Major league players, be warned -- there's a new standard of proof when it comes to performance-enhancing substances.
It doesn't take elevated testosterone levels or underhanded prescriptions.
The undeniable evidence is on-field success.
Eight home runs in April? Must be HGH. Sixty RBI before the All-Star break? He's gotta be back on the juice.
This season's biggest culprit has been Raul Ibanez, who had 21 home runs and 58 RBI entering Saturday after signing a three-year, $31.5 million contract in the offseason. On Thursday night, he cracked a three-run homer in the 10th inning at Citi Field to send Philadelphia to a 6-3 win. Ibanez, turned 37 last week, had a career year of sorts in 2006, when he batted .289 with 33 homers and 123 RBI. Otherwise, he had never hit more than 24 home runs in a season.
People have been taking notice. On June 8, a blogger named Jerod Morris posted a lengthy entry on Midwest Sports Fans in which he analyzed the jump in Ibanez's numbers and found no plausible on-field cause.
He concluded: "Maybe the 37-year old Ibanez trained differently this offseason with the pressure of joining the Phillies’ great lineup and is in the best shape he’s ever been in.
"And maybe that training included ...
"Well, you know where that one was going, but I’d prefer to leave it as unstated speculation."
As expected, Ibanez angrily fired back a day later, denying any steroid use. But it didn't really matter how Ibanez responded. After all, who hasn't spoken Ibanez's name and "steroids" in the same breath this year?
Post-Mitchell Report, post A-Rod admission, that's the new reality for baseball players, fans and the media. Used to be, when players put up amazing numbers they inspired awe and wonderment. Now they just inspire accusations and speculation.
It's only natural, after you have seen so many heroes fall, to not trust anyone else who comes along wearing the same clothing.
Toxic as it may be, that's the new atmosphere in baseball.
Be warned.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
The Five Greatest Philadelphia Broadcasters
1. John Facenda — "The Voice of God" provided the narration for NFL Films for two decades. He never uttered "the frozen tundra of Lambeau Field" but did say, "A Niagara of gold and black ... poured down on Roger Staubach."
2. Harry Kalas — Known for his distinctive "Outta here!" Kalas called Phillies games from 1971 until his death earlier this week.
3. Bill Campbell — "He made it! He made it! A Dipper dunk!" In a 65-year career, Campbell has called Wilt Chamberlain's 100-point milestone in 1962 as well as Phillies, Eagles, 76ers and Big Five games.
4. Gene Hart — Play-by-play man for the Flyers for 28 years. Immortalized in his call during the waning seconds of the 1974 Stanley Cup finals: "Ladies and gentlemen, the Flyers are going to win the Stanley Cup! The Flyers win the Stanley Cup! The Flyers have won the Stanley Cup!"
5. Merrill Reese — Philadelphia native has been the radio voice of the Eagles since 1977. Known for wailing, "It's gooood!" when a critical Eagles field goal sails through the uprights.
2. Harry Kalas — Known for his distinctive "Outta here!" Kalas called Phillies games from 1971 until his death earlier this week.
3. Bill Campbell — "He made it! He made it! A Dipper dunk!" In a 65-year career, Campbell has called Wilt Chamberlain's 100-point milestone in 1962 as well as Phillies, Eagles, 76ers and Big Five games.
4. Gene Hart — Play-by-play man for the Flyers for 28 years. Immortalized in his call during the waning seconds of the 1974 Stanley Cup finals: "Ladies and gentlemen, the Flyers are going to win the Stanley Cup! The Flyers win the Stanley Cup! The Flyers have won the Stanley Cup!"
5. Merrill Reese — Philadelphia native has been the radio voice of the Eagles since 1977. Known for wailing, "It's gooood!" when a critical Eagles field goal sails through the uprights.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
The day Philly's voice faded
"Kalas rushed to hospital."
I was riding the subway to Nationals Park when the message from a fellow Phillies fan popped up on my cell phone.
