I was up pretty late last night. Even before I became middle aged, anything past 10 PM was a stretch, now it's a 10k run.
I wasted yet more time tearing into a blogger who has a penchant for gross inaccuracies and the inability to face the music over them. Then of course, another chucklehead chimes in and throws a few tears my way, as well.
Guess This USC Alum and Win a Prize!!!
It made me wonder about two things:
1. Why are people so unwilling to admit that they've erred and can improve?
Have you seen these bloggers ????
2. Why is it that the overall quality of content on this site has declined so remarkably since the NGSII contest?
Another BOTD?
I already know the answer to #1, but keep trying to change it anyway. Many people want the spoils but not the sweat. Along with that, the human ego is more fragile in some than others, and the admission of an error is simply too frightening to face.
But he was a scab, I swear . . .
Those are human psychology issues, issues you can't solve on a website. So why do I try?
I try because the written word matters to me. I try because, in my two trips to the Ivory Tower, I've had the benefit of studying under the tutelage of some phenomenal writers. Educators who were so serious about the written word, that laziness, recklessness and worst of all, inaccuracy, didn't earn a B- and a shove onto the next course. Those habits earned you a paper with holes in it and a re-take next semester.
How does this relate to sports, you ask? Because good sports writers should be good writers, but for some reason that's not the criteria here, not anymore anyway.
Which brings me to question 2, because it wasn't always this way. Not too long ago, but too long ago, a group of eager contestants competed to be the next great sportswriter (2.0) for this site. I competed, did well and was booted from the competition either for an application technicality or blasting Fox writer Dayn Perry, depending on how honestly one chooses to the debacle. Nonetheless, the competition was about being a "sports writer". But that compeitiion is long past us now, and most of those contestants appear rarely, if at all on this site. They've been replaced by a community comprised largely of simpering sycophants and reckless ranters, with the occasional identity thief thrown in for a little extra ####e.
You're wrong! I am not, you @&%#!
It's gut-wrenching to watch, and impossible to change, yet I try.
But as dawn approached, as is often the case, a thought dawned on me. Maybe I'm asking more than is required. There's a reason blogging and writing have different names. So I looked up "blogging", and in the definition found no relationship to quality.
The Bloggo 2K7
Yet still my stomach churns when people put phrases to paper that are so glaringly inaccurate, poorly constructed and reckless in their execution. Worse yet, it sickens me when they dig their heels in refuse to fix the mess.
But the reality is, that sloppy work ethic isn't going to change. Because only when the student is ready, does the teacher appear. The bloggers want the spoils without the sweat. They're so emotionally fragile that admitting an error would crumble them like croutons.
Toto, were not at USC anymore . . .
It isn't going to change because the "bloggers" far outnumber the writers now. The folks who were willing to be judged and accept the possibility of being judged harshly have, for the most part, departed. The majority of the writers who were reaching for a prize and willing to do the work to win the prize have gone searcing for another prize.
What we're left with is either the controversy that results when one "checks" another writer/blogger or lowered expectations. There doesn't seem to be a middle ground.
I refuse to lower my personal expectations, but that doesn't mean I'll continue to expect more of those who do not expect more from themselves. Opening up a can of worms over glaring inaccuracies only gets you the peabrained challenge to prove how 33 + 7 =40, the request to cite works that have become public domain and the eventual resort to personal attacks. Which of course is followed by criticism for responding in kind. (It's like the NBA, they always call the 2nd foul.)
So I'll hold tight to my convictions, and let the truth do the rest. Maybe I'll find an outlet for folks who take the use nouns and verbs more seriously than they take themselves. Who knows? I've seen stranger things.
"If MC's can't get with the sound that's goin' round then they need to sit down"
Craig Mack
So Kenrick Thomas challenges us all to be better bloggers and the bugs come out of the woodwork all chirping; "who do you think you are kid?"
