, Indians, Cardinals, and Royals. Given the fabled 17 Cubs-Cardinals rivalry, the great Tigers teams of the past, and a ——— 18 White Sox tragedy extending beyond the border of the 1919 Black 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Sox Scandal, Midwestern fans were badly shortchanged. Normal Page 20 “Admittedly, the cinematic presentation and the visual imagery of PgEnds: T X 21 Baseball was a stunning triumph,” Lindberg said, “but the editorial E 22 content reflected strong regional bias and was exploitive and offense 23 to the baseball purists living in the center of the country.” [127], (46) 24 Lindberg also criticized a perceived East Coast–orientation to the 25 format of espn-Radio, the highest-profile national sports radio net- 26 work. “Do the underserved sports fans exiled west of the Hudson 27 River–New England axis really care to listen to Red Sox manager 28 Terry Francona spouting off to Dan Patrick and about 29 congratulatory calls [on a December 24, 2004, show]?” he wrote. 30 espn actually televised a mock-trial show in 2004 to judge whether 31 the worst “curse” had afflicted either the Cubs or Red Sox. Harvard- 32 based, legal-eagle Alan Dershowitz, a Red Sox fan, argued Boston’s 33 case—and even quoted from my 2000 book The Million to One Team: 34 Why the Chicago Cubs Haven’t Won a Pennant since 1945 to argue his 35 case. Despite the Red Sox’s history of pennant contention compared 36 to the Cubs’ constant dwelling in the National League’s nether 37 world, the Eastern-oriented “jury” voted Boston as the most cursed 38 of the two franchises.

The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism 127

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 127 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 At times fans in the middle of the country may get more news on 2 the Yankees, Mets, and Red Sox than their own teams. While New 3 York and Boston newspapers have been prompted to increase their 4 already-sumptuous diet of baseball coverage, some of their coun- 5 terparts throughout the Midwest have been moving in the other 6 direction. The logical prompts of the home-run race of 1998 plus 7 contending Cardinals and Cubs teams have not had the desired ef- 8 fect in boosting original baseball content. 9 The direction in the heartland is status quo, if not a rollback, in 10 baseball coverage, where media outlets are already far from the big- 11 league ballparks. Instead of the crunched-up cities of the Northeast 12 all within cozy, traffic-clogged distances of stadiums, the Midwest, 13 Southern, and Great Plains outlying cites are hard, long drives at [128], (47) 14 high-speeds distance. The economics of dispatching reporters, pay- 15 ing hefty mileage totals and even overnight lodging, combined with Lines: 701 to 709 16 supervising editors’ cravings for a “niche” for their papers with local 17 sports has relegated baseball to more encapsulated coverage. ——— 18 Thus Cardinals fans spread out all over the Midwest and further 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 south can access just one newspaper—the St. Louis Post-Dispatch— Normal Page 20 that follows the team home and on the road during the course of PgEnds: T X 21 a season. The far-flung Redbird rooters just have one version of E 22 the ebb and flow of the long season. Meanwhile, on Friday, Au- 23 gust 27, 2004, during a crucial series at Wrigley Field between the [128], (47) 24 Cubs and Astros, only five daily newspapers manned the game. The 25 day corresponded with the first night of high school football. One 26 regularly covering suburban newspaper, the Northwest Herald, had 27 to skip the game to borrow its Cubs writer for prep coverage in an 28 all-men-on-deck stance. And even though the Cubs were squarely 29 in the National League wild-card race—in fact were leading by one 30 and a half games with one week to go—in 2004, only one outlying 31 newspaper, the Grand Rapids Press, beefed up its coverage. The Cubs 32 threatened to reach the postseason two years in a row for the first 33 time since antiquity, but it was not enough to join the bandwagon. 34 Such a trend has not gone unnoticed by baseball officials who 35 keep track of who staffs their games. 36 “I found it surprising the Peoria paper rarely comes up here,” said 37 Cubs media relations director Sharon Pannozzo. “Granted, geogra- 38 phy here is much further away. In the East, big cities are close by

128 The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 128 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 [teams] with big papers. Major papers are in cities just an hour’s 2 drive away. Still, it’s surprising the [outlying] papers weren’t here 3 [in a pennant race]. Rockford, Springfield [Illinois], a lot of small 4 papers in Iowa, they don’t cover us. They cover college football, 5 high schools, sports within their communities.” 6 The rollback is surprising in that Cubs interest has been ingrained 7 in the multistate area around Chicago for a century. In 1967, wgn- 8 tv finally satisfied a clamoring that had come for many years from 9 tv stations throughout Illinois, Indiana, and Iowa. The video outlets 10 wanted at least a partial schedule of Cubs telecasts to satisfy viewer 11 demand in this pre-cable era. For several years prior to 1970, when 12 big league baseball returned to Milwaukee after a five-year absence, 13 Cubs telecasts were aired in Milwaukee, Madison, and Green Bay, [129], (48) 14 Wisconsin. In the ensuing decades, as both Wrigley Field atten- 15 dance and tv ratings could testify, interest in the Cubs had mush- Lines: 709 to 721 16 roomed from the already high level noted in ’67. 17 Somehow, that trend was not picked up on by Midwestern super- ——— 18 vising editors, many of whom would not classify themselves as avid 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 sports fans. Only a partial explanation comes directly from sports Normal Page 20 editors who determine day-to-day coverage. Just as surprisingly, PgEnds: T X 21 some of those who have elected to cover high schools over Major E 22 League Baseball count themselves big baseball fans. 23 “The Midwest traditionally is a more laid-back area,” said David [129], (48) 24 Schwartz, sports editor of the Northwest Herald, who grew up a dyed- 25 in-the-wool Cardinals fan in west St. Louis County. “The Midwest 26 is so much more forgiving. The economy isn’t what it was five years 27 ago. There’s a very real trend in nonmajor metro markets to a real 28 push toward . It’s a push to cover the big 29 [high school or college] football game while still having ap coverage 30 that you’re already paying for. 31 “High school sports is so much more of an event than on the East 32 Coast. Even so, there are differences in interest. Lacrosse is big on 33 the East Coast, we scratch our heads about it here. If we have one 34 reporter left between covering Crystal Lake South versus Central 35 and covering the Cubs, we’ll cover the high school game.” 36 The rise of the Internet starting in the mid-1990s “freaked out 37 newspaper editors,” Schwartz said. “They asked, ‘What can we pro- 38 vide that they don’t?’ ”

The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism 129

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 129 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Despite such a philosophy, Schwartz will ramp up baseball cov- 2 erage when he can. He and editor Chris Krug salted away travel 3 money at the start of each year to be used in case a local pro or 4 college team wins. Although the Northwest Herald used ap to cover 5 the Cubs and White Sox on the first two prep Fridays of 2004, the 6 paper traveled with the Cubs on their final long road trip of the 7 season later in September of that year. To compensate, Schwartz 8 cut out staff coverage of the sagging University of Illinois football 9 team. 10 But other newspapers retreated from original baseball coverage 11 in 2004. The Rockford Register Star rolled back coverage more than 12 most. Going into the 1990s, the -owned daily deployed a 13 [130], (49) staff person based in the Chicago area to cover the Cubs, White Sox, 14 and other sports. In even earlier decades, according to sports edi- 15 tor Randy Ruef, the paper operated its own airplane, which would Lines: 721 to 731 16 ferry its sportswriters to all the Big Ten football games on Saturday 17 ——— mornings. 18 13.0pt PgVar Obviously, economics changed as corporate ownership and ad- ——— 19 herence to the highest stock prices governed news decisions. Even- Normal Page 20 21 tually, the Chicago-based sportswriting position was pulled back * PgEnds: Eject 22 into the downtown Rockford office, ninety miles northwest of Chi- cago. Through the 2003 season, the Register Star would staff occa- 23 [130], (49) 24 sional Cubs and White Sox games, meriting a reserved seat in the 25 press boxes. In 2003, writer Andre Smith covered the Cubs for se- 26 lected Wrigley Field games, then traveled with the team during the 27 postseason. 28 Yet after Smith left to join an Iowa paper early in the 2004 season, 29 Rockford elected not to staff Chicago baseball games. “We really 30 backed down on travel with all the Internet and cable tv coverage,” 31 said Ruef. “When the Cubs do well, everyone shows up and there 32 are plenty of choices of coverage we can take. 33 “Where my problems lie is that when people get stuff from a lot 34 of sources on a national basis, they want more local news from us. 35 To cover one game, you’d probably count twelve to thirteen hours 36 of time for our reporter. Was that twelve hours worth the column? 37 If he stayed in Rockford, he could do two, three local stories in that 38 time.”

130 The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 130 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Ruef’s analysis of readers’ desires thus was radically different from 2 that of Eastern sports editors. 3 “Unless you’re a well-known columnist, I don’t think people care 4 about bylines,” Ruef said. “The public wants more [coverage], but 5 also wants justification. We run a wire story [on baseball], blow up 6 a photo, and it’s a nice package. They want volume and size. I can 7 make it look like we really went nuts over a team that we didn’t staff. 8 Even if we want to do more, we can’t give the readers the same as 9 the Tribune and Sun-Times. I don’t want to sacrifice local coverage.” 10 Although Smith and Ruef were prepared to cover the Cubs all the 11 way through the had not the fateful game six of 12 the nlcs interfered, Ruef opted not to put in requests for postseason 13 [131], (50) credentials for 2004. “We would have covered them from home,” 14 Ruef said. 15 Mike Nadel’s Chicago-based sports column sufficed as occasional, Lines: 731 to 753 16 original baseball news for the Peoria Journal Star and Springfield 17 ——— State Journal-Register. Previously, longtime Chicago columnist Bill 18 13.0pt PgVar Gleason authored a Chicago-based column for both the South Bend ——— 19 Tribune and Daily Southtown, the latter a southwest suburban Chi- Normal Page 20 21 cago daily that staffed road games of Chicago baseball teams. But * PgEnds: Eject 22 when Gleason retired, the South Bend paper did not replace the Chicago coverage. 23 [131], (50) 24 Cubs and Cardinals fans enjoy summers-full of argument and de- 25 bate all throughout central and southern Illinois. So where would 26 these passionate rooters turn for baseball coverage if the sparse ap 27 coverage and agate box scores were not enough in their local dailies, 28 and they did not read the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Chicago Tribune,or 29 Chicago Sun-Times, or access some online operation? 30 “You’re not well-served by coverage around here if you don’t go 31 online,” said Bloomington adman Mark Gibson. “For a lot of peo- 32 ple, no matter if the information is credible, they turn on The Score 33 [wscr-am, the all-sports radio station in Chicago]. My own radio 34 never leaves 720 [wgn-Radio’s frequency].” 35 A similar situation existed for Cardinals fans in Columbia, 36 Missouri, two hours west of St. Louis. “People are really into the 37 Cardinals here,” said Joe Walljasper, sports editor of the Columbia 38 Tribune. Operating in a smaller market, the Redbirds depend on

The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism 131

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 131 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 drawing from a multistate region to have regularly filled Busch Sta- 2 dium over the decades. 3 But even with the intense baseball interest at hand, Walljasper 4 said his paper “hasn’t covered a Cardinals game in years.” 5 Economics is the main factor. “If you do it seriously, cover eighty 6 home games, that’s two hours each way with mileage and everything 7 else,” Walljasper said. “Figure $100 times eighty-one for the per- 8 game expenses. If we’re not going to do it full bore, what we could 9 provide ourselves isn’t that much different than ap provides. If I had 10 my druthers, we would go there and have regular features.” 11 Walljasper said Columbia-area residents have alternatives in the 12 St. Louis Post-Dispatch and Internet providers such as MLB.com if 13 they want wall-to-wall Cardinals coverage. However, that’s a haz- [132], (51) 14 ardous philosophy. An editor should never suggest his readers go 15 elsewhere for vital information. He risks losing the readers perma- Lines: 753 to 770 16 nently. Promoting such reader defections can be the result of forgo- 17 ing staff coverage for nuts-and-bolts ap game stories and truncated ——— 18 notes packages. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Like the Register Star with Chicago baseball coverage, the Topeka Normal Page 20 Capital Journal once covered the Kansas City Royals much more PgEnds: T X 21 comprehensively. Just after the franchise was founded in 1969, the E 22 newspaper had a full-time beat writer work the Royals’ home and 23 road games. That frequency was cut back to home games only in the [132], (51) 24 1990s. By 2002 the home games would still be covered until football 25 season began, prompting the Capital Journal to bail out. Then in 26 2003 the paper began using ap for a number of home games. 27 “We did get some [negative] feedback,” sports editor Eric Turner 28 said of fans’ reaction to ap coverage. “If Bartolo Colon pitched a 29 one-hitter against the Royals, there would be thirteen inches of that, 30 and one on the Royals. I would love to know for sure [how much 31 reader dissatisfaction existed]. I’d like some data. We might have 32 lost people to the Kansas City Star. I’m a huge baseball fan, and I 33 was reading the Star. 34 “It absolutely can be a risk [to lose readers if staff coverage is cut].” 35 When the Royals had a mini-surge at midseason 2003, the Capital 36 Journal resumed sending staffers to home games. Then the paper 37 ramped it up, restoring earlier coverage levels in 2004. A Kansas 38 City–based staffer now worked both the Royals and the nfl Chiefs.

132 The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 132 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Some August and September home games might go uncovered if 2 there was a conflict with Chiefs games and practices. The kc-based 3 coverage now was fed to other Morris Communications newspapers 4 in suburban Kansas City, Dodge City, and Pittsburg, Kansas. 5 Even if the Missouri or Kansas reader forgoes his local paper to 6 pick up the Post-Dispatch or Star, that’s the limit of comprehensive 7 baseball coverage in the region. The trend of one-newspaper, Ma- 8 jor League markets is underrated in judging the competitive and 9 diverse nature of baseball reporting. No suburban dailies have de- 10 veloped to provide traveling competition for the papers in St. Louis, 11 Kansas City, Milwaukee, Houston, and San Diego. Even Chicago, 12 the third-largest market in the country, only has three traveling 13 newspapers wire-to-wire during the entire Cubs season, fewer than [133], (52) 14 New York, Boston, Philadelphia, and Los Angeles. 15 Wouldn’t the lack of competition, with the exception of MLB. Lines: 770 to 785 16 com, which has some restrictions on its total scope of coverage, be 17 bad for both sports journalists and their readers? ——— 18 “In theory it could hurt,” said Bob Dutton, Royals beat writer for 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 the Star. “But in addition to MLB.com, we have sports-talk radio. Normal Page 20 In Kansas City we have fifteen radio reporters running around at PgEnds: T X 21 all times. More choices are better. It’s now not just newspaper-to- E 22 newspaper. I wish there were more newspapers; there’d be more 23 jobs.” [133], (52) 24 Dutton’s boss, Star sports editor Mike Fannin, believes the one- 25 newspaper markets have their “benefits and downsides. It’s both 26 good and bad.” 27 “On a road trip the only people with [Dutton] are those working 28 for the Royals radio network,” he said. “The downside is it’s not as 29 urgent as you always need to be. But the upside is you can develop a 30 story. If Bob hears at 10:00 p.m. there’s some juicy tidbit that has to 31 develop out, he is not forced to put it in the paper [on final deadline]. 32 He can come back the next day and still deliver a scoop.” 33 But a one-newspaper market can leave a gaping hole in reporting 34 unless someone else steps in to fill it. Usually, a tv person can’t fill 35 that role with the pressure to get quick, fast-paced sound bites and 36 with less than three minutes of total airtime on an evening-news 37 sportscast. 38 One outlying heartland newspaper that doesn’t dare cut cover-

The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism 133

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 133 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 age is the Dayton Daily News. The paper has long promoted leg- 2 endary beat writer Hal McCoy’s home-and-road Reds reporting— 3 for a very good reason. “Surveys have shown that 30 percent of Reds 4 fans are in the Dayton area,” McCoy said. 5 But the Dayton and Topeka examples are exceptions to the rule of 6 local-first philosophy, even though baseball in its darkest days had 7 far more widespread readership than high school sports. 8 I experienced two rollbacks from pros to preps first-hand—com- 9 manded by editors who were baseball fans. In 2001, I persuaded 10 Dave Marran, the longtime sports editor of the Kenosha News, cir- 11 culating in the southeastern corner of Wisconsin, to let me author 12 a weekly Cubs column. Kenosha is fifty-five miles from Chicago, 13 thirty-five miles from Milwaukee, and is home to avid fans of teams [134], (53) 14 in both cities. 15 Marran, himself a Cubs fan, had briefly run a Cubs-oriented Web Lines: 785 to 797 16 site in his spare time. The column, averaging a thousand words, 17 was packaged every Sunday with a similar piece on the Brewers ——— 18 by Milwaukee-based Greg Hoffman, who had covered the Brewers 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 anyway for years for the News. Marran liked my production, and he Normal Page 20 said higher-up editors also were pleased. PgEnds: T X 21 Then 9/11 imploded media outlets’ bottom lines, already sagging E 22 from a severe advertising recession that began in late 2000. I didn’t 23 figure the Cubs column would return for 2002, and Marran con- [134], (53) 24 firmed it. At the time, he said even though upper management clas- 25 sified themselves as avid sports fans, they ordered a focus on only lo- 26 cal events within Kenosha County, where the News circulated. Late 27 in 2004, Marran added that the decision was financially driven more 28 than philosophically based. 29 The Cubs and Brewers coverage weren’t the only coverage roll- 30 backs for the News. Marran said that in the 1990s the paper had 31 staffed almost all games played by the Green Bay Packers, by far the 32 most popular pro team in their area, along with the entire state of 33 Wisconsin, of course. The News even had published an instant book 34 on the Packers’ XXXI triumph. Also dropped were staff 35 coverage of University of Wisconsin football and basketball, Mar- 36 quette basketball, and some games. 37 The Cubs and Brewers coverage were a “substantial financial and 38 space commitment in a county that has eight high schools, two col-

134 The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 134 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 leges, thirty-eight pages a week, and a staff of only six to handle it 2 all,” Marran said. “Because of our space and the growing demands 3 for local coverage we were only able to fit in the nuts and bolts [of 4 pro and major college coverage], which is what the ap was also giving 5 us . . . I am better served putting that thousand dollars [spent on the 6 Cubs column] into local coverage. I would be derelict in my duties 7 as sports editor of the Kenosha News if I did not.” 8 Also going by the wayside, in January 2005, was my weekly Lerner 9 Newspapers Cubs-oriented column that I had fought so hard to 10 convert away from low-interest high school sports fifteen years 11 earlier. 12 New management from the suburban-based ab- 13 sorbed Lerner into their operation. Chicago bureau chief Kathy [135], (54) 14 Catrambone applied Pioneer’s intensely local suburban model to 15 editions circulating in Chicago, even though the city and suburbs Lines: 797 to 808 16 had different readership interests and standards. Catrambone in- 17 formed me, without any knowledge of my background of breaking ——— 18 stories not seen in the big metro papers, that the downtown dailies 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 could cover the Cubs so much better than Pioneer/Lerner. I was Normal Page 20 free to continue to write my column if it focused on high school PgEnds: T X 21 sports—even though the newspapers continued to circulate in the E 22 neighborhood around Wrigley Field. When Catrambone made the 23 announcement to me, she added she was planning to attend her eighth [135], (54) 24 Cubs Convention in a few days—continuing a strange trend of pro- 25 fessed Cubs rooters cutting coverage of the team while working as 26 editors. I had to go along with the mandate, despite past struggles 27 with the late Lou Lerner over the same issue, because of personal 28 finances. Oddly enough, five months later Catrambone was laid off. 29 Obviously, Cubs fans are not as rabid as their Red Sox and Yan- 30 kees counterparts, either in demanding in-depth coverage as readers 31 or listeners, or in crafting the same as media managers. 32 To this day, I still cannot understand the thirst for narrowcasting 33 in sports by editors. Unless they lived in isolated areas hundreds 34 of miles from the nearest pro team—Odessa, Texas, site of Friday 35 Night Lights comes to mind—the majority of sports fans would not 36 logically have any intense readership interest in high school athletics 37 unless their children participated. 38 “You have to be in a small town to have [widespread] interest in

The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism 135

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 135 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 high school sports,” Kansas City sports editor Mike Fannin said. 2 “There’s an old adage that every kid’s name in the paper is [worth] 3 a subscriber. I don’t know if that’s true.” 4 A contrary view was offered by Bill Wolverton. A former sports 5 columnist and Bears writer for the Rockford Register Star, Wolverton 6 once said that extensive prep coverage at the expense of the pros 7 was justified in his area. “We have a lot of prep junkies,” he said of 8 fans who had no apparent family links to participating high school 9 athletes. But whether such boosters existed in any abundance, they 10 were still far outnumbered by Rockford-area baseball fans who were 11 originally made happy when nbc affiliate wtvo-tv began picking up 12 that ad-hoc wgn network of Cubs telecasts back in 1967. 13 An example of the true economic impact, or lack thereof, for high [136], (55) 14 school coverage for media outlets is the Marion-Carbondale mar- 15 ket in far southern Illinois. Paxton Guy, the operations manager for Lines: 808 to 820 16 the Clear Channel–owned local cluster of radio stations, said early 17 in 2005 he had trouble selling his high school sports package. The ——— 18 reason was that a number of businesses had moved into the area in 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 recent years, importing workers who had no ties to the local high Normal Page 20 schools. They did not listen to the broadcasts. PgEnds: T X 21 Are the editors’ decisions about tipping their coverage heavily E 22 toward high schools not well-informed? Much evidence suggests 23 yes. [136], (55) 24 “What’s changed is people want more stories about me, my kids,” 25 Rockford sports editor Randy Ruef said. But in the same breath, he 26 suggested such coverage is limited in his total circulation, depending 27 upon whether readers’ children are actually participating in youth 28 or high school programs. 29 “Most complaints here come from women,” Ruef added. They 30 are defined as mothers who generally did not care about sports until 31 their children began playing in high school and wanted to build up 32 their scrapbooks. Throughout the newspaper industry, these moth- 33 ers are figured to be temporary readers. 34 The parents’ calls and complaints end up as the main impetus for 35 overcoverage of preps. Often angrily demanding coverage of their 36 child, and feeling a sense of entitlement from their local newspaper, 37 the parents often direct their opinions at managing editors or exec- 38 utive editors, who wrongly misinterpret a groundswell of interest in

136 The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 136 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 local sports. As a result, even minor activities such as cross-country, 2 tennis, and golf get coverage far out of proportion to their overall 3 appeal and interest level. 4 In contrast, the baseball fan tends not to call up the paper unless 5 the box scores, statistics, or standings are screwed up or omitted. 6 Or, in the Chicago area, if the White Sox are given lesser play than 7 the Cubs. 8 Ed Bannon, former Lerner Newspapers editor and general man- 9 ager, kept a concisely local focus in his chain before he was replaced 10 by Catrambone in 2004. But Bannon, a Chicago native and baseball 11 fan, also believed there was a place for Cubs coverage even though 12 the paper came out weekly. Although high schools were the main 13 focus of Lerner’s sports coverage, Bannon claimed that preps had a [137], (56) 14 limited audience in an urban area. 15 “The only people who are prep fans are the parents, close family Lines: 820 to 832 16 members, and possibly alumni who played the sport,” he said. “I 17 don’t think there’s as much loyalty even as I once thought. If one of ——— 18 those schools went downstate [to state championship tournaments], 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 maybe they’d take notice. Normal Page 20 “It’s a rural mentality. A smaller town rallies around its team more PgEnds: T X 21 than an urban area. The population is so mobile in an urban area, E 22 so you don’t have people who went to high school in the area. And 23 there are also people who went to the high schools who didn’t get [137], (56) 24 involved in sports. Editors who mandate it feel like it’s an obvious 25 connection—if people live there, since they cover village board, they 26 should cover local high school team. With high school sports, it’s 27 so diffused with the number of sports, both genders, three or four 28 levels of play, so many teams. Unless you do it comprehensively, 29 every score for every team, it does not work great.” 30 Sportswriters and copy-desk editors offered an inside-out look 31 at preps versus pro coverage when they posted their opinions on 32 SportsJournalists.com. They offered a differing view than their 33 bosses on what is known in the newspaper business as the “scrap- 34 book beat”—the scrapbooks of clippings collected by parents of high 35 school athletes. 36 “Our readership surveys tell us that about 20 percent of our read- 37 ers care about high school sports, far below the numbers of nfl, 38 nascar, nba, mlb, etcetera,” was a typical response of one November

The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism 137

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 137 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2004 poster. “Yet we cover the crap out of high school stuff, when 2 it’s obvious that not many care because there are fifty to seventy-six 3 people at the games, because somebody writes a letter or bitches that 4 little Johnny won’t get a scholarship if the paper doesn’t document 5 what he’s done.” 6 Another SJ.com poster was even more blunt. 7 “This is not about ‘embracing local,’ ” he wrote. “There’s one rea- 8 son and one reason only for this unhealthy obsession with preps: 9 money. Newspaper editors want Johnnie and Jayne’s mom and dad 10 to buy a paper they normally wouldn’t buy if their kids weren’t in 11 it . . . Actual editorial judgment be damned . . . The simplistic re- 12 action is: Concede that [non-local] coverage and those sports while 13 blowing out prep coverage to the extreme . . . A good small, me- [138], (57) 14 dium, or large newspaper will contain a mixed bag of sports stories, 15 with the biggest story of the day—be it local, regional, or national— Lines: 832 to 844 16 as the lead story.” 17 Preps versus pros was never an issue on the newspaper-rich West ——— 18 Coast, previously the other part of baseball journalism’s “blue 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 states.” But the actual identifying color of the region had turned Normal Page 20 somewhat murky as the zeroes decade progressed. Straight, stark PgEnds: T X 21 economics is causing severe rollbacks in baseball coverage in the E 22 Los Angeles and San Francisco areas, long known for big cadres of 23 traveling beat writers. [138], (57) 24 The largest cut took place going into the 2005 season. The San 25 Jose Mercury News, one of the region’s best dailies, is owned by 26 the Knight-Ridder chain, which also runs the Contra Costa Times,a 27 smaller daily circulating in the East Bay part of the San Francisco– 28 Oakland area. Rather than duplicating beat coverage of Bay Area 29 teams while under the same corporate umbrella, each paper dropped 30 its entire beat coverage of one Major League team. The Mercury 31 News dropped its Oakland Athletics beat, shifting over to Giants 32 reporter Chris Haft, who had been hired just before the 2004 sea- 33 son from Cincinnati to cover the A’s. The Times ended its original 34 Giants coverage, moving longtime beat man Joe Roderick over to 35 the Athletics. Under the new arrangement, the Mercury News would 36 provide Giants coverage to the Times, which in turn would originate 37 Athletics stories for the Mercury News. 38 The baseball teams weren’t the only franchises affected. The Mer-

138 The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 138 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 cury News, which already had picked up coverage of the nba’s Golden 2 State Warriors and University of California (Berkeley) sports from 3 the Times, also ceded coverage of the nfl’s Raiders to the smaller 4 daily. In turn, the Times would pick up the San Jose paper’s re- 5 portage of the nfl’s 49ers. 6 Executives estimated that the savings would total fifty thousand 7 dollars a year in travel costs. The silver lining was that no staffers 8 were laid off—at that point. The newspaper, though, joined in the 9 industry-wide epidemic of job cuts later in 2005. 10 “It would be fair to say that we don’t relish making these moves,” 11 Mercury News executive editor Susan Goldberg wrote in a memo to 12 her staff. “However, given the financial realities [of the shaky Bay 13 Area economy], this is a way to save a considerable amount of money [139], (58) 14 while having a minimal impact on readers.” 15 But Goldberg’s fiat made the Mercury News the largest daily in Lines: 844 to 862 16 the country that did not fold or merge with another paper to drop 17 daily coverage of a Major League baseball team in its area. In an ——— 18 interview, Goldberg said her paper’s hands were forced. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 “This was totally a cost move,” she said, citing the concept of Normal Page 20 two writers from “sister papers a couple of dozen miles apart” both PgEnds: T X 21 making an expensive trip to Detroit and points further east. E 22 “This will be an invisible move to readers. We do still have access 23 to beat coverage. A lot of people took this decision hard in the sports [139], (58) 24 department. We don’t consider travel costs covering sports teams 25 to be discretionary. But we don’t want to duplicate the effort and 26 costs.” 27 Often the quality and scope of sports coverage depends on the top 28 editor’s own passion for the subject. 29 “I’m not a huge sports fan, but I know it’s important to a lot of 30 people,” Goldberg said. “Sports is not a game, it’s entertainment 31 coverage. It’s what readers spend their time talking about around 32 the water coolers. We put a lot of sports on the front page. Sports 33 stories are good stories.” 34 Other Bay Area newspapers made coverage cuts. In spring train- 35 ing 2005, both and slashed travel 36 and lodging expenses to where only one writer could be in Arizona 37 at one time to cover either the Giants or Athletics. 38 The Bee cut even further to start the 2006 season. After having

The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism 139

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 139 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 long traveled with the Giants and Athletics, using Bay Area–based 2 staffers, the Bee pulled out of road coverage for both teams. Sports 3 editor Bill Bradley said that enterprise features on baseball would 4 take the place of the road games. The cost savings was estimated at 5 seventy thousand dollars per team. 6 Denver fans also had fewer coverage choices. When the Colorado 7 Rockies franchise began in 1993, the Boulder Daily Camera and Col- 8 orado Springs Gazette both joined the two major Denver papers in 9 traveling full time. But both papers ceased traveling regularly by 10 2001 as both the economy and Rockies fortunes tumbled. 11 Similarly, the Arizona Daily Star in Tucson traveled wire-to-wire 12 with Phoenix-based writer Jack Magruder starting in 1998, when 13 the began play. But, amazingly, the travel [140], (59) 14 was cut out in 2001, just in time for the D-Backs’ startling World 15 Series victory. As the Star further cut its baseball coverage in 2005, Lines: 862 to 877 16 Magruder left for the East Valley Tribune, based in Mesa, to take over 17 its D-Backs beat. ——— 18 All the while, the Los Angeles area bled original baseball coverage 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 like helium rushing from a burst balloon. Normal Page 20 In the wake of the Kirk Gibson– and Orel Hershiser–fueled Dod- PgEnds: T X 21 gers World Series victory in 1988, some eleven Los Angeles–area E 22 papers traveled through all or part of the team’s road schedule. 23 In addition to the Los Angeles Times, the dying Los Angeles Herald [140], (59) 24 Examiner was still on the road with reporter Ken Gurnick. The San 25 Fernando Valley–based was along for the 26 ride. The long roster of suburban and outlying papers on the road 27 included the Orange County Register, Long Beach Press-Telegram, the 28 Daily Breeze (Torrance), Riverside Press-Enterprise, San Bernardino 29 Sun, Pasadena Star-News, San Gabriel Valley Newspapers, Ventura 30 County Star and La Opinion, Los Angeles’s Spanish-language daily. 31 In addition, the Inland Daily Bulletin in suburban Ontario made the 32 occasional San Diego and San Francisco trip along with a spring 33 training jaunt. 34 “The competition in L.A. was intense,” then Dodgers media- 35 relations director Jay Lucas recalled. “Players would complain about 36 it, that eight or nine guys were waiting around for them. That’s 37 how Ken Gurnick got his nickname, ‘Mouse.’ They worked sources 38 downstairs and worked sources upstairs.”

140 The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 140 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 But the once bountiful Tinseltown newspaper market began to 2 shrivel or consolidate. The Herald Examiner folded. By the mid- 3 1990s, a number of the papers stopped traveling, including Long 4 Beach, sidelining ace baseball scribe Gordon Verrell. By the turn of 5 the century, the Dodgers’ traveling crew shrunk to no more than 6 four writers. 7 Worse yet, home games witnessed a cut in original coverage. The 8 William Dean Singleton newspaper chain, based at the Daily News, 9 assumed ownership of the San Bernardino, San Gabriel, Pasadena, 10 and Ontario papers. Singleton also tried, but failed, to buy the Or- 11 ange County Register and Riverside Press-Enterprise. Dodgers coverage 12 was originated by the Daily News, while San Gabriel handled the 13 [141], (60) Angels. Those stories were fed throughout the area chain. 14 “I think it hurts from a club standpoint,” Lucas, now an Astros 15 media-relations executive, said. “As a publicist, more of anything Lines: 877 to 891 16 helps. With the total coverage of a team, the newspaper guys would 17 ——— have the notes, the inside-the-clubhouse information. That kind of 18 13.0pt PgVar information is still there, but it’s not like it used to be. Fewer writers ——— 19 are covering baseball. In-depth coverage has changed.” Normal Page 20 21 “You’d only get four or five versions where we used to get eight or * PgEnds: Eject 22 nine different versions,” said Jim Gazzolo, former sports editor of the Inland Daily Bulletin and the Times of Northwest Indiana. “There 23 [141], (60) 24 were feature stories cut back on. Staff was cut so much you don’t 25 have off-day stories, and you don’t have backup guys doing stories. 26 More competition made the L.A. Times better.” 27 Gazzolo remembers much more crowded press boxes in Los An- 28 geles and Anaheim. “At a home game, you would fight for a seat at 29 Dodger Stadium through the mid-1990s,” he said. “Now you can 30 walk right in and sit wherever you want. It got where [Angels owner 31 Arte] Moreno built a private box and cut off part of the press box. It 32 didn’t matter, because there was less coverage and people anyway.” 33 Further down the coast in San Diego, the Union-Tribune’s Tom 34 Krasovic has some lonely trips to the East Coast and Midwest. He’s 35 the only full-time traveling writer with the Padres. He could re- 36 member when the Union and Tribune were separate newspapers 37 while the team was also covered by the since-defunct San Diego 38 edition of the Los Angeles Times.

The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism 141

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 141 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 If baseball fans want more and more of the same versions of sto- 2 ries about their favorite teams, they’ll accept the rollback of baseball 3 coverage with nary a whimper. They lose, and the game loses, if that 4 trend continues. 5 “The main thing editors are asking more than ever is will they 6 see the difference between our staff byline or an ap byline?” Kansas 7 City sports editor Mike Higgins said. “That’s where writers have to 8 step up and prove they’re better than the wire service, better than 9 the nuts and bolts of play-by-play. If not, it’s harder to make the 10 case [for staff coverage].” 11 Bud Selig made a pastime of holding court in the old County Sta- 12 dium press box while serving as owner. Now, 13 if he’d visit other press boxes throughout the country, he wouldn’t [142], (61) 14 have as many writers with whom to gab. He might find a few re- 15 assigned to the local high school cross-country meet. Something a Lines: 891 to 900 16 sport’s commissioner should be concerned about, don’t you think? 17 ——— 18 * 283.28pt PgVar ——— 19 Normal Page 20 21 * PgEnds: PageBreak 22 23 [142], (61) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

142 The Red and Blue States of Baseball Journalism

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 142 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 TEN 4 5 6 The Politics Of Baseball Media 7 8 9 10 11 12 ife imitates art in sports journalism—with one important ex- 13 Lception. A talent can hit .350 in the minors in baseball, and he’s [143], (62) 14 almost always called up. There’s no ignoring production. Whether 15 he succeeds in the majors is a different story, but the top bush-league Lines: 900 to 922 16 hitters and pitchers will usually get the summons. 17 But if a writer or broadcaster hits the equivalent of .350 below the ——— 18 Major League level of media, he or she may never hit the big time, 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 through no fault of the individual. They may not be “wired” into Normal Page 20 the right person. Or the ivory-tower management may not even be PgEnds: T X 21 aware of the talent. E 22 Reaching the major leagues of sports media requires plugging in 23 to an old boys’ network—women are still in a tiny minority in man- [143], (62) 24 agement. More than any other aspect of media, sports journalism is 25 almost akin to entertainment and is managed accordingly. Relation- 26 ships and reputations count as much as, and sometimes more than, 27 natural ability. 28 Such a trend was apparent when media observers discussed the 29 lack of African American sports editors for an Editor and Publisher 30 article by Allan Wolper on March 7, 2005. 31 “White editors are often like the coaches they cover,” said Keith 32 Woods, dean of the Poynter Institute for Media Studies. “They have 33 an ‘old boy’ network and they take care of their friends.” 34 “Any time there is a closed hiring process, you have an ethical 35 problem,” said Richard E. Lapchick, director of the Institute for 36 Diversity and Ethics in Sport at the University of Central Florida. 37 “The situation is similar to the time when there weren’t any black 38 quarterbacks.”