Immediately, I thought the worst. It's what happens when you follow Philadelphia sports.
Minute by minute, more message arrived, bringing more news. Kalas collapsed shortly after noon in the press box and was taken to a hospital near the park.
All I could think of were the reports saying Kalas had undergone surgery in the offseason. The Phillies didn't say much about it, other than that it was a "minor" procedure and that longtime voice of the Phillies would be ready for Opening Day.
And he was. Just like every other year that I can remember. Harry had always been there.
One of my first baseball memories came on August 15, 1990, when Kalas called the final outs of Terry Mulholland's gem against San Francisco. The game was a real treat because it was on broadcast television (I think the local Fox affiliate, WTXF Channel 29, carried the game). I was only 7 at the time so I don't remember Kalas' call, but I imagine it went like this:
Mulholland one out away from the first no-hitter thrown by a Phillies pitcher this century in Philadelphia ... He looks in for the sign ... Here's the stretch, and the pitch ... Swing, and a line drive ... And, oh, what a great grab by Char-lie Hayes! Terry Mulholland has pitched a no-hit, no-run game against the San Francisco Giants!
Starting with the next baseball season, 1991, Kalas was part of my daily routine starting in April. My family didn't have cable TV, so on most nights I had to make sure I was near a radio. I listened to a lot of games sitting in my bedroom, and in the kitchen we had a small AM/FM radio with a broken antenna. A lot of nights, I would play outside and ask one of my parents to turn the radio on in their truck.
Both my mother and my father were Phillies fans, which fed my growing habit. One day, my mother came home from a business meeting of some sort and said she had something special for me. I asked what it was, and I couldn't believe what she said next:
Harry Kalas' autograph.
She handed me a business card with a distinctive signature. I was awestruck. My mother had met Harry Kalas.
"You really met Harry Kalas?" I asked.
She had been at a hotel in Cherry Hill (the Sheraton?) when she saw someone whom she thought she recognized. So she simply walked up and asked. Sure enough, it was him. I can only imagine the down-to-earth Midwesterner's modesty. And, of course, Kalas offered his signature, even if it was on something as simple as a business card.
I was a baseball card nut back then, so I put the card in a hard plastic baseball card holder for safe keeping. I might have looked at that card thousands of times - and that was just in the next year.
Less than a half-hour after learning Kalas was in the hospital, I received another message.
Harry Kalas' voice, the booming baritone that lent itself to the soundtrack of my childhood, was gone forever.
It was strange how a cocktail-drinking, cigarette-puffing man from Illinois, who spent the seminal years of his career in Texas, became such a fixture in gritty, greasy Philadelphia. He came to the city at just the right time, when the only ways to keep up with the Phillies were to follow the broadcasts, read the paper and wait for the sports segment on local TV news. Things moved a lot more slowly back then. For a lot of fans, the equivalent of Twitter was the voices of Kalas and Richie "Whitey" Ashburn, performing their daily pas de deux. They were a perfect pairing in the broadcast booth, Harry and Whitey, and when Ashburn died in 1997, a piece of Kalas went with him.
Now Kalas is gone too.
In a couple of days I'll make the trek from Maryland back to South Jersey for a few days. As I always do, I'm sure I'll click on the radio or the TV to see how the Phils are doing. And I'll hear a solid crack of the bat, and I'll hear those eternal words ... "Swing, and a looong drive ... "
But the words will be only in my mind. For the first time, Harry won't be there to finish the call.
I was riding the subway to Nationals Park when the message from a fellow Phillies fan popped up on my cell phone.
Immediately, I thought the worst. It's what happens when you follow Philadelphia sports.
Minute by minute, more message arrived, bringing more news. Kalas collapsed shortly after noon in the press box and was taken to a hospital near the park.
All I could think of were the reports saying Kalas had undergone surgery in the offseason. The Phillies didn't say much about it, other than that it was a "minor" procedure and that longtime voice of the Phillies would be ready for Opening Day.
