Ass-kissing and sports writing go together like peanut butter and jelly or the Minnesota Vikings and handcuffs. In fact, undue flattery on the part of writers is second only to... you guessed it, criticism. And why not? After all, what rational human being is going to bite the hand that feeds them?
The athletes play the sports, which creates a place for sports writers'to say nothing of the fact that those writers, more often than not, are in constant amazement of the athletes they're paid to cover.
(For the sake of simplicity I will now include myself in the journalists of which I speak, though some of my points pertain to professionals who get paid, and I do not. Not that I'm opposed to getting paid. Hear that ESPN.com? I sort of .. freelance ... right now. I can leave this playground people call college in like, a second. I'm available. Just throwing it out there).
We also like self-promotion. Anyway, you can chalk me up in columns A and B. Some glad-handing here, some disparagement there. And sometimes when I defend athletes, I feel guilty, almost as if I suspect that I am praising or defending them to serve myself'whether that is to make player relations smoother for interview purposes, or to realize some sick fantasy to become friends with the athletes, have a beer on the terrace with Bo Ryan before one thing leads to another and all of a sudden, I'm a walk-on. I'm white and undersized for a Division I basketball player, so I see no reason why I couldn't make like 'The Talented Mr. Ripley' and just become Tanner Bronson. Who would know? Other than friends and family?
Thankfully for Tanner's loved ones, I don't think this is plausible (or morally permissible, whatever that means). Instead, I often give athletes the benefit of the doubt because, as I mentioned before, I really admire what they can do, and that's my choice. But their capabilities don't grant immunity from criticism.
You may be familiar with the common response to criticism, 'I'd like to see you try.' Well, I'm sure you would. And once you see me fail'for instance, to tackle Laurence Maroney or whatever else I reprimanded you for failing to do'would you be capable of a scathing-remark-laden game review with the same eloquence (or even grammar) as any decent journalist? Probably not. To any athlete who may think I write a crappy article in the future simply because I reproach them: I'd like to see you try.
It was Mark Twain who said, 'Never pick a fight with someone who buys ink by the barrel,' in reference to writers of course. Personally, I think a more prudent guideline to follow may be, 'Never pick a fight with someone whose biceps are bigger than a quarter-barrel.' But that's just me. If I wanted to be beaten beyond recognition I would marry Will Cordero.
But there are two key reasons (neither of which is my fear of a beat-down) why I am so easy on college athletes: their triumphs are usually impressive enough for me to overlook their on-field faults, and I can't even begin to imagine seeing dirt thrown on my name everyday when I'm'as my tee-ball coach would stress''trying my best.' College athletes don't ask to be picked apart and they don't deserve to be. An entire legion of fans may not depend on my performance, but I would never take kindly to being judged by someone I had never met and had no ill will toward.
Only in rare cases do I feel some combativeness is in order. One of the exceptions is Bret Bell (use your imagination). Another is Ray Nixon, who acted like he dunked on me one night at the SERF my freshman year when all I did was try to strip him at the free-throw line, then get out of his way (it warrants mentioning that I'm 6'0' and I'm not sure a world-record for chest bumps was necessary).
Unfortunately for my credibility as an objective writer, it turns out that two of my biggest qualms with UW athletes'the two representations of my ability to view athletes as humans'are invalid. Bell certainly isn't the corner he was expected to be earlier in his career, but with his injury I have no right to harp on this year's struggles. As for Nixon, according to my sources (the entire Madison community) he's apparently a nice guy'boastful in my experience, but I suppose I can't blame him.
But that's just fine. College athletes have time commitments and barriers in the way of excellence than I may never understand, so I'm better off cutting the people who entertain and amaze me some slack. Not too much, though. If I ever get run over by Brian Calhoun on his moped, I hope I would object to his recklessness'at least to some degree. That beats my impulse to say, 'No dude, it's cool, it's cool, I didn't really want to go to class anyway...Blood? No, it's a ... I had a Gatorade in my bag. I'm good ... what about you though, are you OK'?