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 143 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Yet it wasn’t just talent of color that had trouble getting a break. 2 Talent of all kinds was locked out, partially by an overwhelming de- 3 mand for only a few positions open at any time, but also the general 4 tendency for media managers to hire those they know or formerly 5 worked with. Just like coaches moving their assistants around the 6 country with them, a media management person would move to a 7 new job in a new city, summoning his most trusted and best-liked 8 coworkers to join him. 9 Such a trend, of course, is workplace politics at its most basic. 10 And the political system would expand to envelop almost all aspects 11 of sports media. But that’s not surprising, because the entertainment 12 business per se operates in such a manner. Sports media is entertain- 13 ment, no matter that the purists insist otherwise. [144], (63) 14 The hiring and assigning decisions in this kind of business will 15 have an affect on how the consuming public views baseball and Lines: 922 to 937 16 other sports. Who covers baseball, how knowledgeable they are, 17 and how they relate to athletes who are increasingly suspicious of ——— 18 media means everything in accurately conveying the game to the 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 fans forming its financial base. Normal Page 20 “Nobody wants to admit this, but the media world is an extension PgEnds: T X 21 of show business,” said Chicago sportscaster Tom Shaer. “Sports E 22 media is entertainment. It shouldn’t be that way. 23 “Your job is to get people to read, sell papers, and make money. [144], (63) 24 Get people to watch and listen to broadcasts, build ratings, and 25 sell commercials, too. You’re in an entertainment-based business, 26 you’re dealing with performers. Media people don’t like to see 27 themselves as performers, but that’s what they are. 28 “Every performer has an ego. Why else would you be willing to 29 do it on a public stage? You have to have an ego to do this job. 30 There are varying degrees of egos. People who are crazy enough 31 to put their job out for public evaluation have to have some sort 32 of mechanism that allows them to overcome fear of failure. That 33 mechanism is ego.” 34 When athletes complain that they make mistakes just like any 35 other worker, only it’s for public consumption, the same applies to 36 those who cover them. 37 “If an insurance man screws up someone’s policy, who knows 38 about it?” Shaer asked. “The insurance man, the insured person,

144 The Politics Of Baseball Media

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 144 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 the home office. If you write a bad article, ninety thousand readers 2 know you screwed up. If I get on the air and stumble around, four 3 hundred thousand people in a week know I screw up. We all make 4 mistakes. We’re human. 5 “Why am I willing to keep myself out in the public eye? Because 6 I’ve got an ego. Michael Jordan used to say he was not afraid of 7 failure. I used to think it was a bullshit comment. Then I realized 8 what he meant. The guy hit twenty-three game-winning buzzer- 9 beaters in his career. He also missed about thirty of them. Missed 10 thirty times! Yet he was willing to come back and try again. He had 11 this colossal ego. He had the biggest ego I’ve ever covered. It’s not 12 a normal person who is willing to put himself in the public arena. 13 Ego brings about strange behavior, but you can’t work in the public [145], (64) 14 area without some ego. The key is for all performers to control their 15 egos.” Lines: 937 to 945 16 Whether it’s to rub shoulders with athletes or expose their work 17 for public consumption or the pure joy of writing or broadcasting, ——— 18 applicants possessing at least a degree of ego flood media outlets 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 with résumés, e-mails, and phone calls. They desperately work press Normal Page 20 boxes, the areas around dugouts and batting cages, media conven- PgEnds: T X 21 tions, and bars trying to network their way into coveted jobs. With- E 22 out a real meritocracy that rewards talent and performance as in the 23 athletic arena, the scramble for the top often brings out the worst [145], (64) 24 in people. 25 So many apply, few are considered, and even fewer are chosen. 26 Everyone wants to be published or broadcast. In contrast, many ra- 27 dio stations actually run on-air spots for advertising salesmen, an 28 often thankless job. The outlets have trouble finding candidates to 29 beat the bush and get rejected fifteen of sixteen times in selling an 30 intangible—airtime—to usually reluctant clients. Even if the sales- 31 man can handle daily turndowns and get momentum with some reg- 32 ular clients, the gig is far less glamorous than working on the air. 33 Governing the industry is an oligarchy of management, often “in- 34 siders” who have risen to their positions of authority and who have 35 purposefully jumped aboard the management track. Be they copy- 36 editors in newspapers or producers or editors in broadcast, manage- 37 ment ranks will more often than not be stocked by those who have 38 not been the upfront stars of the business. The best talent stays in

The Politics Of Baseball Media 145

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 145 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 the front lines, penning award-winning prose or fronting top-rated 2 programming. 3 The most stark example in my memory is the late Mike Royko, 4 the Babe Ruth of general columnists, never leaving his opinion post 5 to take over as a top editor of the three Chicago papers for which 6 he worked. 7 “I’ve often wondered if one of the problems ailing our industry is 8 just this dynamic,” Cotter Martin posted on SportsJournalists.com 9 in March 2005. “Once upon a time, the majority of the smartest 10 and most talented and best people in the newspaper business put 11 in their time as reporters, then maybe as columnists before grab- 12 bing the reins as managers and executives. I don’t see that happening 13 much anymore. Management is supplied by the Peter Principle now. [146], (65) 14 Maybe not everywhere. Maybe not in every case. But I’d argue it’s 15 the rule and not the exception that the least among us in newsrooms Lines: 945 to 962 16 are climbing management ladders because the best among us don’t 17 want to. ——— 18 “And that, if you ask me, is the overlooked variable for why news- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 papers are hurting in so many ways.” Normal Page 20 Many of the management types move from market to market in PgEnds: T X 21 search of the better job, further diluting their media outlets’ re- E 22 lationship to the community and knowledge of its traditions and 23 nuances. Moving up in the business almost demands this rootless, [146], (65) 24 vagabond existence that may look good on the résumé, but often is 25 hell on both family life and ability to relate to each community. 26 “If I’m in New York and offered a job in Los Angeles, I’m not just 27 going there to cover the Dodgers and Angels; you have to under- 28 stand the community,” said Reds announcer George Grande, who 29 always has kept his home in Connecticut. 30 Rather than stick to a favorite job in a preferred market, “Most 31 people in our business want to rise to the highest level,” Grande 32 added. 33 “I think people feel they can get a bigger and better opportunity 34 elsewhere,” said Susan Goldberg, executive editor of the San Jose 35 Mercury News. “The only way to get that next step is to change your 36 newspaper. I’ve been here two different times. I went to USA Today 37 for ten years. Some journalists have itchy feet. 38 “For a top editing job, I like to promote from within. I like insti-

146 The Politics Of Baseball Media

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 146 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 tutional knowledge. It makes us a smarter newspaper. For a sports- 2 writer, having that home-team knowledge is helpful.” 3 Even with such apparently open-minded stances like Goldberg’s, 4 the best ideas are often nurtured only from within, not without. 5 And those who know the people with the power of the purse have 6 the edge. Nobody has the time or inclination to sift through every 7 résumé or audition tape. 8 “It’s a business with so few openings,” said Greg Rakestraw, pro- 9 gram director of all-sports wxlw-am in Indianapolis. “There’s such 10 a limited amount of accredited news organizations and sports or- 11 ganizations. A lot of it is a time crunch [on management]. As pres- 12 sures for profit margins increase, more responsibilities are put on 13 one individual. You’re hurt for time. You look at an opening and [147], (66) 14 you figure, ‘I know this guy. I know his work.’ ” 15 Sports positions, even at the smallest outlets, are the most cov- Lines: 962 to 974 16 eted in both print and broadcast. Turnover is the lowest among any 17 department, except in the poorly paid, entry-level jobs. In contrast, ——— 18 copyeditors wishing to move from one publication to another don’t 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 have a difficult task; there’s no thundering herd beating the door Normal Page 20 down for their inside, largely night-shift positions. PgEnds: T X 21 “We had an opening when [sometime baseball writer] Andre E 22 Smith left,” said Randy Ruef, sports editor of the Rockford Register 23 Star. “We were willing to take close to entry-level people. We had [147], (66) 24 thirty-some applicants. Most other departments don’t have nearly 25 that much [applicants]. People out there like it. Everybody and their 26 sister thinks they can be a sportswriter. It’s hard to pick that [right] 27 résumé. I feel comfortable if I know that person or he’s been recom- 28 mended to me by someone reputable. Even then, recommendations 29 can be somewhat tainted.” 30 New York is a world away from Rockford. The Big Apple is a 31 “terminal market” for so many artists’ careers. Once they’ve made 32 it in New York, the talent doesn’t want to live anywhere else, unless 33 they can retire early to a tropical island. So in granting such career- 34 plateau status, leading tabloid Daily News sports editor Leon Carter 35 looks internally first when a baseball-writing position opens up. 36 “That’s why having a strong backup guy is good,” Carter said. 37 “That person will get the first look. Then you look at who’s doing a 38 good job in the New York area. We have smaller, mid-sized papers

The Politics Of Baseball Media 147

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 147 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 in . People move from paper to paper here. A person 2 who is in New York has the edge over someone outside the area. 3 Not everyone can work in New York. Not everyone can deal with 4 the traffic, subways, culture.” 5 Carter keeps a crate of résumés outside his office and catalogues 6 those he would examine more closely. 7 “A lot of times, people who are trying to get to a major paper 8 should update their clips,” he said. “[Editors] will pay more attention 9 to something that’s only a few weeks old.” 10 Carter won’t have problems filling the baseball-writer job even 11 with the inherent burnout factors and pressures to break stories that 12 go along with it. But in even greater demand are sports-talk radio 13 jobs. Preceding reputations and relationships do help, but hiring [148], (67) 14 managers want to connect with the prospective talker before they 15 do the same with the listeners. Lines: 974 to 988 16 “Hiring air personalities is like going on a date,” said Marc Ray- 17 field, general manager of all-sports wip-Radio in Philadelphia. “You ——— 18 can’t identify what you liked about a girl, but you just know you liked 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 her. It’s a chemistry.” Normal Page 20 “Hiring a host for The Fan in Denver is and always will be very PgEnds: T X 21 challenging,” said Tim Spence, program director of all-sports kkfn- E 22 am in the Mile High City. “Why? Because the talent are the most 23 important pieces of our puzzle. There is really no room for any mis- [148], (67) 24 takes. We go through extensive interviewing and reference check- 25 ing. We most often test-drive the talent on the station just to see 26 how it feels for them and for us. Over the years, all the program 27 directors develop relationships with many other talent, [other] pro- 28 gram directors, producers, and etcetera.” 29 Rayfield said wip receives about a half-dozen audition tapes per 30 week. “Occasionally I’ll listen to a tape or the program director will 31 say, ‘What do you think about this guy?’ ” he said. 32 No matter which media, the successful candidate to cover or pon- 33 tificate about baseball often is much younger these days compared 34 to the grizzled, sometimes boozing middle-aged scribe of the mid- 35 twentieth century. Tender ages and resulting modest salaries, even 36 more so than satisfying upper management’s demand for diversity 37 in race and gender in the employee ranks, has been the byword for 38 profit-hungry media outlets in a new century. A generation ago,

148 The Politics Of Baseball Media

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 148 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 when I was matriculating from Northern Illinois University, the 2 catchword was “five years experience”—decent-sized media outlets 3 would only hire experienced writers and broadcasters and were will- 4 ing to pay for it. 5 Sometimes youthful enthusiasm and energy needs some temper- 6 ing. Otherwise, media outlets find themselves the center of attention 7 rather than a conduit. 8 Jeff Passan took over the majority of the national baseball-writing 9 duties at age twenty-four for the Kansas City Star, but he and sports 10 editor Mike Fannin ended up in a hornet’s nest with Passan’s too- 11 honest portrayal of the boys’ club of the Cubs clubhouse in May 12 2004. Half a year later, tongues began clucking when Chris Snow, 13 also just twenty-four, was tabbed from the Minneapolis Star Tribune [149], (68) 14 for the all-important Red Sox beat for the esteemed Boston Globe. 15 “Instead of getting a wired, veteran reporter [more than a few of Lines: 988 to 1000 16 whom were approached and not interested], the Globe appears to be 17 using the business model of putting youth on the beats and letting ——— 18 the vets handle the opinions,” wrote David Scott of Boston Sports 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Media. “While it might be a cost-saving measure, it’s a dangerous Normal Page 20 word-producing move. The columnists might bring you into the PgEnds: T X 21 section, but the information guys are supposed to keep you there. E 22 He’s [Snow] taking over the most pressure-filled reporter’s posi- 23 tion outside the White House and he’s just twenty months removed [149], (68) 24 from snapping late-night slices on M Street [Snow had been a Globe 25 intern].” 26 But if putting twenty-something chaps on the beat raises some 27 eyebrows, they are nothing compared to the wide-eyed, out-of- 28 their-league interns sent by tv and radio stations into the clubhouse 29 to wield microphones to snare sound bites. Not only are these kids 30 ignorant of clubhouse decorum and even player identities, they also 31 have cats catching their tongues when it comes time to asking ques- 32 tions. 33 My most profound encounter with an unprepared intern was a 34 young woman from Fox-owned wfld-tv in Chicago asking Cubs 35 outfielder in 1997 if he was Lance Johnson, an- 36 other outfielder. Three years later, after I asked Cubs manager Don 37 Baylor one Sunday afternoon why he allowed wild reliever Daniel 38 Garibay to walk in the winning run late in the game, I waited

The Politics Of Baseball Media 149

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 149 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 respectfully for someone else to ask a follow-up question. Almost 2 all the other media present were weekend-relief interns with their 3 camera crews. Baylor was about to turn around to retreat into his of- 4 fice when other writers arrived like the cavalry to hold the manager 5 in place. 6 “There were numerous times in the Bay Area where you had 7 younger girls and guys put the mike in front of you and wait for other 8 persons to ask questions, because they didn’t know what to ask,” 9 Cardinals lefty recalled of his Oakland days. “These 10 people come in not knowing what to do.” 11 “You ask, ‘Why did they send this kid out without giving him 12 some smaller work to get himself established before he came into 13 the clubhouse?’ ” said reliever Ray King. [150], (69) 14 Former Phillies manager Larry Bowa, who knows how to stir 15 the pot, witnessed numerous standoffs between the junior mike- Lines: 1000 to 1017 16 wielders and more experienced writers while he conducted his post- 17 game briefings. ——— 18 “There’s a whole lot of silence sometimes or they’ll let the writers 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 do it,” said Bowa. “And the writers don’t like that, so they won’t ask Normal Page 20 questions. So you sit there with silence. It is sort of comical. The PgEnds: T X 21 writers don’t want to give them material.” E 22 The “kiddie” media become a headache for media relations offi- 23 cials. [150], (69) 24 “A lot of times they’re getting questions from their [assignment] 25 desks,” said Cleveland Indians media relations director Bart Swain. 26 “They’ve never even stepped foot in a locker room. They don’t 27 know where to go, they’re hanging out near the shower, they’re 28 asking questions that are not relevant, they’re hanging on writers’ 29 questions. It can be a problem. A lot of news desks are saying, ‘Do 30 this. Do that.’ They’re throwing people into the fire. They definitely 31 stick out like a sore thumb.” 32 Cubs media relations director Sharon Pannozzo even had to deal 33 with a younger reporter taking a photo of a player’s locker with a 34 cell phone in 2004, an act that further alienated players from media, 35 said pitcher Kerry Wood. 36 “They send interns with veterans as a learning experience,” said 37 Pannozzo. “They don’t know how to conduct themselves. This isn’t 38 a training ground. You have to learn how to conduct yourself in the

150 The Politics Of Baseball Media

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 150 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 clubhouse and press box before you get here, like working college 2 games. This isn’t school here. I shouldn’t be teaching you clubhouse 3 etiquette. Veterans have to give young people some basic advice on 4 basic conduct. I have to think their inexperience would show with 5 their work performance. Unfortunately, if it’s a legitimate media 6 outlet, I have to credential them.” 7 Sometimes experienced media who have no background in sports 8 coverage, working for outlets that usually don’t cover the game, find 9 their way in. Or the rare appearance of a sports-talk-show host cre- 10 ates a scene. An example was an nba playoff game in the late 1990s, 11 where Chicago radio gabber ’s performance was a vir- 12 tuoso. In gel-capped ’s postgame coach’s session, North 13 asked Riley whether he’d shave his head if he could be assured of [151], (70) 14 beating the dynastic Bulls. North was ejected. 15 “There’s questionable media at bigger events like the All-Star Lines: 1017 to 1028 16 Game,” said media relations director Jim Trdin- 17 ich. “We call them ‘foofs,’ ‘foof media.’ I don’t know what they’re ——— 18 doing there, but they work for legitimate, news-gathering sources. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 The foofs’ parade has gotten a lot bigger. They apply for credentials. Normal Page 20 They may be from E Network or vh-1, usually nonbaseball outlets. PgEnds: T X 21 They’re looking for harebrained questions and come up with crazy E 22 answers.” 23 Making matters worse is Major League Baseball’s often overcre- [151], (70) 24 dentialing of its big events while some legitimate media have trouble 25 gaining access. In the Cubs’ 1989 and 2003 National League Cham- 26 pionship Series appearances, rows of seats in the auxiliary media 27 section next to the Wrigley Field press box remained empty. These 28 seats were assigned to a smorgasbord of foreign news organizations 29 and even book publishing companies whose representatives did not 30 show up. 31 Those who do show their faces often mass together in groups, 32 or packs. Most prevalent in Chicago, the pack mentality is present 33 throughout baseball. It is politics within politics in the game—media 34 members hanging out for long stretches of time in the clubhouse or 35 around the dugout. Almost as if they hung together for mutual self- 36 protection, they often made no moves to interview players, coaches, 37 or managers one-on-one, only acting when a scheduled manager’s 38 briefing brought all media together before the game.

The Politics Of Baseball Media 151

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 151 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 The concept runs counter to every fundamental in journalism— 2 do everything you can to get the information before the competition 3 to beat them into print or on the air. 4 “Dick Young [legendary New York baseball writer] said to get 5 something the other guy doesn’t have,” Reds voice George Grande 6 said of helpful advice in his youthful days. 7 Although baseball was far from his number one sport, and even 8 less so when a four-hour daily sports-talk radio show precluded a 9 reasonable amount of in-person ballpark time, Chicago Sun-Times 10 columnist Rick Telander called the group mentality “the clot . . . 11 laziness . . . bizarre cowardliness.” 12 Don’t think that Major League players and managers haven’t no- 13 ticed. Mark Mulder remembered clumps of media gathered in and [152], (71) 14 around the home clubhouse during his Oakland days. 15 “I don’t understand lots of times why the media just hangs out Lines: 1028 to 1044 16 in the clubhouse,” Mulder said. “You also noticed them wandering 17 around listening to conversations guys have. They’re not coming ——— 18 up to ask questions. Not that it’s bad, but I don’t understand it. If 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 you’re in there, ask some questions. They hang out in a group. I see Normal Page 20 guys come in, hang out an hour before batting practice and don’t PgEnds: T X 21 ask anybody a single question. They didn’t come up to me. They E 22 just hang out too much. Players talk about it. It’s just the way it is 23 with media.” [152], (71) 24 Writers who were proud of adhering to basic reporting standards 25 also noticed the groups moving about. They did not like what they 26 witnessed. 27 “You’ve seen them sitting on the rail like railbirds at a track,” said 28 Bob Dvorchak, former Pirates beat writer for the Pittsburgh Post- 29 Gazette. “You’re not doing yourself any good just standing there 30 talking to each other. Working the clubhouse, you get little nuggets 31 of information readers ought to know, and journalists should be 32 working to get that information. 33 “There might be a comfort zone [in a group], but you’re not going 34 to find information in the comfort zone. You’ve got to be on the 35 front lines. I always got the best information one-on-one from a 36 player. Over time, you can develop trust with a player, you can ask 37 him something he won’t say in a pack situation.” 38 As with other problems in the business, the fault often is not the

152 The Politics Of Baseball Media

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 152 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 individuals assigned to cover games and athletes, but their editors’ 2 demand for action—or lack thereof. Some editors don’t want to get 3 beat. Others don’t push their reporters hard enough to fulfill the 4 Dick Young ideal of getting something fresh. 5 “It probably isn’t good for the business,” said former Milwaukee 6 Journal Sentinel baseball writer Drew Olson, also a former president 7 of the Baseball Writers Association of America. “I think editors play 8 a role in this, also. The desire to have every morsel that the other 9 guys have is very strong among many large-market editors. That 10 leads to pressure to ‘follow the pack’ to avoid missing something 11 and prevents independent reporting.” 12 Olson cited Murray Chass’s speech accepting the Spink Award in 13 2004. Chass added to that thought later. [153], (72) 14 “By doing that, they won’t get beat on a story,” he said of the 15 groups. “Laziness is part of it. If you like your job at all, what’s the Lines: 1044 to 1062 16 fun of it if you just hang around with other [media] people?” 17 Sharing quotes from sources only available in group interviews ——— 18 or press conferences is considered reasonable. Sometimes a “pool” 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 reporter is appointed to get information from an umpiring crew Normal Page 20 chief or another source who otherwise would not speak to a mass PgEnds: T X 21 of reporters. However, many who are brought up in the old-school E 22 system of competition draw the line at regular cooperation between 23 supposed rivals. [153], (72) 24 “I get the feeling sometimes that writers from opposing papers or 25 Web sites work in conjunction with one another,” said Bob Dutton, 26 Royals beat writer for the Kansas City Star. “They’re afraid of losing 27 their jobs and getting bumped off the beat. It’s a grind, but you’ve 28 got to maintain your integrity and I’ve never made any deals with 29 anybody to cooperate with them. I’d rather do it one-on-one.” 30 The breakdown of pure competition is not just limited to baseball. 31 Especially in the nfl, where media access is tightly controlled and 32 choreographed, the practice might even be worse. 33 “In other sports in New York, the pack mentality still exists where 34 sportswriters trade quotes with each other,” said Michael Morrissey, 35 former Mets beat writer for the New York Post. 36 Oddly enough, Dvorchak, also a veteran of the political beat and 37 Gulf War coverage, said the pack mentality “is not indigenous to 38 baseball.”

The Politics Of Baseball Media 153

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 153 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “You see it in politics,” he said. “I covered politics in the 1980s. 2 Everybody moves in a herd and gets the same information. It’s dan- 3 gerous for journalists to move in packs and not go out and dig for 4 information. It’s essential to your own credibility as a journalist to 5 break away from the pack and do as much work as possible on your 6 own. You’re actually doing your job as a professional. It’s the only 7 way to do it.” 8 Clubhouse decorum sometimes breaks down when herds of re- 9 porters are formed. The most enterprising of a city’s baseball me- 10 dia group could be talking one-on-one with a player, then suddenly 11 find himself engulfed by the group feasting on the opening he has 12 created. Hal McCoy may be a leader in his seniority of all beat writ- 13 ers covering the for the Dayton Daily News, but he [154], (73) 14 never desired to be a leader of a pack. 15 “I’ve noticed that,” McCoy said. “I get followed around a lot. You Lines: 1062 to 1076 16 talk to a player and pretty soon everybody’s surrounding you. A lot 17 has to do with tv camera guys and producers. Everybody wants the ——— 18 same thing, all the stories are the same, all the notes packages are 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 the same.” Normal Page 20 Doesn’t the reader want to hear more from the players, whose PgEnds: T X 21 comments could be gleaned one-on-one, than heavy group coverage E 22 of the manager’s pregame talk? 23 “No doubt about it,” McCoy said. “I quote the manager as in- [154], (73) 24 frequently as possible unless he has something direct to say about a 25 player. It’s always better to go to the horse’s mouth. Players make 26 plays. Give them a chance to tell what happened.” 27 Hanging together in the herd is not limited to the ballpark. While 28 competing reporters certainly can be chummy away from the work- 29 place, the extent to which that friendliness has developed was com- 30 mented upon in a staff memo by Los Angeles Times sports editor 31 , which was circulated online via SportsJournalists.com 32 in April 2005. 33 Interestingly, Dwyre hinted that reporters should be “working” 34 their sources a little better in the memo. 35 “Nobody takes a news source out to dinner anymore,” he wrote. 36 “We just take reporters from other papers. Nice we can help the 37 bottom line of our competitors. Also, do we ever interview news 38 sources or do we just gather in little clumps with other reporters

154 The Politics Of Baseball Media

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 154 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 at dinner and get our stories that way? Could this be a new phe- 2 nomenon called Pack Journalism with Dinner? I think I might be 3 the first to coin the phrase. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?” 4 Human nature to socialize while on the job combined with an 5 underlying fear of developing relationships with celebrities will un- 6 fortunately continue. Dvorchak said at least the business training 7 grounds should counsel against the practice. 8 “Journalism schools should preach this: Stay out of those packs as 9 much as possible,” he said. 10 The pack mentality is at least partially fueled by membership in 11 the Baseball Writers Association of America, the oldest organized 12 group of media in pro sports, and presently the only one operating 13 in Major League Baseball. Until about three decades ago, the bbwaa [155], (74) 14 had almost ironclad control over who was admitted to press boxes, 15 even though the working areas were technically the property of the Lines: 1076 to 1088 16 ball clubs or whichever entity operated the stadiums. In the ensuing 17 years, such a grip has been loosened, but the bbwaa remains the best- ——— 18 treated group of media by baseball’s establishment. Commissioner 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Bud Selig actually increased postgame clubhouse access for bbwaa Normal Page 20 members at one point. PgEnds: T X 21 With huge numbers of other media now credentialed to cover E 22 baseball, the advantages of bbwaa membership wouldn’t appear to 23 be huge. A card permits the bearer to be admitted to any Major [155], (74) 24 League ballpark without clearance from the local team. Member- 25 ship also is an insurance policy against mistreatment through denial 26 of access. A lobbying group with baseball’s ear is behind every card- 27 holder. 28 bbwaa presidents and officers, selected from the ranks, insist the 29 organization has pruned its membership to reflect only those news- 30 paper reporters and columnists who regularly cover the game, along 31 with their sports editors. But too many instances abound where 32 members do not cover many games or have moved off the baseball 33 beat, even out of the employment of daily newspapers. 34 In the meantime, other more regular baseball reporters for In- 35 ternet sites cannot qualify for membership, by the strict interpreta- 36 tion of the national rules. Neither can reporters for newspapers or 37 wire services, covering a full schedule of home games, and who are 38 not full-time employees, qualify. I was not full time at the Times of

The Politics Of Baseball Media 155

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 155 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Northwest Indiana in 2004 when I covered eighty Cubs and twenty- 2 two White Sox home games plus two weeks of spring training. I 3 had maintained a similar schedule for a decade, but was repeatedly 4 barred from membership while staffers who covered far fewer games 5 were tendered bbwaa cards. Yet others who had moved on from the 6 baseball beat retained membership due to a grandfathering clause. 7 In the early twenty-first century, bbwaa officials met to consider 8 membership rules changes, but traditionalists among the ranks fore- 9 stalled any liberalization. They forestalled others who believed 10 change not only was good, but also necessary. An economic cli- 11 mate in which newspaper job cuts even affected several senior bbwaa 12 members may have served as a wake-up call to those who previously 13 felt smug and secure. [156], (75) 14 “It seems reasonable in this day and age with expertise on the 15 Internet, with very good baseball writers, you have to bring them Lines: 1088 to 1103 16 into the fold,” said Tom Krasovic, longtime Padres beat writer for 17 the San Diego Union-Tribune. “It’s complicated, almost a slippery ——— 18 slope. It’s like the Hall of Fame itself. There are people in there 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 who probably don’t belong and there are people who’ve never been Normal Page 20 admitted who should have been admitted.” PgEnds: T X 21 One veteran scribe said political considerations affect member- E 22 ship ranks. 23 “The biggest reason for restricting membership is maintaining [156], (75) 24 the integrity of postseason awards and Hall of Fame votes,” said 25 Mike Klis, Rockies beat writer and then national baseball writer for 26 the Denver Post before he was shifted to the nfl’s Broncos in 2005. 27 “The onslaught of Web sites has only made the bbwaa more acutely 28 aware of its membership guidelines. 29 “However, contrary to what many people might think, member- 30 ship decisions are primarily enforced on a chapter-by-chapter basis. 31 Liberal interpretations are needed in one-newspaper towns such as 32 Atlanta, St. Louis, and San Diego if there are to be enough voters 33 on awards. 34 “This means politics can become an issue when granting mem- 35 bership. And if, say, someone in a chapter doesn’t like [a candi- 36 date with baseball-writing experience], he may not have a snowball’s 37 chance in the Coors humidor of getting in.” 38 One example of one chapter admitting a writer turned down by

156 The Politics Of Baseball Media

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 156 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 another was Dave Reynolds, who covers Cardinals and Cubs games 2 for the Peoria Journal Star. Reynolds was rejected for membership 3 in the Chicago bbwaa chapter, but accepted in the much smaller, 4 newspaper-poor St. Louis chapter. 5 If at first glance bbwaa membership policies would not be of in- 6 terest to the baseball-consuming public, the issue of who votes for 7 the Hall of Fame and postseason awards should change that. The 8 annual vote for Cooperstown enshrinees almost always results in 9 controversy, with deserving candidates kept out while some ques- 10 tionable choices gain entry. Writers/electors leave surefire candi- 11 dates off their ballots entirely. The actual qualifications for voting 12 thus are brought into question. 13 Seniority and service are paramount in bbwaa membership rules [157], (76) 14 that govern voting rights. 15 “If somebody is a member for ten years and then leaves the beat Lines: 1103 to 1117 16 or the newspaper business, he remains entitled to a vote,” said Phil- 17 adelphia Daily News national baseball writer Paul Hagen, a former ——— 18 president of the bbwaa. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Possessors of bbwaa “gold cards,” signifying ten-year member- Normal Page 20 ship and grandfathered-in status, are given the full privileges of PgEnds: T X 21 membership even if they don’t still cover baseball, don’t work for E 22 a daily newspaper anymore, or are not full-time employees. 23 That meant three Chicago Tribune writers who would not have [157], (76) 24 qualified for bbwaa membership if they were first applying for mem- 25 bership based on their 2004 roles were allowed to vote for the Hall of 26 Fame for the 2005 class. They were Olympics reporter Phil Hersh, 27 who had not covered baseball regularly for more than twenty years; 28 Bob Verdi, who wrote a Sunday column after working for nearly two 29 decades as the newspaper’s featured award-winning, full-time sports 30 columnist; and nonstaffer Dave Van Dyck, who had built up two 31 decades of service previously as a Chicago Sun-Times baseball writer 32 before moving into Internet work for three years. Van Dyck was 33 added to the newspaper’s staff after the 2005 vote was completed. 34 In their published explanations of their 2005 vote, both Verdi and 35 Hersh advocated the election of closers , , 36 and , while Van Dyck revealed his annual write-in 37 vote for Pete Rose. 38 “When I feel I am far too removed from the game to vote with

The Politics Of Baseball Media 157

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 157 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 any authority, I will no longer do it,” Hersh said. “I suspect that will 2 happen sometime in the next ten years. After looking at the players 3 eligible through 2008, I feel I can judge them fairly. I am still voting 4 for people I saw play.” 5 Verdi had left the Tribune late in 1997 to join the monthly Golf 6 Digest and weekly Golf World as senior writer. He was not militant 7 about continuing to be grandfathered in to vote. 8 “I’ve covered the guys on the ballots now, but that won’t be the 9 case in ten years,” Verdi said. “If they called today and withdrew 10 my right to vote if I wasn’t covering baseball anymore, I won’t take 11 them to court. I try to stay on top of what’s happening [in baseball], 12 to not make a complete fool of myself.” 13 Like others who believe bbwaa membership rules are skewed and [158], (77) 14 political, Hersh suggests change might be for the best in Hall of 15 Fame voting. Lines: 1117 to 1139 16 “Maybe there should be a cutoff point, like ten years after leaving 17 the beat,” he said. “Don’t forget that players must wait five years, so ——— 18 even if you no longer are on the beat, you will have covered those 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 for whom you are voting. As I recall, there is also a time period [ten Normal Page 20 years] that must be put in [as a bbwaa member] before a writer can PgEnds: T X 21 vote.” E 22 But Hersh and Tribune media writer Ed Sherman both raised an 23 even bigger question—whether media members should even vote [158], (77) 24 for the Hall of Fame and annual sports awards at all, thereby making 25 the news rather than just reporting it. 26 “The bigger issue is whether we should vote at all, given bonuses 27 in contracts [for assorted achievements],” Hersh said. 28 “The writers, in essence, put money in the players’ pockets,” 29 wrote Sherman in 2004. Explaining that he withdrew from voting 30 for awards a few years back, he further advanced his logic: “Many 31 writers will make their Hall of Fame votes and then turn around 32 and write stories in which they were active participants. Maybe they 33 could quote themselves. . . . Just keep the writers out of it. Let some- 34 body else make the news.” 35 Several newspapers, such as the Los Angeles Times, prohibit their 36 writers from voting for awards. 37 Also taking part in balloting are female reporters, a situation that 38 would have mortified the traditionalists just twenty-five years ago.

158 The Politics Of Baseball Media

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 158 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 That’s when the first wave of women journalists had to battle teams 2 and leagues to gain access to locker rooms, then had to win over 3 the cooperation of athletes almost person-by-person through the 4 present day. 5 Women work almost incident-free in baseball clubhouses in the 6 twenty-first century. Near daily attendance, as with male journal- 7 ists, breaks down barriers. Shannon Drayer, the pre- and postgame 8 reporter for the Seattle Mariners’ flagship radio station komo,isthe 9 only female riding the team airplane. Drayer, one of a half-dozen 10 female reporters traveling with big league teams in 2005, reported 11 she was welcome at all times. 12 “On the [airplane] intercom, they’ll announce, ‘Gentlemen and 13 Shannon,’ ” Drayer said. “I was the only female trumpet player in [159], (78) 14 [college] band. I’m comfortable around guys. Sometimes I think 15 they like having a gal around. They’ll open doors for me and put Lines: 1139 to 1149 16 their best manners on.” 17 Drayer will forever be grateful to catcher Ivan Rodriguez. As a ——— 18 radio rookie in 1999, she tried to ask a question in a group inter- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 view with Rodriguez, then in Seattle with the Texas Rangers. She Normal Page 20 was interrupted three times. After the third interruption, Rodriguez PgEnds: T X 21 looked up at the person who cut her off and firmly said, “The lady E 22 is speaking,” and turned his focus to Drayer. 23 But the comfort zone is still not 100 percent. A mild undercur- [159], (78) 24 rent exists where more conservative or religious players and field 25 personnel still look askance at women in the locker room. But the 26 incidents that marked the first wave are gone and never flared into 27 the practically criminal assault experienced by then Boston Herald 28 writer Lisa Olson with Zeke Mowatt and the New England Patri- 29 ots in 1990. Players no longer parade around naked in their locker 30 rooms, using towels to cover up their midsections as they emerge 31 from the showers. They deftly change into at least some skivvies 32 before they toss away the towels. 33 I first checked into the issue in 1997 for the Times of Northwest 34 Indiana. At the time, more players were uncomfortable with women 35 coming into their inner sanctum. But in spite of the whispered neg- 36 atives, the women by then had a workable situation. That’s in con- 37 trast to the 1980s, when Toni Ginnetti of the Chicago Sun-Times had 38 to interview Cubs pitcher Scott Sanderson, who had deep religious

The Politics Of Baseball Media 159

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 159 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 beliefs, outside the locker room, thus playing havoc with tight dead- 2 lines. Ginnetti and other women sometimes had to avert their eyes 3 from a small core of bad-boy exhibitionists who’d drop their towels 4 when the women came in. 5 The anti-women dictums crossed all sports. Boston Globe colum- 6 nist Jackie MacMullan found her entrée to the Celtics locker room 7 barred by nba legend Red Auerbach in the late 1980s. She had to en- 8 list nba commissioner David Stern’s support to open the door while 9 Auerbach issued bathrobes to his players. Another time, MacMullan 10 walked up to a group interviewing the late superstar lineman Reg- 11 gie White outside the locker room in Foxboro, Massachusetts. “He 12 stopped the interview when I walked up to the group,” she recalled. 13 “White said he was married. I said, ‘Congratulations, so am I.’ ” [160], (79) 14 Women still are under close scrutiny and have to be prepared to 15 handle anything around a baseball team. They must be much more Lines: 1149 to 1163 16 careful about their apparel. High heels, lower-cut blouses, and any 17 hint of bare midriffs are verboten. Younger women almost fresh out ——— 18 of college are counseled that outfits that are fine for an after-hours 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 club won’t cut it around a ballpark. Normal Page 20 Sportscaster Peggy Kusinski of nbc-owned wmaq-tv in Chicago PgEnds: T X 21 said she had to ditch a jacket that was “a little too hip” and another E 22 that “was too fluffy up front.” 23 “You have to be careful about anything that is distracting from [160], (79) 24 what you are saying, if you’re being looked at because of that instead 25 of for what you’re saying,” Kusinski said. 26 A few bad apples spoil it for the entire bunch with unprofessional 27 behavior. One story circulating had a female Boston radio reporter 28 showing up in the Red Sox clubhouse without ever turning on her 29 tape recorder and wearing what was described as “questionable out- 30 fits.” Suspected of sightseeing, the reporter one day encountered 31 a Red Sox player who wanted to put her to the test. According to 32 the story, he purposely dropped his towel and caught the woman 33 peeking. She wasn’t quite “exposed,” but she was apparently put on 34 notice to shape up. 35 Rumors pop up periodically of one or two female reporters going 36 even further, to romantic relationships with players while still on 37 the job. 38 “That happens in every office in America,” Kusinski said of the

160 The Politics Of Baseball Media

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 160 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 rumor-mongering. “A good-looking woman talking to a player or 2 manager, there will always be gossip. We as women will only be able 3 to prove ourselves on an individual basis.” 4 Kristine Charboneau, an assistant director in the home tv broad- 5 cast booth at Wrigley Field, is attractive by any measuring stick. As 6 a result of that, she has had to live down perceptions by cowork- 7 ers on her broadcast crew that she’s hunting for dates if she talks 8 to professional athletes while she is working—a necessary part of 9 Charboneau’s job. 10 By 2005 Charboneau was a veteran of battling for personal re- 11 spect. Working the Red Sox’s spring training camp in 1999 for the 12 video production on the Fenway Park JumboTron, she caught grief 13 from then Boston media relations chief Kevin Shea. Charboneau’s [161], (80) 14 producer was told that if she was not specifically doing an interview, 15 she should be sitting in the stands. She said Shea told her he wanted Lines: 1163 to 1177 16 “to keep distractions on the field to a minimum.” 17 “I didn’t protest because I didn’t want a bull’s-eye on my head,” ——— 18 Charboneau said. “A similar situation involving a man, he wouldn’t 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 be restricted [in access].” Normal Page 20 Women are sometimes presumed to be in a subordinate role even PgEnds: T X 21 when their presence at the ballparks is not questioned. When Cubs E 22 media relations chief Sharon Pannozzo, in charge of her depart- 23 ment since 1990, took aide B. R. Koehnemann into the press box [161], (80) 24 at Montreal’s Olympic Stadium, the attendant on duty assumed the 25 younger Koehnemann was the boss and began dealing with him. 26 Pannozzo just shrugged off the incident as an inevitable part of 27 working as a woman in a man’s world. 28 True equality for women will still be decades away, if it is ever 29 realized, in the macho, traditional baseball world. Right now a glass 30 ceiling exists for women working in baseball broadcasting. They 31 have multiplied quickly as pre- and postgame hosts and on-field 32 interviewers. Obviously, broadcast management nationwide is fol- 33 lowing a set formula in the same manner of pairing male and female 34 news anchors at 10:00 p.m. With a heavily male audience for base- 35 ball, the more cynical of the honchos have sought and hired what 36 they perceived as “eye candy.” 37 “Some are very obvious,” Kusinski said of women hired for their 38 looks. “But I don’t think it’s all.”