And he was. Just like every other year that I can remember. Harry had always been there.
One of my first baseball memories came on August 15, 1990, when Kalas called the final outs of Terry Mulholland's gem against San Francisco. The game was a real treat because it was on broadcast television (I think the local Fox affiliate, WTXF Channel 29, carried the game). I was only 7 at the time so I don't remember Kalas' call, but I imagine it went like this:
Mulholland one out away from the first no-hitter thrown by a Phillies pitcher this century in Philadelphia ... He looks in for the sign ... Here's the stretch, and the pitch ... Swing, and a line drive ... And, oh, what a great grab by Char-lie Hayes! Terry Mulholland has pitched a no-hit, no-run game against the San Francisco Giants!
Starting with the next baseball season, 1991, Kalas was part of my daily routine starting in April. My family didn't have cable TV, so on most nights I had to make sure I was near a radio. I listened to a lot of games sitting in my bedroom, and in the kitchen we had a small AM/FM radio with a broken antenna. A lot of nights, I would play outside and ask one of my parents to turn the radio on in their truck.
Both my mother and my father were Phillies fans, which fed my growing habit. One day, my mother came home from a business meeting of some sort and said she had something special for me. I asked what it was, and I couldn't believe what she said next:
Harry Kalas' autograph.
She handed me a business card with a distinctive signature. I was awestruck. My mother had met Harry Kalas.
"You really met Harry Kalas?" I asked.
She had been at a hotel in Cherry Hill (the Sheraton?) when she saw someone whom she thought she recognized. So she simply walked up and asked. Sure enough, it was him. I can only imagine the down-to-earth Midwesterner's modesty. And, of course, Kalas offered his signature, even if it was on something as simple as a business card.
I was a baseball card nut back then, so I put the card in a hard plastic baseball card holder for safe keeping. I might have looked at that card thousands of times - and that was just in the next year.
Less than a half-hour after learning Kalas was in the hospital, I received another message.
Harry Kalas' voice, the booming baritone that lent itself to the soundtrack of my childhood, was gone forever.
It was strange how a cocktail-drinking, cigarette-puffing man from Illinois, who spent the seminal years of his career in Texas, became such a fixture in gritty, greasy Philadelphia. He came to the city at just the right time, when the only ways to keep up with the Phillies were to follow the broadcasts, read the paper and wait for the sports segment on local TV news. Things moved a lot more slowly back then. For a lot of fans, the equivalent of Twitter was the voices of Kalas and Richie "Whitey" Ashburn, performing their daily pas de deux. They were a perfect pairing in the broadcast booth, Harry and Whitey, and when Ashburn died in 1997, a piece of Kalas went with him.
Now Kalas is gone too.
In a couple of days I'll make the trek from Maryland back to South Jersey for a few days. As I always do, I'm sure I'll click on the radio or the TV to see how the Phils are doing. And I'll hear a solid crack of the bat, and I'll hear those eternal words ... "Swing, and a looong drive ... "
But the words will be only in my mind. For the first time, Harry won't be there to finish the call.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Have another doughnut!
TOP FIVE CONFRONTATIONS INVOLVING NHL OFFICIALS
Don Koharski retired Thursday after 1,719 games as an NHL referee. Of course, his most famous moment occurred off the ice.
1. New Jersey Devils coach Jim Schoenfeld confronts Koharski after the Devils lose 6-1 to the Boston Bruins in Game 3 of the 1988 Eastern Conference finals. Cameras catch the action as Schoenfeld calls Koharski a "fat pig" and repeatedly shouts, "Have another doughnut!"
2. Boston defenseman Billy Coutu slugs referee Jerry Laflamme in a rink corridor after Ottawa dumps the Bruins to win the Stanley Cup in 1927. Coutu was banned for life -- the harshest punishment in league history.
3. In November 1983, Chicago Black Hawks center Tom Lysiak intentionally trips linesman Ron Foyt after Foyt kicks Lysiak out of the faceoff circle. Lysiak receives a 20-game suspension.