I expected some, I could have won a ton of money betting on the complainers. But then "TheDan" hopped on the party-line train. I was very surprised. So I had to step in, tell them they were finished, tell them that the streets belong to the Batman.
Okay, maybe that's overkill, but I do have to ask a question. Why the agita?
A teenager, who is also a reader, made some remarks about the relative quality of the pieces on the site. He had a point. Any pool of talent is going to have its collective peaks and valleys. Any objective observer would peruse this site and come to two conclusions.
1. BOTD is never about quality. It's about rotating a few "pet" bloggers.
You can't tell me that "to-do lists", answering machine messages, poems, attacks and apologies are the best we have to offer.
2. Every now and then Fox plugs in the occasional sensationalist rhetoric post as "most interesting" to make it look like they actually read the blogs.
I know, I love sensationalist rhetoric like fat kids love cake. But if Fox actually read the blogs, there's no way on God's green Earth that Ed Hardiman doesn't get BOTD with his "All Star Apology". There's also no way Josh Q., ever hits the top 3 with his "stream of un-consciousness" silliness.
So let's just get this straight. Fox has a hand in lowering the bar for what was supposed to be a sports blog. If you praise people for writing junk, many will write junk, and those who don't will eventually get tired of using the forum. The kid missed that, but he's a kid. Kids miss things, so do adults, but we get fewer free passes.
The bloggers? Well I stop short of saying I don't blame them, because I blame them. But when something earns you accolades, it can be hard to resist one's ego. Not an excuse, just an explanation.
But it leads me to a question.
Why are you folks so worked up anyway? Being a real writer comes with both the rewards and the rants. You're going to receive criticism. Mitch Albom, who began earning fame writing sports for the Detroit Free Press, was long considered the "weak-link" on ESPN's Sports Reporters. Now he sells a bazillion copies writing about human interests. "Tuesday's with Morrie", The Five People . . . .", For One More Day", etc.. While his first two books reduced me to a sobbing mess, the third is doubtlessly another version of the formula he used for the first two. Nonetheless, I will read it and cry for 45 minutes afterward. So is Mitch great, or is he manipulative? Is he fabulous or formulaic? The answer is yes. And he'll be getting both praise and criticism for as long as he puts himself, willingly, into the public eye.
More importantly, he'll be getting money. Which is why people write books that are also for sale.
So what insulates you folks from criticism, anyway? Did you sign a deal with the Devil? Last I checked, as long as people gave folks the chance to tell them "you're great" there was another line waiting to tell them "you suck". (See; Spears, Britney).
But you guys are immune to that? Someone gave you a shot, right?
You know what Jimmy from South Park says; "It's like, come on."
So a kid told you to get yourselves some "act-right". Big deal, odds are high that there was much truth to his critique. So he's 17. What was that line "and a child shall lead them . . "
Just who exactly is so good here, that they couldn't possibly raise their game? In 1992, John Grisham sold 12% of all the books in the US. 12 frickin' percent!!!!!! Multi-mega-billion dollar corporations would move mountains to capture that % of a market. Yet Grisham spits out a few hundered pages of formulaic, warmed-over literary pablum and sets a record that will likely never be touched. Still he was assailed as a guy who "writes nice stories at an 8th grade level" in every literary circle.
Face facts folks. If you put yourself out there, 10% of people will like you, no matter what, 15% will hate you, no matter what, and 75% you're gonna have to win over.
I can't help but be reminded of Miles Davis later in his career, offering tutelage (as much as Miles could be accused of tutoring) to a student on the vicissitudes on Jazz. Miles turned to the sprout and said;
"Now listen to this" Miles said, drew the trumpet as if to blow, and then sat silently for a few minutes. The student grew impatient with the silence and finally burst out "But you're not playing anything!" Miles responded, in his typical gravelly, near whisper, "Yeah, that's Jazz kid, it's all about the notes you don't play".