The Politics Of Baseball Media 161

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 161 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 broadcast media will have truly arrived when 2 they can not only shake off the “eye candy” stereotype, but also 3 when they start filtering into broadcast booths as play-by-play an- 4 nouncers. These ranks are all-male at the moment with no female 5 candidates in the pipeline. The situation is akin to pro football’s 6 once virtually barring the quarterback position to African Amer- 7 icans, converting quality black college quarterbacks into running 8 backs or defensive backs once they hit training camp. 9 But why shouldn’t there be controversies involving women in 10 baseball media? It’s all a part of the heavy politics of the business. 11 No surprise here: politics, in the electoral realm, in the office, in our [Last Page] 12 ballparks and in our press boxes, is America’s top spectator sport. 13 [162], (81) 14 15 Lines: 1177 to 1180 16 17 ——— 18 335.35pt PgVar ——— 19 Normal Page 20 21 PgEnds: TEX 22 23 [162], (81) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

162 The Politics Of Baseball Media

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 162 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 ELEVEN 4 5 6 Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, 7 Baseball Media Town 8 9 10 11 [First Page] 12 ne of those pleasant manager’s office chats with Jim Riggleman 13 Owas proceeding as usual as the trade deadline approached in [163], (1) 14 July 1996. Getting together once every other home stand or so, we’d 15 sit in the little office, up one flight of stairs from the main Wrigley Lines: 0 to 18 16 Field home clubhouse, and chat, usually at Riggleman’s invitation, 17 after batting practice. ——— 18 A man dispossessed of a raging ego, Riggleman and I would dove- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 tail from the Cubs to baseball in general, and then on to fatherhood Normal Page 20 to politics to social mores. Sometimes we’d jaw so long I wouldn’t PgEnds: T X 21 notice that the first pitch was only twenty-five minutes away. “Gotta E 22 go, Riggs, otherwise you’d have to suit me up,” I said, scurrying out 23 the back door unnoticed into the main concourse and then up to the [163], (1) 24 press box. Luckily, Cubs pr chief Sharon Pannozzo was otherwise 25 occupied at the time. If she had discovered I was in the clubhouse 26 area almost twenty minutes after it was closed to media with game 27 time approaching, I would have been roasted alive. Informed of this 28 arrangement nearly a decade later, Pannozzo laughed. Her statute 29 of limitations had long since expired. 30 But on this day near the end of the first Clinton Administration— 31 I don’t think Riggleman voted for Slick Willie—the manager gave 32 me a quiet earful. The Cubs were on the periphery of contention, 33 bouncing around the .500 mark. General manager Ed Lynch, whose 34 aggressive trading early in his tenure in 1995 had given way to utter 35 caution, did not have anything hot on the fire. Nothing would be 36 fated to heat up as the deadline passed. But in the privacy of his of- 37 fice, Riggleman practically pleaded for reinforcements and seemed 38 miffed his boss was moving too slowly for the team’s good.

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 163 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Lynch’s lack of moves prompted grumbling. Mark 2 Grace, from whom I could obtain “A” material instead of the sound- 3 bite friendly platitudes and quips, wondered when Lynch would 4 swing into action. So would Grace’s chum Brian McRae, enjoying 5 his best year ever in center field. And Sammy Sosa, not yet rec- 6 ognized as a premium power hitter but about to lead the National 7 League in homers for a few weeks, pondered when the complemen- 8 tary run producers would arrive. Of all his teammates, only Ryne 9 Sandberg was on a twenty-homer pace. “I need some help. I can’t 10 do it all by myself,” Sosa told me. 11 Hearing the players’ moaning was commonplace, but when Rig- 12 gleman joined the dissent, I couldn’t wait to get to a phone to call 13 Arlene Gill, the Cubs’ longtime top executive assistant. “Arlene, [164], (2) 14 something’s going on in the clubhouse, I need to talk to Ed and 15 Andy [MacPhail, the Cubs’ president], as soon as possible,” I said. Lines: 18 to 30 16 Granted a quick meeting, I found Lynch in MacPhail’s office talk- 17 ing over minor league call-ups. Strange, why would the team pres- ——— 18 ident be immersed in details about bush leaguers if he had turned 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 all player personnel matters over to Lynch? I told the honchos of Normal Page 20 the clubhouse unrest spreading to all levels, but gave no hint that PgEnds: T X 21 a little of it came from their own manager. My Times of Northwest E 22 Indiana story made no reference to specific sources, whether players 23 or managers, mainly to protect Riggleman. [164], (2) 24 Lynch and MacPhail didn’t jump out of their seats, although they 25 professed that they were upset because their uniformed charges were 26 upset. Lynch’s inaction would come back to haunt the Cubs weeks 27 later. Sosa broke his wrist and the Cubs lost fourteen of their final 28 sixteen games. 29 Almost every year a similar story could be crafted by those cover- 30 ing any baseball team, especially on the East Coast, where competi- 31 tion for readers is dog-eat-dog and mandated by aggressive editors. 32 But in Chicago, such “inside clubhouse” material isn’t all that com- 33 mon. Although at least one supposedly scoop-hungry reporter was 34 on the Cubs beat at the time, I read nothing else about the clubhouse 35 dissent. It was not surprising, then, and became less so as the years 36 wore on. 37 Whether at the end of the “dead-ball era” or early in the steroid- 38 suspicious twenty-first century, the “toddlin’ town’s” sports media is

164 Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 164 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 regarded as “soft” by both insiders and those looking in from other 2 cities. And the end result is not only part of the real story about 3 their teams’ being conveyed to legions of victory-starved fans of the 4 Cubs and White Sox, but also a kind of complicity in the often- 5 beleaguered teams’ decades of losing and management bungling. 6 Starting with the Black Sox Scandal of the and 7 going through and beyond the “Bartman game” in 2003, many Chi- 8 cago scribes, and later broadcasters, soft-pedaled stories and allowed 9 the true purveyors of losing to get away with their gross misman- 10 agement. Relationships between media outlets and sports owners 11 were too close in the early and mid-twentieth century, and in a cou- 12 ple of cases continued into the millennium and beyond. Conflicts 13 of interest abounded and politics was rife. The city’s machine po- [165], (3) 14 litical system, in which clout, connections, and relationships were 15 paramount over good government and merit, had long ago infested Lines: 30 to 42 16 the local business community and, in turn, the Chicago media. 17 Pliable writers, and later broadcasters, often could not offer really ——— 18 informed analysis and criticism, relying instead on such stale angles 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 as “curses” or aiming at the wrong individuals to explain away the Normal Page 20 teams’ travails. More recently, they simply settled for group inter- PgEnds: T X 21 views, as multiple media outlets disseminated the same stories on the E 22 same day without much enterprise or one-on-one player or manager 23 relationships entering the picture. [165], (3) 24 An honest consensus both in and outside the market developed 25 that Chicago management, players, and media would not get away 26 with their actions and reactions if they somehow could be trans- 27 planted to the hard-driving, under-the-microscope Eastern cities. 28 Even the senior baseball official in town dealing with media rec- 29 ognized the cushy, cozy nature of Chicago compared to the East 30 Coast. 31 “It’s much more relaxed here,” said Sharon Pannozzo, a twenty- 32 three-year-veteran of her department. “It’s not as competitive [as 33 the East Coast]. There is a very Midwestern attitude here.” 34 And what is that attitude? Bruce Miles, veteran Cubs beat writer 35 with the suburban Daily Herald and a lifelong Chicago-area resident 36 and baseball follower, may have summed it up best. 37 “There is less of, for lack of a better word, a sensationalistic ap- 38 proach to the news in Chicago than in other markets,” Miles said.

Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town 165

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 165 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “Maybe it’s a sociological thing, the makeup of the people. Chicago 2 is a pretty friendly town overall and I think the newspapers reflect 3 it. The tone is much friendlier and much more forgiving. The fans 4 are very forgiving and the media reflects it. If a team does poorly, 5 that’s pointed out. But if they right the ship, that’s also pointed out, 6 with balance.” 7 Former Chicago Tribune sports columnist Bob Verdi agrees—to a 8 point. 9 “Chicago fans are the most forgiving around,” he said. “Whether 10 that extends to the press is not clear.” 11 Chicago had few media anarchists or bomb-throwers through- 12 out its sports-journalism history whether analyzing the Cubs, White 13 Sox, or any of the other star-crossed franchises in town. [166], (4) 14 “There were a lot of powder puff softballs tossed at these teams,” 15 said Richard Lindberg, the White Sox’s leading historian, whose Lines: 42 to 54 16 extensive microfilm studies of newspaper coverage throughout the 17 twentieth century for his assorted books on baseball and Chicago ——— 18 history give him a good perspective. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 But well beyond the “wait ’til next year” attitude of fans was a Normal Page 20 network of connections and relationships between teams and me- PgEnds: T X 21 dia that was an extension of the political system in town. Through E 22 2004, Chicago’s baseball teams had played in exactly two World 23 Series since 1938. The media oversight of the continual bungling [166], (4) 24 that kept this endless drought going was not worthy of a supposedly 25 world-class city. At the same time, the line between writers and the 26 sports they covered was not as well-drawn as in later decades. All- 27 time Chicago gossipmonger Irv Kupcinet served as an nfl referee 28 while he worked as a sportswriter for the . Longtime 29 baseball writer James Enright of the Chicago’s American and Chicago 30 Today, the Tribune Company–owned afternoon dailies, picked up 31 extra cash in the winter refereeing college basketball games. 32 The initial tone for Chicago as a soft media market was set during 33 the Black Sox Scandal of 1919, the worst in baseball history. In the 34 1988 movie adaptation of ’s book , Ring 35 Lardner, the Chicago Tribune’s sports columnist, is depicted walking 36 through a railroad car full of White Sox players crooning, “I’m for- 37 ever blowing ballgames.” Lardner and fellow Chicago scribe Hugh 38 Fullerton are shown going about their work with apparent knowl-

166 Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 166 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 edge of the World Series fix, even circling suspicious plays on their 2 scorecards. Yet not a word about the scandal was published until the 3 mess began leaking out in dribs and drabs during the 1920 season. 4 All along, most of the writers had been coopted by White Sox 5 owner , who regarded them as his inner circle, as 6 part of his Woodland Bards social club. 7 “The attitude toward sports was much different than it is now,” 8 said Lindberg. “It was not so much news reporting as much as re- 9 porting on a leisure-time diversion. It was entertainment play-by- 10 play. 11 “The media did not want to offend [the owners]. It was not taken 12 as so-called serious news. Sure, there was a lot of veiled innuendo in 13 Lardner’s In The Wake of The News column. But also there was a lot [167], (5) 14 of camaraderie between players and writers. They traveled on trains 15 together. They were card-playing partners. There was a particular Lines: 54 to 68 16 fondness Lardner had toward these players. It was a soul-searching 17 situation he found himself in. What he did was laid the clues, put ——— 18 down enough clues, so the public began to suspect [in the 1920 sea- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 son].” Normal Page 20 Lindberg claimed that the overall newspaper philosophy of the PgEnds: T X 21 day would not have lent itself to exposing a sports scandal. E 22 “It was more or less a gentleman’s agreement,” he said. “The Tri- 23 bune was not a sensationalistic newspaper. Their relations were cor- [167], (5) 24 dial and friendly with Comiskey. The more sensational newspapers 25 in Chicago had much smaller sports sections with no bylined articles 26 of anyone doing analysis. These afternoon papers reported on game 27 results, had small player profiles in the Sunday section, and did not 28 have any room for investigative reporting. 29 “It was a different mindset. Writers were real genuine fans of the 30 game. Baseball was the only real pro sport then. I don’t think they 31 were of a mind to upset something they looked up to, something 32 they revered. Baseball had been a revered institution throughout its 33 history.” 34 Comiskey tore apart the White Sox after the 1920 season as the 35 fixer-players were banned from baseball. The team would not re- 36 cover competitively for more than three decades. The White Sox 37 soon became a poor-soul franchise, limited by the Comiskey fam- 38 ily’s diminishing financial resources. Rather than criticize manage-

Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town 167

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 167 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 ment for years of ineptitude, the local media took on a sympathetic 2 tone, Lindberg recalled. 3 “For the thirty-year period following the Black Sox, there was 4 a sense of victimization of the White Sox,” Lindberg said. “There 5 was a sense of pity these writers felt. They had a deep, abiding affec- 6 tion for the club and also thought the club was cursed. The writers 7 thought it was the poor White Sox and what can we do to help them. 8 It was a feeling that the White Sox deserve a better fate, they’ve suf- 9 fered long enough. There was very little criticism. In general they 10 were boosters. That’s why 1951 [the dawn of the ‘Go-Go Sox’ era] 11 was such a big deal.” 12 The longest running White Sox fan was John P. Carmichael, pro- 13 prietor of the Barber Shop sports column in the Chicago Daily News. [168], (6) 14 Working from the “Front Page” newspaper era into the 1970s, Car- 15 michael’s column was not the source of criticism and analysis of the Lines: 68 to 85 16 White Sox’s foibles. 17 “John Carmichael was a die-hard White Sox fan,” Lindberg said. ——— 18 “He broke bread with the Comiskey family and Bill Veeck. He just 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 traded barbs with fellow writers and Cubs fans. That was the only Normal Page 20 kind of controversy he had.” PgEnds: T X 21 Meanwhile, David Condon, conducting the biggest column E 22 bully pulpit in town, as Lardner’s successor several times removed, 23 with the In the Wake of the News in the Tribune, preferred to be the [168], (6) 24 power brokers’ drinking buddy. Condon rarely took after owner- 25 management authority, instead preferring to be whimsical, often 26 penning columns supposedly authored by his perennially twelve- 27 year-old daughter, Barbara. 28 Carmichael’s and Condon’s styles were typical of the Chicago 29 sports columnists of the pre- and post–World War II era. 30 “I couldn’t believe what I was reading. All the columnists were in 31 the bag [with the teams],” recalled Steve Friedman, former executive 32 producer of The Today Show and cbs’s The Early Show, who grew up 33 on Chicago’s North Side in the 1950s and 1960s and hung out in 34 Wrigley Field’s right-field bleachers. 35 While the writers took pity on the South Siders, the increas- 36 ingly incompetent management of the wealthier Cubs did not come 37 under fire from compliant writers. Philip K. Wrigley was unpre- 38 pared to run a big-league franchise when he inherited the Cubs from

168 Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 168 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 his father, William Wrigley Jr., in 1932. Worse yet, the younger 2 Wrigley was not a baseball fan. He was a reluctant inheritor of his fa- 3 ther’s fortune and, as a mechanically inclined tinkerer, would rather 4 have been a garage mechanic. Wrigley was the best thing that ever 5 happened to the ballpark that bore his name, putting enough money 6 into off-season maintenance to keep it relatively well-preserved. But 7 at the same time, the gum magnate was the worst possible owner 8 from a baseball-management standpoint. He wanted to be different, 9 but not better, than his competitors. He should have been driven 10 from his ownership by a hyper-critical media that never reached that 11 state of agitation. 12 In Wrigley Field: The Unauthorized Biography, Stuart Shea relates 13 a 1934 anecdote about the owner calling the press together. “I don’t [169], (7) 14 know much about baseball, and I don’t care much about it, either,” 15 Wrigley said. But he was convinced by the baseball writers them- Lines: 85 to 104 16 selves not to permit that comment to be published, according to the 17 Shea book. ——— 18 And over the next four-plus decades, Wrigley was treated as some- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 one between a tinkering eccentric and a “sportsman,” to use the Normal Page 20 favorite mid-twentieth-century vernacular for a sports owner who PgEnds: T X 21 wasn’t totally profit-motivated. While his managers and players took E 22 the brunt of any media criticism, Wrigley often caught a break be- 23 cause he simply answered his own phone, whether in his Wrigley [169], (7) 24 Building office or at his Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, estate, when re- 25 porters called for comment. 26 “Writers, including James Enright, liked Wrigley,” said Ed Stone, 27 retired sportswriter with the long-defunct Chicago’s American and 28 Chicago Today, afternoon dailies owned by Tribune Company. “I 29 called Wrigley and he answered his own phone.” 30 The media never aimed both barrels at his gross mismanagement 31 of the Cubs, led by an early neglect of the farm system, Wrigley’s 32 unwillingness to spend a portion of his fortune on building the club, 33 a series of wacky schemes that went against all conventional baseball 34 logic, and his inability to hire the best and brightest in the game to 35 run the franchise on his behalf. 36 “The only time when there was a hardened media attitude toward 37 the Cubs was under [Leo] Durocher,” Stone said. 38 Perhaps grateful for such treatment, the shy Wrigley, who was

Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town 169

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 169 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 not tapped into the usual lines of baseball personnel networking, 2 hired sportswriters into the organization instead of capable baseball 3 men. He tapped Jim Gallagher to be general manager at the begin- 4 ning of the 1940s. Enright was made Wrigley Field public address 5 announcer after his forced retirement from his newspaper in 1974. 6 Howard Roberts, a longtime Chicago Daily News scribe, spent part 7 of his retirement years handing out passes at Wrigley Field’s gate. 8 By the time Wrigley assumed stewardship of the Cubs, the tone 9 of media coverage in Chicago had been emblazoned in stone as soft 10 and often deferential—and the pacesetter was the largest newspa- 11 per in town, the Tribune. The Midwest’s bastion of rock-ribbed Re- 12 publicanism under publisher Col. Robert R. McCormick, the paper 13 wielded enormous influence in selling one million copies per day. [170], (8) 14 Radiating out two hundred miles in every direction from Chicago, 15 almost every farmer’s mailbox stood side by side with a blue Tribune Lines: 104 to 113 16 box. Ripping Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal at almost every turn 17 while upholding the conservative, every-man-for-himself, trickle- ——— 18 down business establishment, the Tribune hardly was going to rock 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 the boat of wealthy men who ran sports franchises. In some cases, Normal Page 20 the newspaper befriended them. And while other newspapers op- PgEnds: T X 21 posed McCormick’s reactionary politics on the editorial and news E 22 pagers, they somehow played follow-the-leader in the toy factory of 23 sports. The Tribune set the tone of sports coverage in Chicago by [170], (8) 24 its sheer heft and intricate social and financial relationships with the 25 two most important sports franchises. 26 In the early 1920s, owner-player-coach of the 27 fledgling Bears of the young nfl used to drop off his own press 28 releases to Chicago newspapers’ sports departments. He became 29 friends with Don Maxwell, a rising young editor. 30 “Halas and Maxwell were close friends,” said Ed Stone, who 31 would find out just how close during the course of his own career. 32 “In the early years of the franchise, Maxwell as sports editor gave 33 Halas publicity when no one else publicized the nfl.” 34 The Tribune had other close football connections. George Strick- 35 ler, a Maxwell successor as sports editor, once had been Notre 36 Dame’s publicity man, so college football became king at the paper 37 on weekends. Meanwhile Halas, who would hold court with writ- 38 ers after games over libations in Wrigley Field’s Pink Poodle press

170 Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 170 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 lounge, also befriended Luke Carroll, managing editor of Stone’s 2 paper, the Tribune-owned American. Carroll even picked up Halas 3 at the airport when he returned from a road game. 4 By the mid-1950s, Halas’s Bears were established as a money- 5 maker while Maxwell was McCormick’s hand-picked successor to 6 run the Tribune’s editorial department. 7 “It was an unholy alliance between the Tribune and the Bears, and 8 it affected the way the Sun-Times and Daily News covered them,” 9 Stone said. 10 A young, aggressive beat writer in the early 1960s, Stone criti- 11 cized Halas for pulling starting quarterback Billy Wade too early in 12 a game in 1963 in San Francisco—the Bears’ only defeat that cham- 13 pionship season. [171], (9) 14 “I wrote that Halas choked,” Stone said. “The next week, I was in 15 the office writing the home-game advance story. Leo Fischer [sports Lines: 113 to 129 16 editor] gets a call and runs down the hall to Luke Carroll’s office. 17 He comes back and says, ‘You’re off the beat.’ ——— 18 “I told him everything I wrote was the truth. Fischer said, ‘You 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 can’t always write the truth.’ ” Normal Page 20 Stone’s demotion gave a break to a twenty-three-year-old writer PgEnds: T X 21 a year out of Northwestern—. Four years later, E 22 when Musburger was promoted to columnist, Stone got his Bears 23 beat back. But worse yet, it served as a kind of warning about critical [171], (9) 24 or really objective coverage to those who still manned beats or wrote 25 columns in Chicago. 26 The connections between the Tribune, Halas, and Wrigley al- 27 most formed a 360-degree circle where the newspaper’s ownership 28 of wgn tv and Radio was concerned. Halas had rented Wrigley 29 Field for fifty seasons from the Wrigley family starting in 1921. Phil 30 Wrigley said if he ever sold the Cubs—only a remote possibility— 31 Halas, who was interested, would not only get first right of refusal 32 but last right of refusal. The two teams shared the wgn airwaves. 33 Broadcaster Jack Brickhouse handled both Cubs broadcasts on tv 34 and Bears games on radio, while helping negotiate rights fees with 35 both. 36 The Tribune and wgn were hardly going to criticize Halas and 37 Wrigley when both owners enabled the company to reap advertis- 38 ing windfalls off their games. In particular, wgn was getting Cubs

Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town 171

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 171 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 radio and tv rights in a near giveaway. Wrigley’s business manager 2 E. R. “Salty” Saltwell said the owner, who believed in widespread 3 broadcast exposure for the Cubs, charged wgn a “phenomenally 4 low” rights fee for the broadcasts. wind-Radio paid just forty thou- 5 sand dollars a year for rights in the 1950s, according to then wgn 6 chief Ward Quaal. That increased to seventy thousand dollars an- 7 nually when wgn snared the radio rights away in 1958. The late 8 baseball tv producer and director Arne Harris recalled a fee of five 9 thousand dollars per video game in the 1960s. The broadcasts were 10 guaranteed annual moneymakers for Tribune Company with the 11 usual lineup of beer, gasoline, airline, and other sponsors. 12 Not willing to look away from such a gift horse, Brickhouse was 13 Wrigley’s perfect public relations pitchman on his broadcasts, urg- [172], (10) 14 ing fans “in the neighborhood” to come out to beautiful Wrigley 15 Field while busting his vocal chords with “Hey Hey” home-run calls Lines: 129 to 135 16 for Ernie Banks. He legitimately built interest and enthusiasm in the 17 Cubs even through the endless bad seasons. Despite my disagree- ——— 18 ments with some of his sunny philosophies during dark seasons, I 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 gladly helped assemble a Brickhouse exhibit at Chicago’s Museum Normal Page 20 of Broadcast Communications in 2000 and 2001. Much of my own PgEnds: T X 21 interest in baseball when I was young was stoked by Brickhouse’s E 22 broadcasts. 23 To be sure, Brickhouse was no total Pollyanna. Privately he was [172], (10) 24 frustrated by Wrigley’s incompetent management. He wondered 25 to friends what it would take to purchase the Cubs. But keeping 26 those feelings to himself to protect his stations’ franchise program- 27 ming, Brickhouse became a Wrigley acolyte for public consump- 28 tion. Grateful for such service, Wrigley even considered appointing 29 Brickhouse team president in the mid-1970s. But the broadcaster, 30 by then a wgn lifer, wanted nothing to do with such an inherently 31 insecure job running a baseball team. 32 The archetypal Brickhouse for-the-record stance toward Wrigley 33 and the Cubs took place early in 1963. In another of his goofball 34 schemes, Wrigley had just appointed Col. Robert Whitlow, former 35 athletic director of the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, 36 as baseball’s first and only “athletic director.” Whitlow had visited 37 a friend who was Wrigley’s cousin while the latter worked at the 38 Wrigley Building in October 1962. The cousin introduced Whit-

172 Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 172 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 low to the owner, who was reeling from the team’s record-breaking 2 103-defeat season just concluded and the failure of his wacky “Col- 3 lege of Coaches” system. Another light bulb went off in Wrigley’s 4 head: We’ll have an athletic director run the Cubs. 5 Brickhouse announced Whitlow’s appointment live on his 5:45 6 p.m. wgn tv sportscast and introduced the new executive. Whitlow 7 was earnest, but appeared totally uninformed about the operations 8 of a Major League baseball team. He even suggested that the best 9 defense in baseball was a good offense. Whitlow appeared almost 10 befuddled. 11 “Phil Wrigley abhors losing,” Brickhouse opined after Whitlow 12 departed the studio. “To Wrigley, losing is a personal plague. He 13 wants a return to the Cubs’ glory days and let convention be hanged [173], (11) 14 if it stands in front of his objective.” 15 The announcer then inadvertently damned Wrigley by revealing Lines: 135 to 151 16 he had more financial resources at his disposal than any other base- 17 ball owner of the time. Brickhouse said the Wrigley Gum Company ——— 18 had $100 million in sales the previous year and no debt. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Left out of the Brickhouse commentary was the total chaos the Normal Page 20 College of Coaches had created in the Cubs organization. Also omit- PgEnds: T X 21 ted was Wrigley’s early 1962 dictum that no new players were to be E 22 signed out of high school or college. The owner apparently was up- 23 set at bonus money that had gone to waste on prospects who had [173], (11) 24 flamed out. Cubs scouts could still gather information on young 25 players but could not take overnight trips. The effect was devastat- 26 ing on the farm system for years to come. Eventually Wrigley re- 27 lented. A total of eight young players ended up signing organization 28 contracts before 1962 came to a close. 29 With writers concentrating on game play-by-play, the rotting-at- 30 the-core condition of the Cubs organization largely was overlooked. 31 The ultimate Wrigley “yes man,” general manager John Holland, 32 should have been continually roasted during his 1956–75 tenure. 33 But he wasn’t, even though the often-secretive, media-averse exec- 34 utive presided over a pair of 103-defeat seasons in 1962 and 1966, 35 was too quick to call up players, and in turn too hasty in trading 36 them, and was far in over his head. 37 Former Cubs public relations chief Chuck Shriver said in 1999 38 that the Cubs simply could not win with a combination of Wrigley

Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town 173

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 173 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 and Holland running the team. Another Cubs front-office veteran 2 of the time said Holland simply should not have been general man- 3 ager; farm director might have been the highest-level job he could 4 have competently handled. With help from the often-meddling and 5 surprisingly unstable Tribune Company successor ownership, the 6 Cubs finished under .500 a total of forty-one times between 1947 7 and 2003. That’s in contrast to the supposedly cursed Boston Red 8 Sox’s failure to reach the break-even mark in just seventeen seasons 9 during the same period. 10 Oddly enough, during the Cubs’ darkest years from about 1950 to 11 1966, no writer or columnist wrote about their own curse, that of the 12 “billy goat,” from the and connected it with the 13 Cubs’ losing when it should have been fresher on their minds. That [174], (12) 14 tall tale was revived in the late 1960s by columnists Mike Royko and 15 David Condon, both regulars in the , underneath Lines: 151 to 157 16 their newspaper offices on N. Michigan Avenue. The curse took on 17 a life of its own through ensuing decades to become a central part of ——— 18 the Cubs’ existence by their 2003 National League Championship 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Series collapse. Normal Page 20 Cursed or not, Cubs fans never accepted losing, despite theories PgEnds: T X 21 to the contrary by uninformed media. They did not totally aban- E 22 don their favorites, but they weren’t going to endorse ownership’s 23 blunders either. The cusp of the 1960s might have been a perfect [174], (12) 24 time for a concerted media effort to put pressure on Wrigley and 25 Holland. Fans were increasingly restless after a decade and a half 26 of mostly bad baseball. Wrigley Field attendance eventually fell to 27 the six hundred thousand level, a disgraceful number in a city of 28 Chicago’s size. In the Voice from the Grandstand column, authored 29 by William Barry Furlong, in the Chicago Daily News in July 1959, 30 fans criticized Wrigley for the operation of the Cubs and the lack of 31 night games at Wrigley Field. The owner responded with his own 32 letter, advising one particular fan to not get so lathered up. “What 33 puzzles me is, feeling the way he does, why he doesn’t direct his time 34 and attention to something else that would not get him so stirred 35 up.” 36 Furlong, later a Sports Illustrated writer, journeyed to Wrigley’s 37 Lake Geneva estate to find the owner working under a car, his true 38 passion. Pitcher-turned-author Jim Brosnan just missed out doing a

174 Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 174 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 book on Wrigley and the Cubs at around the same time. Forty-five 2 years later, Brosnan said he would have relished the chance to query 3 Wrigley and determine, as an ex–big leaguer, whether the magnate 4 really understood baseball. 5 Daily News beat man John Kuenster, not wedded to the quote- 6 less, play-by-play deadline game story, and working for an afternoon 7 daily, probably went the furthest in exposing the problems of the 8 Wrigley-Holland stewardship. Before the August 25, 1959, game at 9 Crosley Field in Cincinnati, outfielder Walt “Moose” Moryn lashed 10 out at Holland to Kuenster, claiming the gm dictated the lineups 11 that manager Bob Scheffing put on the field. 12 “I don’t think Wrigley knows what’s going on,” Moryn told 13 Kuenster. “Maybe this is one way he’ll find out.” [175], (13) 14 Moryn also criticized Holland for playing poker with the play- 15 ers on the back of the team chartered flights and alleged trips to Lines: 157 to 171 16 Chicago-area race tracks on off days. 17 After Moryn was finally traded to the Cardinals on June 15, 1960, ——— 18 he let loose again to Kuenster, claiming the only way the front office 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 would change would be under new ownership. Normal Page 20 For his labors, Kuenster was ripped by a Cubs coach as he got PgEnds: T X 21 on the team bus and was denounced for his negative reporting by E 22 Brickhouse on tv. 23 All the while, the negative racial undercurrent of the Cubs orga- [175], (13) 24 nization was largely swept under the rug. Wrigley drew some media 25 criticism when he was slow to integrate his roster after Jackie Robin- 26 son and other pioneering African Americans came to the majors. He 27 finally broke his own color line with the debuts of Ernie Banks and 28 Gene Baker near the end of the 1953 season. But there was a price 29 for being an African American with the Cubs. And breaking out 30 of the narrowly defined code of behavior—silence was preferred— 31 meant benching or banishment. 32 Around 1961, hard-hitting outfielder George Altman, a true gen- 33 tleman, believed he had his teammates’ support to become player 34 representative. When management caught wind of this move, they 35 announced that white outfielder Bob Will would assume the role. 36 Then, in 1962, the great Buck O’Neil was appointed the first African 37 American coach in the majors with the Cubs. There was a caveat— 38 O’Neil would not be able to run the team even temporarily in the

Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town 175

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 175 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 rotating coaches’ scheme, even though with his total baseball ex- 2 perience he was the most qualified individual in the organization 3 available to manage the Cubs. 4 Personal relationships were an even bigger tripwire. An African 5 American player dared not consort with a white woman. Young out- 6 fielder Oscar Gamble was traded after the 1969 season because he 7 crossed the color line for dates when he was called up that season. 8 Altman felt a coolness from his bosses when his light-skinned wife 9 was seen in the stands in 1966. Rookie outfielder Wayne Tyrone 10 found himself on the bench in 1976 when his girlfriend, who was 11 white, showed up at Wrigley Field to watch games. 12 Such an ossified, backward attitude was carried to an extreme 13 when soft-spoken, right-hander Ray Burris, never a “troublemaker” [176], (14) 14 in the vernacular of the times, was seen by a front-office type en- 15 gaged in innocent conversation with the white female who headed Lines: 171 to 184 16 his fan club in the Wrigley Field parking lot after one game. Bur- 17 ris was then told by the honchos upstairs not to be seen with the ——— 18 woman again in public. He also recalled a front-office representative 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 traveling on the road to monitor players’ off-the-field activities— Normal Page 20 especially the African Americans. PgEnds: T X 21 The Burris situation was yet another example of how the me- E 22 dia never picked up on the restrictive dictums under which Cubs 23 of color operated. [176], (14) 24 “No one asked,” Burris replied. Bob Verdi, then on the Cubs beat 25 for the Tribune, said no writer could have expected to read Burris’s 26 mind. Perhaps he should have taken one of the writers aside in con- 27 fidence. Chicago Sun-Times beat writer Joe Goddard once said his 28 “juices would have been flowing” to latch onto such a story. Civil- 29 rights major domo already had threatened to picket 30 the Cubs for not naming Ernie Banks manager, so the potential for 31 a tinderbox was present had the media done its job. 32 But this was the tail end of the era when the writers penned little 33 more than the game. Goddard began tacking on regular notes or 34 tidbits to the end of his stories during the 1970s. That upset Jerome 35 Holtzman, later regarded as the dean of baseball writers, who did 36 not particularly care for adding notes to his own game stories in the 37 Sun-Times. 38 One writer who actually dug into stories strayed from the Tri-

176 Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 176 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 bune’s house-man style. Richard Dozer actually seemed to out- 2 report Holtzman, long noted for his insider’s reputation. 3 Near the end of the 1961 season, Dozer reported that outfielder 4 Lou Brock and second baseman Kenny Hubbs, making their big- 5 league debuts at the time, were ticketed by the organization to have 6 one more year in the minors. Both were extremely raw at the time. 7 But both Brock and Hubbs became regulars to fill gaping holes in 8 the 1962 lineup. Hubbs won National League Rookie of the Year 9 honors, but Brock struggled mightily until he was traded two and a 10 half years later. 11 Dozer also broke the story of the eventually disastrous trade of 12 Brock to the St. Louis Cardinals. On May 26, 1964, three weeks be- 13 fore the deal was consummated, he reported that Holland was offer- [177], (15) 14 ing Brock to the Cardinals for an unnamed pitcher. He also quoted 15 Holland as saying that he had helped St. Louis previously, and he Lines: 184 to 196 16 might help them again. Luckily Holland was a slavish Wrigley loy- 17 alist; such a quote could get a present-day Cubs or Cardinals gm ——— 18 fired. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 In 1969 Dozer asked Leo Durocher in a postgame interview Normal Page 20 whether the first-place Cubs were starting to get tired as August PgEnds: T X 21 drew to a close. Angered, Durocher dragged Dozer and the other E 22 writers into the clubhouse. The manager challenged Dozer to ask 23 the players directly whether they were tired. Fearing Durocher’s [177], (15) 24 wrath, no one answered Dozer’s question. Two weeks later, the 25 Cubs, exhausted by Durocher’s lineup management that included 26 sparse use of his bench and bullpen, staged one of the most painful 27 collapses in their history. 28 Durocher’s imperious rein as manager, as Ed Stone recalled, 29 prompted the writers to get tough for once in their lives. The most 30 amoral man in baseball, Durocher disliked the writers and some- 31 times fed them false information. Relations were constantly in a 32 state of tension. 33 Durocher and Holtzman, a former World War II marine, nearly 34 came to blows once in the manager’s office. Clowning around one 35 day during his pregame wgn-Radio show taping with Lou Bou- 36 dreau, Durocher recorded rips of all the writers: Dozer was a wan- 37 dering Romeo; James Enright was a penny-ante politician; and 38 Edgar Munzel of the Sun-Times was a barfly. Only Ray Sons of the

Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town 177

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 177 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Daily News was spared. Durocher called Sons a “nice boy,” but urged 2 his editor, Roy Fisher, to “fuck himself.” Sons was not totally spared; 3 Durocher ripped a piece of copy paper out of Sons’s typewriter on 4 the Cubs’ chartered plane, urging the scribe to write a new story. 5 The manager also grabbed radio announcer Vince Lloyd’s pipe and 6 tossed it into the plane’s bathroom sink. By the time Durocher be- 7 gan his last season as manager in 1972, the Cubs had to appoint 8 as a media-relations coach to act as a go-between for 9 Durocher and the writers. 10 The writers sometimes would get a break from Durocher at sea- 11 son’s end. Setting a pattern that still exists today, the Chicago papers 12 did not use sports, and baseball coverage, as a primary focal point 13 [178], (16) of competition for the reader. When either the Cubs or White Sox 14 dropped out of contention near the end of the season, the papers 15 would pull their writers off the road. That’s why I witnessed the Lines: 196 to 204 16 Tribune’s Bob Logan covering a Cubs-Padres doubleheader in San 17 ——— Diego via the office tv set before August was finished in 1974.In 18 13.0pt PgVar several other instances, Cubs home game stories did not have a by- ——— 19 line in the Sun-Times in 1965. Normal Page 20 21 The size of the traveling writers’ group got cozy for season-long * PgEnds: Eject 22 stretches starting in 1978. The Daily News folded as spring training began that season, three and a half years after the Tribune Company 23 [178], (16) 24 pulled the plug on Chicago Today. With suburban dailies not yet large 25 enough in circulation and revenue to travel full time with the Cubs 26 and White Sox—the Chicago suburbs developed decades later than 27 those in other northern urban centers—only the Tribune and Sun- 28 Times could afford season-long road coverage over the next decade. 29 A metropolitan area as large as Chicago’s, featuring only one-third 30 the number of traveling writers of Boston or San Francisco, seemed 31 a pitiful situation. In reality the shaky competitive level was reduced 32 even further. 33 The Sun-Times’s Goddard and the Tribune’s Fred Mitchell 34 manned the Cubs beat through a chunk of the 1980s. They did not 35 go after each other dog-eat-dog for stories. Goddard did get some 36 inside stories with some of the best one-on-one relationships with 37 players and executives of any baseball writer in the team’s history. 38 But he also described himself as a “gentleman” writer.