4. Philadelphia Flyers right wing Paul Holmgren punches referee Andy Van Hellemond in the chest during a December 1981 game. Holmgren sits out five games.
5. In the 1982 playoffs, all-time goon Terry O'Reilly of Boston strikes Van Hellemond (he wasn't a popular guy). The league levies a 10-game ban on O'Reilly.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Villanova's perfect night
Even after 24 years, the numbers in the boxscore don't seem possible. Surely the scorekeeper made a mistake. Twenty-eight shots attempted from the field by the underdogs, 22 made. Zero free throws for Patrick Ewing.
No. 8 Villanova 66, No. 1 Georgetown 64.
The numbers are indelible, and they add up to the most flawless game in NCAA tournament history.
Villanova has finally made it back to the Final Four, but rest assured the Wildcats won't play as pristinely as their '85 predecessors did. That team shot 78.6 percent from the field, including 9-for-10 in the second half (the miss was actually a blocked pass, so they were perfect).
Buoyed by the crowd at Kentucky's Rupp Arena, the Wildcats used a "four corners" stall to milk the clock before taking a 29-28 lead on a Harold Pressley bucket just before halftime. Punch for punch, the Wildcats matched their bigger foes until a 6-0 run put the Hoyas in front by a point with time running low.
A turnover handed the ball back to Georgetown, which went into the four corners. But Bill Martin fired a low pass that Horace Broadnax couldn't corral, the ball went back to the Wildcats, and Harold Jensen drilled a wide-open jump shot.
Of course he would. In truth, only 10 shots heaved by a Wildcats player didn't fall through the rim. The Hoyas missed 26.
The sum is the greatest upset in college hoops history.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
The NCAA's brand identity
Fire up a video of Christian Laettner's shot against Kentucky in the 1992 NCAA tournament, and you'll see the colorful old court of Philadelphia's Spectrum.
If that game were played today, it would be on a dull-hued floor stamped with generic "NCAA." This year, the association had its own courts installed at each of the four Sweet 16 arenas and will do so for the Final Four. When the games are over, the surfaces are packed up and hauled away. Next year, all rounds will have them.
It's part of a branding mandate by the NCAA (headed, appropriately, by Myles Brand) geared toward sterilizing tournament venues of nonsanctioned logos — and as a result, their character.
Any fans hoping to catch a glimpse of the Boston Celtics' 17 championship banners and the parquet during Thursday's and Saturday's games at TD Banknorth Garden were out of luck.
Of course, it also means someone had to go to each of the 63,000-plus seats at Lucas Oil Stadium and tape over the Indianapolis Colts logos on the cupholders.
At the core of it all is the great dichotomy of the NCAA: embracing amateurism and an "educational mission" (and tax-exempt status) on one hand while burnishing its billion-dollar brand with the other.
If that game were played today, it would be on a dull-hued floor stamped with generic "NCAA." This year, the association had its own courts installed at each of the four Sweet 16 arenas and will do so for the Final Four. When the games are over, the surfaces are packed up and hauled away. Next year, all rounds will have them.
It's part of a branding mandate by the NCAA (headed, appropriately, by Myles Brand) geared toward sterilizing tournament venues of nonsanctioned logos — and as a result, their character.
Any fans hoping to catch a glimpse of the Boston Celtics' 17 championship banners and the parquet during Thursday's and Saturday's games at TD Banknorth Garden were out of luck.
Of course, it also means someone had to go to each of the 63,000-plus seats at Lucas Oil Stadium and tape over the Indianapolis Colts logos on the cupholders.
At the core of it all is the great dichotomy of the NCAA: embracing amateurism and an "educational mission" (and tax-exempt status) on one hand while burnishing its billion-dollar brand with the other.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Paperless in Seattle
Today marks the last print issue of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, Seattle's first newspaper and an enterprise that was was launched on Dec. 10, 1863.
