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.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
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.
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