178 Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 178 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “They were pretty friendly to each other,” the Cubs’ Sharon Pan- 2 nozzo said of Goddard and Mitchell. “They were never adversarial, 3 which you get in New York.” 4 White Sox fans were distracted by this cut in competitive cover- 5 age as their ownership shifted from Bill Veeck to the group headed 6 by Jerry Reinsdorf and in 1981. And they were still 7 in a state of agitation over Veeck’s charges that the city’s baseball 8 coverage in the late 1970s was tilted toward the Cubs. Veeck even 9 measured column inches devoted to each team to back his claims. 10 Reinsdorf and Einhorn did not disagree with Veeck’s analysis. 11 “The White Sox were placed at a competitive disadvantage he be- 12 lieved impossible to overcome,” Sox historian Rich Lindberg said. 13 Lindberg, no great fan of Veeck, actually believed the trend of im- [179], (17) 14 balanced coverage continued in 2004, holding up marked-off sec- 15 tions of newspapers while on dual speaking engagements with me Lines: 204 to 217 16 throughout the Chicago area. But he still had to face the inescapable 17 truth that the Cubs were far more popular than the White Sox, even ——— 18 after the latter team’s amazing World Series run in 2005. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 I posed the question to Tribune sports editor Bill Adee in the U.S. Normal Page 20 Cellular Field press box in 2002. “The Cubs have more fans than PgEnds: T X 21 the Sox,” Adee said in a simple explanation about the additional ink E 22 devoted to the North Siders. Three years later, the Tribune would 23 go out of its way to give the Sox their just due in publicity with the [179], (17) 24 Fall Classic triumph. 25 But even before he and his team dominated both headlines and 26 broadcast coverage, Reinsdorf refused to be backed into a corner 27 in the same manner as Veeck. The Cubs’ publicity advantage was 28 ingrained, but the Sox chairman had some media power of his own 29 through influence at the team’s cable television and radio outlets. 30 He was no George Halas, but he still had some reach into the per- 31 sonnel and editorial decisions of outlets that had a financial relation- 32 ship with him. Chairmanship of a second team, the nba’s Bulls, and 33 a long-standing alliance with owner Bill Wirtz of the nhl’s Black- 34 hawks gave him additional clout. 35 Brooklyn-born and self-made, Reinsdorf perhaps is sports’ best 36 man for working financial numbers. He offers up a powerful one- 37 two business punch as an attorney and certified public accountant. 38 But he’s also a media junkie. Reinsdorf reads almost every baseball

Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town 179

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 179 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 article within his grasp. He’s been known to scrawl comments on 2 clips returned to his front office. One time, he suggested to Goddard 3 that he had questionable grammar in one of his articles. 4 Through the 1980s, Reinsdorf’s common-man background 5 served him well in media relations. He was one of sports’ most acces- 6 sible and quotable owners. Sportscaster Chet Coppock asked him 7 to do a video gig, and Reinsdorf responded, “When do you need 8 me there?” On several occasions during their first years as owners, 9 I simply strolled from the old Comiskey Park press box, past the 10 broadcast booths and into the private box of Reinsdorf and Einhorn 11 to talk to them during games. 12 But the controversy over the White Sox’s threatened move to 13 St. Petersburg, Florida, and the bid for state funding to build what [180], (18) 14 is now U.S. Cellular Field in 1988, caused Reinsdorf to dramati- 15 cally reduce his media profile. He grew distant, limiting his Lines: 217 to 229 16 on-the-record media exposure to a few favored writers and sports- 17 talk-show hosts. Lindberg called him “shell-shocked. . . . The pri- ——— 18 vacy of the owner’s suite suited him just fine, and he never would be 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 seen hobnobbing inside the press box unless there was a major storm Normal Page 20 brewing, like the impending 1994 players’ walkout forcing him to PgEnds: T X 21 articulate his position among baseball powerbrokers at an im- E 22 promptu interview session.” 23 White Sox vice president Scott Reifert, who now acts as a spokes- [180], (18) 24 man on behalf of Reinsdorf on most occasions, disagrees with the 25 perception that Reinsdorf is distant. 26 “Being the owner who’s involved, he makes decisions that are 27 unpopular at times,” Reifert said. “He’s willing to make the right 28 decision on behalf of the organization even if it’s unpopular. The 29 safest route is just not to talk. He believes very strongly that the fan 30 coming here doesn’t want to hear from the owner. He wants to hear 31 from the players, manager, and general manager. 32 “He told of the time he came out and was very complimentary of 33 the coach [the Bulls’ Doug Collins], and two months later he had to 34 fire him. He feels you should let the daily comments about the team 35 stay functioning with the people running the team.” 36 Reinsdorf respectfully declined an interview request for this book 37 but came out of his shell to hobnob with media around the bat- 38 ting cage throughout the 2005 postseason. Even in his glory, he had

180 Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 180 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 strong opinions about those who cover his teams. I saw firsthand 2 how approaching Reinsdorf at the wrong time and in the wrong 3 place could have consequences. 4 On Labor Day night in 1993, I spotted Reinsdorf standing near 5 the batting cage at U.S. Cellular Field. At that moment, I had to 6 prepare a feature on the upcoming Bulls season for a local magazine, 7 which required two months’ lead time from handing in the article 8 to publication. So for convenience’s sake, I asked Reinsdorf, as Bulls 9 chairman, for several comments. He responded to call him at the 10 office after the holiday. 11 Somehow I agitated Reinsdorf with my interview attempt. Work- 12 ing on a day-to-day credential because of a recent job change, I dis- 13 covered the White Sox had denied my request for a credential for a [181], (19) 14 game at the end of the same home stand. Media relations chief Doug 15 Abel, standing nearby when I approached Reinsdorf, explained I was Lines: 229 to 241 16 at the ballpark to cover baseball, not conduct basketball interviews. 17 I had to go through the Texas Rangers media relations department ——— 18 to obtain a credential to do an interview of one of their players 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 when they came to Chicago. When the Sox made the 1993 Ameri- Normal Page 20 can League Championship Series, I was granted a credential by the PgEnds: T X 21 al; passes were out of the White Sox’s control. E 22 Just as mysteriously, the following January I was granted a sea- 23 son’s credential for the upcoming 1994 campaign. I had possessed a [181], (19) 24 season’s pass from 1980 to 1992. I wondered if the restoration of ac- 25 cess rights had something to do with publicity over the debut of my 26 weekly radio baseball program that eventually was called Diamond 27 Gems—or whether it was deemed that I had served my penance for 28 inopportune pestering of the chairman. 29 My credential hassle gave some credence to a popular theory that 30 Reinsdorf has tentacles into some media outlets. Unlike George Ha- 31 las, he cannot place a call to an editor chum to get a too-aggressive 32 writer removed from the beat. But he did possess leverage simply 33 because of his chairmanship of two teams. 34 Sox historian Lindberg believes too much credit is given to Reins- 35 dorf’s influence. 36 “The chunk of sports Jerry has influence over is the weaker half of 37 Chicago sports—the Sox, Bulls, and Blackhawks,” he said. “They’re 38 the weaker sisters compared to the Tribune, Cubs, and Bears. They

Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town 181

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 181 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 have the stranglehold of power in Chicago. There’s fear of Jerry, 2 but also Jerry’s fear of the media.” 3 Reinsdorf and Einhorn prematurely started a pay cable channel, 4 SportsVision, in 1981, with Bill Wirtz and soccer owner Lee Stern. 5 The station eventually morphed into SportsChannel, a basic cable 6 operation whose ownership passed to out-of-town interests. How- 7 ever, the White Sox and the Michael Jordan–led Bulls remained 8 SportsChannel’s core programming. SportsChannel eventually be- 9 came Fox Sports Net Chicago. tv executive Jim Corno ran the op- 10 eration through all its incarnations. 11 Those who worked for Fox Sports Net Chicago were told they 12 were not to report negatively on the teams for which they served as 13 cable rights holders. [182], (20) 14 In 2004, Fox Sports Chicago was gutted as the White Sox and 15 Bulls rights, along with many on-air and behind-the-scenes per- Lines: 241 to 251 16 sonnel, shifted over to Comcast Cable’s new operation. Corno also 17 moved over to run the operation, maintaining his own close rela- ——— 18 tionship with Reinsdorf. But the honchos were now virtually joined 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 at the hip—Reinsdorf’s teams, the Tribune Company, and the nhl’s Normal Page 20 Blackhawks had ownership stakes in the cable channel along with PgEnds: T X 21 Comcast itself. E 22 Lissa Druss Christman insisted her talent 23 could be objective in talking about the teams they covered. Her [182], (20) 24 claim was confirmed by a colleague, who said Comcast had the back- 25 ing of the cable company’s Philadelphia headquarters to maintain a 26 sense of objectivity in coverage. But that analysis was going to be 27 severely tested due to the close ties with the teams. 28 The Reinsdorf connection with wmvp-am (1000), the longtime 29 flagship radio station of the Sox and Bulls, also was interesting. For 30 a while, the abc-owned radio outlet seemed eager to get out from 31 under high annual-rights fees of $7 million that guaranteed financial 32 distress when Reinsdorf’s teams had losing seasons. And when U.S. 33 Cellular affixed its corporate naming rights on Reinsdorf’s ballpark 34 in 2003, the communications firm suddenly had no advertising dol- 35 lars left over for the radio station, which was not allowed at first 36 to make a deal with a competing cell phone company. A weekly 37 Sunday-morning show on the Cubs made its debut on wmvp,no 38 doubt to Reinsdorf’s chagrin since wgn, the Cubs’ radio flagship,

182 Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 182 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 had no similar Sox program. Criticism of Reinsdorf and the Sox was 2 heard, particularly from the hyper-opinionated, mid-morning host 3 Jay Mariotti, a longtime jabber of the chairman in his Sun-Times 4 columns. Mariotti also publicly feuded with Ken “Hawk” Harrel- 5 son, the Sox tv announcer and Reinsdorf associate. 6 But by the end of 2004, the sands had shifted at wmvp. The Sox 7 and Bulls rights were coming up for renewal. Suddenly management 8 desired continuation of the play-by-play deals, considered a cen- 9 terpiece for sports stations even as a “loss leader.” The Cubs show 10 was transformed into a generic Chicago baseball program. Mari- 11 otti’s continual vitriolic presence, despite climbing ratings, could 12 have been seen as an impediment to retaining the rights. If so, wmvp 13 [183], (21) management had a right to be nervous when sports-talk competi- 14 tor wscr, possessed of a superior thirty-eight-state nighttime signal 15 at 670 am, was linked to interest in the teams. Later wscr hired Lines: 251 to 260 16 Mitch Rosen as program director, a decision that could not have 17 ——— hurt their bid to Reinsdorf. Rosen held that same position at wmvp 18 13.0pt PgVar at the dawn of the millennium when the station’s relations with the ——— 19 Sox and Bulls seemed friendlier. Rosen called himself a Reinsdorf Normal Page 20 21 friend in an interview with Ted Cox of the suburban Daily Herald. * PgEnds: Eject 22 In between radio management jobs Rosen worked as an agent, with Sox manager Ozzie Guillen one of his “name” clients. 23 [183], (21) 24 Something apparently had to give—and it was Mariotti. After 25 the 2004 season, he claimed he had received management edicts to 26 soften his on-air criticism of the Sox and Bulls. At the end of 2004, 27 just before a contractual clause would have vested Mariotti for six 28 months’ more pay at wmvp, he had a forced parting of the ways 29 with the station. wmvp management declined comment at the time, 30 while the Sox’s Scott Reifert said Reinsdorf had no prior knowledge 31 of Mariotti’s departure. 32 On April 4, 2005, Opening Day at U.S. Cellular Field, Reins- 33 dorf proved on the air that informed, borderline-tough question- 34 ing was not welcomed on his team’s outlets, especially when he 35 was involved. Expecting just a softballs-filled chat in an interview 36 with Mariotti successors Marc Silverman and Carmen DeFalco, the 37 chairman took umbrage at the line of questioning, which included 38 steroids and whether he would negotiate with agents for his team’s

Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town 183

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 183 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 coaches and managers. Silverman asked Reinsdorf if the Bulls’ im- 2 proved season was his biggest surprise of the year. 3 “The biggest surprise I’ve had is the nature of this interview,” he 4 told Silverman. “I thought it would be a nice chat about Opening 5 Day, and you guys turn it into ‘60 Minutes.’ These are not questions 6 we were supposed to discuss.” Reinsdorf added he would not appear 7 with Silverman and DeFalco again. 8 Toeing the Sox line did not help wmvp in the end. Reinsdorf 9 awarded the radio rights to wscr—at a reduced fee compared to 10 wmvp’s payout—in the early summer of 2005. 11 Meanwhile, another long-term accusation of conflict of interest in 12 Chicago sports did not live up to its long-advertised reputation, with 13 a couple of possible exceptions. The Tribune Company had pur- [184], (22) 14 chased the Cubs from an inheritance-tax-beleaguered Bill Wrigley 15 in 1981 to protect its wgn tv and radio deals. Almost from the Lines: 260 to 271 16 start of its parent company’s baseball ownership tenure, the Chi- 17 cago Tribune was accused of not covering the Cubs objectively. But ——— 18 that proved not to be true, as Tribune columnists, especially Rick 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Morrissey after 2001, offered up critical Cubs coverage. And while Normal Page 20 the daily beat-writer work was just average through other writers’ PgEnds: T X 21 tenures, the likes of Alan Solomon in 1988 and Paul Sullivan in E 22 1997 produced some of the more insightful, aggressive reporting 23 in town. When queried, Tribune writers over the years have said [184], (22) 24 they’ve never had directives to go easy on the Cubs. The only ex- 25 ception was a 2003 story, jumped upon by Greg Couch of the Sun- 26 Times, detailing how the Cubs scalped their own tickets through a 27 dummy corporation set up a half-block north of Wrigley Field. Lit- 28 tle was written in the Tribune. When asked if he could cover that 29 same story, one Tribune writer responded cynically, “Not if I want 30 to keep my job.” 31 Sullivan was nipped by the other fly in the ointment. A favorite 32 guest on tv and radio shows, he was summoned to help broadcasters 33 Chip Caray and Steve Stone fill time during a rain delay of a Cubs- 34 Giants game on August 23, 1999, at Wrigley Field. With the Cubs 35 in the middle of a horrific 6-24 month, Sullivan was asked if manager 36 Jim Riggleman was getting the ax. He responded that it wasn’t all 37 Riggleman’s fault, that top management in the form of team pres- 38 ident Andy MacPhail and general manager Ed Lynch should take

184 Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 184 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 their fair share of the blame. Apparently, freedom of opinion did 2 not apply to beat writers. After the season, Sullivan was threatened 3 with transfer out of the sports department, possibly to the journal- 4 istic Siberia of suburban news coverage. Eventually he accepted a 5 switch to the White Sox. John Cherwa, the sports editor in 2000, 6 soon was moved out of Chicago to another Tribune Company job 7 in Orlando. Sullivan enjoyed his Sox seasons, then returned to cover 8 the Cubs starting with the eventful 2003 season. 9 The Tribune did not know what it was missing on the Cubs beat 10 with Sullivan’s absence. When they had hired Mark Gonzales of the 11 Arizona Republic to cover the Sox in the spring of 2005, they fielded 12 two of the strongest baseball writers in the country. Although he 13 angered some Cubs like LaTroy Hawkins with his prying and some- [185], (23) 14 times sharp language in print, Sullivan distinguished himself from 15 many of his colleagues by developing one-on-one relationships with Lines: 271 to 279 16 players and coaches. He broke off from the crowd of regular writ- 17 ers, who have fallen into a new trend in baseball media coverage: ——— 18 moving around in a group, even a kind of journalistic cartel, seem- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 ingly avoiding one-on-one interviews and relationships with base- Normal Page 20 ball newsmakers. Although much information in the daily ebb and PgEnds: T X 21 flow of working a clubhouse can only be obtained in a group set- E 22 ting, the differentiation of stories and reportage steeply declined as 23 the millennium began. [185], (23) 24 An example of overdoing the group concept happened in spring 25 training 2001. A middle-level Cubs pitching prospect named Court- 26 ney Duncan was trying to make the parent club. On a Sunday all the 27 writers present in Mesa, Arizona, interviewed Duncan. The next 28 day, all the features out of camp were variations of the Duncan talk. 29 Innumerable other examples have been featured in ensuing years on 30 themes that were not especially breaking news and available only in 31 a group-interview setting. The Worcester Telegram and Gazette’s Bill 32 Ballou, senior Red Sox beat writer, calls the mass production of the 33 same stories “socialized journalism.” 34 None other than Cubs pitcher Kerry Wood believed the baseball 35 consuming public lost out by identical stories fanning out over all 36 media outlets. 37 “It’s an injustice to the fans,” Wood said. “They pick up three 38 different papers and they all have the same quotes. Why do they

Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town 185

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 185 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 have to buy three papers? They can read the same quotes in one 2 paper. The herd walked over there and got all the same quotes and 3 wrote the same stuff.” 4 Also noticed by players, team officials, and other media was the 5 preponderance of clumps of media standing around the clubhouse 6 or the dugout during batting practice, not making a move to work 7 unless a group-interview subject presented himself or a baseball ex- 8 ecutive ambled by for a briefing. Chicago seemed the most out- 9 standing example of such media behavior, but the same scene was 10 also noted in other cities. The media would spend more time chat- 11 ting among themselves and watching the passing parade of players 12 instead of fanning out to work the team on an individual basis. 13 “They stand around, because nobody’s talking to anybody,” [186], (24) 14 Wood said. “One comes to talk and then there’s a group of twenty 15 people around them.” Lines: 279 to 293 16 Cubs media-relations chief Sharon Pannozzo, who had to try to 17 thin the media herd in 2004 after the Cubs near-miss World Series ——— 18 season, wonders about the intentions of some of those gathered at 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 one end of the clubhouse, not making a move to talk to players. Normal Page 20 “A lot of people are in the clubhouse and not doing anything,” PgEnds: T X 21 Pannozzo said. “If people are just standing around not working, they E 22 [the players] wonder why they’re standing around. It’s the players’ 23 office. You don’t come into our office and stand around.” [186], (24) 24 The Daily Herald’s Bruce Miles would prefer to conduct his in- 25 terviews one-on-one. “But in this climate and day and age, it’s be- 26 coming harder and harder, unless you wait till after batting practice 27 and everyone goes upstairs, or when they first open [the clubhouse] 28 for the day,” he said. 29 Wood and Pannozzo weren’t the only ones noticing the pack of 30 media types hanging around the clubhouse and dugout. 31 The traveling writers were seen waiting around for manager 32 Dusty Baker at the Great American Ballpark in Cincinnati while 33 other interview possibilities swirled about them. Indeed much of the 34 daily notes material has consisted of transcripts of Baker’s pregame 35 media briefings, as they did of predecessors Bruce Kimm and Don 36 Baylor. Readers would much prefer to hear from the players instead 37 of endless manager homilies. Without a deep psychological probe, 38 the group behavior appeared to be part safety-in-numbers, high-

186 Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 186 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 school lunchroom clique, and part fear of breaking away to establish 2 any kind of one-on-one relationships with players. 3 Miles insists that the regular crew of writers works individually, 4 without collusion or agreements that an agenda should be set each 5 day of what information to convey. One popular feeling within the 6 sports-journalism community is that informal “no-scoop” agree- 7 ments exist among some teams’ group of covering writers, in various 8 sports, to ease the grind of the long season and the daily demands 9 for copy. 10 “There’s never been any concerted effort to say, ‘Hey, let’s spin 11 the story this way, everybody make their lead note this, or write a 12 feature this particular way,’ ” Miles said. “Get it as you can. I’ve 13 [187], (25) never seen a concerted effort to say, ‘Hey, let’s all protect each 14 other.’ ” 15 Although the group/cartel concept seemed to strengthen after the Lines: 293 to 308 16 Cubs endured second-half death marches in 1999 and 2000, Miles 17 ——— said the traveling crew did not decide to ease their collective pain 18 13.0pt PgVar through cooperation. ——— 19 “No, because there’s a lot of interest in stories that come out of Normal Page 20 21 losing,” he said. “Somebody might be playing out the string, trying * PgEnds: Eject 22 to win a job for next year. The Cubs beat has a lot of collegiality, but it’s competitive. It generates more copy than any other beat in the 23 [187], (25) 24 city. There are days when we write three, sometimes four stories. 25 The work ethic is very high on the beat.” 26 Some of the best “inside baseball” stories are gleaned through 27 relationships with baseball figures. Even a big name like Wood, 28 never an interview-hungry type, will be helpful. Yet a reporter needs 29 to spend time establishing credibility with such players and man- 30 agers in noninterview, nonpressure situations. That means break- 31 ing away from the media clique and chatting informally with them, 32 establishing your reputation, and proving you understand baseball 33 while wanting to learn more. The conversations can take place in the 34 locker room, in the dugout, or even by the batting cage, although 35 approaching baseball types in the latter traditional conversational 36 setting is increasingly being discouraged by teams. 37 “Some players don’t want to be bothered while they’re hitting,” 38 Miles said. “If you go to the cage and talk, you’ll draw a crowd.

Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town 187

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 187 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 There are multiple dynamics at work. It’s grown like an amoeba 2 over the last several years.” 3 One relationship a Chicago writer did cultivate was the Chicago 4 Sun-Times’s Mike Kiley’s personal pipeline to Sammy Sosa. The 5 slugger was seen numerous times from 1998 to 2004 in whispered 6 conversation with Kiley, much to the pleasure of his bosses and the 7 frustration of his colleagues. 8 “I think it took Mike some time to develop that relationship,” 9 Miles said. “You live with it on the beat. You win some, you lose 10 some. You don’t like it, but what are you going to do about it? 11 It’s human nature where certain people like others more than other 12 people.” 13 Sosa was a prize catch for a newspaper able to convey the one- [188], (26) 14 on-one thoughts of the number one athlete in competitor Tribune 15 Company’s employ. But that relationship was severed when Sosa Lines: 308 to 324 16 trashed a decade’s worth of goodwill with Chicago fans at the end 17 of the 2004 season. ——— 18 Carrie Muskat, a twenty-year baseball writer working most re- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 cently as Cubs reporter for MLB.com, also enjoyed some good one- Normal Page 20 on-one relationships with players, who praised her work ethic and PgEnds: T X 21 clubhouse persona. But, overall, some of the journalistic basics were E 22 not being followed. Even in press conferences, tougher, more in- 23 cisive questions often were not being asked. Sometimes pregnant [188], (26) 24 pauses, as the one I encountered back in 1989 with Don Zimmer, 25 interrupted the flow of information. The stark conclusion is that 26 some Chicago sports media types were simply afraid to ask questions 27 that might offend their interview subjects, in a group setting or in 28 the much rarer one-on-one setting. Others might ask innocuous or 29 almost apologetic questions. 30 Michael Miner, media critic for the huge alternative weekly Chi- 31 cago Reader, took the traveling crew to task in his March 25, 2005, 32 column. Bruce Jenkins, sports columnist for the San Francisco Chron- 33 icle, quoted a friend of Dusty Baker as speculating that some of the 34 manager’s Chicago critics did not want to see an African American 35 in such a position of power. Miner detailed how the writers quizzed 36 Baker on the Jenkins column, but failed to bring up the race question 37 to the manager directly. 38 The flow of events made it obvious that many Chicago coverage

188 Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 188 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 people were not being pushed by their superiors to get to the bot- 2 tom of things and beat the competition—all part of the daily routine 3 on the East Coast. The simple guideline could have been to put 4 together the concept of tapping into relationships, picking up the 5 phone, and breaking away from the pack. You can come up with 6 stories before the competition. 7 One example of such simple logic took place before and after the 8 horrors of 9/11. I had followed the work of Mack Newton, Cubs 9 manager Don Baylor’s hand-picked fitness guru and motivator, who 10 began work in spring training 2001. Preaching winning amid his 11 rigorous workouts, Newton showed up several times to work with 12 the Cubs in the first half of the 2001 season as the team zoomed into 13 first place. But after the All-Star break, he disappeared. I wondered, [189], (27) 14 and wondered, and wondered. After a while, when I didn’t read any- 15 thing about Newton in the daily coverage from the traveling writers, Lines: 324 to 334 16 I called him at his Phoenix office for a story in the Times of Northwest 17 Indiana. Newton said the players didn’t want him around anymore. ——— 18 He was virtually run off. I confirmed that fact from Cubs players 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 , Matt Stairs, and . Normal Page 20 After also discovering that Baylor was granted a fund of nearly two PgEnds: T X 21 hundred thousand dollars by the Cubs to partially pay for Newton’s E 22 services and other scouting help, I filed the story for October 3, 23 2001, publication. Unknown to me, Baylor had just dumped emo- [189], (27) 24 tional pitching coach Oscar Acosta, who leaked the firing to Miles 25 and Kiley in a kind of package deal. I had witnessed Acosta help- 26 ing out both Miles and Kiley previously. The two unrelated stories 27 merged into a kind of clubhouse conflagration. Acosta’s pitchers 28 were extremely angry that Acosta was canned. Wood threatened 29 not to make his final 2001 start until Jim Hendry, then second in 30 command in the front office, talked him back onto the mound. 31 I had a certifiable scoop, but the same story was available to any 32 regular writer who could have deduced something was up by New- 33 ton’s absence a month earlier, had called him, and worked the club- 34 house one-on-one. 35 Merely breaking away from the media pack standing at one end 36 of the clubhouse or by the dugout also can net some easily attainable 37 inside stories. 38 Twice during July 2004 I approached Cubs second baseman Mark

Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town 189

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 189 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Grudzielanek—a straight shooter—one-on-one by his locker. The 2 first time, he suggested that a players-only meeting to hash out 3 the team’s troubles might be called during an upcoming road trip, 4 away from the media fishbowl in Chicago. On the second occa- 5 sion, Grudzielanek said he would have been willing to shift to third 6 base to keep him and Todd Walker both in the lineup at the same 7 time. When the Cubs lost slugging third baseman Aramis Ramirez 8 to a groin injury at the beginning of the month, manager Dusty 9 Baker used non-sticks Ramon Martinez at third and Rey Ordonez 10 at . At the same time, Baker benched either Grudzielanek 11 or Walker, refusing to weaken the infield defense, or so he thought. 12 Grudzielanek reminded me that he had played third base as a rookie 13 and could make the switch with a few days’ infield workouts. Both [190], (28) 14 stories were available to anyone else who asked. Only wscr-am’s 15 George Ofman, tagging along on the second visit to Grudzielanek, Lines: 334 to 343 16 ran the information. 17 “Maybe some players give off an air of intimidation,” Miles said. ——— * 18 “I heard one player say, ‘I think a lot of people are afraid to come 101.28pt PgVar ——— 19 up and talk to me.’ ” Normal Page 20 Call it afraid, underdirected, undermotivated, or just not people- * PgEnds: PageBreak 21 savvy enough, the gap between players and media is not being 22 bridged in Chicago. The fault, in the end, is not with the writers 23 and broadcasters huddling in a group, but with their editors and [190], (28) 24 program directors in not demanding creativity, original coverage, 25 and common-sense competition to go beyond the usual necessary 26 stories available to everyone. 27 Such a style can help shed light on the why’s and how’s of Chi- 28 cago’s baseball teams. If practiced—and that’s a big if—that should 29 enable fans to become much more knowledgeable and informed 30 about a game to which they’ve given their hearts and souls. 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

190 Chicago a Toddlin’, But Soft, Baseball Media Town

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 190 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 TWELVE 4 5 6 No-Shows in the Press Box 7 and Clubhouse 8 9 10 11 12 tarting about 1990, the same complaint repeatedly was uttered, 13 Swhether by players I regularly covered or those visiting Chi- [191], (29) 14 cago. You’d be deaf, dumb, and blind if you didn’t spot the trend. 15 Covered every day by newspaper beat writers, Major Leaguers Lines: 343 to 362 16 were upset that these same publications’ sports columnists would 17 rarely come down to the clubhouse, if they even showed up at the ——— 18 ballpark in the first place. Yet at the same time, the columnists were 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 offering critiques of individuals and teams without doing any neces- Normal Page 20 sary background information, without talking to any of the parties PgEnds: T X 21 firsthand. E 22 The complaints then shifted to a new genre of commentator as 23 the 1990s wore on: radio sports-talk-show hosts. While more [191], (29) 24 columnists were spotted here and there, only a small fraction of 25 airwaves gabbers bothered to show their faces in press boxes and 26 clubhouses, even though they usually did not put in a full eight hours 27 at the office, factoring in their three- or four-hour broadcast shifts 28 and “show prep time.” 29 “There’s no question that players get upset when criticized by 30 people who aren’t around,” said Drew Olson, former baseball writer 31 with the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. “The ‘hit and run’ method em- 32 ployed by many columnists and most talk-radio hosts probably has 33 played a role in eroding some players’ relationships with the media.” 34 And as a new century really got rolling, the two genres merged, 35 almost akin to a cross-pollination of media. Image-hungry sports- 36 talk stations and espn began hiring the top columnists in major 37 cities to handle either daily three- or four-hour radio shows or video 38 shoutfests. A few, like the Chicago Sun-Times’s Jay Mariotti, did all

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 191 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 three—a column, daily radio, and daily national tv. That logically 2 left even less time for in-your-face visits to ballparks and provided 3 more opportunities for basing commentary on secondhand infor- 4 mation, now repeated on more outlets. 5 The trend was by no means confined to one city or region. Al- 6 most nationwide, the scuttlebutt told of columnists and radio talkers 7 using second- and thirdhand information to comment on and ana- 8 lyze their sports subjects—tapping into material already accessible 9 to their readers and listeners. Branded as “experts” by their hype- 10 conscious management, the opinionmeisters ran the risk of putting 11 forth inaccuracies at the worst or lazily recycling information at the 12 least. 13 The matter-antimatter mix of overly affluent, arrogant players on [192], (30) 14 one hand and undermotivated, sometimes inexperienced reporters 15 on the other did a lot to pry apart two parties who in fact need each Lines: 362 to 374 16 other. But the print and radio no-shows in the clubhouse and press 17 box made matters worse, causing the players to further withdraw ——— 18 from media contact and thus making the job harder for the diligent 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 portion of baseball reporters. Normal Page 20 Just as noticeable to the players as the clumps of reporters who PgEnds: T X 21 gathered, high-school lunchroom clique-style, by dugouts or at one E 22 end of clubhouses were the absences of commentators who were too 23 lazy, too scared, or too proud to get the players’ side of the story [192], (30) 24 beforehand or face their subjects afterward. 25 In many ways, the two sides are dug in and won’t budge from 26 their positions. Cubs media relations director Sharon Pannozzo felt 27 more strongly about the issue than many of her players. 28 “I think they’re cowards,” Pannozzo said. “If you don’t come to 29 the park ever, not to the field, don’t go to the field or the press 30 box, you’re getting [information] secondhand, what happened, what 31 somebody’s really like. You don’t know that person. Credibility is 32 the key. Somebody on a wants to sit there and rip [a player] 33 and doesn’t come out here, you really don’t have a right in my opin- 34 ion. [Players] feel you’re not a man, you don’t have the guts to come 35 and talk to my face. 36 “It’s no different than being in a courtroom and having the right 37 to face your accuser. If you feel you have the right to go on the air, 38 say whatever negative things you want about an individual or player,

192 No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 192 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 that’s fine. That person has the right to be in the same room at some 2 point and you actually face that person. There are people who want 3 to write negative things and the furthest they ever go is the press 4 box. That’s as far as they go.” 5 Typical of the opinion of the opposite side were the afternoon 6 drive-time sports-talk duo of Terry Boers and Dan Bernstein on 7 wscr-Radio in Chicago. 8 “If you’re a comic and you’re making fun of the president or a 9 senator, do you go spend time with the president or the senator?” 10 asked Boers. 11 “Does have to go to a press conference?” in- 12 quired Bernstein. “Does Jon Stewart have to go to a House com- 13 mittee meeting?” [193], (31) 14 Other analogies used by columnists and sports-talk-show hosts 15 included George Will not having to attend every session of Con- Lines: 374 to 391 16 gress to pen a column, not being required to face studio 17 heads and directors after he pans a movie, and a restaurant critic not ——— 18 visiting the eatery the day after he savages it. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 “I was a reporter [in the 1990s],” Bernstein said. “We’re doing Normal Page 20 commentary. I turn on my tv, go to a game with my family, and PgEnds: T X 21 see Moises Alou doubled off second base and I hear Dusty Baker E 22 spewing a line of bullshit about being aggressive. Why do I have to 23 go to the locker room afterward? I go on the air and tell people what [193], (31) 24 I think. 25 “That’s [the locker room] their territory. Of course they want 26 people in their clubhouse, with their public relations people there. 27 There are two sets of tilted ground here. If it means they pick up a 28 phone and call our show, which means that’s our territory and we 29 control the discourse, yes, we have a position of power. But, simi- 30 larly, they’re in a position of power if they want us to stand in front 31 of their locker when they’ve got pr people, media relations people, 32 policing the questions. I don’t want to hear that’s a sacrosanct even 33 playing field in the locker room.” 34 So if their absences are notable now, how frequently should the 35 no-shows ideally work the press boxes and clubhouses if they’re not 36 required to cover teams on a daily beat basis? 37 “Once a home stand would be nice,” Pannozzo said. “All these 38 people have a telephone. They’re not afraid to call me for other

No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse 193

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 193 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 things, like when they purchase tickets. They’re happy to take the 2 benefits of the services we can provide. You’d be surprised what peo- 3 ple are not afraid to ask for. They’re not afraid to ask for playoff 4 tickets. It’s a service I offer, so I would be fair.” 5 Another Chicago sports-talk-show veteran is in full agreement 6 with Pannozzo. 7 “Anybody who criticizes talk-show hosts and columnists for not 8 coming to the ballpark are absolutely justified and correct,” said 9 Tom Shaer. “You should be there at least once or twice per home 10 stand. They know who you are. You can go up to a guy without a 11 tape recorder or notepad, you build a little trust.” 12 There are shades of gray in between the stances of Pannozzo and 13 Boers-Bernstein. What shakes out in the end is that player-media [194], (32) 14 (and fan) relations would be better off if more of those who put on 15 a jock got to know those who aren’t so well-protected, but make it Lines: 391 to 405 16 a point to comment from a distance. 17 “It’s a lack of understanding on all sides,” said Mike Fannin, sports ——— 18 editor of the Kansas City Star. “Players don’t seem to understand 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 you can have an understanding with a writer and he can still write Normal Page 20 something critical. And columnists don’t like to be yelled at. The PgEnds: T X 21 relationship has changed so dramatically. Some columnists say, ‘I E 22 can swoop in and swoop out and go on to the next topic.’ I don’t 23 think players relate to journalists as well as in the past. And I don’t [194], (32) 24 think columnists relate as well to players.” 25 But to Chicago’s Jay Mariotti, the athlete scarcely comprehends 26 the role of the columnist. 27 “I think most baseball players are into political ways of things and 28 cliques, the bullshit ways of things,” Mariotti said. “The problem is 29 that too many of them lump us in together [columnists and beat 30 writers]. My job is to write about them one day, then go to the 31 British Open, then go to the Bears and a tennis tourney. They don’t 32 understand. The smart guys understand what the role of a columnist 33 is.” 34 Whether they were off to Scotland or Wimbledon or Platteville, 35 I picked up on the no-show factor when I began covering the Cubs 36 on a daily basis at home in 1994. Often a home stand would pass 37 with the appearance of a columnist just once or twice. To be sure, 38 summer is the least busy season of most columnists, as I noted in a