The print edition survived for a little over 145 years before finally being felled by the economy and the Internet.
The P-I, as it's called, plans to continue as a Web-only news outlet (don't believe it? Check Wikipedia -- its page has already been updated to reflect the online-only label). Granted, the new incarnation of the P-I will be just a shell of its former self -- about 20 journalists and Web producers compared with 170 or so as of today. The online P-I may prove to be a failure or it may find a niche, but one thing is for certain: in journalism, 20 people can never do what 170 can.
As another print product dies following the demise of the Rocky Mountain News and the Baltimore Examiner last month, there is a question ever looming before the industry that is being asked a lot these days but never answered: What is the business model that is going to sustain the future of journalism in the United States, and beyond that, the rest of the world?
The model of advertisers (90 percent of revenue) supplemented modestly by subscriptions is broken, never to be repaired. Each day, each week, more ad dollars (those that are still out there in this economy) are migrating to the Web. They will stay there forever.
The problem, of course, is that for various reasons ad revenues on the Web are generally much less than in print. And the classified ad monopoly has been obliterated by Craiglist and a host of other free Web sites.
So now it is up to newspapers, which generate a vast majority of the news content published each day in all media outlets combined, to find a new business model -- one that effectively employs the Web. If they don't do it soon, many major metro papers will close, leaving large cities in this country without a newspaper. ("So what?" you ask. Well, the reason is simple: No one will be left to do the reporting. A few intrepid bloggers here and there can't compare with what a daily newspaper, even in the year 2009, can do.)
Whether it's micropayments, subscriptions, an NPR-like voluntary payment system or combination of any of them, all of them or none of them, something has to change -- and quickly. In order to survive on the Web, which is undoubtedly the center of journalism's future, newspapers have to find a business model that enables them to profit from both the print AND the Web products. Each newspaper that can't find such a model will die, both in print and on the Web (pretty twisted plot line, isn't it?).
Despite the Internet, there is and will be a strong market for print newspapers for the indefinite future (consider: The combined daily circulation of the three biggest and best papers in the country -- the Wall Street Journal, New York Times and Washington Post -- is still about 3.7 million). Print is still the most portable and convenient format, and even if the Kindle 2 proves to be a landmark device, millions and millions of people can't afford one now (cost: $359) and never will be able to. Some may not cotton to the notion of reading on an electronic screen. Many people will never be able to afford high-speed Internet access. But there will always be millions who can afford a printed newspaper.
The print edition survived for a little over 145 years before finally being felled by the economy and the Internet.
The P-I, as it's called, plans to continue as a Web-only news outlet (don't believe it? Check Wikipedia -- its page has already been updated to reflect the online-only label). Granted, the new incarnation of the P-I will be just a shell of its former self -- about 20 journalists and Web producers compared with 170 or so as of today. The online P-I may prove to be a failure or it may find a niche, but one thing is for certain: in journalism, 20 people can never do what 170 can.
As another print product dies following the demise of the Rocky Mountain News and the Baltimore Examiner last month, there is a question ever looming before the industry that is being asked a lot these days but never answered: What is the business model that is going to sustain the future of journalism in the United States, and beyond that, the rest of the world?
The model of advertisers (90 percent of revenue) supplemented modestly by subscriptions is broken, never to be repaired. Each day, each week, more ad dollars (those that are still out there in this economy) are migrating to the Web. They will stay there forever.
The problem, of course, is that for various reasons ad revenues on the Web are generally much less than in print. And the classified ad monopoly has been obliterated by Craiglist and a host of other free Web sites.
So now it is up to newspapers, which generate a vast majority of the news content published each day in all media outlets combined, to find a new business model -- one that effectively employs the Web. If they don't do it soon, many major metro papers will close, leaving large cities in this country without a newspaper. ("So what?" you ask. Well, the reason is simple: No one will be left to do the reporting. A few intrepid bloggers here and there can't compare with what a daily newspaper, even in the year 2009, can do.)