I've long been a huge fan of music, and a lover of what I call the "new classical music", Jazz. The fact is, you can't swing a dead cat in a Jazz discussion and not hit someone talking about Miles. That's his legacy. Undeniable greatness.
In that way Miles is like Michael Jordan. Even those that hated Jordan, can not deny him. But Davis in knowledgeable circles, is said to have had two careers. The Miles that played a lot of notes and the Miles that played fewer notes. We see this often in Jazz artists, they realize that their musical impact is actually increased with interstitial silence, the notes they don't play.
For Michael, the shots he didn't take helped him become an undeniable great. Because the shots you don't take leave the defense guessing. It's that fraction of a second's defensive uncertainty, that creates opportunity.
Are you listening Kobe? If you ever want to be "the" guy, there has to be at least the slightest chance that you'll give up the rock, not matter what, no matter when. It's that moment of uncertainty that will force the D to guard other people, or (I know it frightens you) let them them make a shot. You don't have games where you decide to be the assist man, because the media cracked on you for lofting 45 shots the night before, and you don't have entire stretches where you run the court and square up as though it's one-on-five.
That's why KG doesn't want to play with you Kobe. That's why nobody's screaming "trade me to the Lakers". For you, it's still about the shots you don't, don't take.
A few years from now, Barry Bonds will be a baseball memory, and will begin making the headlines for another reason. Barry will be breaking down in the public eye, displaying the frailty and weakness he's sold his soul to fend off. He'll be in a wheelchair, awaiting a knee or hip transplant. Or he'll be in a hospital bed, awaiting a tumor removal. Maybe he'll remind us of Lyle Alzado, dying from cancer, traveling the country lecturing on the evils of steroids.
Nah, Barry will never have the courage to admit he was a cheat. But his body will do that for him. Because you can't deny father time. Aging is like an annuity, You either get your obsolence gradually, or sell out for one lump sum.
That's why I've laid off arguing over Baroids. Soon enough, the truth of this farce will be seen in the light of day. Short of disappearing like Greta Garbo, Bonds choice will be "clear" to all of us. And his suffering will be punishment enough. So leave him be. That's the best punishment for Bonds anyway. It was always about "negative press is better than no press at all" for him.
For Barry, it's always been about the shots he didn't, didn't take.
Unfortunatley for Bonds, he never had Shaquille O'Neal on his team. So he doesn't even have the jewelry Kobe has.
It's too late for Bonds, he's gonna die ugly, likely with no compassion from the folks he chose to disrespect and defraud. But it may not be too late for Kobe; at least to become a better round-baller, that is. He may still have a chance to prove that he's a championship caliber player, without Shaq to distract the D.
Funny, isn't it?, Art (in this case the art of Jazz) really does imitate life, or is it life that imitates art? The shots you don't take can make you, and the shots you do take just might kill you.
It's like Batman (Christian Bale) said: "I won't kill you, but I don't have to save you".
It's like the Joker (Jack Nicholson) said: "this town needs an enema".
Or like "the" (Micheal Keaton) Batman said: "I'm Batman".
Somebody needs to be Batman. So I'm gonna channel the Dark Knight and fight for truth and justice the right way. Telling the truth and working toward justice.
I need to educate the bloggers about right and wrong. because there are too many posters doing wrong, in what they think is the name of justice So I asked myself, what would Batman say to them? He told me what he would tell them, and here it is:
Listen Jokers, you can tell the judge about how you turned evil because someone hurt you or your friends. But where I come from, hatred is hatred and wrong is wrong. There are no excuses.
You can blame it on some other guyand say, he did it too, he did it first, or he did it worse. But the fact is, we all answer for our own actions, and you're the one in the mirror right now. I'll get to the other ones later.
Save your "I'm not as bad as the other guy" whine. The self- pity store is sold out today. There's a world full of people who don't make excuses for their misdeeds or blame others for venting their evil. Those are the people I fight for.
Now stop trying to convince me that you can play the same dirty game as the other bad guys and come out clean, I see the truth of your actions. You choose what you do, and I choose to stop it.