194 No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 194 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 1995 feature in the Times of Northwest Indiana. They’re taking va- 2 cation time after a busy previous fall and winter of nfl, nba, and 3 college basketball coverage; few columnists will ever miss an nfl 4 regular-season or playoff game. Golf tournaments that almost dou- 5 ble as quasi-vacation junkets beckon in all parts of the world. Then 6 the sacred rite of the hottest part of July always bursts on the scene: 7 nfl training camp. 8 Baseball often can wait until something compelling takes place, 9 like a pennant race or great individual accomplishment. Never mind 10 that no matter how much a columnist believes he’s his own con- 11 science or that of his readers, he still remains a reporter when it 12 comes to the basics, the standards of the business still applying. And 13 the concept of developing sources and getting to know the people [195], (33) 14 being written about—and criticized—still apply. 15 “, the greatest sports columnist who ever lived, said the Lines: 405 to 421 16 most important thing is being a reporter,” said Ira Berkow, longtime 17 New York Times sportswriter. ——— 18 “You have to have the facts to come to a logical or knowledgeable 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 opinion. You have to be talking to people and getting it for yourself. Normal Page 20 All good columnists have sources. You need people who trust you PgEnds: T X 21 and give you stuff. All good journalists must follow that if you want E 22 to have a decent career.” 23 Discerning readers agree. Sylvia Ewing of Chicago was referring [195], (33) 24 to news-side columnists, but her opinions apply to sports analysts, 25 too, in a letter to the February 18, 2005, Chicago Reader. 26 “Hopefully, a great columnist never forgets that he or she is a 27 reporter,” Ewing wrote. “The opinions that they share should start 28 with facts. At best, they are not narrowly preaching to the choir, or 29 simply railing against those who disagree with them, but rather stat- 30 ing their views so that the vast majority of folks who are undecided, 31 who have no opinion, will have a reason to care. The first step to 32 being a great columnist is to give a damn, and that includes getting 33 out of the office to see what is going on in the world.” 34 Cubs spokesperson Pannozzo abhors the packaging of columnists 35 as on-site, inside-baseball experts when the reality just isn’t so. 36 “I just don’t think we were as much fodder for them,” she said. 37 “They write from the perspective that they are here. They give their 38 readership the idea that they are at the park, they know these people,

No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse 195

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 195 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 they know what’s going on. Most of these columnists get [material] 2 secondhand. If they write about an incident that happened and they 3 weren’t there, they got it from somebody else. You can trust your 4 source all you want, but one perspective on something may not be 5 exactly how it happened. You could be writing a falsehood. That’s 6 the risk you have to take. But your readers are [following] it as if you 7 were there.” 8 One prevailing view is that many of their brethren can either take 9 baseball or leave it—more of the latter. 10 “Some columnists don’t like baseball,” said the Boston Globe’s Dan 11 Shaughnessy, as much a part of the Fenway Park scene as the Green 12 Monster. “ doesn’t like baseball and writes very little 13 on the Tigers. But in Boston, it’s very heavy baseball.” [196], (34) 14 Perhaps the no-shows and ennui about baseball is a Midwest or 15 West Coast type of phenomenon. With few exceptions, the colum- Lines: 421 to 435 16 nists in the “blue states” of baseball journalism had better show up 17 or face derision or even demotion if their rivals craft a better piece ——— 18 firsthand. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 “It doesn’t hold true in New York,” the New York Times’s Ira Normal Page 20 Berkow said. “The columnists are there. The papers demand that PgEnds: T X 21 they are on the scene. It may be true in other venues, but not in E 22 New York.” 23 While I slaved away the hot press-box afternoons and occasional [196], (34) 24 nights at Wrigley Field in the mid- and late 1990s, I rarely spot- 25 ted Chicago Sun-Times columnist Rick Telander. Cubs manager Jim 26 Riggleman said I wasn’t imagining things. “I rarely saw Rick,” he 27 recalled. 28 Although Telander had authored several interesting baseball fea- 29 tures for Sports Illustrated, he seemed to be militantly a football and 30 basketball guy. His books reflected those interests. Once a college 31 defensive back at Northwestern, Telander tried to latch onto Hank 32 Stram’s Kansas City Chiefs as a rookie in 1971. Telander did not 33 make the cut, but the experience provided fodder for another book. 34 Setting the book’s premise, Telander said baseball was America’s 35 pastime, but football was its passion. 36 But as the Cubs improved in 2003, more frequent Telander ap- 37 pearances almost became mandated at Wrigley Field. He found 38 himself on duty the night Sammy Sosa was caught red-handed with a

196 No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 196 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 corked bat. In the tense questioning afterward, Cubs manager Dusty 2 Baker was irked by Telander and called him “dude.” Telander also 3 jumped aboard for the White Sox’s express. 4 Despite his increased baseball attendance, Telander still is clear 5 about his priorities and baseball’s ranking among them. 6 “Baseball’s a whole different animal,” Telander said. “By the time 7 they were done, the Red Sox played 180 games [in 2004]. Baseball 8 goes on every day. It’s not even remotely like football. Sixteen games 9 in baseball is equal to one in football.” 10 While Telander worked elsewhere during summer afternoons in 11 the 1990s, I was also astonished at the will-o’-the-wisp sight of the 12 Chicago Tribune’s Bernie Lincicome when he did show up. I’d call 13 over to Lincicome in the press box to ask if he needed directions [197], (35) 14 downstairs, and whether the players would be nervous knowing he 15 was in the house. Charged with being his sports section’s voice of Lines: 435 to 454 16 sarcasm and satire, Lincicome did not feel the need to do a lot of 17 clubhouse face time to provide accurate grist for his zingers. ——— 18 As a result of his spotty attendance, one day in 1986, Keith More- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 land guided Lincicome around the Cubs clubhouse, introducing Normal Page 20 him to his teammates two years into the columnist’s Chicago tenure. PgEnds: T X 21 “I probably averaged ten to twelve games per year,” said Linci- E 22 come, who moved on to the Rocky Mountain News in 2000. “When 23 they’re doing well, when they’re the story, you go to more. The [197], (35) 24 years that the Cubs were good, I’d be out there twenty-five times 25 a year. When they’re not, I find other things that are interesting. 26 The columnist’s duty is to be interesting that day. If the team is not 27 interesting, you pick something else to write about.” 28 Moreland’s locker-room tour was part of a tense situation. 29 “The Cubs opened the season badly,” Lincicome said. “I had writ- 30 ten a column in my fashion, tongue-in-cheek. Postgame, here comes 31 Don Zimmer [then a Cubs coach] fresh from the shower, pink and 32 rosy. He’s charging at me like an umpire, and he’s naked. ‘You can’t 33 get me, you can’t hurt me.’ I didn’t know what the hell was going on. 34 “Then there was Moreland saying, ‘I’ll show you the guys you’re 35 insulting.’ I must have said to Moreland that I know you, I’ve been 36 here two years, I know all these people. Problem is, you don’t know 37 me.” 38 The hard feelings of the afternoon did not last. Several years later,

No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse 197

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 197 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 promoted to Cubs manager, Zimmer called Lincicome into his of- 2 fice and fixed him a ham-and-cheese sandwich. 3 “We made up over cold cuts,” Lincicome said. “He told me to tell 4 everyone in Boston he said hello. He thought I was from Boston.” 5 Lincicome said he is comfortable in his nonreporting role. 6 “I’m not in the scoop business, not in the inside-story business,” 7 he said. “I’m in the perspective business, with humor and a goal 8 to entertain. All of that doesn’t require me to be down there [in 9 the clubhouse]. You try to fit that day’s game into your view of it. 10 Otherwise if you get into numbers, plays, that’s the job of someone 11 else. My objective is not to be a friend of the players, not to be a 12 stenographer.” 13 Obviously with the support of management, Lincicome forged a [198], (36) 14 niche on the Tribune. Fellow columnist Bob Verdi played opposite 15 him as the print lyricist and chronicler of athletes and coaches. Thus Lines: 454 to 472 16 his mindset in ballpark attendance stood out in contrast. 17 “I followed guys I grew up reading and admiring,” Verdi said. ——— 18 “Red Smith said there’s no substitute for being there. Some feel 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 a columnist is allowed to sit home and pontificate. If a columnist Normal Page 20 repeatedly writes opinions and never goes to the ballpark, it’s a little PgEnds: T X 21 curious. Is he or she serving the reader, just writing off the top of E 22 the head? It has to be an informed opinion. There’s a certain respect 23 if you come and face the music. You’re not asking them [athletes] [198], (36) 24 to go to dinner. 25 “When they put my picture in the paper, I didn’t stop being a 26 reporter.” 27 Hazards are encountered in not obtaining information directly 28 from sources, even in crafting critical opinions, according to Boston 29 Globe columnist Jackie MacMullan. 30 “As a beat writer covering the Celtics, I covered John Bagley, who 31 was overweight,” MacMullan said. “People loved to make fun of 32 him. He wasn’t quick enough. I’m talking to him one day and he 33 went on to say how hard it was. I asked him if he was trying to do 34 something [to solve the problem]. He said isn’t it nice that someone 35 asked me if I was doing something. It was a medical situation [thy- 36 roid]. If ever a time it was driven home that you have to be there and 37 talk to them, that was it. I think I got more response than anything 38 I’ve written.

198 No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 198 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “That’s what they pay us money to do. That’s our job, to get to 2 know athletes.” 3 Despite the cynicism and even fear that athletes would lure them 4 into the locker room to verbally ambush them, or worse, for critical 5 comments, the general consensus is that familiarity would not breed 6 all that much contempt. And, in fact, the athlete must learn to live 7 with criticism as part of the price of being a Major Leaguer. 8 “You have to be more careful when you decide to rip on some- 9 body without knowing the person as a person, not a piece of meat 10 ballplayer,” said former relief pitcher Rod Beck. “If you’re there day 11 in and day out, you’ll see if a guy is lazy or if he busts his ass. 12 “If you can’t handle criticism, you shouldn’t be playing the game. 13 The game is out there for public comment. If the game is out there [199], (37) 14 for public comment and scrutiny, it’s very much the media’s job to 15 report what’s going on. As long as it’s the truth, how can I sit there Lines: 472 to 492 16 and say anything about truthful criticism?” 17 Cubs pitcher Kerry Wood is guarded about his craft and mania- ——— 18 cally protective of his private life. But those who put in the time— 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 and it might take at least several years—getting to know Wood will Normal Page 20 get past his first line of defense. PgEnds: T X 21 “I think you’ve got to do more than talk a couple of times to earn E 22 the trust,” Wood said. “What bothers me the most is writers per- 23 sonally don’t take the time to get to know me, but write opinions [199], (37) 24 about my character, or any players for that matter. That bothers 25 guys.” 26 Suggesting Wood go for outs instead of to save his arm 27 is a fair comment to him. 28 “But calling [Carlos] Zambrano ‘Straitjacket-worthy Zambrano’ 29 is not fair comment,” he said. “You’re insulting the guy, calling him 30 names, insulting his intelligence, everything about him. It’s weak. If 31 you have something to say, come in and talk to the person. 32 “If you’re going to do your job to the best of your ability, which 33 would mean coming in actually interviewing players and taking time 34 out of your schedule instead of just brainstorming about what you’re 35 going to write, it would be more acceptable [to players]. It’s a respect 36 issue. It’s an honor to be in a big league clubhouse.” 37 Anything beyond firsthand information starts the yellow light 38 flashing to players.

No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse 199

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 199 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “That’s what bugs me,” bullpen veteran Ray King said. “As a re- 2 liever, we sit in the clubhouse for three, four innings and listen to 3 the radio or tv broadcast, and all of a sudden someone says, ‘I was 4 sitting and talking with Ray King today and he said this.’ But he was 5 sitting at the end of the bench. He just heard me and you talking. 6 That would really agitate you, because we didn’t say hello to each 7 other. 8 “It really bugs you. You tell one person something, by the time it 9 gets to the tenth person, it’s blown way out of proportion.” 10 Many media types have no problem discussing problems with 11 players even amid the inherent tense atmosphere. 12 “ taught me right away,” Boston’s Jackie Mac- 13 Mullan said. “If you ever write anything negative about somebody, [200], (38) 14 show up the next day and take whatever it is they give you. Some 15 can, some can’t.” Lines: 492 to 509 16 “I learned long ago that whatever you write, you are as account- 17 able to them as they are accountable to you,” Chicago Sun-Times ——— 18 sportswriter Brian Hanley said. “If you write something that’s 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 strong, you’re there the next day in case someone has a problem.” Normal Page 20 But that accountability remains sporadic. And it makes the jobs of PgEnds: T X 21 the daily beat writers, on whom the columnists often lean for filler E 22 quotes and other tidbits, more difficult. 23 “They’re ‘hit and run,’ ” Hal McCoy of the Dayton Daily News, [200], (38) 24 the dean of all major-sports beat writers, said of columnists. “They 25 create a lot of ill will. Beat writers are covering their tracks every 26 day when columnists don’t come out and see the club [regularly], 27 don’t talk to the players, and write things that are way off the wall. 28 It’s everywhere. I notice that columnists almost never come to night 29 games. They don’t like writing on deadline. If you have a day game 30 in Cincinnati, every columnist from miles around is there.” 31 “Players get used to seeing beat writers every day [from spring 32 training],” said Bruce Miles, the Cubs writer for the suburban Chi- 33 cago Daily Herald. “They know if the beat writer writes something, 34 he or she is there every day to take the heat or discuss something. 35 It’s a culture where they like accountability. If they see somebody 36 take a shot at them, they’d like a chance to rebut that in person.” 37 Seeing how the rift was only getting worse, I posed the question to 38 controversial Chicago “opinionist” Jay Mariotti several years back.

200 No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 200 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Why not establish one or two “go-to” guys on each team on whom 2 he could rely to provide the background for his commentary? 3 Mariotti did not believe that idea was practical, and reiterated his 4 stance more recently. 5 “It’s difficult for a columnist to maintain relationships,” Mariotti 6 said, citing a rapport with former Bears coach . 7 “Deep into his tenure, when he started to fail, you became critical, 8 he believes you’re backstabbing him. You lose that guy for life. It 9 was the same with Sammy Sosa. You hang around with him. You 10 give him good coverage, interview him in a limousine, then things 11 become sour. The player expects that relationship all the time. 12 “On many occasions, it becomes so ugly that you learned the les- 13 son not to get too close. The only athlete I dealt with who seemed [201], (39) 14 to understand that was Michael Jordan. He’d be mad [at what was 15 written], but he’d talk to you. You do that in a parking lot in front Lines: 509 to 524 16 of a gym, not in front of him in the locker room.” 17 Attributing the tension of the locker room to the interminably ——— 18 long season in which nerves get more frayed by the day amid close 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 quarters, Mariotti rarely descends into Chicago baseball home Normal Page 20 locker rooms even though he probably recorded more frequent ball- PgEnds: T X 21 park attendance than any other columnist in the city. He cited a se- E 22 ries of ugly incidents involving players seeking confrontations with 23 him for his avoidance of personal contact with players. Mariotti even [201], (39) 24 tussled with White Sox announcer Hawk Harrelson in the press box 25 in the Metrodome in 2004. 26 I sensed a familiar personality behind me while I was waiting to in- 27 terview Houston’s Roger Clemens in Wrigley Field’s visiting locker 28 room that same season. Sure enough, Mariotti stood there with a 29 grin. But he would not go across the field to the Cubs clubhouse, 30 preferring to take quotes off the closed-circuit video feed in the press 31 box. 32 Columnists, of course, have built-in alibis about why they can’t be 33 more frequently seen around the press boxes and clubhouses. They 34 must cover all sports and the flow of assignments takes them away 35 from ballparks, preventing more frequent attendance. 36 Sports-talk-show hosts don’t have that excuse. Unless they travel 37 for remotes like the Super Bowl, other championship events, or nfl 38 training camps, they usually are studio-bound. But even with the

No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse 201

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 201 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 show-preparation time, they could get out to one or two games a 2 homestand. 3 A minority of hosts do just that, introducing themselves to play- 4 ers and executives, even doing their own guest-booking. Yet the far 5 greater number—in all markets across the country—take almost a 6 professional pride in staying away, relying instead on broadcast ob- 7 servations of games, newspaper clippings, Internet printouts, and 8 off-kilter observations of callers. Their listeners have access to the 9 same information. So rather than enlightening the audience, many 10 of the hosts’ rants lead them astray instead. Recycling others’ works 11 ends up with inaccuracies as the misinformed lead the misinformed. 12 If such a stance is taken, it would promote a venture into danger- 13 ous territory, said Chicago sports voice Tom Shaer. He cited one [202], (40) 14 example of a “complete lack of knowledge” about real-life events. 15 “The White Sox got rid of [shortstop] Mike Caruso because he Lines: 524 to 538 16 was not committed to being in baseball shape,” Shaer said. “I heard 17 a guy on a sports-talk show rip the Sox for giving up too early on ——— 18 Mike Caruso. I had information from other players that confirmed 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Caruso wasn’t interested in taking care of his body. What’s Mike Normal Page 20 Caruso done since the Sox got rid of him? Not a fuckin’ thing. At the PgEnds: T X 21 time, if [the on-air person] had been around the ballpark, he would E 22 have found out talking with people who had personal interaction 23 and by what Caruso did.” [202], (40) 24 To Shaer, ballpark attendance isn’t absolutely necessary. But any 25 sports-talker dedicated to excellence will make the appearances. 26 “They don’t go because they’re lazy and don’t have the same stan- 27 dards,” Shaer said. “They don’t have to go to the ballpark to do every 28 element of their show, but they do have to go if they want to discuss 29 inside stuff. You should strive to be the best. A four-hour talk show, 30 guys prepare one and a half hours at home and one and a half hours 31 at the office. You’ve got to go the extra yards, make the extra effort. 32 “You don’t have to be at the ballpark to do a pretty good job. To 33 do the best job, yes. Talk-show hosts say they don’t want to get to 34 know guys, just observe and be like a fan. Fine. But when you get 35 into the areas of inside information, you should be at the ballpark.” 36 Chet Coppock had the only nightly sports-talk show in Chicago 37 at the dawn of the 1990s on what is now wmvp-am. More recently 38 he’s been a weekend host at the Sporting News Network. He goes

202 No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 202 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 further than Shaer in criticizing many of his fellow hosts’ no-show 2 policies. 3 “Number one, they’re gutless,” Coppock said. “Number two, they 4 have no knowledge. Number three, they’re surrounded by the worst 5 kind of court a king can be surrounded by. They’re the great un- 6 washed who are calling them on a regular basis, praising them re- 7 gardless of what they say, no matter how stupid, how illogical it is. 8 “Most of these guys just really don’t have the stones—put that in 9 bold type—the rocks, the onions, to walk into a clubhouse and con- 10 front a ballplayer or manager for two reasons. One, it scares the hell 11 out of them. Two, they know if they’re asked a legitimate baseball, 12 basketball, or football question, they’re going to be completely ex- 13 posed. So as a result, it’s a lot safer to stay in your studio, holler over [203], (41) 14 a microphone, have no idea what you’re talking about, and point to 15 a rating book that says our twenty-five to fifty-four demographic Lines: 538 to 561 16 shows we are the Vito Corleone family instead of going out to the 17 ballpark.” ——— 18 Top hosts and of New York’s wfan, 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 the country’s top sports-talk station, were not often seen at base- Normal Page 20 ball games in the Big Apple. Neither were most of their gabber col- PgEnds: T X 21 leagues. E 22 “In fairness to them, I feel they should go more often, maybe a 23 game a home stand,” said wfan Mets reporter Ed Coleman. “They [203], (41) 24 do a five-hour talk show and also spend a lot of time doing remotes. 25 They both have family obligations. But you don’t have to stay for 26 an entire game. 27 “Maybe guys feel they’re better served sitting in front of tv. They 28 feel they’re boxed in if they go to one event.” 29 Ninety miles down i-95, the majority of pontificators at Philadel- 30 phia’s all-sports wip-Radio view baseball from afar. 31 “There are hosts on our stations who don’t go to lots of games,” 32 said wip general manager Marc Rayfield. “Others go to many. Ab- 33 solutely, I can see why the players feel that way—but players often 34 times don’t tell you anything. The responsibility of the sports radio 35 station is to voice the opinion of the fans. Our responsibility is to 36 the fan, not the player. If the fan criticizes him, the player will avoid 37 [media contact]. The player will give a no comment or soft com- 38 ment. Those who do comment are the exceptions, not the norm.”

No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse 203

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 203 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Two of Rayfield’s management contemporaries in other markets 2 believe hosts boost their credibility by showing up. 3 “They’re being lazy,” said Greg Rakestraw, program director and 4 host at wxlw-am in Indianapolis. “There is also this sense of accom- 5 plishment with some people where that’s beneath them. My opin- 6 ion doesn’t require me to go out there. It’s a sign where they think 7 they’ve paid some dues.” 8 “I honestly think for the talent’s overall well-being, he or she 9 should make appearances at the game [whatever sport],” said Tim 10 Spence of Denver’s kkfn-am. ‘They never show up at a game, so 11 they can’t know what’s going on,’ is ludicrous. It sounds like the 12 players can’t take the heat.” 13 Few take the lead of wip host Howard Eskin, who sticks out [204], (42) 14 among his stations talkers as a regular at Phillies games. 15 “That’s the way I came up through the business,” Eskin said. Lines: 561 to 584 16 “That’s the way you’re always supposed to do it. As a [tv] sports 17 anchor, I always thought it was important to interview players my- ——— 18 self. Even on my days off, I go down there. More importantly, I 0.30023pt PgVar ——— 19 enjoy it. “When it comes right down to it, it’s too easy in the business [to be Normal Page 20 a no-show]. With the Internet, it’s created a laziness in the broadcast 21 PgEnds: TEX industry and even in print. There’s a lack of accountability. If I don’t 22 have to do it, why do it? If you are critical of a player on the air, no 23 question they really resent it when they can’t discuss it with you.” [204], (42) 24 The archetype for the no-show host seems to be the rabble- 25 rousing Mark Madden of weae-Radio in Pittsburgh. Madden is no- 26 torious around town as a regular in his favorite Pittsburgh Penguins 27 locker room, but an invisible man around the Pirates and Steelers 28 dressing quarters. 29 As acerbic away from the mike as on the air, Madden, who dou- 30 bled as a national weekend host on espn-Radio, said he won’t answer 31 the call of players to be personally accountable for his commentary. 32 “Players feel this way because they’re pampered little idiots,” he 33 said. “Beano Cook said he’d rather associate with Nazi war criminals 34 than Major League players. He’s right. In today’s era, any informa- 35 tion you want is possible in the newspapers and on tv. You don’t 36 need to be anyplace to get information. They want people like me to 37 show up in the clubhouse to yell and scream, to retaliate for slights, 38 real or perceived.

204 No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 204 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “The players don’t want you to get advance information. They 2 want to intimidate you in advance or dress you down afterward. The 3 idea of a sports-talk-show host being at every clubhouse is ludicrous. 4 Is it preferable? Probably. But I don’t think it’s necessary. Athletes 5 are getting tougher and tougher to deal with.” 6 But Madden claims not all of those who show up in the locker 7 room take advantage of that access. 8 “I’ve been in the Penguins’ locker room for years,” he said. “I’ve 9 seen reporters there the entire year not ask one question. Maybe 10 it’s because they’re lazy or maybe they’re intimidated by being in the 11 locker room. Smaller media are getting glorified fans [as sportswrit- 12 ers] who get into games for free. They are lesser lights who congre- 13 gate.” [205], (43) 14 Meanwhile, Chicago sports talker Dan Bernstein said the best 15 information he gets is over the phone, tipping a few with sports Lines: 584 to 602 16 types in bars, or even getting briefings from the bartenders them- 17 selves. That’s how Bernstein was able to follow eccentric reliever ——— 18 Kyle Farnsworth’s nocturnal wanderings while a Cub from 1999 to 0.30023pt PgVar ——— 19 2004. “The most valuable stuff isn’t necessarily [gathered] . . . by stand- Normal Page 20 ing around a clubhouse waiting for a media-relations person to bite 21 PgEnds: TEX my dick off,” Bernstein said. “Unless you have that natural curiosity, 22 you’re going to be a terrible talk-show host.” 23 If all involved weren’t aggravated enough, they could get up- [205], (43) 24 set even more by the early twenty-first-century trend of creating 25 a hybrid—a newspaper columnist who gets even greater exposure 26 via daily radio and tv talk gigs. But at the same time, that leaves 27 even less time to get out to live events and to seek out face time 28 with the people they cover. 29 Chicago’s Jay Mariotti endorses such a trend. 30 “Newspapers have no choice in the Internet age but to let their 31 high-profile people do outside work,” he said. “They’re all inter- 32 connected jobs and they all help each other. I became a better writer 33 because I did a radio show.” 34 Fellow Windy City pundit Rick Telander at least is honest when 35 he explained late in 2004 the motivation for multiple dipping from 36 the same fount of opinion. 37 “We’re all trying to maximize everything,” he said. “We’re all 38 trying to make money, to tap into new channels of cash flow. It’s a

No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse 205

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 205 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 money grab, no question. You’re not going to do what people did in 2 Red Smith’s days—that’s long, long gone. I spent thirty-three years 3 writing about sports. I consider myself an expert. Experts should 4 have the right to pontificate.” 5 But Telander’s ability to pontificate based on inside information 6 that he gathered for his books and Sports Illustrated features was 7 severely compromised by his daily on-air shift on wscr-Radio in 8 Chicago. Teamed with two other co-hosts, Telander was on the 9 air from 2:00 to 6:00 p.m. Such hours precluded him from getting 10 out to pregame media access for both day and night sports events. 11 Telander claimed he could take off parts of his program as events 12 warranted. Yet that meant a diminishing quality of the radio show if 13 the lead host often had to bail out early. If he stayed the entire four [206], (44) 14 hours, he’d be rushing to make first pitch or tipoff for a night event. 15 After a half-year on the air, the schedule proved too much. At Lines: 602 to 618 16 the end of one program, Telander unexpectedly announced he was 17 quitting to increase his family time. ——— 18 During 2004, Mariotti worked the 9:00 a.m. to noon shift on 1.05002pt PgVar ——— 19 wmvp-am (1000), sometimes taping the last half-hour ahead of time Normal Page 20 so he could get away to the Sun-Times to tape Around the Horn at PgEnds: T X 21 midday. He could thus still make it out to both day and night sports E 22 events. Occasionally Mariotti would stay in a downtown Chicago 23 hotel to cut down on the early morning commute from his north [206], (44) 24 suburban home to wmvp. Several times during the 2004 baseball 25 postseason, Mariotti flew to New York, covered the game, then 26 hopped the first flight back to Chicago the next morning to do his 27 show in the studio. How he avoided total exhaustion is beyond hu- 28 man comprehension. 29 “All you’re doing is talking about sports,” Mariotti said. “It’s ex- 30 hilarating. If you’re not on the radio, you’d be on the phone talking 31 to friends. The hardest thing to do is a column. Talking is immedi- 32 ate. I don’t believe a radio show can be mailed in. A column abso- 33 lutely can be mailed in, if you’re not careful. 34 “I think the only conflict is if you break your stories on the radio 35 [and not in the column].” 36 But something had to give with the multimedia stars. Face time 37 with athletes and sports executives was one of those things. Total 38 effort and excellence was another.

206 No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 206 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “I used to work two jobs—wmaq-tv and The Score (wscr),” Chi- 2 cago’s Tom Shaer said. “When you work two jobs, it’s a physical 3 and mental impossibility to give 100 percent to each. Anyone who 4 tells you they’re doing the best possible job on each job is lying to 5 themselves. They sincerely believe it, but it’s not true. Can you give 6 95 percent to each? Yes.” 7 Something serious did give in Detroit with an overcommitted 8 columnist. During the 2005 Final Four, Free Press columnist Mitch 9 Albom, by then more famous for his book Tuesdays with Morrie 10 and tv screenplays, faced a nightmarish Friday April Fool’s Day 11 in which he had to write two columns and work his four-hour wjr- 12 am talk show. This time, the dizzying pace caught up with Albom, 13 creating a national media uproar. [207], (45) 14 Pressed for time with a deadline looming for a section printed 15 before the Saturday, April 2, game, Albom wrote that nba players Lines: 618 to 635 16 Mateen Cleaves and Jason Richardson attended—past tense—the 17 ncaa semifinal between their old school, Michigan State, and North ——— 18 Carolina. Problem was, by the time the column came out Sunday, 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Cleaves and Richardson had not been at the game due to scheduling Normal Page 20 conflicts. The overextended Albom did not take care to write around PgEnds: T X 21 the fact that Cleaves and Richardson indeed might not be in the E 22 stands. 23 Perhaps if he wasn’t pulled in so many directions, Albom would [207], (45) 24 have paused to consider how to word the column more carefully. He 25 was suspended briefly while his paper apologized for yet another in 26 a series of latter-day journalistic hoaxes and serious errors. Albom 27 issued a printed mea culpa. 28 In the end, the answer must be to make columnists choose which 29 is to be their number one medium—print or broadcast. They may 30 have to cede their own star system if the suggestion of at least one 31 broadcast executive is followed. 32 “To me the best scenario is a [radio] host that’s full time, with a 33 columnist as secondary host so he can take off [on assignments],” 34 said Greg Rakestraw of Indianapolis’s wxlw. 35 The double-dipping and no-show trends also attracted the atten- 36 tion of Stephen Rodrick in the January 25, 2005, edition of Slate. 37 Rodrick described how Philadelphia Inquirer columnist Stephen A. 38 Smith appeared regularly on nba Fastbreak, , and SportsCen-

No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse 207

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 207 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 ter, while also serving as a judge on espn’s American Idol mimicry, 2 Dream Job. Rodrick said Smith wrote his nba draft column on a 3 BlackBerry in between tv appearances. espn, Rodrick reported, 4 even wanted Smith for an hour-long daily show. He also listed Mi- 5 ami Herald columnist Dan LeBatard’s “Mel Moonlight” gigs: a daily 6 drive-time show on a Miami sports-radio station, a Sunday morn- 7 ing show on espn Radio, guest-hosting chores on pti, and a twice- 8 monthly column for espn the Magazine. 9 “How can you be on the radio with Stugotz [his co-host] and 10 stake out Shaq’s stool at the same time?” Rodrick asked. “For the 11 Stephen A. Smiths of the world, sports television turns their col- 12 umns into shrill, nonreported versions of their televised rants . . . 13 [208], (46) the time suck of countless side projects cheats their readers.” 14 A column is now only an appetizer to a couple of other journalistic 15 courses. Lines: 635 to 652 16 “Being a columnist at a major daily paper was every sportswriter’s 17 ——— dream job,” Rodrick wrote of the good old days. “Legends like Jim 18 13.0pt PgVar Murray at the Los Angeles Times and at the Washing- ——— 19 ton Post were the most beloved guys at their papers. They’d write a Normal Page 20 21 cherished column for thirty years, and that was it. There was noth- * PgEnds: Eject 22 ing else to do, no higher job to attain. No, a sports column is noth- ing more than a springboard, a gig that starts you on your way to 23 [208], (46) 24 becoming a multimedia star.” 25 espn employed a rotating group of four columnists for its daily 26 Around the Horn program, installing cameras in the scribes’ respec- 27 tive newspaper offices. The papers obviously did not object with 28 their mastheads prominently displayed and their stars pontificating 29 and gesturing. Some gave up columning altogether. Skip Bayless, 30 who had wandered the country from Chicago to Los Angeles to 31 Dallas, back to Chicago, and then to San Jose, moved to New York 32 to be a regular on ’s Cold Pizza. He was joined on the daily 33 morning show by an overly dramatic Woody Paige, who was al- 34 lowed by the Denver Post to continue writing a weekly column from 35 New York while tending to his tv duties. Eventually Paige gave up 36 the column. 37 Rodrick praised Kansas City columnist Jason Whitlock and Los 38 Angeles columnist T. J. Simers for putting their print duties first by

208 No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 208 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 gathering information firsthand at the ballpark, in Whitlock’s case 2 in spite of his broadcast commitments. 3 But what Rodrick really meant was the crux of the issue in 4 baseball-media relations: Is the baseball consumer better off soaking 5 up material from well-paid opinionists spreading themselves thin or 6 hunkering down in their studios? Judging from the trends, it appears 7 the latter group is taking care of number one first, second, and third. 8 9 10 11 12 13 [209], (47) 14 15 Lines: 652 to 658 16 17 ——— 18 * 400.28pt PgVar ——— 19 Normal Page 20 21 * PgEnds: PageBreak 22 23 [209], (47) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

No-Shows in the Press Box and Clubhouse 209

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 209 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 THIRTEEN 4 5 6 Sports-Talk Radio 7 8 9 10 11 12 didn’t feel as sleepy as I thought I would, rising at 4:25 a.m. on 13 ISaturday, July 4, 1992. Eyes mostly wide awake, I rushed to get [210], (48) 14 ready and jumped into the car for the fifteen-minute drive on an un- 15 characteristically empty Edens Expressway to the cinder-block Chi- Lines: 658 to 683 16 cago Northwest Side studios of all-sports wscr-Radio (The Score), 17 on this day a daytime-only station operating at 820 on the am band. ——— 18 Months of badgering Score sports director Ron Gleason to let me 0.5pt PgVar ——— 19 do a fill-in weekend shift finally paid off. A cozy group of guys from Normal Page 20 smaller media outlets and others I frankly had never heard of had 21 gotten the call in the six months since The Score had been on the air PgEnds: TEX 22 as Chicago’s first regular sports-talk radio outlet. Maybe my number was called to get me off Gleason’s back. I had contributed, for free, 23 [210], (48) 24 baseball analysis to The Score’s Mike Murphy’s early-evening and 25 weekend program. So why not use such access for a long-form deal like a four-hour program? 26 That’s exactly what I was assigned on Independence Day in the 27 last year of the Bush I presidency. I would team with Daily Southtown 28 sportswriter Paul Ladewski, who already had done some fill-in work, 29 to handle the 6:00 to 10:00 a.m. shift signing on the station. 30 In the ten days before airdate I worked as my own producer. I 31 lined up a nice guest list for the program: a wakeup call to all- 32 time Chicago sportscaster Jack Brickhouse, Cubs outfielder Dwight 33 Smith from his Atlanta home, and several veterans of the All- 34 America Women’s Baseball League in the 1940s. The latter’s pres- 35 ence was timely since was out in theaters. 36 I would not depend on the callers as a crutch to carry the program 37 or a bevy of seven-dollar-an-hour, fuzzy-cheeked producers to book 38 guests.

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 210 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 There was one other guest who had confirmed: network sports- 2 caster Brent Musburger, who was willing to phone in from his va- 3 cation home in his native Montana. But in discussing the show in 4 advance, Ladewski said something that I construed as a desire to 5 ambush Musburger over his style of calling a game. I quickly called 6 his agent-brother, Todd Musburger, to suggest there was a diffi- 7 culty about Brent being on and that I had to abort the guest shot. 8 Somehow Todd Musburger got the idea, and we parted without ac- 9 rimony. 10 The program started slowly. I didn’t book the guests for the first 11 ninety minutes; you just don’t do that to good people that early 12 on a holiday morning. Ladewski and I had only a few calls in the 13 first forty-five minutes. I verbally fumbled the sports updates sev- [211], (49) 14 eral times; hey, it’s not easy to read even a list of last night’s baseball 15 scores. But when we chanced upon the topic of whether pro athletes Lines: 683 to 701 16 should be allowed to compete in the Olympics with the Michael 17 Jordan–led Dream Team about to depart, the phones lit up. That ——— 18 carried us all the way to the guest times for Smith, Brickhouse, and 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 the women’s league veterans. Normal Page 20 I felt exhilarated when I stepped out into the sunshine after 10:00 PgEnds: T X 21 a.m. But a follow-up call to Gleason a few days later elicited a left- E 22 handed rejection of further co-hosting gigs. “It wasn’t our best show; 23 it wasn’t our worst show,” he said in his best management fence- [211], (49) 24 straddling manner. 25 In further conversations with Gleason over the next few years, 26 I realized why I didn’t tickle his fancy. I had used too much of a 27 straight-on, magazine-style, journalistically based format that holi- 28 day morning. Gleason also rejected the concept of picking up 29 Diamond Gems, my syndicated, weekly baseball radio show that I 30 founded in 1994 when I believed The Score and other Chicago sta- 31 tions were giving short shrift to baseball. 32 Gleason’s explanation was a one-word answer that not only kept 33 me at a distance, but also aggravated an entire sports spectrum full 34 of athletes, coaches, managers, and executives. It represents the core 35 philosophy that has driven sports-talk radio since it became popular 36 around 1990. 37 “We want entertainment,” Gleason said. He did not add “jour- 38 nalism” or “inside information.”