Whether it's micropayments, subscriptions, an NPR-like voluntary payment system or combination of any of them, all of them or none of them, something has to change -- and quickly. In order to survive on the Web, which is undoubtedly the center of journalism's future, newspapers have to find a business model that enables them to profit from both the print AND the Web products. Each newspaper that can't find such a model will die, both in print and on the Web (pretty twisted plot line, isn't it?).
Despite the Internet, there is and will be a strong market for print newspapers for the indefinite future (consider: The combined daily circulation of the three biggest and best papers in the country -- the Wall Street Journal, New York Times and Washington Post -- is still about 3.7 million). Print is still the most portable and convenient format, and even if the Kindle 2 proves to be a landmark device, millions and millions of people can't afford one now (cost: $359) and never will be able to. Some may not cotton to the notion of reading on an electronic screen. Many people will never be able to afford high-speed Internet access. But there will always be millions who can afford a printed newspaper.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Rooting against newspapers?
I love newspapers.
There, I said it. These days it seems more and more objectionable to admit an affinity for the companies whose mission has long been to take pressed wood pulp and stamp words and pictures onto them that are both informative and worth a couple of quarters.
People are actually rooting for newspapers to die. This was cemented by a clip shown on "The Daily Show" yesterday in which some speaker uttered the sentence "Newspapers are dying," and the crowd roared. Yes, the fine folks at CPAC seem to be rooting against a lot of things, but the point is clear: There are a lot of people out there who are not just indifferent about newspapers, they wholeheartedly hope they all go out of business, whether it be for a liberal bias, poor reporting, a negativity bias, etc.
A mistrust of media has existed for decades, but it seems to have gotten worse -- especially against newspapers -- since the economic crisis delivered an uppercut to follow the Internet's body blows to newspaper companies. (U.S. Rep. Jared Polis recently thanked himself and bloggers for helping kill a newspaper).
As I crank up my laptop each day and am met by endless stories of cuts at newspapers across the country, I sometimes look back and wonder how newspapers let this happen and what's next.
...
I remember, as a child, unfolding the Philadelphia Inquirer on the floor and plopping down to read the sports section from front to back (it must have been 16 to 18 pages on Sundays -- a number that seems absurd to me now). It was a daily lesson in how to write with simple grace (Bill Lyon) and with with and sarcasm (Jayson Stark).
With no Web around, those pages were the only way for me to keep up with my favorite teams. The fact that my family didn't have cable made newspapers even more essential. When I was about 5 or 6, there was even a time when I was so fascinated with box scores, I carefully clipped them out and collected them.
Those early days are a big reason why I became a journalist. And given the state of newspapers some 15 years later, they seem to have been in another lifetime.
...
So, the questions I'm left with are: Do enough people out there actually care about whether newspapers -- and the tenets of journalism they practice -- survive? Is the idea that "information ought to be free" and "everyone should be able to publish" (via Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, et al) so pervasive that it quashes the idea that some content is worth paying for?
In other words, if we wake up tomorrow and every newspaper with a Web site has converted to some sort of pay model (subscription, micropayments or whatever) would that be rejected and would print circulation continue to plummet?
Obviously, millions of people in this country still read newspapers. But the heart of newspapers' profits is in the printed product, circulation in general has been falling about 2 percent a year. The Rocky Mountain News (circulation 210,000) closed last week. The Seattle Post-Intelligencer (circ. 198,000) is about to die. The San Francisco Chronicle's days may be numbered. Tribune Co. is in bankruptcy. Many companies, including Gannett, have instituted mandatory furloughs. Meanwhile, in the area of biggest growth in readership -- online -- 99.9 percent of newspapers give away their product. It seems the only way for newspapers to save themselves is to find a way to monetize the Web.