I'm here to remind you that more of the problem is not the solution. I'm Batman."
I can't remember the last time I posted more than once in a day. That might mean it was a long time ago, and it might mean I have early onset Alzheimer's. Either way, there's nothing I can do about it.
When I was a kid, back in the 70's, there were three things to which I truly looked forward: Chocolate Cake, CocaCola, and the Pittsburgh Steelers. Growing up in Western NY, I became a Steelers fan purely by incident. It was December 31st, 1972. Being Six, I didn't know what New Year's Eve was all about, I just felt energetic. So energetic that I decided to spend a few minutes jumping on my parents bed. It started off nicely, but ended up badly. I lost my balance and smacked my head on the nightstand. I didn't feel so energetic after that. I spent the rest of the day with a screaming headache, flipping channels until I happened upon a Football Game. I had never seen a football game in my six years, but it fascinated me. Naturally I felt the need to choose a team. The Steelers lost that day. TB broke his leg, Larry Seiple faked a punt and Shula's Fish were 16-0. But they won me. From then on I spent the fala and winter weeks waiting for Sunday and the spring and summer waiting for fall. When they won, all was right with the world. When they lost, it hurt so bad I wanted to cry.
Growing up as Steeler fan made it easy to love football. That Steelers team epitomized football. They were tough, intimidating, crunch- time, big-time performers. I was spoiled by 4 SB wins in the 6 years ending the decade. Along the way, I became a student of the sport. I can tell you which number in a play call is the protection, I can draw up the 52 Okie, I can read a three deep, man high zone, and explaining zone blocking is like making mudpies for me. If there's such a thing as a football geek. I am a football geek.
Many things have changed in 35 years. Steeler teams have come and gone, never anything like those Steelers, my Steelers. I'm still a Steeler fan, but my overall love of the game has grown. My wife constantly remarks about how the announcers "repeat" my commentary just after I say it.
That love of football though, grew to include the NHL, NBA, and even MLB for a while. I added Tennis and Golf, too. The truth is, there are few things I enjoy more than being outside, playing sports. Sports are as much a part of my life as anything else.
So when EdHardiman, shared some wisdom with me, I considered it carefully last night and throughout today. His answer led me to a very important question. What the hell am I doing here?
Before you rush to say "duh, writing about sports" consider the fact that most of my word count has been wasted engaing in meaningless pissing matches that have, as Ed so accurately put it, left me smelling like ####. And for what?
All because I got angry over a woman's vitriolic attempt to sound like a hard-boiled sports writer by taking a #### on a man's career. Not that that QB needed defending, he has a SB ring. How many men in the USA can say that? But it echoed so loudly of the hatchet job that Dayn Perry did on Babe Ruth. The one I lambasted so harshly that it got me kicked out of NGSII. Babe didn't need my help and Doug didn't either, but it hurt me for some reason. Those guys are heroes to me. Babe because he paved the way for baseball, and Doug because he proved that a black QB could keep a job in the NFL and win a SB too. How dare anyone try to tarnish their legacy?
I just haven't learned my lesson. Well, maybe not until today.
My conduct has been embarassing. I wrote an excellent piece on blacks who rush to defend other, criminal, blacks just because they share a skin color. I told them that they had become the (racists) they beheld.
Ironic, huh? I critique other for not being serious writers who respect the craft, and then I engage in name-calling, hate-banter, and gutter-mouthing.
Worst of all, I'm spending hours and hours on this. Hours in which I could be doing real writing, or painting, or listening to music, or best of all, playing sports.
As the years have passed, I have wondered aloud about what will become of generations tethered to mice and joysticks, and now I am chained to my computer, on the ready to issue a verbal beat-down if need be. I've even resorted to writing puff pieces, just to prove that I'm superior at that, as well.
Now I look in the mirror and see that I too, have become what I beheld. Shame on me.