Sports-Talk Radio 211

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 211 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 The word “entertainment” would be repeated umpteen times as 2 I would talk to different sports-talk types. And all it did was fur- 3 ther anger ballplayers who became fodder for on-air criticism and 4 satire that was part Animal House, part raging testosterone contest, 5 and part gambling and drinking exploits braggadocio. Sometimes 6 the inference of in-studio flatulence is thrown in for R-rated effect. 7 The laughing and scratching was not all that dissimilar to the pri- 8 vate behavior in clubhouses themselves, but this time for public con- 9 sumption with few holds barred in skewering public figures. And, all 10 the time, a free rein to callers who often added little to the show ex- 11 cept ignorant opinions that frequently went uncorrected by cynical 12 hosts. 13 Like the better-rated Rush Limbaughs and fellow hot-air mon- [212], (50) 14 gers, the sports gabbers were selling mostly sizzle and little steak. 15 They were generating heat, but not shedding much light. If accu- Lines: 701 to 709 16 racy about a public figure’s personality and actions and the concept 17 of good information got in the way of a fun time on the air, well, ——— 18 that’s show biz. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 “Sports-talk radio as you and I know it in its purest form is long Normal Page 20 gone,” said Chicago’s Chet Coppock, who has hosted sports-talk PgEnds: T X 21 shows going back to the mid-1980s. “Sports-talk radio today is ba- E 22 sically (bragging about) getting dead drunk, which strip-joint did 23 you go to. It’s no longer about sports. It’s about the interjection of [212], (50) 24 your own personality carrying a three- or four-hour window.” 25 As the genre evolved through the 1990s, the format shifted. Snar- 26 ing the biggest-name guests possible once was a priority. Then man- 27 agement went overboard in cramming as many callers on the air as 28 possible. Most recently programming revolves around a star host 29 who’s part amateur comedian and part “mad as hell and I’m not 30 going to take it anymore” ranter. Games and those who play them 31 only become backdrops for the host’s stage. And it goes beyond a 32 mid-1990s trend of pushing baseball backward in the conversation 33 pantheon while pro football is emphasized—even if the callers want 34 to talk baseball twelve months a year. 35 The genre is well-defined by Tim Spence, one of the more rea- 36 sonable managers in the business. To be sure, Spence went against 37 his own inclination toward hosts interacting with callers by picking 38 up the taped and caller-free Diamond Gems for Sunday-morning air-

212 Sports-Talk Radio

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 212 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 ings on his all-sports kkfn-am in Denver. He has to give his on-air 2 talent at least one day off a week. Otherwise, he runs a personality- 3 driven operation. 4 Spence defines the kind of “entertainment” he’s looking for in a 5 sports-talk host as “somebody who understands how to have fun, 6 talk sports, and relate to the audience . . . I believe that listeners ul- 7 timately want to be entertained. If this means it’s involving a guest, 8 multiple guests, guests with callers, or just callers, then that’s ulti- 9 mately up to the talent and the producer of the show. I believe in a 10 solid mix that enables the talent to be at his or her best. It’s all about 11 the talent and all about what they can deliver. What this comes down 12 to is simple. Guest and callers are simply tools for the talent to be 13 at their best.” [213], (51) 14 Another term used to describe the ideal sports-talk host is “com- 15 pelling,” according to Marc Rayfield, general manager of wip-Radio Lines: 709 to 721 16 in Philadelphia. 17 “We look for somebody who is compelling,” he said. “We’d take ——— 18 compelling over knowledgeable. That’s the only reason we iden- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 tify with somebody. Movie stars, tv stars, athletes, something about Normal Page 20 their story is compelling. It’s not just X’s and O’s [as a conversation PgEnds: T X 21 topic]. We’re looking for somebody who the people feel provides E 22 must-tune-in radio. People tune in to [hosts] not because they’re 23 the most knowledgeable, but because they are most interested in [213], (51) 24 their opinion and relate to them.” 25 In Chicago, the Score owner Danny Lee and general manager 26 Seth Mason called around the Chicago market for names they’d 27 heard, read, or who were referred to them when they put their first 28 on-air lineup together late in 1991. 29 “Nobody got on just from a tape,” Seth Mason said. “There were 30 slightly different criteria for different shifts. The basic qualification 31 was a gift of gab. They had to be quick-witted and know their sports. 32 I did go for a variety approach and wanted a certain amount of writer 33 types, a certain amount of radio types. It would be a two-man show, 34 with the triangle of the listener or guest and the update guy. I started 35 asking around about writers, and the first question I asked was who 36 makes the press box laugh the most. The first guy they said came to 37 mind was Terry Boers.” 38 Such a talent hunt was the turning point in Boers’s career. He

Sports-Talk Radio 213

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 213 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 junked his newspaper work and has been a mainstay of wscr since 2 the station signed on in January 1992. 3 Given the need to capture and hold a fickle listening audience 4 with interesting on-air personalities, there still would seem to be 5 room for good information. After all, radio is more immediate than 6 old-technology newspapers. Yet the management belief doesn’t 7 seem to be very strong that good information and the kind of en- 8 tertainment that includes personality-driven hosts can be expertly 9 blended. 10 “They can coexist, but it sometimes is very difficult to make both 11 excel to the level you’d like,” Tim Spence said. “This format is 12 all about entertainment. The ‘sports information’ is important for 13 credibility, but can never be the ultimate focus of the radio station. [214], (52) 14 It’s all about the talent and always will be.” 15 Once a Chicago Bulls beat writer, then a columnist at the Chicago Lines: 721 to 740 16 Sun-Times, Boers is a self-described “entertainer.” He said any shred 17 of journalistic purity is long gone. ——— 18 “There might be elements [of entertainment as a columnist],” 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Boers said. “But this is an entirely different approach. While I did Normal Page 20 entertain in the newspaper, the job here, nine times out of ten, is PgEnds: T X 21 exactly that. E 22 “New York is more hard-core sports talk. That’s fine. I’m not 23 particularly interested in doing that show. Do that four hours a day, [214], (52) 24 I’d go insane. You be yourself. You don’t want to be disingenuous 25 about everything. What you’ll get on the air is hopefully what you 26 get off-air.” 27 “We take great pains to inform ourselves as best we can,” Boers’s 28 on-air partner Dan Bernstein said. “Over the years we’ve been to- 29 gether, our audience knows we don’t make stuff up. But we’re also 30 a satirical radio program. Our job is to take what’s in the news and 31 have fun with it. We show up, do the show, and we have strong 32 opinions about Chicago sports teams. 33 “A lot of people in this town just want to cash a check, live very 34 happy lives, telling people what they want to hear and put the team’s 35 hat on that day. More power to that. I can’t do that.” 36 Hyper-opinionated Mark Madden of weae-Radio in Pittsburgh 37 takes the entertainment concept to its logical conclusion. 38 “I’m not in the sports-reporting business,” Madden said. “I’m in

214 Sports-Talk Radio

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 214 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 the entertainment business. I couldn’t care less about the people I 2 talk about. I owe them [listeners] honesty. To some degree I can 3 reconcile [journalism]. But entertainment comes first. 4 “The first obligation of the sports-talk-show host is to win. What 5 you say is fine as long as you can stay out of court. The more they 6 hate, the more they listen.” 7 But entertainment and satire by nature means poking fun and 8 criticizing public figures. “The entertainment value is to keep bash- 9 ing, bashing,” said Greg Rakestraw, program director and afternoon 10 host at all-sports wxlw-am in Indianapolis. 11 When the gabbers turn serious, it’s from the safety of the studio. 12 Such a style is the biggest wedge being driven between Major Lea- 13 guers and the media and, in turn, the fans. Opinion, analysis, and [215], (53) 14 commentary, much of it based on other sources of information, is 15 hurled in the sports personalities’ direction. Lines: 740 to 756 16 But amid the broadcast brickbats, the top stars of the game are 17 expected to turn around and do live guest shots on the programs. ——— 18 If they lighten up and actually get on the line, the hosts more of- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 ten than not turn to putty. They are obsequious, a Jekyll-and-Hyde Normal Page 20 turnabout from their typical on-air personas. Rare is the Jim Rome– PgEnds: T X 21 style ambush of Jim Everett, whom Rome called “Evert”—in dis- E 22 honor of female tennis superstar Chris Evert—in an attack on his 23 football masculinity before Everett tried to rough up the insolent [215], (53) 24 gabber. 25 A minority of ballplayers accept sports-talk radio for what it is— 26 fun and games using their exploits as fodder. 27 “It’s hilarious,” said Cleveland Indians left-hander C. C. Sabathia. 28 And the media-friendly pitcher would have more grievances than 29 most players about satirical talk because of his weight, which he 30 takes in stride because “I’m actually a runt in my family.” 31 “I listen to wtam-am every day. Some things I take serious, some 32 others I laugh about. It’s funny. I’m in my garage listening to sports- 33 talk about the game all the time. That’s all it is, people’s opinions. 34 Most of the hosts don’t show up regularly [at the ballpark], but guys 35 [teammates] take it too seriously.” 36 Veteran knuckleballer Tim Wakefield listens to sports-talk “once 37 in a while, but I don’t pay any heed to it.” Still, he understands the 38 modus operandi: “There are some intelligent people on some of

Sports-Talk Radio 215

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 215 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 the shows who can analyze correctly. But I understand it’s enter- 2 tainment and I also understand why it’s there, why it exists. There 3 needs to be some controversy. It’s kind of entertaining to listen to 4 what some of the people calling in say.” 5 The old adage that any publicity is better than no publicity is of- 6 fered up by Boston Red Sox manager Terry Francona. 7 “You have to keep that in perspective,” Francona said. “Talk radio 8 generates interest. Any interest in our game is good.” 9 But for every Sabathia, Wakefield, and Francona understanding 10 the ratings-driven motivations of radio management and talent, 11 probably five Major Leaguers are repulsed by the format of sports- 12 talk radio. 13 “I don’t listen, but I heard around town that they sit there and rip [216], (54) 14 people without knowing the information,” said Cubs pitcher Mark 15 Prior. “If they call it entertainment, unfortunately it’s passed off as Lines: 756 to 775 16 facts and a lot of people believe they are facts. If it’s considered en- 17 tertainment and not reporting news, then I’m definitely not going ——— 18 to be listening to it.” 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Sometimes the shock value of general talk-radio slops over to in- Normal Page 20 flame the players even more. And that affects how the everyday me- PgEnds: T X 21 dia does their job. E 22 In 1999 I entered the Seattle Mariners’ spring-training clubhouse 23 in Peoria, Arizona, with the intention of taping Ken Griffey Jr. for [216], (54) 24 Diamond Gems. Almost immediately, Griffey said he would not do 25 a recorded radio interview, but I would be welcome to jot down his 26 thoughts on a notepad. Griffey explained he was boycotting all radio 27 interviews because a Seattle shock jock, “The T Man,” went on the 28 air to proclaim he wanted to have sex with Griffey’s wife. Griffey 29 talked to “The T Man’s” program director, apparently not resolving 30 the situation. “The T Man’s” rationale was that if he could have sex 31 with Mrs. Griffey, the superstar could in turn become intimate with 32 the shock jock’s girlfriend. 33 Eventually, through his myriad of injuries as he was transplanted 34 to his native Cincinnati, Griffey got over the episode. In 2004,he 35 finally gave me the ten minutes for the radio interview. 36 Denver program director Tim Spence said shock jocks like “The 37 T Man” could not last long in sports radio. 38 “I would say that as long as it’s not personal, there really is plenty

216 Sports-Talk Radio

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 216 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 of opportunity for talent to entertain the audience,” he said. “Most 2 talent that are around for a long period of time and make a name 3 for themselves in a marketplace do so on credibility and entertain- 4 ment. ‘Credible’ . . . knowing what he’s talking about. ‘Entertain- 5 ment’ . . . somebody who understands how to have fun, talk sports, 6 and relate to the audience.” 7 Yet despite the ideals expressed by Spence, the Griffey episode 8 showed how far-reaching the sometimes low-brow media culture of 9 talk radio had become. Not only were the players angered, but the 10 media who depended on their cooperation were adversely affected. 11 The bad apples were spoiling it for the entire bunch. 12 Chicago Cubs media relations chief Sharon Pannozzo, for one, 13 can’t understand how sports-talk outlets can describe themselves as [217], (55) 14 information providers when their main goal is entertainment. 15 “I don’t credential entertainers,” Pannozzo said. “So if you are an Lines: 775 to 789 16 entertainer, anyone from your station who comes out here shouldn’t 17 get a credential. But you do send people out here to sort of provide ——— 18 some semblance of actual media work. You’re sending people out 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 under the guise that you are a media outlet. You can’t say you’re Normal Page 20 entertainers. You’re one or the other. The Today Show provides en- PgEnds: T X 21 tertainment and news. I don’t see them on the air saying negative E 22 things about individuals. 23 “It’s all about professionalism. If you’re going to interview some- [217], (55) 24 body on a radio station, that’s one thing. But when your goal is to 25 get listeners, to be inflammatory, that’s a whole different part of 26 it. Unfortunately, these people don’t ever have to come here, and 27 don’t.” 28 Some big league players, and even an executive like Minnesota 29 Twins general manager Terry Ryan, solve the problem by simply 30 not listening to local sports-talk radio, opting instead for the na- 31 tional, guest-intensive espn-Radio syndicated shows. 32 “If I was not an athlete, I’d probably listen to it all the time,” said 33 Cardinals ace Mark Mulder. “But [as a player] away from the field, 34 I don’t want to listen.” 35 “I’ve learned not to listen to it very much,” former reliever Rod 36 Beck said. “People are calling in to have their own twist on things. 37 That runs your freakin’ ego. Around trade deadline, I listen to it to 38 find out what teams are doing. But to listen about players, it can

Sports-Talk Radio 217

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 217 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 ruin your mental approach. Things that are said can be bad for the 2 internal workings of the clubhouse.” 3 Duels between stations and teams and their personnel have be- 4 come more frequent as the pressure for ratings increases at the sta- 5 tions while the gulf between baseball people and the media widens. 6 The controversy can be witnessed on the biggest scale, of course, 7 in New York. 8 Pitcher , then with the Mets, had an on-air war with 9 Mike Francesa and Chris “Mad Dog” Russo in 2004. “Russo went 10 off on a tirade that Leiter was washed up and was old,” said wfan 11 Mets reporter Ed Coleman. “Al was struggling, but went on to have 12 a great second half. Chris ended up at the end of the season kind of 13 apologizing. But that tirade holds and entertains people.” [218], (56) 14 Meanwhile, wip and the Philadelphia Phillies had some rocky 15 times during the Larry Bowa managerial era. Lines: 789 to 814 16 “They know absolutely nothing about sports,” said Bowa, who 17 went on to work as an espn analyst, then Yankees bench coach, after ——— 18 being fired by the Phillies late in 2004. “There are people who rip -0.04977pt PgVar ——— 19 and criticize and never have been to a game. You never see them. If you’re a real fan, you’ll know the ignorance when you hear the Normal Page 20 conversation.” 21 PgEnds: TEX The sourest relations seem to be between Mark Madden, who 22 took a turn as a pro wrestler with the Thrillseekers tag team in 23 Tennessee, and the Pirates. A big Pittsburgh Penguins hockey fan, [218], (56) 24 Madden was persuasive enough to land a role as his market’s most 25 controversial sports-talk host. The penny-pinching Pirates deserve 26 plenty of raps for mismanagement, and Madden did not hesitate. 27 “Like I often said, Kevin McClatchy [a newspaper-chain heir who 28 doubles as Pirates owner] never earned a dollar,” Madden said. “He 29 never had a business where everything is at risk.” 30 But Madden went far beyond fair comment and criticism in the 31 eyes of the Pirates. He angered the one Pirates official he could least 32 afford to alienate—normally amiable media-relations director Jim 33 Trdinich. 34 “I have a rift with Trdinich,” Madden said. “The Pirates don’t 35 want the media to cover them. They want the media to support 36 them. The Post-Gazette coverage of the Pirates has been unreason- 37 ably upbeat. A lot of media root, root, root for the home team. This 38 town has a disproportionate amount of cheerleaders.”

218 Sports-Talk Radio

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 218 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Trdinich had no choice but to fire back and withhold his services 2 after too much over-the-line Madden gab. 3 “He’s a shock jock,” Trdinich said. “He had a vendetta against me, 4 wanted me fired—all for shtick. In the season, he bashed us to the 5 point where he said the best thing to happen to McClatchy is he dies 6 in a car wreck. He would talk about [the late] , how 7 he never got an autograph from him, and that he should have died 8 a worse death. Jack Wilson goes 0 for 20, he sucks, that’s fine [for 9 criticism]. But he starts attacking players and their families, that’s 10 bad. 11 “In spring training [before their final fallout], we got him guests. 12 Eventually I sent his producer an e-mail that said Mark can rip us a 13 new asshole whether we get him a guest or not, we’re not going to [219], (57) 14 get him guests. We get him guests and he’d rip ’em afterward. I said 15 screw it. He’s going to bash us whether we get him guests or not. Lines: 814 to 830 16 “Be fair, be honest. But to say a guy should die, that’s going too 17 far.” ——— 18 Similarly, top Chicago sports-talk voice Mike North took on the 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Cubs’ Pannozzo. North accused her of “stealing” from her employer Normal Page 20 by not offering more services to his show while he did a remote in PgEnds: T X 21 Houston with the Cubs. E 22 “I just laugh,” Pannozzo said. “He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t 23 have to show his face. I couldn’t pick him out of a lineup. If your [219], (57) 24 ‘entertainment’ resorts to me, it must be a slow day for you.” 25 The rapport is really bad when the gabbers take on the public- 26 relations officials on top of the uniformed personnel and the front- 27 office honchos. But that might have been a logical culmination of a 28 format the prized style over substance. 29 The fans always needed a media voice. Pre-1980s radio program- 30 ming did not have a lot of room for sports talk, while newspapers 31 did not always have “sound off, sports fans” letters columns. But the 32 pendulum swung entirely the other way when programmers man- 33 dated caller-heavy programs orchestrated by often ballpark-averse 34 hosts. “Carphone Joe” would be the voice of authority all over the 35 country on radio. 36 Mike Murphy was certainly no stranger to Wrigley Field when he 37 became a regular host on wscr-am in Chicago in 1992. He was the 38 bugler of the famed “left field ” in the 1960s, once

Sports-Talk Radio 219

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 219 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 doing a soft-shoe routine to dodge ninety-mile-per-hour fastballs 2 thrown at his feet by angry Cardinals pitcher as he 3 teetered atop the bleacher wall on June 28, 1969. Murphy knew 4 more baseball than most fans, but advertised himself as a “fan talking 5 to fans” while bragging he never had a press credential or seen the 6 inside of the locker room. 7 Almost every time I’d come on with Murphy in 1992 and ’93, 8 I’d barely get the baseball report out of my mouth when Murphy 9 went to the caller—and the next caller. He was simply following a 10 management mandate, so what I had to offer became secondary. A 11 Murphy proposal to turn my conduit to inside stuff into a paying 12 gig, à la Bruce Levine’s baseball-reporter bailiwick on rival wmvp- 13 am, fell on deaf ears in The Score’s front office. [220], (58) 14 Years later, I tried to place Diamond Gems on all-sports whit- 15 am in Madison, Wisconsin. The program director said no because Lines: 830 to 844 16 “we’re caller-driven.” He had clones everywhere in the radio busi- 17 ness, as many dozens of hosts threw out a topic each segment and ——— 18 invited listeners to call in to chew over it. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 In truth, only a tiny percentage of sports-talk listeners ever call Normal Page 20 the station. Some of those who do punch up the stations end up as PgEnds: T X 21 regular callers who get monikers. A host on Tim Spence’s kkfn even E 22 was an extension of the genre, billed as “Lou from Littleton.” 23 But of the vast majority who don’t call, many are simply afraid to [220], (58) 24 speak on the air. Others simply aren’t motivated enough beyond a 25 casual listen to the station. Some hosts have been known to plant 26 calls, concerned that they won’t get the lines to light up. 27 Many sports observers wonder whether the idea of fans talking 28 to fans, not advancing the understanding of why their teams win or 29 lose, is tiresome. It definitely can be inaccurate. Callers simply can 30 offer up anything on the air to see if it sticks. And when it gets per- 31 sonal, there’s a potential problem, especially if the hosts play along 32 for the sake of making “good radio.” 33 Houston Astros manager Phil Garner remembered a sports-talk 34 show in Pittsburgh. 35 “Some guy calls in and says he was in a bar the other night and 36 was doing cocaine,” Garner said. “Well, the talk-show 37 host doesn’t do anything to discredit the guy. This could be some 38 guy who hates Jim Kelly, lost some money betting. Where’s the

220 Sports-Talk Radio

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 220 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 credibility in something like that? Unfortunately, all news sources 2 get lumped into one big thing, so a lot of people don’t differentiate 3 between talk radio, which has little basis in fact, and other tv, radio, 4 and newspapers.” 5 , a longtime Major League coach and former White 6 Sox and Pirates manager, is of the same mindset. 7 “When a caller calls in and they are way off-base, sometimes they 8 just let them talk,” Lamont said. “They should just say, ‘You’re 9 wrong.’ They should tell them they’re not well-versed in what 10 they’re talking about. They’re just stirring the pot.” 11 The callers are disembodied and the hosts usually are ballpark 12 no-shows, fanning the flames of anger of those they pounce upon. 13 Those few representatives of sports-talk stations who come to the [221], (59) 14 games take the flak on the scene. 15 “If they don’t see them,” wfan’s Ed Coleman said of the hosts Lines: 844 to 869 16 not coming to the locker room, “the players mention it to me all 17 the time.” ——— 18 Raking in mega-profits from its pioneering all-sports format, 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 which started in 1987, wfan has been one of the few stations to Normal Page 20 send reporters on the road full time with baseball teams. Coleman PgEnds: T X 21 has worked the Mets beat since 1993, while Sweeny Murti traveled E 22 with the Yankees in a job once held by Suzyn Waldman, the only 23 female part of a baseball broadcast team. Shannon Drayer travels [221], (59) 24 with the Mariners for komo radio in Seattle. wtam in Cleveland 25 used to send a reporter full time with the Indians before that team 26 took a two-year pratfall in 2002. 27 At least the wfan hosts have their own source of firsthand infor- 28 mation—to a point. 29 “You can be more critical if you’re not there on a daily basis,” 30 Coleman said. “They get reports from me, but they take shots on 31 their own.” 32 Not having reporters on the scene to brief hosts can promote 33 egg-on-your-face situations for sports talkers. Two such incidents 34 involved The Score’s Murphy. 35 In 1995, he and the callers were angry when slow-footed Cubs 36 catcher Todd Pratt failed to score on a to tie the game. 37 Problem was, manager Jim Riggleman already explained to report- 38 ers on the scene that his hands were tied.

Sports-Talk Radio 221

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 221 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “Before the game, I get notification from the trainer that [start- 2 ing catcher] Rick Wilkins is not to be used in the game under any 3 circumstances,” Riggleman said. “So Todd Pratt catches the game. 4 He’s on base late in the game and I can’t pinch-run because I don’t 5 have another catcher. The count’s 3-2, Brian McRae’s the hitter, 6 and Pratt’s running on the pitch. McRae hits a shot into right- 7 center. The ball stuck in the ivy, so Pratt has to stop at third. There’s 8 one out. 9 “There’s a wild pitch. Pratt starts down the line, then stops, then 10 starts again. Now the story is: Riggleman is an idiot. If I’m listening 11 to a show like that, I’m going to say to myself there’s probably more 12 to the story. You don’t have a chance to rebut it. It’s out there. That 13 can wear on a manager.” [222], (60) 14 Three years later, Rod Beck, trying for another save with the 15 Cubs, suffered a brain cramp while he was pitching against the Gi- Lines: 869 to 885 16 ants, his old team. Hours later, Beck, who used to drink with the fans 17 at Murphy’s favorite Wrigley Field–area bar, Bernie’s, followed the ——— 18 fans’ lead by calling The Score to comment on, well, himself. 0.30023pt PgVar ——— 19 “There was a grounder hugging first base with Gracie covering. I thought Grace had it and I stopped running to first,” he said. “The Normal Page 20 ball took a bad hop off his arm. He turned around and flipped blindly 21 PgEnds: TEX to first. I wasn’t there. Two runs scored and we lost. 22 “Callers and him [Murphy] were ragging on me, saying I was too 23 fat to get over there. So I called The Score to tell them my physical [222], (60) 24 condition had nothing to do with me not being over there. I had 25 a Gold Glover playing first. I thought it was a routine play and I 26 mentally screwed up. I took the blame for losing the game for not 27 being over there.” 28 “They first didn’t believe it was me,” Beck said. “They quizzed 29 me about where I played my first year in pro ball and stuff like that. 30 I gave them my stats, where I went to high school. They finally be- 31 lieved it was me calling.” 32 Far more common is the athlete being asked to call the station in 33 a more controlled situation. Representatives of sports-talk stations 34 are on-site at the ballparks for that purpose—booking guests. Sec- 35 onds after every postgame interview session at Wrigley Field, wscr 36 reporter David Schuster or other colleagues intercept the game con- 37 tributor to ask if he will go on live now or later. Schuster is almost 38 like a salesman, knowing rejection is a daily part of his game.

222 Sports-Talk Radio

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 222 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Cubs pitcher Kerry Wood disagrees that calling in will have a 2 positive effect on host and callers. 3 “You can’t win that battle,” he said. “That’s a no-win situation. 4 They act like they’re doing us a favor when we call in, when we’re 5 doing them a favor. If we don’t call in, they wouldn’t have much of 6 a show.” 7 Whether they aggravated baseball personalities did not seem to 8 make much of a difference anyway to a goodly portion of sports talk- 9 ers. They appeared to be football lovers, first, foremost, and always. 10 Baseball indeed got shuffled further back in the priority rankings of 11 many sports-talk programs before and after the 1994–95 strike. The 12 combination of the Mark McGwire–Sammy Sosa home-run race in 13 1998, and interest that exploded in the likes of the Yankees, Red Sox, [223], (61) 14 and Cubs in recent years, forced the issue. The management, hosts, 15 and producers had to take calls from baseball fans who never really Lines: 885 to 898 16 were absent, yet never were encouraged to call in with the agenda 17 setting that marks the opening of most talk programs. ——— 18 The love of the nfl was never more apparent than in the hires 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 of Chicago sports-talk stations starting in the early 1990s. Former Normal Page 20 Bears , Tom Waddle, , and Glen Ko- PgEnds: T X 21 zlowski, and former Green Bay Packer John Jurkovic, held down E 22 regular air shifts. Ex-Bull Norm Van Lier at one point was a daily 23 regular. But no former baseball player or executive earned a simi- [223], (61) 24 lar broadcast profile, except for the kinds of shorter contributions 25 scattered throughout the weekly schedule from the likes of baseball 26 character . In 2006, Piersall co-hosted a two-hour 27 weekly show. 28 Dan McNeil, a host on both wscr-am and wmvp-am, professed 29 to be a White Sox fan and was squarely on the World Series band- 30 wagon in 2005. But in reality he was first and foremost a football 31 fanatic. McNeil once said on the air he’d love an “all-football ra- 32 dio station.” One afternoon in the fall of 2004, McNeil told his 33 wmvp listeners that he had a choice between Jaguars coach Jack Del 34 Rio and White Sox general manager Kenny Williams as guests. He 35 picked Del Rio because his team was the Bears’ next opponent and 36 was only available for an interview at that moment. 37 McNeil did not return a half-dozen calls for comment on his 38 sports preferences.

Sports-Talk Radio 223

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 223 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Meanwhile, wscr’s Mike North had gotten his start in broad- 2 casting by purchasing his own time on a small foreign-language- 3 oriented station for a weekly one-hour football 4 program. Indeed the gambling undertone that buttresses the nfl 5 is always present in the fall and early winter in much sports-talk 6 programming. 7 “Management has never said talk more about football,” wscr host 8 Terry Boers said. “The last couple of years were good for baseball. I 9 love baseball. Bears calls took up Mondays and Fridays for us. Foot- 10 ball was always a safe bet. Baseball was not a safe bet till the last 11 couple of years. But the whole thing [football] would dry up without 12 gambling.” 13 Boers signed on with The Score in January 1992. He said the [224], (62) 14 Cubs from 2003 on were the hottest topic he ever handled on the air. 15 The team coming within five outs of the World Series in 2003, then Lines: 898 to 917 16 enduring a controversy-filled 2004 season, lit up the phone lines like 17 never before. ——— 18 “The Cubs thing was totally separate from baseball. The last cou- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 ple of years wasn’t like anything I was associated with,” Boers’s co- Normal Page 20 host Dan Bernstein said. “The Cubs are owned by a media corpo- PgEnds: T X 21 ration. They so coldly and successfully built a massive multimedia E 22 machine with a newspaper, tv, cable, and radio. They are an abso- 23 lute romping, stomping colossus.” [224], (62) 24 You’d have hardly thought that would ever be the case more than 25 a decade ago. 26 Chicago sportscaster Rory Spears worked for wscr-am in its first 27 few seasons in 1992–93. The station fed off the end of the Mike 28 Ditka era with the Bears, employing “Da Coach” with a weekly 29 show in ’92. That program became the only nongame situation to 30 get Ditka comments in his downer 5-11 swan-song season. And the 31 station tried to latch onto the Michael Jordan–led dynastic Bulls. 32 But actual game-oriented calls, even in the 1993 nba Finals, did not 33 blow out the station phone lines. 34 Overall, The Score was not a baseball-friendly station in those 35 days. 36 “The sports atmosphere in Chicago was such that you did the 37 winter sports, but used baseball as a little bridge to the opening of 38 Bears camp in July,” Spears said.

224 Sports-Talk Radio

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 224 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Indeed, when The Score went heavy on live remotes at Dave 2 Wannstedt’s first camp as Bears coach in July 1993, it went against 3 the flow of calls. Building over the past four seasons, the White Sox 4 came into their own in the summer of ’93. The fans wanted to talk 5 about the Pale Hose at midsummer over the Bears, but the station 6 insisted on forcing Bears training-camp coverage from Platteville, 7 Wisconsin, down the listeners’ throats. 8 The Score’s ruling execs also were amateur Basketball Joneses, 9 Spears said. “My feeling was that Ron Gleason, [station manager] 10 Harvey Wells, and Seth Mason seemed to have a big concern about 11 basketball,” he said. “I thought it was amazing that in 1994, the first 12 year without Michael Jordan, I remember a memo coming out from 13 Ron that made sure the station was frequently using a stringer down [225], (63) 14 in Indianapolis for the Knicks-Pacers series. It was amazing to see 15 them use a stringer for that. They wanted to keep the listener focus Lines: 917 to 932 16 on basketball.” 17 Mason, who was part of the founding management group of The ——— 18 Score in 1991, before they cashed out six years later, claimed he 0.30023pt PgVar “liked all three sports” and did not favor basketball over the others. ——— 19 “We had problems generating interest in the Bulls in the regular Normal Page 20 season,” he said. “Football was number one, it was just the sport 21 PgEnds: TEX that had the biggest reach into fandom. We would stick with the 22 subject of the day. If the Cubs were hot, we’d talk about that.” 23 But according to Spears, Mason forced a change in talk topics [225], (63) 24 during the Knicks-Pacers playoff series in 1994. Mike Murphy was 25 carrying on a natural flow of diamond conversation one afternoon. 26 The callers all talked baseball and did not drift into other sports. 27 Suddenly Mason called from home and told Spears and his fellow 28 producer to book a basketball guest—quickly. Thumbing through 29 the media guides, Spears tracked down a Knicks writer on his off- 30 time, working around the house, and sweet-talked him into coming 31 on immediately. 32 Mason denied trying to dump baseball talk in favor of basketball. 33 “Murph wanted to talk baseball twelve months a year,” he said. “I 34 told him he should respect it [other sports] and not push baseball so 35 hard in the off-season.” 36 37 In other markets, baseball must run up against an irresistible tide of 38 football talk.

Sports-Talk Radio 225

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 225 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Philadelphia Daily News national baseball writer Paul Hagen said 2 the overwhelming emphasis on Eagles talk on wip-am persuades 3 sports editors driving into the office that football coverage is the 4 desire of Philadelphia fans. But wip’s big names suggested they are 5 only going with the flow. 6 “Philly was a more football-centric town since the last time the 7 Phils won the World Series,” wip gm Marc Rayfield said. “Philly 8 was a baseball town then. The city made a decision that they were 9 more interested in the Eagles than in any other team. 10 “We talk Eagles from the draft to the Super Bowl. It’s a pretty 11 long window of time. What you hope you have is a competitive 12 baseball season. Philly so desperately wants the Phillies to win.” 13 wip talker Howard Eskin is a regular at Phillies games, but con- [226], (64) 14 cedes he has to talk Eagles to satisfy the fans. 15 “I don’t believe [a big pro-Eagles format] is the case,” said Es- Lines: 932 to 949 16 kin. “When I started, there was nothing better than baseball. The 17 Phillies haven’t instilled the confidence that it’s trying to do all it ——— 18 takes to be a winner. The confidence of the town waned. It has be- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 come an Eagles town. I wish wip was that powerful. The Phillies Normal Page 20 [front office] doesn’t like wip talking football a lot.” PgEnds: T X 21 When the failed to keep improving after their E 22 relatively successful early seasons, they lost their chance to keep 23 within hailing distance of the mega-popular Broncos. [226], (64) 24 “Denver is a Broncos’ town without a question,” kkfn program 25 director Tim Spence said. “The next level of conversation usually 26 revolves around the Avalanche or the Nuggets (based upon time of 27 year and season). The Rockies have been and will be for at least 28 the next year a distant topic of conversation. People are interested, 29 but not even close to the level of the Cubs or any team that has a 30 following or yearly interest.” 31 32 No matter the overemphasized subject matter or low-rent conver- 33 sational style, few controls existed on sports-talk programming until 34 Big Brother stepped in. The coarseness of language was starting to 35 move into George Carlin’s old seven-dirty-words gig when Janet 36 Jackson’s untimely nipple exposure at the Super Bowl in 2004 made 37 the conservatives in Washington dc elect to roll the standards back 38 about fifteen to twenty years.