But if the notion about Web content being free wins out, and scores of newspapers fold ... will anyone care that the mayor is embezzling millions from the sewer fund and no one's doing the legwork to uncover it? Will anyone care that local school board meetings aren't being reported on? Almost without exception, newspapers are the only media that do these kinds of stories. Is the general antipathy directed at newspapers a sign that much of the public doesn't care about these things anymore and would rather be logging on to Facebook, reading blogs and watching "American Idol"?
If the answer is yes, I fear the future.
There, I said it. These days it seems more and more objectionable to admit an affinity for the companies whose mission has long been to take pressed wood pulp and stamp words and pictures onto them that are both informative and worth a couple of quarters.
People are actually rooting for newspapers to die. This was cemented by a clip shown on "The Daily Show" yesterday in which some speaker uttered the sentence "Newspapers are dying," and the crowd roared. Yes, the fine folks at CPAC seem to be rooting against a lot of things, but the point is clear: There are a lot of people out there who are not just indifferent about newspapers, they wholeheartedly hope they all go out of business, whether it be for a liberal bias, poor reporting, a negativity bias, etc.
A mistrust of media has existed for decades, but it seems to have gotten worse -- especially against newspapers -- since the economic crisis delivered an uppercut to follow the Internet's body blows to newspaper companies. (U.S. Rep. Jared Polis recently thanked himself and bloggers for helping kill a newspaper).
As I crank up my laptop each day and am met by endless stories of cuts at newspapers across the country, I sometimes look back and wonder how newspapers let this happen and what's next.
...
I remember, as a child, unfolding the Philadelphia Inquirer on the floor and plopping down to read the sports section from front to back (it must have been 16 to 18 pages on Sundays -- a number that seems absurd to me now). It was a daily lesson in how to write with simple grace (Bill Lyon) and with with and sarcasm (Jayson Stark).
With no Web around, those pages were the only way for me to keep up with my favorite teams. The fact that my family didn't have cable made newspapers even more essential. When I was about 5 or 6, there was even a time when I was so fascinated with box scores, I carefully clipped them out and collected them.
Those early days are a big reason why I became a journalist. And given the state of newspapers some 15 years later, they seem to have been in another lifetime.
...
So, the questions I'm left with are: Do enough people out there actually care about whether newspapers -- and the tenets of journalism they practice -- survive? Is the idea that "information ought to be free" and "everyone should be able to publish" (via Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, et al) so pervasive that it quashes the idea that some content is worth paying for?
In other words, if we wake up tomorrow and every newspaper with a Web site has converted to some sort of pay model (subscription, micropayments or whatever) would that be rejected and would print circulation continue to plummet?
Obviously, millions of people in this country still read newspapers. But the heart of newspapers' profits is in the printed product, circulation in general has been falling about 2 percent a year. The Rocky Mountain News (circulation 210,000) closed last week. The Seattle Post-Intelligencer (circ. 198,000) is about to die. The San Francisco Chronicle's days may be numbered. Tribune Co. is in bankruptcy. Many companies, including Gannett, have instituted mandatory furloughs. Meanwhile, in the area of biggest growth in readership -- online -- 99.9 percent of newspapers give away their product. It seems the only way for newspapers to save themselves is to find a way to monetize the Web.
But if the notion about Web content being free wins out, and scores of newspapers fold ... will anyone care that the mayor is embezzling millions from the sewer fund and no one's doing the legwork to uncover it? Will anyone care that local school board meetings aren't being reported on? Almost without exception, newspapers are the only media that do these kinds of stories. Is the general antipathy directed at newspapers a sign that much of the public doesn't care about these things anymore and would rather be logging on to Facebook, reading blogs and watching "American Idol"?
If the answer is yes, I fear the future.
Friday, February 6, 2009
National signing day
Dre Kirkpatrick picked up the Texas hat and said, "This hat ain't got no swagger."
