Yes, I know.
The guy that pretends to be a sports journalist every few weeks is trashing the industry he’s dabbled in.
To that, I say: If not me, then who? Sports journalism rarely policies itself, and when it does, it’s often in terms of money, not content. Which, in a way, is why I’m here.
Sports culture has always trended heavily male, because that’s simply how American society, until recently, was structured. Misogynistic attitudes were heavily catered to, reflecting the times and general assumptions about the, in essence, “gladiator” culture surrounding sports in general. Recent advances in the coverage of women’s sports, particularly the WNBA, has only resulted from the advent of more marketable stars, and this increased scrutiny has only led to blanket assessments of women’s sports in the same Neolithic terms that apply to men.
Make no mistake; the overwhelming majority of sports fans in the occasionally-United States are male. And as such, sports media has continued to contort itself to fit whatever that male-dominated demographic appears to want.
There’s a few exceptions. Sports media occasionally adheres to journalism’s requiem checks and balances. Sources are cited with regularity in low-impact pieces. This is often observed in biographical pieces, where friends, family members, coaches, doctors, trainers, sparring partners, laundry personnel and assorted other character witnesses offer glowing assessments of the subject without reservation. These productions are usually seen engulfing the entire front page of a local newspaper’s sports section or on “weekly roundup” studio TV, usually on Sunday mornings.
That’s not the stuff I’m talking about, although one show provides a good starting point.
Anyone remember ESPN’s “The Sports Reporters” on Sunday mornings? Originally moderated by longtime broadcaster Dick Schaap, whose gentle good humor and relevant observations made that morning coffee go down a bit smoother, the show featured three other panelists discussing the week’s noteworthy events across the sports landscape. Everyone wore suits and ties, and appeared to have showered. Their criticisms could be pointed in nature, but they were never demeaning to the other panelists, and a general air of respect for each other and indeed, the profession, was evident. The tone of the discussions was mild, even when tackling controversial matters. And, interestingly, those guys were all print journalists who didn’t appear to be continually seeking a bigger stage. They were, for lack of a better description, professionals.
Enter today’s click-driven, solely-for-profit sports media, where the loudest voices are continually shouting over each other. Civilized discussion has been replaced by endless braying and belittling of studio cohorts for simply offering their interpretations of events, in some cases before our eyes over time. For all the accolades TNT’s now-defunct NBA studio show received, it began as a cogent, dignified analysis of the game(s) being covered, and within 15 years became an increasing grab-bag of outsized boasts, guffaws, and recollections of past on-court glories by the hosts.
No bigger offender exists, though, than ESPN, which has allowed the perpetually-open mouth of Stephen A. Smith to hold the network hostage to the tune of $25 million per year, per discussions of ongoing negotiations. Smith’s well-known shtick has been to “embrace debate”, which has translated into “say your piece, then let Smith shit all over everything you just said, loudly and often”. It should be noted that Smith has churned through two cohosts on his “First Take” platform and has only settled on current partner Shannon Sharpe because he’s often as shouty and unintelligible as Smith himself. When called out on his “methods”, Smith becomes angry and defiant, as evidenced by his reaction here.
But hey, at least he dresses normally, unlike his guests. ESPN has, in recent years, shifted to a studio model where a majority of their panelists strut around and point things out on oversized displays (in between bellowing and laughing at each other). In the course of this transition, panelists and guests inadvertently revealed their footwear, which has often subjected viewers to their favorite athlete’s torn-up ten-year old Jordans, specifically paired with their $12,000 Armani suit. Perhaps I’m just old and inflexible, but moldy sneakers and any semblance of professional attire simply don’t mix, even though most of the guests and panelists generally make some effort towards looking respectable from the waist up.
Unlike Pat McAfee.
ESPN’s latest attempts to break into the internet-driven sports media world have centered around the acquisition of The Pat McAfee Show, which has aired for several years, successfully, on YouTube. McAfee, whose uneventful NFL career lasted eight years and 575 punts, has found new life blathering about sports on the internet. He’s been able to secure regular interviews with known lightning rod Aaron Rodgers, and it should be noted that the downfall of Rodgers’ off-field reputation has stemmed mostly from the blatantly false and self-serving statements he’s regularly issued on McAfee’s platform. McAfee has yukked it up with Rodgers on every occasion, with little to no pushback on almost everything he’s emphatically and derisively stated.
Since the move to ESPN for $85 million dollars, McAfee has come under increased scrutiny for the chummy nature of his interviews and his complete lack of candor, which has led ESPN to alter its previous policy regarding obscenities uttered on air, because McAfee simply can’t control his own words or even attempt to appear professional. (One of the dumber incidents involved his referring to Indiana Fever rookie Caitlin Clark as a “white bitch” in his opening monologue, which he, in a feeble apology, claimed was actually a compliment. There are numerous other examples.)
McAfee himself is the picture of unprofessionalism, with his sweaty, hastily-spouted diatribe, trademark black tank top and hair reminiscent of Bart Simpson, not to mention the ever-present cargo shorts. This supposedly appeals to the ever-expanding set of male troglodytes in this country that subscribes to the likes of Joe Rogan and worships at the altar of Elon Musk, but to those of us that have diligently endured decades of bad sports takes in all forms, it’s a joke, and it compromises anything of value he might occasionally offer. McAfee’s body odor, which I can only imagine, must be overwhelming to set visitors, as he seems to relish in appearing as though he hasn’t seen the inside of a shower curtain in weeks. Perhaps that’s why the other participants on the show are spaced well apart for each installment.
And the takes? Unless derived directly from the subjects of his interviews, they’re generally inane or copped from other sources. The majority of the show appears to center on a more slang-driven version of what Smith’s show provides, with profanity and a marked wheeziness from McAfee’s gravelly pipes accenting it all.
The overall product cheapens the entire profession, but it does cater to the modern sports bro who views all media with disdain, because those guys shouldn’t be telling us what to think or something. Given the popularity of the McAfee show online but not on ESPN, perhaps there’s been an incremental shift back towards civility overall. Or, just maybe, McAfee is slowly proving to be an anchor for “the mothership”.
Perhaps he should try showering.
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