226 Sports-Talk Radio

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 226 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “The fcc after Janet Jackson scared me,” Pittsburgh’s Mark Mad- 2 den said. “My show started out insane. It’s toned down. Shock for 3 shock’s case gets boring. I’ve never been suspended, never been 4 fined.” 5 But you can’t really hold Madden down. 6 “We have fake guests,” he said. “I really do what I like.” 7 Employed now by cbs radio, Chicago’s Boers and Bernstein now 8 have some layers of corporate checks above them to tone down their 9 boys-club language. 10 “It’s a different show in a lot of ways,” Boers said. “Big Brother is 11 watching. It’s mostly language.” 12 The duo were instructed not to use the word “piss” on air. “It’s 13 more a matter of volume,” Bernstein said. “If you say ‘douchebag’ [227], (65) 14 once, don’t say it ten times. Same with ‘asswipe.’ ” 15 Founding wscr exec Seth Mason claims he established some lim- Lines: 949 to 970 16 its early on. 17 “We wanted them to be as entertaining as possible, but not use ——— * 18 profanity gratuitously,” Mason said. “ ‘Suck’ has made its way into 36.28pt PgVar ——— 19 the dictionary. ‘Asswipe’ is another word. They should use common Normal Page 20 sense. At times I would say to a couple of the guys, you’re going back * PgEnds: PageBreak 21 to it [guttural words] so often, you’re using it so often. At times, 22 Terry [Boers] thought it was his job to do that.” 23 At some point, the thinking-person’s sports fan, not just the knee- [227], (65) 24 jerk caller who wants to propose a trade of every backup player on 25 his favorite team for a coveted superstar, will want the sports talkers 26 of the world to offer more than rollicking humor with sports in a 27 supporting role. Baseball is fun at its basics, but the demeaning parts 28 of the game have been officially repudiated. No need to transfer that 29 aspect to one or two radio stations in every city of size. 30 In the end, the baseball fans can vote not with their feet, but with 31 their push buttons. 32 “It’s all how the public perceives it,” said the Cubs’ Kerry Wood. 33 “Everything these people say on the air doesn’t mean it’s right. Real 34 baseball fans can form their own opinions and know better when 35 they listen to these types of shows.” 36 37 38

Sports-Talk Radio 227

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 227 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 FOURTEEN 4 5 6 No More Harry Carays 7 8 9 10 11 12 arty Brennaman and Ken “Hawk” Harrelson are bookends 13 Mas baseball broadcasters. [228], (66) 14 “The worst word in my profession is we, that famous French word 15 meaning ‘yes,’ ” said Brennaman. “You can’t tell that I’m cryin’ and Lines: 970 to 992 16 pissin’ and moanin’ if they’re losing. That’s not my style. One thing 17 we all aspire to have when I walk away from this business, if they ——— 18 never say anything else good about me, the one thing they will say, 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 ‘He had credibility.’ Normal Page 20 That credibility, of course, is aimed squarely at the listeners. PgEnds: T X 21 “That’s the only thing I care about,” Brennaman said. “I’ve told E 22 players, I don’t broadcast for you, your wife, your mom, your dad, 23 or your friends, or their friends. I broadcast for the people who turn [228], (66) 24 on the radio each night in Lima, Ohio, or Paintsville, Kentucky, and 25 places like that. If they didn’t like my work, I’d be gone a long time 26 ago. 27 “Take it with all due respect, take [the New York Yankees’] John 28 Sterling as an announcer,” Brennaman said. “He’s as big a homer 29 and as big a rooter as ever lived. I’m not critical of his style. Could I 30 do that? Not on my worst day could I root for a team like that. Do I 31 want the Reds to win? Hell, yeah, I want them to win. It makes my 32 job easier. It’s always better to say nice things about people than be 33 critical.” 34 Nearly three hundred miles northwest of Brennaman’s Cincin- 35 nati Reds’ home base at the Great American Ballpark, Harrelson 36 tries to bust his vocal chords at the latest White Sox highlight, in the 37 tried-and-true tradition of many past Chicago baseball announcers. 38 “The greatest compliment they can pay me is being the ultimate

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 228 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 homer,” Harrelson said. “That’s the ultimate compliment. I want 2 them to win every game. When I do a Cubs game [playing the White 3 Sox at U.S. Cellular Field], the best compliment I can get is all the 4 Cubs fans are pissed off at me. 5 “An umpire puts a hard-on for our manager [a dispute between 6 Hunter Wendelstedt and Ozzie Guillen] and causes our manager 7 to be suspended for two games. He blew the call. That upsets me. 8 I busted [baseball disciplinarian] Bob Watson’s balls on the air. I 9 wanted to protect this ball club. A lot of announcers, the only stat 10 they care about is the length of the game. I don’t care how long we 11 sit here as long as we win a game.” 12 Harrelson will use silence as a communicator. If a questionable 13 choice of a pinch hitter is announced, Harrelson said he will pause, [229], (67) 14 then say, “ ‘Well, Ozzie must have a hunch.’ That’s my way of say- 15 ing I didn’t like the move. But to hammer people . . . I’ll let people Lines: 992 to 1004 16 use their imagination. They give the viewer zero credit for knowing 17 what’s going on.” ——— 18 Somewhere in between Brennaman and Harrelson are the ma- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 jority of baseball announcers. And if the truth be known, they will Normal Page 20 stay in that safe, middle ground. Not many will go as far as to shame- PgEnds: T X 21 lessly root for the team they cover. But even fewer will move toward E 22 Brennaman’s tell-it-like-it-is style. 23 “I’ve always been candid,” young veteran announcer Wayne Ha- [229], (67) 24 gin, most recently with the St. Louis Cardinals, said. “I have not 25 been a homer. I was not brought up as a homer as a listener. People 26 always said Harry Caray was a homer. He was not. He told it like it 27 is long before Howard Cosell did. 28 “There are three responsibilities I have. First responsibility I have 29 is to the listeners. Number two is to the sponsor. Number three is 30 to the ball club. As long as you are fair and you criticize the per- 31 formance, not the performer. There were times I felt Harry Caray 32 criticized the performer, not the performance.” 33 But there’s one absolute certainty in the baseball broadcasting at- 34 mosphere of the early twenty-first century. No more Harry Carays 35 can develop, period. Brennaman is the closest to that style, yet he 36 could not duplicate the overpowering personality Caray developed 37 through employment with four teams over fifty-three seasons from 38 1945 to 1997. No announcer ever will be allowed to become bigger

No More Harry Carays 229

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 229 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 than the team he covers, a status Caray achieved first with the White 2 Sox, then magnified by five with the crosstown, wealthier, higher- 3 profile Cubs. 4 Caray was the sleep-deprived, beer-soaked bon vivant, proud of 5 his damn-the-consequences verbal style that skewered errant play- 6 ers and promoted a cast of hangers-on and saloon proprietors. He 7 could mangle names, including calling “George Bush,” 8 while being so politically incorrect that any other announcer would 9 have been busted and lucky to be rehired in Missoula. Caray revved 10 it up as a near-exclusive fan conduit to the Cardinals on radio well 11 into the tv era, reached a crescendo in a kind of guerilla-theater- 12 on-the-air with color analyst partner Jimmy Piersall with the White 13 Sox, and strode bigger than the franchise in a slightly toned-down, [230], (68) 14 but still candid dotage with the Cubs. 15 When Caray died one and a half months before the 1998 season, Lines: 1004 to 1016 16 his mold also was tossed away. Only Brennaman and a handful of 17 other brave voices of the game can fend off the unspoken directive ——— 18 of self-censorship. Baseball announcers are now squeezed between a 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 firm corporate mentality that features careful oversight of their work Normal Page 20 and an increasingly sensitive cadre of millionaire players that brook PgEnds: T X 21 no on-air criticism. Yet at the same time, the announcers cannot E 22 fudge the truth because the cameras do not lie. And with double or 23 triple the number of cameras and replays compared to the 1960s, [230], (68) 24 every player foible or blown call is replayed and freeze-framed from 25 every conceivable angle. 26 Talk about the walls ready to close in while the announcer is try- 27 ing to keep both eyes and all his concentration on the field. 28 “I would hate to work for an organization where I have to mea- 29 sure every word coming out of my mouth for fear there would be 30 repercussions,” said Brennaman. “I honestly feel there are guys with 31 my job in the Major Leagues who have to deal with that.” 32 But even Brennaman knows there are ultimate lines that cannot 33 be crossed. 34 “You don’t have total freedom,” Harrelson said. “I have common- 35 sense restraint. In 1975 I did not have to worry about what I said, 36 whether it was positive or negative toward the Red Sox. You were 37 talking about $10 million, $12 million, $15 million payrolls. Those 38 were big payrolls [at the time]. Now you have close to $200 million

230 No More Harry Carays

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 230 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 payrolls. Now the game has changed toward entertainment dollars. 2 You have announcers sitting up there doing 155 games who are neg- 3 ative toward a ball club. That’s not going to work anymore. 4 “Harry was the last of that breed you’ll see.” 5 Mind you, Caray did not have a totally unfettered style without 6 paying the price. He aggravated a gaggle of Cardinals players in 7 ultimate, Middle American St. Louis before owner Gussie Busch 8 fired him amid rumors that Caray had an affair with the owner’s 9 daughter-in-law. Caray was fired by White Sox owner John Allyn, 10 but was back on the air the next season when Allyn sold out to icon- 11 oclast Bill Veeck, who conceived of Caray’s seventh-inning sing- 12 along. Caray quickly became disenchanted with Veeck successors 13 Jerry Reinsdorf and Eddie Einhorn and jumped to the Cubs. Yet [231], (69) 14 Tribune Company broadcasting chief Jim Dowdle and Cubs gen- 15 eral manager Dallas Green counseled Caray to dial down his act Lines: 1016 to 1028 16 amid a much more conservative corporate culture. 17 Nearly a decade after the end of Caray’s run, would-be imitators ——— 18 likely would be crushed between team-management pressure and 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 player rebellion. And despite the need for candid broadcasting of Normal Page 20 baseball, the fans aren’t likely to come to their aid. PgEnds: T X 21 “I give the fan credit for knowing what the hell is going on,” Har- E 22 relson said. “The fan has changed dramatically in the last twenty to 23 twenty-five years. The viewer is so much more knowledgeable and [231], (69) 24 sophisticated than twenty-five years ago. You’re getting more and 25 more females in the audience. Today there’s too much other shit 26 going on tv. People will not watch baseball unless they understand 27 that. I will not go on there and tell you that’s not what you saw. 28 There are some announcers who will do that. They’re insulting your 29 intelligence.” 30 It’s commonly perceived that Harrelson serves at the pleasure and 31 critical ear of Reinsdorf, a media junkie. And if the truth be known, a 32 suddenly critical Harrelson style that included shots at management 33 would end quickly. But the former outfielder, general manager, and 34 eternal golf fiend knows his limits and doesn’t exceed them. When 35 he did once, taking umpiring crews to task for perceived prejudice 36 against the Sox, he was summoned to the principal’s office. 37 “The umpires didn’t like Reinsdorf because they felt Jerry was 38 instrumental in ousting Fay Vincent, who they thought was an um-

No More Harry Carays 231

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 231 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 pires’ commissioner,” Harrelson said. “There was no accountabil- 2 ity. Al Clark and these guys were sticking it right up our ass. I had 3 enough of it. Jerry called me into the office and said I was getting 4 on them too hard.” 5 On the job in Cincinnati since 1974, Brennaman has earned his 6 leeway, but knows he still raises the hackles of the team bosses. 7 “[Reds president] John Allen has said it on more than one occa- 8 sion,” he said. “He laughingly said that opinions and comments by 9 on Reds radio are not the opinions of manage- 10 ment and ownership. He laughs, but I know he means every single 11 word of it. They let me do my job.” 12 “I had problems in the early 1980s. If Dick Wagner had not been 13 fired [as gm], I would have been fired. He had all he wanted from [232], (70) 14 me. I tried to get a contract extension from him in 1981, and he said 15 he would not negotiate contracts in the season.” Lines: 1028 to 1049 16 Brennaman set an August 15, 1981, deadline and vowed if a con- 17 tract had not been executed, he’d quit. But Wagner was fired on July ——— 18 11. “We never had another word with one another,” he said. “I’m 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 convinced if he had kept his job, I wouldn’t have been there in 1982. Normal Page 20 That hurdle was overcome, and I haven’t had any problems since.” PgEnds: T X 21 Other broadcasters, like thirty-seven-year Kansas City Royals E 22 voice and Wayne Hagin, said they’ve never had 23 prior censorship or management second-guessing. [232], (70) 24 “I’ve done it for twenty-four years and nobody’s ever told me to 25 tone it down, to change my style,” Hagin said. “I think they honestly 26 respect my viewpoint. One time [as Colorado Rockies announcer], 27 I said the visiting team was running up to the batter’s box with great 28 delight because they wanted to hit at Coors Field so badly. [Rockies 29 gm] Bob Gebhard took that as an insult to his pitching. I told him 30 after the game, Geb, that all had to do with Coors Field, not the 31 players.” 32 But Hagin and his brethren now know that players wield increased 33 clout with their guaranteed mega-bucks payouts and thus can take 34 steps toward getting voices dislodged from the booth. Teams can 35 fire announcers more easily than they can dispatch players. 36 Caray was in constant hot water with players, reaching a peak 37 with the White Sox. Third baseman Bill Melton and Caray nearly 38 tussled at the Pfister Hotel in Milwaukee. Melton’s children were

232 No More Harry Carays

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 232 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 booed at old Comiskey Park, while their frustrated father asked for a 2 trade. Players’ wives and friends monitored the broadcasts, reported 3 back to the clubhouse, and confrontations ensued. With no appar- 4 ent provocation, Jimmy Piersall tried to choke Rob Gallas, then the 5 Sox beat writer for the suburban Chicago Daily Herald. Piersall also 6 called baseball wives “horny broads” on a tv special. Caray took on 7 White Sox managers and . La Russa 8 gathered his coaches together, went to a tv studio after one game, 9 and appeared to threaten Piersall. To this day, Melton and La Russa 10 can barely talk about Caray. Yet Caray’s overpowering popularity 11 among the listening audience carried him through the rough spots. 12 But in another era, the actual breakup of a popular announcing 13 team can be linked to player criticism and management’s inability [233], (71) 14 to quell the rebellion. 15 After a two-year absence prompted by illness, mega-popular Cubs Lines: 1049 to 1060 16 tv analyst Steve Stone—who had teamed with Caray for fifteen 17 seasons—returned to the booth in tandem with Caray grandson ——— 18 Chip Caray in 2003. He and the Cubs seemed on top of their game. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Stone’s first-guessing style and the Cubs’ improved play, which Normal Page 20 brought them within five outs of a World Series, seemed a perfect PgEnds: T X 21 match. E 22 Yet below the surface, tensions fermented. Under new manager 23 Dusty Baker, the clubhouse developed a bit of an “us versus them” [233], (71) 24 mentality. Winning hides warts. And in 2003 Cubs players grum- 25 bled about Stone’s fair-comment-and-criticism analysis. The jibes 26 never went public. Reliever Joe Borowski said he and his teammates 27 kept them in-house. A year later, a rumor circulated that the play- 28 ers were so upset at Stone and Chip Caray that they convened a 29 meeting to bar the announcers from the team’s National League 30 East division-clinching celebration in the Wrigley Field clubhouse. 31 Borowski said that report was false, and it would have been difficult 32 to gather all the players together anyway for something less vital 33 than money. 34 An unlikely catalyst named Kent Mercker helped crack open the 35 tensions on August 27, 2004. 36 After one early season loss, Stone said the Cubs were not hustling, 37 but no public reaction surfaced, probably because the game was on 38 the West Coast and the comments were late at night. Then, in July,

No More Harry Carays 233

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 233 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 a Moises Alou postgame, off-handed comment that the broadcast- 2 ers gave more credit to the team’s well-publicized pitchers instead 3 of the lineup was blown up far out of proportion. A rumor then 4 surfaced that the players did not want Stone and Caray to ride on 5 the team plane, but that was shot down quickly. 6 Nothing more surfaced until Mercker, a media-friendly, good 7 clubhouse guy, got upset at Caray’s crediting Astros pitcher Roy 8 Oswalt with a decent outing, giving up six runs in a 15–7 victory on 9 a warm, windy day at Wrigley Field. 10 Oswalt had previously angered the Cubs by throwing at catcher 11 Michael Barrett after Aramis Ramirez slugged a homer five days ear- 12 lier. During Oswalt’s first at bat on August 27, Barrett jumped out 13 [234], (72) of his crouch behind the plate and confronted him, so tensions fur- 14 ther inflamed. Six innings later, listening to Caray’s praise of Oswalt 15 while his own arm was icing up in the clubhouse, Mercker commit- Lines: 1060 to 1075 16 ted a serious breach of baseball etiquette by calling the press box, 17 ——— desiring to convey his displeasure to Caray. 18 13.0pt PgVar But it was Stone who leaked the Mercker call to the Chicago Tri- ——— 19 bune. On August 28, Mercker said he asked Cubs public relations Normal Page 20 21 director Sharon Pannozzo, who had taken his call the previous day, * PgEnds: Eject 22 to inform Stone he was in the wrong with the in-game critique of the announcer. The apology, though, was too late. The genie was 23 [234], (72) 24 out of the bottle. 25 Two other Mercker-Stone meetings in the next three weeks be- 26 came a wild basis for controversy. In one instance, Mercker sup- 27 posedly upbraided Stone as the former was boarding the Cubs team 28 charter just before takeoff. In another, Mercker was accused of 29 swearing at Stone as the two passed in a hotel elevator in Pittsburgh. 30 Such actions, again, were out of character for Mercker. 31 The conflict was exacerbated because Stone, imitating most 32 sports-talk-show hosts and many columnists, rarely ventured into 33 the Cubs clubhouse for personal chats. Disputes such as the one 34 with Mercker could be settled one-on-one, out of sight and earshot 35 of the media, if Stone had been a regular clubhouse visitor. But when 36 Stone came down to the field in Chicago, he usually made a right 37 turn toward the visitors’ dugout to confer with the opposing man- 38 ager and star players. A year later, when Stone was a baseball analyst

234 No More Harry Carays

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 234 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 for all-sports wscr-Radio, he rarely showed up at the ballpark even 2 though he lived in Chicago during the season. 3 Such a style was in marked contrast to Marty Brennaman, who 4 will eagerly own up to his on-air verbiage in person the next day. 5 “The Reds players through the years would have loved to kill me 6 if they could get away with it. But I walk down the middle of that 7 clubhouse every day. If anybody’s got anything to say, they don’t 8 have to look for me. Guys I most respect are guys if they took issue 9 with me, they came up and asked, ‘How can you say something like 10 that?’ Then we have a discussion about that.” 11 In one instance, Reds outfielder Eric Davis committed himself to 12 going for second and was thrown out by twenty feet with the Reds 13 down a run in the ninth. [235], (73) 14 “I was all over him,” Brennaman said. “He was the first out of the 15 inning. The next day he jumped me in the clubhouse. We argued Lines: 1075 to 1092 16 for fifteen minutes, and we said, ‘Let’s agree to disagree.’ The next 17 day it was as if nothing happened.” ——— 18 But without the broadcaster-player meetings in the clubhouse, 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 the Cubs controversy kept churning through the final month of Normal Page 20 2004. Chip Caray reportedly became disenchanted by the players PgEnds: T X 21 grumbling about the on-air comments and wanted nothing to do E 22 with complainers as his own contract ran out. The final straw came 23 on September 30, when Stone first-guessed that Dusty Baker should [235], (73) 24 have ordered an intentional walk to Reds catcher Javier Valentin 25 in the twelfth inning. Baker didn’t, and Valentin drove in the win- 26 ning run with a double that effectively knocked the Cubs out of 27 postseason contention. Minutes later, Stone participated in an edgy 28 postgame interview with Baker. 29 “I told Dusty there is no black and white in baseball,” Stone said. 30 “There’s gray. There’s just a move you’re paid to make and I’m paid 31 to analyze.” 32 Charges and countercharges filled the airwaves and newspapers 33 over the next week. Stone met with Cubs president Andy MacPhail. 34 On the season’s final day, Caray announced he was leaving to join 35 his father, , in the broadcast booth. Baker 36 and Cubs general manager Jim Hendry held teleconferences with 37 reporters after the final game to claim they had nothing against 38 Stone, who soon announced he was departing. Stone replacement

No More Harry Carays 235

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 235 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 ended up with a higher salary than his predecessor, 2 partly to ensure that a big, credible name would replace the popular 3 analyst. 4 “The Chip and Steve situation was unadulterated bullshit,” Bren- 5 naman said. 6 Mercker had goofed. Feathers were ruffled that should not have 7 been. Stone did nothing wrong except not settling disputes in pri- 8 vate rather than leaking the stories to the media. He had hardly been 9 inflammatory in his broadcast style. 10 “I don’t second-guess people,” Stone said. “I made a trademark of 11 first-guessing. I say what I think should happen, lay out what I be- 12 lieve should happen. I work for the fan. He’s sitting at home, doing 13 exactly what I’m doing. [236], (74) 14 “The one thing Harry [Caray] always said is when you’re looking 15 at that camera, and you’re talking to the people at home, the one Lines: 1092 to 1112 16 thing that you have to always do is make sure you’re being honest 17 with them. If you deviate from that, they’re going to pick it up. That ——— 18 camera doesn’t hide anything. In the years I’ve broadcast, I’ve felt 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 that, number one, I’ve told the truth on the air. Number two, I tell it Normal Page 20 consistently. When it’s good, I say it. When it’s bad, I say it. There’s PgEnds: T X 21 nobody going to out-prepare me, nobody going to out-work me. E 22 “I’ve always felt that if you have something to say, say it. Honesty 23 and integrity are not something you trade for money or your job.” [236], (74) 24 If Mercker was a surprising source of discord with broadcasters, 25 consider the surprise early in the 2005 season when baseball ambas- 26 sador Luis Gonzalez went off on , Marty Bren- 27 naman’s son. 28 Tossed out early in the Arizona Diamondbacks’ 4–3 loss to the 29 on May 9, Gonzalez watched the younger 30 Brennaman’s telecast from the clubhouse, like Mercker. 31 “Listening [to the broadcast], it just gets frustrating because I’m a 32 player and I know what guys go through every day down there, and 33 we all go through struggles during the season,” Gonzalez told the 34 Arizona Republic. 35 “What bothers me is that sometimes the people who are quick 36 to criticize . . . when that player is going good they’re the first ones 37 to say, ‘Oh, man, you’re the greatest player.’ They’re the first ones 38 to pat you on the back and say, ‘Hey, buddy, good job.’ ”

236 No More Harry Carays

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 236 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 Gonzalez said if broadcasters work for a team, they should es- 2 pouse the company line. 3 “When you work for a company, you’re a company man,” he said. 4 “I play for the Diamondbacks. I’m not going to go out there and talk 5 bad about the Diamondbacks. They’re my employers. I think that’s 6 just what frustrates us sometimes.” 7 Unlike Mercker and Stone, Gonzalez and Brennaman met before 8 the next game. 9 Talking one-on-one to the players before or after games goes a 10 long way. Just ask former Cubs ace , now a star espn 11 analyst. 12 “I’m no different than when I played,” Sutcliffe said. “I really 13 don’t give a shit whether anybody likes me or not. I’m all about [237], (75) 14 respect. I didn’t care as a teammate whether you liked me or not. I 15 wanted you to respect me, and in turn I hope to respect you. Lines: 1112 to 1133 16 “The same thing works for me as a broadcaster now. I’m in every 17 clubhouse before every game, and I’m in the winning clubhouse af- ——— 18 ter every game. You can always find me. If I say something you don’t 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 like, I’m accountable. I’m there. Once every two weeks, somebody’s Normal Page 20 upset with something I said, and we figure it out. Either I’m telling PgEnds: T X 21 the truth and you have to deal with it, or wait a minute, I got it E 22 wrong. And if I did, I’ll more than compensate for it.” 23 Marty Brennaman seconds the concept of mea culpa for announc- [237], (75) 24 ers. 25 “I’ve gone on the air to apologize for being wrong,” he said. “I 26 criticized George Foster in Shea Stadium in 1977 for dropping two 27 fly balls. I killed him on the air. I found out later that he was playing 28 with a 104-degree temperature. He was as sick as a dog. The biggest 29 mistake we can make is not correcting a mistake.” 30 The sheer number of former players tabbed as color analysts 31 might cut down on honesty and analysis of players who may have 32 been former teammates. Former Minnesota Twins ace Bert Bly- 33 leven long has been a staple on his old team’s broadcasts. He is not 34 afraid to call out players for errors of commission or omission. 35 “I can be honest,” said Blyleven. “I’m honest because I’ve played 36 the game. I know what it takes to go through a tough season. I grew 37 up listening to Vin Scully and . But there was only one 38 Vin Scully. He was the best ever.

No More Harry Carays 237

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 237 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 ‘On the tv side, if someone makes an error, I’ll say that’s a play 2 that should be made. I have said a guy is not hustling, if he’s not 3 running out a ball. Jacque Jones hit a ball to second, he didn’t hustle 4 from home to first. It’s a bang-bang play and he’s not hustling down 5 the line.” 6 The analyst’s style is affected by the region of the country. The 7 biggest homers seem to reside in the Midwest, headquarters of the 8 “red states” of baseball journalism. A laid-back style seems to pre- 9 dominate on the West Coast. Former New York Mets and San 10 Francisco Giants announcer Ted Robinson, who used to work with 11 the San Francisco Giants, said Harry Caray’s in-your-face style sim- 12 ply overwhelmed listeners during his one season broadcasting the 13 Oakland Athletics in 1970. [238], (76) 14 ‘Jerry Reinsdorf, a Brooklyn native, was astonished when he first 15 came to Chicago to attend law school at Northwestern. He lis- Lines: 1133 to 1148 16 tened to baseball announcers like Jack Brickhouse cheering for their 17 teams. Raised in the –Vin Scully straight-reporting ——— 18 model, Reinsdorf tried to apply that to his White Sox via Don Drys- 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 dale, similar in style to Scully, in the early 1980s. It did not take with Normal Page 20 the fans. Eventually “Hawk” Harrelson, who partnered early with PgEnds: T X 21 Drysdale, took over the lead Sox job and let loose with a partisan call. E 22 “Budweiser has different formulas in certain sections of the coun- 23 try,” Harrelson said. “Oscar Mayer has different formulas. They’re [238], (76) 24 subtle, but they’re there. Boston and New York are different, even 25 in the East. was the ultimate homer, but you can’t do 26 that in Boston. 27 “With Vin Scully, there’s no way in the world that Dodgers fans 28 will want anything different than him. They were born with it. Cer- 29 tain styles over the years have been created and that’s the way it is.” 30 Regional differences and individual team traditions shape what 31 the audience expects from announcers even more than management 32 oversight or player critiques. But too many younger announcers 33 have tried a cookie-cutter approach, mimicking the all-time greats 34 instead of letting their own personalities come through in their de- 35 liveries. Twins announcer John Gordon claims that many up-and- 36 comers attempt to sound like Vin Scully. 37 “Vin told me, ‘When you walk in and close the door, you come 38 in already unique than anyone else,’ ” Wayne Hagin said. “You have

238 No More Harry Carays

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 238 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 to be yourself. Don’t create yourself to be like that. 2 copied ‘back, back, back, back’ from Red Barber. He copied a lot of 3 things from a lot of broadcasters. Nicknames was one thing he came 4 up with that was very unique. 5 “Whoever you are, that’s what you have to be on the air. Too 6 many guys are not.” 7 Worse yet, like so many others in baseball media, the eyes of many 8 announcers are already on the next job, in the next city, rather than 9 being the best one can possibly be in the here and now. 10 “Young guys look upon this as a springboard to a big-paying job 11 with a network,” Marty Brennaman said. “I don’t think that you’re 12 ever again going to see guys who stay with the same club up to 13 fifty-five years, like Vin Scully, , Harry Caray, Bob [239], (77) 14 Uecker, , and myself. I never aspired to a major network, 15 and I turned down jobs in many major markets. To me there’s no Lines: 1148 to 1164 16 more prideful thing than to say how many teams you have broadcast 17 for . . . one? Nobody will even come close to that [Scully’s longevity ——— 18 with the Dodgers]. The most amazing thing in our business is that 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 a man can be with one club that long.” Normal Page 20 The announcer will last only as long as he honestly connects with PgEnds: T X 21 his audience. If the fans were disenchanted with certified homer E 22 “Hawk” Harrelson, Jerry Reinsdorf would have shown him the door 23 years ago. You cannot force an announcer down the audience’s [239], (77) 24 throats. 25 “I don’t walk a tightrope,” Harrelson said. “I will give my opinion 26 on issues. The comments I make on decisions made by the manager 27 in the game are only good before the play. I like to say as little as 28 possible in a telecast if it’s a good ballgame, there’s nothing an an- 29 nouncer can say to enhance it. To sit up there and pontificate on 30 how smart you are is bullshit. Let the fan enjoy the game. 31 “ said he did a Rose Bowl between Washington and 32 Ohio State. He got forty thousand letters in the next month. Twenty 33 thousand were from Washington fans crucifying him for being 34 against that school. Twenty thousand were from Ohio State fans 35 crucifying him for being against them. To me, there has to be some 36 connection between the broadcaster and fan.” 37 The listeners will know when the announcer has achieved the 38 kind of balancing act desired by them, team management, and play-

No More Harry Carays 239

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 239 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 ers. After thirty-seven years of working Kansas City Royals games, 2 Denny Matthews feels he has done just that. 3 “You can tell it like it is and not hit the guy over the head with 4 it,” Matthews said. 5 “If I’m not giving you an accurate description, I ain’t doing the 6 job. It’s [losing] not hard at all. I don’t take it personally. What you 7 must avoid is the big picture. You take each game as it comes. Out 8 of 162 games, there are some really good games, some really bad 9 games, and a lot in between. You do the best job possible.” 10 But in the end, as in libel and slander cases, the announcer’s only 11 defense is the truth. How much of the truth, and its various shades, is 12 permissible on the air is up for question in an era of overly sensitive 13 eyes and ears. [240], (78) 14 Marty Brennaman has a simple measuring stick when he ends 15 each Reds broadcast. Lines: 1164 to 1175 16 “As far as walking out of the booth and feeling like I gave it my 17 best shot, yes,” he said. “Do I have bad nights or days? Yes. I walk ——— * 18 out of the booth and I say to myself, ‘That was a shitty broadcast. 218.28pt PgVar ——— 19 I did a bad job.’ But not because I hid the truth or made excuses. I Normal Page 20 don’t believe in that. Thank God I work for people who allow it to * PgEnds: PageBreak 21 be done the way it should be done.” 22 23 [240], (78) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

240 No More Harry Carays

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 240 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 FIFTEEN 4 5 6 Old versus New Media 7 8 9 10 11 12 huge migration away from newspaper readership seemed to 13 Abe picking up steam in the first half-decade of the twenty-first [241], (79) 14 century. Waiting to absorb the defectors were the usual broadcast 15 suspects plus a cornucopia of Internet properties, ranging from well- Lines: 1175 to 1196 16 funded sites with the espn brand to homespun blogs that featured 17 analysis right out of left field. ——— 18 The baseball fan had choices of information of which his father 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 and grandfather could never conceive. Too many choices, in fact. Normal Page 20 The Internet was at the same stage of development as was radio in PgEnds: T X 21 the mid-1920sortv in, say, 1953: a wondrous new technology in E 22 a rapidly expanding mode that wouldn’t fully mature until several 23 decades down the line. [241], (79) 24 Could the summer-game rooter really get down-and-dirty, in- 25 depth, inside-story comprehensive coverage from the new media 26 compared to the clunky paper, off-the-presses and delivered via 27 truck or car to your front door? 28 Internet is immediate, even graphically spectacular. But the way 29 the biggest purveyor of daily baseball coverage set up its business, 30 its chronicling of each team’s goings-on was not as unfettered as 31 the old-fashioned newspaper dampened down by corporate conser- 32 vatism and cost cutting. 33 National sites are comprehensive in the big picture, but can’t zero 34 in on any one team. And, naturally, the Eastern bias of their head- 35 quarters will crop up in selection of content. 36 Numbers-crunching sites can dissect and analyze baseball statis- 37 tics like never before, but they often cut out the human aspect of the 38 game. That has to be factored in before a complete, accurate anal-

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 241 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 ysis of a player’s ebb and flow can be put down in stone. Usually, 2 the online analysts did not have access to the players, managers, and 3 coaches, instead relying on front-office types they could hunt up via 4 phone or e-mail. Part of the story, but not all. 5 Bloggers also had to pay their way into ballparks and could not 6 gain access to the field or locker room. While some of their analysis 7 was intelligent and measured, too much else came off as the same 8 kind of blather the “Carphone Joes” spewed over sports-talk radio. 9 Television, the oldest of the “new” media, still functioned as just 10 a highlights-and-headlines service. Time constraints and newsroom 11 philosophies put the emphasis on the short sound bite and reporters 12 asking the ballplayer, “Tell us about your homer in the fifth,” in- 13 stead of real incisive questions. Except for occasional features on [242], (80) 14 pre- and postgame shows on cable channels, the fans couldn’t learn 15 appreciably more about their favorite players and teams. Lines: 1196 to 1211 16 The old, old media—newspapers—still remained the best source 17 of inside-baseball information in an era when fewer eyes cast their ——— 18 way and fewer hands got dirty from stray newsprint. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Even stalwart newspaper readers found part of their traditional Normal Page 20 reading time diverted to online scanning and e-mail as the latter PgEnds: T X 21 began to displace the phone as the preferred method of person-to- E 22 person communication. Ditto with the explosion of tv channels, 23 each scrambling for a niche. [242], (80) 24 Newspaper daily circulation had been falling since the 1980s. In 25 1982, daily newspaper circulation was 62.4 million, according to 26 the Newspaper Association of America. But the decline accelerated 27 rapidly from 2001 to 2005. According to Gawker.com, a 15 per- 28 cent decline was recorded in the five-year period from 55,578,046 29 to 47,374,033.In2004, 54.1 percent of adults read a newspaper each 30 day, a massive drop from 77.6 in 1970. 31 Only a tiny fraction was due to the circulation scandals that began 32 popping up around the country in 2003–5, in which executives un- 33 der withering pressure cooked the books in numbers or even used 34 their own marketing funds to buy up thousands of copies to keep 35 the circulation up. 36 “I don’t see any bright spots and I don’t see any reasonable ex- 37 pectation this is going to change anytime soon,” said John Mor- 38 ton, a longtime newspaper industry analyst. “The Internet may have

242 Old versus New Media

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 242 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 exacerbated the trend, but this is a problem that existed long before 2 the Internet became ubiquitous.” 3 Tribune Company flagship newspapers that once boasted of sell- 4 ing more than a million copies daily were hard hit in a six-month 5 decline going into 2005, according to the Audit Bureau of Circula- 6 tion. The Chicago Tribune said its average weekday circulation fell 7 6.9 percent, to 573,743, and the Sunday edition fell 4.7 percent, to 8 953,815. The Los Angeles Times reported that its daily circulation fell 9 6.5 percent, to 907,997, and Sunday circulation fell 7.9 percent. 10 Executives and pundits alike fretted that young readers simply 11 were not picking up newspapers and would never get into the habit. 12 “Most people form their newspaper reading habit from eighteen 13 and twenty-five and they hold it, they don’t increase it as they get [243], (81) 14 older,” Steven Duke, project manager of ’s 15 Readership Institute, told Herald.com on December 12, 2004. Lines: 1211 to 1235 16 “People have now become accustomed to getting their news 17 when, where, and how they want it. Newspapers are going to have ——— 18 to redefine themselves.” 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 News consumers could get almost all their information from the Normal Page 20 Internet, as easy and convenient as a mouse click. Up-to-the-minute, PgEnds: T X 21 and more often than not, free. E 22 But if they were baseball fans, they couldn’t totally sate themselves 23 from cyberspace. [243], (81) 24 Dinn Mann believed he was giving his readers as much as possible. 25 As top editor of MLB.com—the Internet service covering all base- 26 ball teams featuring text, real audio, and access to video—longtime 27 former newspaper sports editor Mann beat the drum that his sprawl- 28 ing operation could meet every fan’s information needs. 29 MLB.com was the centralized operation of all team Web sites, 30 which were formerly operated locally before they were consolidated 31 under one umbrella company in 2001. Major League Baseball itself 32 invested into partial ownership of the umbrella company. 33 “They want to become the wire service for Major League Base- 34 ball,” said Mike Fannin, a former Mann newspaper sports depart- 35 ment aide who now is sports editor of the Kansas City Star. 36 To be sure, a fan can obtain a feast of multimedia coverage of his 37 favorite team on MLB.com, which operates under the umbrella of 38 Major League Advanced Media. Writers can double the length of

Old versus New Media 243

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 243 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 newspaper stories, hemmed in by tightening news holes, and write 2 almost to their hearts’ content in cyberspace. Both game stories and 3 notes features are liberal in length. Video and audio packages of 4 game highlights and interviews also can be easily accessed on the 5 site. By paying basic subscription fees, fans also can listen to live 6 game broadcasts and talk shows specifically designed for MLB.com. 7 But as much as Mann suggested he operated under few restric- 8 tions, his in-the-field writers said they cannot post everything they 9 hear or see around their teams. Not bound by any inch counts or 10 word limits, they nevertheless cannot out-report the old media be- 11 cause of limits of sensibility. 12 MLB.com reporters can be handcuffed on reporting information 13 [244], (82) that is still in the speculative stage and is not yet confirmed by teams. 14 The reporter has to act as a kind of self-censor. If not, a site editor 15 will do it for them. After all, mlb is in a way their boss. Lines: 1235 to 1257 16 Even wording has to be careful. The San Jose Mercury News’s 17 ——— Chris Haft recalled how he could not use the word “demotion” 18 13.0pt PgVar while working for Reds.com in describing the busting of assistant ——— 19 gm Doc Rodgers. Normal Page 20 21 “You could write ‘reassigned,’ ‘moved,’ ‘took the position of,’ but * PgEnds: Eject 22 it was clearly a demotion,” Haft said. Almost everything a standard newspaper can print is covered by 23 [244], (82) 24 MLB.com. And in the increasing number of one-newspaper towns, 25 MLB.com’s reporter is the only traveling competition for the re- 26 maining print beat writer. 27 “We have tackled controversial issues,” Astros.com reporter 28 Alyson Footer, a former public relations official with Houston, said. 29 But caveats do exist. 30 “Sometimes we have to approach it in a different way,” Footer 31 said. “Every situation is different. If there’s something out there, a 32 controversial topic, we can’t ignore it. News is news. 33 “There are times when it comes to rumors [such as the 2004 firing 34 of Astros manager Jimy Williams], there are ways to approach it— 35 attribute it to [other media] reports, get a statement from club that 36 they don’t have a comment. We do not use anonymous sources, we 37 have much stricter policies. We can’t throw things out there.” 38 Longtime newspaper veteran Dick Kaegel, who left the Kansas

244 Old versus New Media

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 244 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 City Star to cover the Royals for MLB.com, seconded that analysis. 2 So did Haft. 3 “There were times we had to tone it down,” he said. “We were 4 told to restrain ourselves. You really couldn’t be too negative. I 5 know when the Reds hired as manager, that actually 6 Brian Grail was their first choice. Dan O’Brien [Reds gm] was over- 7 ruled, and it was tough to get that in print. 8 “Sure you have to be delicate working in the newspaper business. 9 There were certain no-no’s. But in newspapers you maybe have a 10 little license to push the envelope a bit. That was definitely discour- 11 aged [at MLB.com]. The mantra there was to ‘celebrate baseball.’ I 12 don’t necessarily have a problem with that. But there were a couple 13 [245], (83) of times where I maybe felt a little hamstrung.” 14 The “sensitivity of an issue” and a “club’s feelings” often dictate 15 how—and if—stories are played on MLB.com, Footer said. Lines: 1257 to 1281 16 Mann insists his reporters are not hamstrung. 17 ——— “I’ve never had an owner tell me to take something off their site,” 18 13.0pt PgVar he said. “If it’s been taken off, it’s an inaccuracy. There’s nothing ——— 19 that’s off-limits. But we’ll take the high road. Sometimes we’ll tackle Normal Page 20 21 stories in a reactionary fashion instead of a breaking [news] fashion. * PgEnds: Eject 22 “We don’t censor our fans’ message boards. We’re not light in our approach, but we’re not mean-spirited. We’re a little bit like 23 [245], (83) 24 the broadcasters who do the game. Many have informative and en- 25 lightened things to say. It’s a text-based version of what they say.” 26 Mann said he has made MLB.com a more honest operation jour- 27 nalistically compared to when each team ran its own Web site prior 28 to 2001. 29 “I don’t think anyone will tell you there are any severe handcuffs 30 about topics,” he said. “When our group walked in the door [to cen- 31 tralize the operation], there were taboo topics. What I had to try to 32 do was establish a separation of church and state. Otherwise, there 33 was no credibility.” 34 “If you talk to fans, they feel they get good coverage on MLB.com. 35 These things don’t happen every day. Day-by-day coverage is as 36 thorough as anyone else’s, sometimes more thorough. We can be a 37 little more creative. Off-the-wall, off-field features that newspapers 38 can’t tackle.