So kids, I'm closin' the bait shop. And all have left today is advice for some of you. So here it is.
EdHardiman: Please continue to share your wisdom.
Debhashi: Don't check in with me so you can use my responses to bash me behind my back. That's just cowardly. Employ the "face rule of journalism". Don't print what you aren't willing to say directly to someone.
GR8ONE: You're climbing a slippery slope when you call anyone arrogant while using the handle GR8ONE. Aside from that, you're one of the most persistent bashers on the board. People see that.
MeanDovine: Continue to lead by example. But please write more. The real writers need you.
Duds: Continue to express your thoughts from best possible place.
Norcal: Where are you? That's not advice. I'm just wondering where you went.
Tophat; Stay un-afriad to stand against the masses. You're a true critical thinker. Stop being so nice all the time, though.
Socal: Avoid statements like "this may sound like criticism, but it isn't". That tack is hilarious. Its easier to defend getting naked and then saying "you might think I'm naked, but I'm not.
Demonicume: Keep your herky-jerky style, just don't use it to disrespect men's wives, or any women for that matter. You're need to pull the dragon act back a notch.
Hogfan: Exercise your humor muscles more often. You were funnier in two lines than my entire "Paris" post.
Miracle: Keep it like you have it, but lay off of Dr. Phil.
LSU: You haven't been on this weekend, which probably means you have a life. I don't what I can offer you in that case.
AnotherOutlaw and UltraMega: My two evil arch-enemies. Please keep challenging me. I'll probably never agree with you on anything, but I'd fight like hell for your right to voice your opinions.
MartyWalker: Believe that there is a next world, a better world, and that your brother and sister will see you again. If emotions drive you, let hope be your chauffer.
Lisa: Everything you do, you own. Real writers check their work, and when they make mistakes they admit them. The bad choices that others make do not entitle you to bad choices.
TheDan:Again, we could use more from you. You write about sports.
JohnQ: Try to read more critcally, rather than get caught up in the purloined pleas. You've been easily duped.
and for all the rest: Let's try writing about and discussing sports, I'm game if you are.
Now I'm gonna go play some ball and act like a guy with a life or something.
It reminds me of the Gene Sheppard classic, a Christmas Story. "Ralphie" wants a Red-Ryder BB gun, but knows that if he tells his Mom, she'll just respond; "you'll shot your eye out". And even though Sheppard uses this running joke as a humorous device for his main plot, the fact is, BB guns are dangerous. It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye.
Which leads me to a personal quest. Another poster recently taught me how dangerous blogging can be, not just for the blogger, but the reader as well. I the time since, I've done some interviews and found out just how truly serious this problem is. (some would give only their intials, some gave real names and some gave screen names) I'm sure you'll be as shocked by these testimonials as I was. I have to caution you, some of the graphics are chilling, but the victims felt they were a necessary element to emonstarte the absolute horror and tragedy of this situation. So please, read with care.
" I was sitiing at my desk, just reading Fox Sports, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I swear, all I did was click the link, and whammo, the room starts shaking and I'm trapped under my desk. Coincidence, I don't think so. When have you ever heard of an earthquake in Southern California. Now I'm paralyzed from the top of my little toe down to the bottom of my little toe. I'll never walk on that toe again. "
SC Fan
"I was typing my blog, it seemed like a perfectly normal day. I took a few shots at other bloggers, pushed the racists' buttons, and even threw in a joke or two. Then pow, out of the blue. My eyes are going crazy. They popped out of their sockets. I can't see God-dammit, I'm dictating this! I'm suing for punitive damages."
Mort Goldman
"So I'm writing another socially responsible, inoffensive, uninteresting, vanilla flavored blog. Then my stomach acts up and I run to the bathroom. Next thing you know, I'm ####ing a kidney. I'm not kidding, a kidney. Now I'll need Dialysis! Damn you Fox!"