The top-ranked quarterback in the country then reached under the table where he was sitting Wednesday afternoon in a packed high school gym in Gadsden, Ala., and pulled out a black duffel bag. He plopped the bag atop the Longhorns hat and unzipped it, revealing a red gift box inside. With flashbulbs popping, Kirkpatrick removed the lid from the box and produced a small black bag. After a few moments of fumbling, Kirkpatrick fished out a black hat.
It bore a signature "A" logo. Kirkpatrick would be going to Alabama to play football.
What a perfect charade for national signing day.
On the surface, the day is a symbol of the best blue-chip prospects announcing where they will spend their college years. Except that essentially it's just another media fabrication, a manifestation of a culture obsessed with superlatives and celebrities. Many top prospects had made up their mind weeks ago, while a few (remember Terrelle Pryor last year?) won't decide for a while. Some top programs have wrapped up their recruiting of seniors and moved on to making phone calls to juniors.
But don't tell that to the media. The NFL Network, Comcast SportsNet and CBS College Sports all had coverage, but nobody outdid ESPN. ESPNews, ESPN360 and "SportsCenter" all gave continuous updates, while "ESPN First Take" even got in on the action. The centerpiece was ESPNU's Super Bowl-like nine hours of coverage (10 a.m. to 7 p.m.), an increase from seven hours last year. Among a host of analysts and coaches droning on about "playmakers" and "big winners" — with heavy doses of "may be," "could be" and "possibly" — the network found time to squeeze in live coverage of 10 players' signings. Kirkpatrick, the ninth, got his face time just after 3 p.m.
After more rounds of pseudoanalysis, the network cut to Marlon Brown, anointed the No. 5 wide receiver in the country, sitting in a gym in Memphis, Tenn. Next to Brown were four people wearing hats representing four of Brown's choices. Upon prodding from the ESPNU anchor, Brown reached to his right and plucked the Georgia hat to signify his decision. He said he had made up his mind sometime Monday (he couldn't remember).
It was 3:45 p.m. For the final three-plus hours, there was little else to do but continue the charade.
The top-ranked quarterback in the country then reached under the table where he was sitting Wednesday afternoon in a packed high school gym in Gadsden, Ala., and pulled out a black duffel bag. He plopped the bag atop the Longhorns hat and unzipped it, revealing a red gift box inside. With flashbulbs popping, Kirkpatrick removed the lid from the box and produced a small black bag. After a few moments of fumbling, Kirkpatrick fished out a black hat.
It bore a signature "A" logo. Kirkpatrick would be going to Alabama to play football.
What a perfect charade for national signing day.
On the surface, the day is a symbol of the best blue-chip prospects announcing where they will spend their college years. Except that essentially it's just another media fabrication, a manifestation of a culture obsessed with superlatives and celebrities. Many top prospects had made up their mind weeks ago, while a few (remember Terrelle Pryor last year?) won't decide for a while. Some top programs have wrapped up their recruiting of seniors and moved on to making phone calls to juniors.
But don't tell that to the media. The NFL Network, Comcast SportsNet and CBS College Sports all had coverage, but nobody outdid ESPN. ESPNews, ESPN360 and "SportsCenter" all gave continuous updates, while "ESPN First Take" even got in on the action. The centerpiece was ESPNU's Super Bowl-like nine hours of coverage (10 a.m. to 7 p.m.), an increase from seven hours last year. Among a host of analysts and coaches droning on about "playmakers" and "big winners" — with heavy doses of "may be," "could be" and "possibly" — the network found time to squeeze in live coverage of 10 players' signings. Kirkpatrick, the ninth, got his face time just after 3 p.m.
After more rounds of pseudoanalysis, the network cut to Marlon Brown, anointed the No. 5 wide receiver in the country, sitting in a gym in Memphis, Tenn. Next to Brown were four people wearing hats representing four of Brown's choices. Upon prodding from the ESPNU anchor, Brown reached to his right and plucked the Georgia hat to signify his decision. He said he had made up his mind sometime Monday (he couldn't remember).
It was 3:45 p.m. For the final three-plus hours, there was little else to do but continue the charade.
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