Old versus New Media 245

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 245 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “I consider my competition newspapers. I do not consider other 2 online sources my competition.” 3 Haft and Kansas City’s Fannin figure that Mann eventually will 4 strike the right balance. 5 “He’s a veteran newspaper guy,” Haft said. “He knows what he’s 6 doing.” 7 “He has very good business instincts,” Fannin said. 8 Those other sources to which Mann referred are a cornucopia of 9 national sites and blogs, none of which focus on daily team-by-team 10 coverage or have legitimate access to baseball newsmakers. 11 ESPN.com, biggest of the sports sites, is nationally focused and 12 doesn’t really have a team-by-team presence, essentially falling into 13 the Eastern-oriented emphasis of national media. CBSSportsLine. [246], (84) 14 com gamely stayed in the business despite financial difficulties. Fox 15 Sports.com tried to jump into the fray in 2000, but laid off its entire Lines: 1281 to 1309 16 writing staff within three years. 17 The major challenge—in fact, still a huge hurdle at the midpoint ——— 18 of the new century’s first decade—was convincing major advertisers 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 that the huge number of hits on each site could be translated into Normal Page 20 willing eyes scanning ads. All that really resulted in was a much more PgEnds: T X 21 fragmented media landscape with the advertisers divvying up their E 22 spending into smaller slices. 23 A modest flow of ad dollars actually went to some bloggers, if [246], (84) 24 that can be believed. The art of creating personal Web sites and fan 25 sites has multiplied infinitely in the twenty-first century. Fans who 26 previously were limited to gabbing their way past producers at talk 27 stations now can pontificate or rant without limit on the Internet. 28 A portion of analysis is thoughtful, intelligent, even ahead of the 29 curve found in established media. 30 “Some of the bloggers and fans on message boards know more 31 about baseball or their respective teams than some of the writers 32 I’ve run across,” White Sox beat writer Scot Gregor of the suburban 33 Chicago Daily Herald told Chicago Sports Review in February 2005. 34 Yet too much other information is unchecked criticism and wild 35 rumor, with no controls or editing. Any fan can post seemingly any- 36 thing, no matter how far out of left field the origination. 37 One Cubs fan Web site posted a fan’s tale of two star players set- 38 tling a challenge to each other, “way back when,” by allowing the

246 Old versus New Media

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 246 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 winner of the challenge to have sex with the other player’s wife in 2 the Wrigley Field broadcast booth after a game. According to this 3 tall tale, fans across the street could gape at the wife’s bare bottom 4 bouncing up and down in the booth. Such a Penthouse-style contri- 5 bution would be rejected at any legitimate publication or site where 6 normal standards of truth in reporting are used, particularly to de- 7 fend against libel suits. The Web master no doubt had never taken 8 a “Law of the Press” course in college. 9 Recognizing the wild inaccuracies that gather online, Chicago Tri- 10 bune Cubs beat writer Paul Sullivan disagreed with Gregor in the 11 Chicago Sports Review article, claiming he never reads all the Internet 12 content. 13 “Sometimes people will e-mail me a link to a fan site where some- [247], (85) 14 one is drilling me for something I wrote,” Sullivan said. “I’ve learned 15 never to respond. Some of these people are downright nuts. No of- Lines: 1309 to 1321 16 fense to you, but everyone with a pc and a printer believes they’re 17 a writer. That’s the worst aspect of the Internet age—everyone has ——— 18 something to say and a blog to say it in.” 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Taking the highbrow ground online were a collection of baseball Normal Page 20 junkies and stats wonks, who formed the in the PgEnds: T X 21 mid-1990s to analyze teams, players, and executives. The Prospectus E 22 has expanded past cottage-industry status to put out a late-winter 23 annual, dissecting the entire game for the forthcoming season. [247], (85) 24 In addition, the Prospectus’s featured writer Will Carroll, based 25 in Indianapolis, somehow has gleaned an impressive collection of 26 contacts in the game that enables him to beat the daily newspapers 27 on stories. Carroll went on to pen a 2005 book on the insidious 28 infiltration of drugs into baseball. 29 “It’s a combination of things [grist for their material],” said long- 30 time Prospectus analyst Chris Kahrl. “We spend a lot of time talking 31 to people in the industry. Our real interest is player performance. 32 We’re not so much interested in the human side of the story. At 33 the end of the day, we’re not on the same page as the people in 34 sports journalism who can talk about causation and get inside peo- 35 ple’s heads. 36 “Journalists are not trained to analyze. They just regurgitate in- 37 formation, present daily bits of information. There are people in 38 every single organization who talk to us. I’m not interested in quot-

Old versus New Media 247

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 247 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 ing people or getting scoops. I’m more interested in understanding 2 how an organization thinks and what it wants to do going forward.” 3 However, like MLB.com, the Prospectus analysts can present most, 4 but not all, the potential story. Although Kahrl said most of her col- 5 leagues watch “an insane number of games each year” and have their 6 phone calls and e-mails responded to by team officials, they don’t 7 have press box and clubhouse access. Baseball’s always been about 8 far more than one-dimensional statistics, which can be manipulated 9 in any direction an analyst desires. The game is played by flesh- 10 and-blood people with eminently human motivations. And that has 11 a primo effect on performance and teams’ motivations. 12 For instance, since the Prospectus did not have access to the Cubs 13 [248], (86) clubhouse in 2004–5, the analyst wouldn’t have known about the 14 extremely uptight personality of LaTroy Hawkins. They could ru- 15 minate all day and night about how Hawkins tries to force in too- Lines: 1321 to 1337 16 hittable strikes on 0-and-2 counts, but they couldn’t possibly know 17 ——— unless they tried talking to the man that Hawkins was too stiff emo- 18 13.0pt PgVar tionally and a mite too suspicious of the world to try to save games ——— 19 with just a one-run lead. Normal Page 20 21 “I really stress the extent to which people in the [baseball] indus- * PgEnds: Eject 22 try read what’s going on in the analysis industry,” Kahrl said. “The industry is better informed than the media.” 23 [248], (86) 24 If both the most controversial and human elements of baseball, 25 important in the entire context, may be left out by the online infor- 26 mation purveyors, the entire length and breadth of understanding 27 baseball is largely absent from daily tv coverage. 28 The mature (not old or new) medium of television, which the 29 majority of consumers now regard as their primary source of in- 30 formation, cannot really be more than a highlights-and-sound-bites 31 service. But once, it had pretensions of being much more. 32 Chet Coppock remembers the day when he was under manage- 33 ment fiat to compete not only with other sportscasters, but also 34 newspapers. Most recently Coppock plied his trade as weekend host 35 at the Sporting News Radio Network. But in 1981, he was nightly 36 sportscaster at Chicago’s wmaq-tv, going up against video rivals 37 Johnny Morris and Tim Weigel. 38 “In 1981,[wmaq-tv news director] Paul Beavers gave orders to

248 Old versus New Media

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 248 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 break stories,” Coppock recalled. “When I got beat, he demanded 2 news. He demanded stories be broken.” 3 Coppock also had time to be more than a headline-and-highlights 4 service on the traditionally jam-packed 10:00 p.m. newscast. 5 “I had three and a half minutes at 10:00 p.m.,” he said. “Big news, 6 I could stretch to four minutes. Three and a half was more than 7 adequate. I had 35 percent highlights, 40 percent news, 25 percent 8 commentary. 9 “In Indianapolis [wish-tv] in the late 1970s, I had six and a half 10 minutes on the 6:00 p.m. news. 11 “Now it’s two and a quarter minutes for sports at 10:00 p.m. It’s 12 thank-you Warner [Saunders], a happy face, Sox won, happy face, 13 Cubs lost, show an elephant on skates and throw it back [to the news [249], (87) 14 anchor].” 15 “The business changed before the 1980s came to a close,” Cop- Lines: 1337 to 1360 16 pock said. 17 “Sales managers became convinced through [consultant] Frank ——— 18 Magid that sports was a detriment to the 10:00 p.m. news. They 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 began to tell people weather was significantly more important than Normal Page 20 sports at 10:00 p.m. PgEnds: T X 21 “What I find to be odd is that now, years after the fact, electronic E 22 media on a 6:00 and 10:00 p.m. basis is so vulnerable, the sportscast- 23 ers are told just be cute, just be funny, don’t offend anybody. They [249], (87) 24 feel sports won’t gain viewers, but they can lose viewers.” 25 A few network affiliates are throwbacks. Those are mostly Fox or 26 Time-Warner outlets who can put on a full hour of news at 9:00 or 27 10:00 p.m., local times, after network programming has ended. One 28 such outlet is kriv-tv, Houston’s Fox affiliate. Sportscaster Mark 29 Berman enjoys more than enough time on his sportscast to break 30 stories, present interviews, and play the usual parade of highlights. 31 “Our news director demands we cover the news,” Berman said. 32 “Generally speaking, most tv reporters don’t report. They’re head- 33 line guys.” 34 Most recently, I rarely have seen tv anchors or reporters working 35 clubhouses without their camera operators. They are not seen con- 36 versing with players or coaches in noninterview situations in true 37 beat fashion, gathering background, and getting to know the play- 38 ers. And when the anchors and reporters do ask questions, it’s often

Old versus New Media 249

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 249 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 framed as a request to elicit the desired sound bite. “Tell us about 2 your performance” or “Talk to us about your home run in the fifth.” 3 Rarely is a question posed with the angle of “why” or “how.” 4 Cameras crowd small interview rooms and around the top inter- 5 view subjects at their lockers with the sole purpose of getting pic- 6 tures and sound, and crowding out those questioners that really want 7 to get to the bottom of things. Cameras are used as a wedge to get 8 into the right position and move others out of the way. If a non-tv 9 person gets in the line of sight of a camera operator and his subject, 10 the operator will press down on the individual’s shoulder without so 11 much of an “excuse me” to get unimpeded. It’s a miracle 12 more fights don’t break out between reporters and camera operators 13 [250], (88) as a result. 14 “The difficulty is we so often sell the sizzle, not the steak,” said 15 Cincinnati Reds announcer George Grande, who in another incar- Lines: 1360 to 1378 16 nation was the first SportsCenter anchor seen on the air when espn 17 ——— signed on in 1979. 18 13.0pt PgVar “The good thing is you get highlights you never got before,” ——— 19 Grande said. “The bad thing is you don’t tell the story of the game. Normal Page 20 21 In telling the story of the game, you want to show the bunt that got * PgEnds: Eject 22 the guy in scoring position.” Grande, who prepped in the business just down the hall from 23 [250], (88) 24 at cbs News, was one of the minority of broad- 25 casters trying to go in-depth with his 1980s weekly espn show Inside 26 Baseball. Other mentors, like Vin Scully, , and Dick 27 Young, taught Grande to honor the game, aim for the scoop, report 28 something no one else had, and be fair. 29 “We tried to be in-depth on Inside Baseball,” Grande said. 30 But eventually that program gave way to , the 31 game’s top nightly highlights extravaganza. Analysis and reporting 32 in recent years has often given way to on-air verbal rasslin’ matches 33 between panelists like and . 34 In the end, perhaps all forms of media can complement one an- 35 other. But one cannot completely take the place of another. New 36 cannot perform the complete functions of the old. At the same time, 37 old cannot go where new can go, live and in color. 38 Old, in the form of newspapers, cannot practically be replaced as

250 Old versus New Media

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 250 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 the most complete form of baseball coverage unless the new media 2 continue to evolve into something they are not at the present. 3 Jim Rygelski, longtime St. Louis journalist and baseball historian, 4 summed up the old versus new media debate with a December 4, 5 2004, essay. 6 “Here’s yet one more reason why you should get your news pri- 7 marily from a daily newspaper. 8 “Y’all probably saw the story on tv Thursday about the auction- 9 ing of the bat Babe Ruth used to hit the first-ever home run in 10 . Fifteen seconds or so about only the price ($1.2 11 million), that it was to an unnamed buyer, and marked the third 12 time that more than a million had been paid for a piece of sports 13 [251], (89) memorabilia. Yes, that price is obscene, and the person who bought 14 it surely could have found a more humanitarian way of spending his 15 money. Lines: 1378 to 1398 16 “However, a nine-paragraph, Associated Press story in the St. 17 ——— Louis Post-Dispatch (and undoubtedly in many other daily newspa- 18 13.0pt PgVar pers across the nation) told a much fuller story, as newspaper stories ——— 19 inevitably do over tv. I offer this just as an example of what depth Normal Page 20 21 one gets by reading. * PgEnds: Eject 22 “The ap story repeated the facts of the tv report, but added all this: The full price was $1,265,000 plus a 15 percent commission 23 [251], (89) 24 added for the Chicago-based auction house that bought it for the 25 anonymous East Coast collector. It noted that Babe hit the home 26 run in the third inning of the first game every played in Yankee 27 Stadium, April 18, 1923, against the Boston Red Sox. The Yankees 28 won the game 4–1. 29 “Ruth shortly after donated the bat to the Los Angeles Evening Her- 30 ald for a high school home-run-hitting contest. He inscribed on the 31 barrel of the bat: ‘To the Boy Home Run King of Los Angeles,’ 32 and signed it ‘Babe Ruth, N.Y., May 7, 1923.’ The high schooler 33 who won it, Victor Orsatti, kept it until his death sixty-one years 34 later. He willed it to a caretaker, who kept it under her bed until it 35 was auctioned. A portion of the proceeds from the sale will go to a 36 baseball program at a Mexican orphanage. 37 “You could have read the entire ap story in less than two minutes. 38 Look at the human factor it brings out. You can also absorb its con-

Old versus New Media 251

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 251 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 tents rather than having them shot at you by a rat-a-tat-tat voice on 2 the screen. 3 “Anyway, tv’s okay, but don’t depend on it primarily or, espe- 4 cially, solely. Subscribe to a daily paper (I work for a weekly, so 5 I have no personal economic interest in this, just a spiritual one). 6 Read. Read, read, read. Then read some more. 7 “I trust I’m preaching to the choir.” 8 9 10 11 12 13 [252], (90) 14 15 Lines: 1398 to 1406 16 17 ——— 18 * 400.28pt PgVar ——— 19 Normal Page 20 21 * PgEnds: PageBreak 22 23 [252], (90) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

252 Old versus New Media

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 252 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 2 3 4 5 6 Afterword 7 8 9 10 11 12 aseball is the most media-accessible and, in turn, fan-accessible 13 Bsport that’s ever been created. Problem is, the players who play [253], (91) 14 the game, the executives who govern it, and the media who cover it 15 don’t know a good thing when they have it in their firm grasp. Lines: 1406 to 1420 16 Say a game begins at 1:20 p.m. The home locker room will typi- 17 cally open at 9:50 a.m., three and a half hours before the first pitch. ——— 18 Even if the clubhouse is closed during batting practice after 10:30 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 or 10:45, players, coaches, and the manager usually can be tracked Normal Page 20 down for a quick quote or informal conversation around the cage— PgEnds: T X 21 if the media member isn’t too busy gossiping with a colleague or E 22 simply killing the grass. Then, after batting practice is over at 11:50, 23 the locker room reopens for up to forty-five minutes. If a reporter [253], (91) 24 can’t cop a few one-on-ones during this open window, he or she 25 really isn’t trying. 26 Contrast this arrangement with the nfl. Locker rooms are closed 27 pregame. Reporters have to gather their material at practice in dribs 28 and drabs during the week, usually in tightly controlled group inter- 29 views. Head coaches almost never can be interviewed one-on-one. 30 Access to their defensive and offensive coordinators also is increas- 31 ingly choreographed. There’s no sitting around a dugout bench 32 or leaning against the cage chewing the fat with these militarized 33 coaching minds. 34 Meanwhile, the nba prides itself on being a media-friendly league. 35 Not so fast. Reporters have a short window after practice between 36 games to interview players and coaches, usually on the court, with 37 little if any locker-room access. Before a common 7:30 p.m. nba 38 tipoff time, the locker room will be open from 6:00 to 6:45 p.m. Yet

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 253 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 players know that media window all too well. More often than not, 2 they’ll retire to the trainer’s room or players lounge, or go onto the 3 court to shoot. 4 Gone is the sight of Michael Jordan sitting by his cubicle lacing 5 his shoes and sorting tickets on the floor in a cramped Chicago Sta- 6 dium locker room before a 1991 playoff game against the Knicks— 7 with nobody interviewing him! An enterprising author could have 8 done a book chapter with His Airness while all the visiting New 9 York writers were down the hall chowing down on Chef Hans’s 10 dinner, instead of picking the all-time star’s brain. Five years later, 11 with four rings in his possession and a spacious United Center locker 12 room rife with hiding places at his beck and call, Jordan was usually 13 nowhere to be found between 6:00 and 6:45 p.m. [254], (92) 14 Many of Jordan’s successors took the cue and zipped their lips 15 before games, if you could even find them in media-accessible areas. Lines: 1420 to 1432 16 “Jordan cut it back substantially the bigger he got,” said the Chi- 17 cago Tribune’s Sam Smith, author of The , the most re- ——— 18 vealing book about Jordan’s reign with the Bulls. “In his Second 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 Coming [from 1995] on, he no longer did pregame interviews, no Normal Page 20 longer did one-on-ones. When David Halberstam came around to PgEnds: T X 21 do a book, he never talked to him one-on-one. Here’s Halberstam, E 22 not some beat writer or columnist, one of the most accomplished 23 writers of our era.” [254], (92) 24 In addition to copying Jordan’s shaved head and baggy shorts, 25 the Kevin Garnetts of the post-Jordan era made sure their thoughts 26 were recorded in only snippet form postgame. 27 “Larry Bird came to the arena three hours before the game to 28 shoot and you could talk to him anytime,” Smith said. “Same with 29 Magic [Johnson]. They came at a time when the nba was in trouble 30 and there was talk of teams going out of business. That group un- 31 derstood they were in it together, to promote the product and pro- 32 mote themselves. Now there’s a complete separation between the 33 players, the media, and the public, and it’s not ever going to come 34 back. The commissioner [David Stern] doesn’t want to alienate the 35 players. He’s decided it’s not a major-enough issue to push it any 36 further.” 37 If the nba lets its own advocacy of openness slide, imagine the pol- 38 icy of the mega-popular nfl. Only the hardest-working pro football

254 Afterword

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 254 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 reporters can develop the kind of one-on-one relationships that are 2 classically prized in journalism. 3 The tradeoff is regularly scheduled media access, but all done in a 4 group fashion. Those reporters who crave a nine-to-five schedule on 5 weekdays will covet the football beat. The only reason they have to 6 arrive three hours before a game is to beat the incoming crowd and 7 traffic. They also know when they’ll get out of the stadium. There’s 8 no football equivalent to the seventeen-inning game or a three-hour 9 rain delay. 10 The nfl has been steadily cutting one-on-one access since the 11 1970s. of the Newark Star-Ledger, one of four re- 12 porters in 2005 to have covered all thirty-eight Super Bowls, told 13 [255], (93) Editor and Publisher in 2005 that he could interview players in their 14 hotel rooms before the first six Super Bowls through 1972. He even 15 had lunch with a Chiefs linebacker the day before Super Bowl I. Lines: 1432 to 1448 16 “Now you don’t get near them at all, it’s like a Gestapo,” Izenberg 17 ——— said. 18 13.0pt PgVar Green Bay Packers radio voice also witnessed ——— 19 the sea change. When he began as the Kansas City Chiefs radio Normal Page 20 21 announcer, “the nfl was the best in promoting itself and its players. * PgEnds: Eject 22 But since the nfl took over the top pedestal in sports, it’s become a very difficult league to deal with. What has happened is the league 23 [255], (93) 24 has gotten so big and popular there’s a certain amount of arrogance. 25 “nfl team pr directors used to take media-outlet directors to din- 26 ner. They used to advance the games with the pr director. You’d 27 get a shot with the pr people. In the old afc West, we’d have a 28 spring meeting where the pr directors would bring in local media 29 and coaches would be there. We’d have two and a half days of vis- 30 iting and talking to people. Now you have very little contact from 31 team to team. When I call people, I’m very lucky to get a call back. 32 It’s very [network] tv oriented.” 33 Larrivee is still the tv voice of the Bulls on wgn, and once handled 34 two seasons’ worth of Cubs telecasts. The nfl is toughest to work. 35 “I find you have to break through the all the orchestration [to 36 get information and talk individually with players],” he said. Even 37 as the voice of the Packers, he did not have a close relationship with 38 legend-in-his-own-time quarterback Brett Favre.

Afterword 255

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 255 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 The increasing bunker mentality was carried to an extreme when 2 Nick Saban took over the coaching reins of the Dolphins early in 3 2005. The team made their media room at their Davie, Florida, 4 training base off-limits for everyday use in the off-season. Trying to 5 tightly control the flow of information, Saban had made his assistant 6 coaches off-limits to the media during his Louisiana State days. 7 No wonder Larrivee has fondest memories of the pregame base- 8 ball routine. 9 “Baseball was great,” he said. “I enjoyed that aspect of it. There 10 were some real good guys I got to know over the years, hanging 11 out two hours before the game. There’s a whole different pace to 12 baseball that I enjoyed. From a lifestyle standpoint, you have to be 13 married to baseball, going to all the different cities. But I think base- [256], (94) 14 ball’s got a personal charm, it’s a personal thing. It comes out in all 15 the writing and broadcasting about the game.” Lines: 1448 to 1466 16 Offering a similar opinion was Clark Spencer, who had split the 17 Marlins beat for the Miami Herald. ——— 18 “I’ve done every sport except the nba,” said Spencer. “I just like 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 baseball. Baseball has a slow ebb and flow to it that makes it a lot Normal Page 20 easier. I wouldn’t like to cover a sport like the nfl where the win- PgEnds: T X 21 dow of access is very small. You’re only covering sixteen games. In E 22 baseball, you’ve got twenty-five guys. In basketball, only twelve, but 23 there’s only five or six guys you’re paying attention to. You’re not [256], (94) 24 paying attention to the third-string point guard. At some point in 25 the season, that twenty-fifth guy on the baseball team is going to do 26 something that merits attention.” 27 Given such testimony about its contrast with other sports, why 28 would baseball want to chop down a good thing it had going? Its 29 top minds have given it serious thought, and it’s starting to move 30 into action. 31 Starting in the 1990s, some sentiment surfaced to decrease the 32 total amount of pregame access accorded to baseball media. Hal Mc- 33 Coy of the Dayton Daily News, the game’s senior beat writer, heard 34 it from a high level almost a decade ago. 35 “In 1997,asbbwaa president, Dave Dombrowski [then general 36 manager of the Florida Marlins] asked me to breakfast one day,” 37 McCoy said. “He asked if the writers would be against cutting down 38 clubhouse access to an hour [total] before the game. It would be like

256 Afterword

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 256 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 the nba. I said absolutely not. He was speaking for all the general 2 managers. The idea came out of the gm meetings. 3 “These guys didn’t understand it’s to their benefit. They said it’s 4 getting too crowded and distracting in the locker room. That’s hog- 5 wash. They don’t understand, the more access we have, the more 6 coverage they get. You know they would like to do it, but the bbwaa 7 would fight it. I don’t think overall access will be cut like that.” 8 No serious top-level effort to cut access has surfaced since then, 9 although many media members believe it’s not far from the front of 10 the honchos’ thinking. More recently, Cubs media relations direc- 11 tor Sharon Pannozzo suggested a shorter pregame session where 12 the players are assured of being available. But one of Pannozzo’s 13 counterparts said practicality would be an overriding issue. [257], (95) 14 “If we limit it to an hour, we as pr people have to make sure all 15 the players are in there for an hour,” Reds media relations director Lines: 1466 to 1482 16 Rob Butcher said. “Problem is, they’re not. Part of a pro athlete’s 17 job is to deal with the media, like it or not. You have to learn how ——— 18 to deal with it.” 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 However, total access has become an issue in a crowded old ball- Normal Page 20 park like Wrigley Field, which has inadequate facilities for both PgEnds: T X 21 players and media. With media hordes descending on a projected E 22 World Series contender, Pannozzo barred tv cameras from the 23 clubhouse before games, while mandating that reporters could not [257], (95) 24 stand around waiting for interviews close to the players’ lunchroom, 25 at one end of the cramped clubhouse. But at the other extreme, 26 all media were allowed in a tiny interview room that was too small 27 to handle the mob and got uncomfortably hot when the ancient 28 air conditioner had to be turned off when an interviewee began 29 speaking. 30 “Before you didn’t need controls,” Pannozzo said. “Things pretty 31 much ran okay. Things went pretty smoothly. Now the press box 32 isn’t designed to hold them, the clubhouse is not designed to hold 33 them. You make concessions and you do have to change. People in 34 this town are not used to change. Things were always done a certain 35 way. In the whole ballpark, you had made changes slowly.” 36 At the same time, Pannozzo’s media relations staff had not been 37 increased to handle the extra load. Interns handle what should be 38 full timers’ duties.

Afterword 257

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 257 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 “We’re still sitting here with the same-sized staff as 1982,” Pan- 2 nozzo said. “Quite frankly, we’re not equipped to win [with the 3 present staff]. L.A. has a big staff—six people. We’re staffed the 4 same number of people to get the job done based on the fact we’re 5 going to have a losing season, when you don’t have a lot of cover- 6 age. Twenty years ago, you didn’t have Fox, you didn’t have regular 7 espn. By volume alone, you’re staffed to lose.” 8 That modest-sized staff also had to handle a blizzard of messages. 9 “Before voice mail, people calling you had to get you [or leave 10 a written message],” Pannozzo said. “In 1982 when I started, our 11 phone system had no voice mail. Now you have a cell phone for Chi- 12 cago and a separate cell phone for spring training in Arizona. You 13 have your office phone back in Chicago and your phone in Arizona. [258], (96) 14 Now you also have e-mail. If you’re doing your job, you’ve got to 15 give them an e-mail response. I get a hundred e-mails per day. The Lines: 1482 to 1496 16 sheer volume has exploded due to technological advances.” 17 While some seriously think about closing the door, others believe ——— 18 in a more open policy in which players and team officials are media 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 savvy. Over the last two decades some teams have begun media- Normal Page 20 training programs in which players are taught about handling inter- PgEnds: T X 21 view situations. E 22 One of the oldest programs was practiced by the Pittsburgh Pi- 23 rates by media relations chief Jim Trdinich. [258], (96) 24 “I started in 1989 with Rick Cerrone on our staff,” he said. “We 25 would meet with the nonroster guys, the first- and second-year guys, 26 in groups of four or five in spring training. We put out an eight-page 27 pamphlet on how to deal with the media and public. We now get 28 with the minor leaguers in spring training. We get with the first- 29 year guys, tell them who covers our team, what to expect. We tell 30 starting pitchers to tip their cap when coming off the mound. If they 31 go to places to hide, I just go get the guy. We tell them it’s just five 32 minutes of your time. We try to nip it in the bud. By not saying 33 anything, you say a lot.” 34 The Cleveland Indians also are longtime practitioners of media 35 training. 36 “We do it with our top prospects in the winter,” media relations 37 director Bart Swain said. “We get them acclimated to the city and 38 the media. We work with them once a week on different techniques.

258 Afterword

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 258 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 We have actual media sessions and do mock interviews. The big 2 thing about this business is trust.” 3 The sessions helped ace pitcher C. C. Sabathia. “C. C. needed 4 to be more expansive, give longer answers, and make eye contact,” 5 Swain said. “No question it has had a positive effect.” 6 Yet another media-training-savvy organization is the White Sox. 7 “The first year we did it was 1997,” White Sox vice president 8 Scott Reifert said. “We did the Major Leaguers. The team was 9 young enough to do it. We did it in January before SoxFest [an- 10 nual fan convention]. We’d bring in media trainers in English and 11 Spanish. We’d do mock interviews and have the players interview 12 each other. Some guys learned it and enjoyed it, but some guys were 13 never comfortable with it. At least they were exposed to it.” [259], (97) 14 The White Sox media training even extended to front-office hon- 15 chos. More recently, Reifert would hang around pregame interviews Lines: 1496 to 1517 16 of manager Ozzie Guillen and general manager Kenny Williams. 17 Sometimes they get signals from Reifert, who always is in an ana- ——— 18 lyzing mode. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 “After every interview he [Williams] does, we sit down and go Normal Page 20 through it,” Reifert said. “Kenny and I have a sign [to wrap up in- PgEnds: T X 21 terviews] and I give him the sign. One of the things he said early on E 22 is that ‘I get very impassioned, we need a sign and we need a way for 23 you to give me the sign.’ ” [259], (97) 24 In 2004 an angry Williams verbally banished young pitcher Jon 25 Rauch from the White Sox organization after Rauch left the club- 26 house before the end of a game in which he was routed early. 27 “We talked about it afterward,” Reifert said. “If we say and do 28 this, this will be the result. Kenny wanted to send a message that 29 way. Was it done on purpose? You betcha. Jon Rauch isn’t pitching 30 here anymore.” 31 Williams is emotional, but Guillen is often off-the-wall. 32 “He’s crazy like a fox,” Reifert said. “I’m not going to say, ‘This 33 is what you’d say.’ I’d recommend a tactic like this. I never want to 34 be writing a script for a guy, because people can read through that.” 35 Media training also provided work for outside firms such as High- 36 land Park, Illinois–based Speaking Specialists. Headed by former 37 all-news-station-anchor Sue Castorino and husband, former sports- 38 caster Randy Minkoff, the firm specialized in training corporate

Afterword 259

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 259 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 executives for public speaking, before the Kansas City Royals called 2 in 1999. 3 “The Royals had us working with all their players,” Castorino 4 said. “After one session, one player came up and said, ‘This is help- 5 ing me, I’m glad I paid attention.’ His name was Johnny Damon.” 6 Speaking Specialists also has worked with the Reds, Marlins, 7 Braves, and Brewers. In the sessions, props like microphones and 8 bright lights are used. 9 “We tell them you’re going to get good questions, dumb ques- 10 tions, questions out of left field,” Castorino said. “After we do 11 [mock] sports interviews, we do news-feature questions. 12 “If someone gets burned even once, they’re reluctant. We have 13 to go in and do damage control time and again. They’ll say, ‘I never [260], (98) 14 said it [in an interview].’ We ask them, ‘Did you let the reporters 15 put words in your mouth?’ We help them understand the difference Lines: 1517 to 1544 16 between the beat reporter and the columnist.” 17 Castorino and Minkoff also try to bridge the cultural gap with ——— 18 baseball’s huge pool of Spanish-speaking players. 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 “We do international sessions and work with Latin players sep- Normal Page 20 arately,” Castorino said. “We show tapes in Spanish and English. PgEnds: T X 21 Sometimes they’re reluctant.” E 22 Dealing with female reporters is part of the training in all lan- 23 guages. [260], (98) 24 “They ask, ‘Do I shake your hand, do I hold back?’ ” Castorino 25 said of the Latin players. Her response to all: “This is our job, treat 26 us respectfully.” 27 In contrast, Rob Butcher did not conduct formal media training 28 with the Reds or in his former job with the New York Yankees. 29 “I address the team in spring training and during the season, I 30 do go over that stuff,” Butcher said. “But we don’t walk through 31 situations. We just say here’s what to expect. I say they have a job 32 to do and their job is just as important as yours. 33 “Mainly, from the time a player is drafted, he deals with media. 34 Kids in high school deal with media. It’s not as big a shock as ten 35 years ago. You grow up through the [farm] system, you have more 36 and more media. It’s not as necessary as it used to be. 37 “The best thing we can do is let them know what to expect and get 38 them to cooperate with media. I’m not saying take them to dinner.

260 Afterword

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 260 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 But be professional, cooperate with them. There will come a day 2 when a writer has a chance to bury you or not bury you. If they like 3 you and you’ve treated them wonderfully, they won’t bury you.” 4 In the end, however, all the media training in the world won’t 5 close the widening gap between baseball people and those who cover 6 them unless both sides understand what’s at stake. 7 The media training must emphasize to players that they need to 8 be the game’s top salesmen in a crowded sports and media world. No 9 longer is baseball the preeminent sport that stands out over strug- 10 gling pro football and basketball leagues in the manner of the per- 11 ceived glory years of the mid-twentieth century. The megabucks 12 that players receive are hard-earned by teams through sponsorships 13 and ever-increasing ticket prices. [261], (99) 14 “Baseball can’t be so arrogant as to think they’re always going 15 to be a front-page story,” said Bob Dvorchak, former Pirates beat Lines: 1544 to 1561 16 writer for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. “They’ve got to reestablish 17 their relevance to readers and sports fans in this country. Football is ——— 18 a juggernaut and is marketed so well. It plays once a week. Baseball 0.0pt PgVar ——— 19 has got to be marketed better.” Normal Page 20 The wild-card playoff format has helped keep baseball in the news PgEnds: T X 21 throughout September. Still, the game now not only has to bat- E 22 tle overwhelming coverage of football, but even high school sports 23 mandated, particularly in the Midwest, by editors grasping for [261], (99) 24 straws in a bewilderingly competitive media world. 25 “If a city has a losing [baseball] team, it gets pushed back [in the 26 paper],” said Hal McCoy. “I’m fortunate. I may only get a little cor- 27 ner of the front page and it jumps to inside. I still get page 1.” 28 At the same time, editors and program directors have to take their 29 baseball coverage more seriously. The fans want it, but won’t flood 30 phone lines and e-mails in the same manner of high school athletes’ 31 mothers who crave to add to junior’s scrapbook. The media man- 32 agers, who often aren’t rooted in their communities as they move 33 around in search of better jobs, are more frequently dispatching in- 34 experienced, apathetic, or cynical folks to cover the game. Those 35 who grew up as baseball fans are often in the minority. Knowledge- 36 ability and passion for the game often play second fiddle to surviving 37 office politics. 38 “For quality baseball coverage, particularly in print, the fans will

Afterword 261

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 261 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle 1 get what they demand,” said sports-talk-show host Dan Bernstein 2 of wscr-am in Chicago. “The fans will gravitate toward the writers 3 they feel are giving them the best, most independent information. 4 “It’s a battle we always fight between a fan who just wants to be 5 happy—there are plenty of lobotomized fans out there—and the 6 ones who are the critical-thinking fans. Those [latter] fans here are 7 always asking why, asking for answers, for reasons, asking what those 8 players are doing to earn every dollar the fans are pouring into Tri- 9 bune Company coffers. The team has to meet them halfway. 10 “The fans will get the best coverage they can through this natu- 11 ral selection process. Those who aren’t giving it to them will fade [Last Page] 12 away.” 13 [262], (100) 14 15 Lines: 1561 to 1569 16 17 ——— 18 335.28pt PgVar ——— 19 Normal Page 20 21 PgEnds: TEX 22 23 [262], (100) 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

262 Afterword

BOOKCOMP, Inc. — University of Nebraska Press / Page 262 / Printer proof / Baseball and the Media / George Castle University of Nebraska Press

Related sports books:

SPORTS HEROES, FALLEN IDOLS By Stanley H. Teitelbaum

On the court and on the field, they are the world’s winners, exhibiting a natural grace and prowess their adoring fans can only dream about. Yet so often, when off the field, our sports heroes lose their perspective, their balance, and their place. An evenhanded and honest look at athletes who have faltered, Teitelbaum’s work helps us see past our sports stars’ exalted image into what that image—and its frailty—says about our society and ourselves.

ISBN: 0-8032-4445-2; 978-0-8032-4445-0 (cloth)

BIG LEAGUES , Football, and Basketball in National Memory By Stephen Fox

What is behind America’s enduring love affair with professional baseball, football, and basketball? Big Leagues traces the evolution of these team sports from unlikely beginnings to multibillion-dollar businesses that still arouse widespread passion. Stephen Fox also surveys the world of fandom, examines the “big money” explosion, and dares to project the future.

ISBN: 0-8032-6896-3; 978-0-8032-6896-8 (paper)

Order online at www.nebraskapress.unl.edu or call 1-800-755-1105. Mention the code “BOFOX” to receive a 20% discount.