D. Ski
"My daughter was only 16 when she started visiting the Fox site. She had this favorite author, you know the kind of writer you just can't get a fix on, then one day she's laughin' like a hyena, looks down at her chair and her ovaries had done fell out. Now what good's a girl without ovaries here in West Virginia? Lordy, she was already sixteen, that's 73 in West Virginia years".
C. Iffer
" We didn' get the worst of it. Here in Oklahama, not everyone uses that there world wide webnet you city folk are so fond of, but anyway . . . . Our neighbor has one of them fancy satellites, so he's always clickin' away at his computer, click click click click click, I'm a hearin'. when I pass his window on my tractor. So one day, I hear him a sayin', I'll get you, you Dragon, then out of nowhere, one of them there, what did they call 'em Daisy? Tsunami, that's what it was, a soo-nahm-eee ti's pronounced. Damn thing durn near wiped out the block. Leveled his house though, a rancher, it was. All I know is, one minute I'm tillin' earth and the next, my neighbor floats by me in his desk chair. Darndest thing I ever done saw. Good news is we'll save a bundle on irrigation. Poor sucker did me a favor."
H. Fan
"It's still painful to discuss. One minute I'm logged in to the community, I hear a screech behind me, my cat is just gazing, glassy eyed at my computer, then all of a sudden he bursts into flames. Luckily I put him out with a fire extinguisher, but not before a lot of damage was done. Now he's bald over 80% of his body. Where the hell am I going to find a Tabby Toupee? Can someone please tell me that? 'Cause I'm not sure they even make cat toupees, and if they do, I bet they're expensive."
M. Maz
'We knew Gramps didn't have a whole lot of time left, but it didn't have to end this way. One minute he's reading Fox Sports, then he starts shouting a few curse words. Not five minutes later, his head expoldes, blows clean off his neck. I've never seen anything like it, except maybe in those horror movies they show on cable at 3 AM, but that's not important right now. What matters is that that damn blog killed my Grandpa. I swear to God, I won't rest until the world knows his story. Congress needs to do something about this, pass a law against sports blogs, or something. Those things are dangerous. If it wasn't for that blog, Grampy would still be gumming his oatmeal."
Lila4UTEP
"My sister had carpal tunnel syndrome. We knew she wasn't doing too well. She battled it fiercely, though. God knows how struggled to put on this wrists supports every day. It makes me cry just to think of her stiff wrists and numb fingers trying feebly to type her blog even two or three times a week. She was a portrait of courage, my sister. We didn't know how it could get so bad, so soon. She just read one one post and suddenly developed "everything tunnel syndrome". Now my poor dear sissy is just one huge ace bandage. I'll get the #### that wrote that post! He turned my sister into a mummy!"
NorthernNancy
Of course these are just a few of the many stories of innocent readers whose lives were forever altered by sports blogs. So beware, BLOGS CAN INJURE, MAIM or even KILL YOU (or at least make your eyes tired from reading) .
But there are steps you can take to protect yourself:
1. Get yourself a pair of Bloggles. These handy eye protectors shield you from the harmful BV (BloggoViolet) Rays that the surgeon general has determined can be hazardous to your health.
2. Invest in a good pair of Bloves (Blogger Gloves). The're specailly lined to insulate your hands from dangerous waves and vibrations seeping out of your keyboard.
3. Only blog in temperate, naturally illuminated environments. This limits the potential that the heat from you computer will trigger SCC (Spontaneous Cat Combustion).
4. Place your computer no fewer than 500 feet from a fault line. If you're unsure of the location of the nearest fault line, contact your local seismologist.
5. Don't mix medication and blogging. Many medications have drug/blog interaction warnings. Those taking medications for hypertension, circulatory and heart problems seem to be at the most risk. But if you must blog while medicated, please consult your physician.
6. If you have an illness and a medical profession has advised you on the risks of blogging, don't blog. Sure, it sounds like a great idea, and a whole lot of fun, but before you know it, you've shot your eye out and have no one to blame but yourself.
