Sports PR vs. sports journalism

Given the utter lack of independent media reports* on the MLS preseason, I figured now would be a good time as any to bring up an issue discussed during my Advanced News Writing class last semester.

(*By independent, I mean any reporting done by media not affiliated with MLSnet.com or any other official MLS club site.)

The question: will public relations eventually overtake journalism as the primary medium to which the public receives its information?

The line is certainly blurring. If you're in the Boston-metro region, just listen to WEEI, or read any local newspaper to discover that the vast majority of commentary surrounding the area's pro clubs is slanted favorably, rather than critically. Apparently, success breeds fondness in the journalistic arena as well.

Why is this? Well, it's easy. For starters, it's easy to say and print nice things when things are going great. It's human nature. But for journalists in particular, there's also the old saying: don't bite the hand that feeds you. With communications departments growing and newspapers dying, those very communication suits know they wield alot more power than they did twenty years ago. A lot more. A journalist who writes uncompromising columns may find his or her access to the team suddenly limited, thus making his or her job more difficult.

I've said it before. Although I'm sure the idea isn't especially original, I'll state it here anyway: sport success hampers critical sports journalism.

If a team is successful, the natural inclination is to report and emphasize on the spoils. The public wants it. The organization wants it, too. Because every inch of newspaper or white screen space that's filled with positives leaves less room for the negatives.

And there are negatives. Always. Even the most successful team has a collection of skeletons in its closets that it wants no journalist getting even the faintest sniff of. No organization, sports or otherwise, is squeaky clean. A good journalist will know where and how to find the negatives, if he or she is willing to give a critical account of any story. But he or she has to ask the questions 1. Will my editor approve?, and 2. How will this affect my relationship with the organization?

The second query is the most troublesome. Most editors have an understanding of the writer's plight. The truth, whether good or bad, is always out there. Even if that truth is ugly or unflattering, it does exist. A good editor will encourage his writers to find these truths, good, bad, or ugly.

The problem then becomes whether a piece will offend the organization, and if so, the consequences.

I can tell you from personal experience that some clubs employ the use of "special lists" comprised of journalists who receive "bonus" information aside from the general press releases. More often than not - though not all, mind you - these are the same journalists who essentially provide lip service on behalf of the organization. Spin control, if you will. Seven game slide? Not the coach's fault. It's injuries. Striker's embarrassing performance? Not his fault - he tweaked a hamstring. And so on.

Curiously, this is especially true in American soccer, despite the fact that the number of soccer journalists are easily surpassed by their colleagues in the Big Four. Why this is can only be attributed to the same personal and professional battles waged for the past 90 years.

So with the power clearly in the communications field, and more independent media dying by the day, what can journalists do?

Easy: the job that their profession calls for. I know that's blunt and oversimplified, and often difficult in a world where journalism's pulse seems to be growing fainter by the day. But all journalists, in theory, abide by a code - an ethical code we learned when many of us took our first journalism classes. It advises us to be, in a nutshell, thorough, honest, and accountable. Sometimes, those criteria clash with an organization's image. Tough.

For journalists, it all boils down to "what's easy" versus "what's right." It's easy to accentuate the positives. The organization will give you all the information you need, and then some. It's difficult, and sometimes torturous, to shed light on the negatives. Journalists often find little to no cooperation in those types of endeavors.

But the reward associated with abiding by that code, sticking to one's guns, and reporting on the truth gives any respectable journalist something that even the most fortressed PR department cannot take away: the personal satisfaction of a job well-executed.

Dream: to become the next Bob Costas

Yep, it's time again. Time for yet another personal post. By now, you probably don't need me tell you to skip over to another blog or site. My ego* won't take any offense.

(And, just to warn you further, my ego is going to be the star of this post. So, if you like me right now, this may post leave you with a liquid Tylenol-like bad taste in your mouth. And if you really don't like me, you'll probably start making voodoo dolls with my likeness.)

So anyways, I was at my godparents house last Sunday watching the Super Bowl. Since the game was broadcast by NBC, Bob Costas led the pre- and post-game studio discussions. Naturally, this sparked a conversation with my godfather.

"Hey, Brian," said my godfather, cuing over to the TV. "That could be you in ten or twenty years?"

I LOL'd. A soccer journalist becoming the next American spokesman for all things sports? What's next? A game show host sitting on the board of a first division soccer club?*

(*Oh, snap...you mean Drew Carey REALLY is on the board for the Seattle Sounders? I mean, I know he loves soccer, and he's probably got alot more money than I'll ever see, but...R U SERIOUS? What service will he perform, other than playing FIFA '09 when Taylor Twellman and the Revs visit and making passing Sounders references on "The Price is Right"?)

Now, my godfather, who also happens to be my uncle and a second father to me, really has little interest in soccer.* His team is Benfica by virtue of my late-grandfather. It's a family thing. Like eating rabbit at Easter. Aside from that trailing interest in the sport, my uncle knows little more about the beautiful game.

(*And that's OK. I don't expect to brainwash the entire world to love soccer just yet. Besides, I'm still working on ideas to coerce Nicole Scherzinger into marrying me.)

So it's funny to me that he sincerely believes that his godson, a soccer journalist who has earned the equivalent of car payment during his burgeoning writing career, has the potential to someday sit at the roundtable with guys like Boomer Esiason, Jerome Bettis, or even that blowhard from MSNBC.

Of course, my godfather is biased. We're of the same blood. But, he sees my passion for sports. He's called me completely out of the blue to ask me the most random of sports questions.* He understands that while I may have ceded my dream to play professional sports, I have acquired another through the realm of sports journalism.

(*One particular call came less than five minutes after an English final. After about two hours and half hours of non-stop writing on literary discourse, my brain - or what was left of it - was essentially charcoaled toast. The fact that I could find my car afterward was a feat in itself.

So anyway, my right pocket begins to buzz just as I'm opening the door to my car, and it's my uncle. "Brian, I just have a quick question for ya. Why are the Minnesota Twins called 'the Twins?' " I forget exactly what I said, so to avoid of misquoting myself here, I think I said something along the lines of St. Paul and Minneapolis are the Twin Cities, and thus, the baseball team is called the Twins. I even said something to the effect that their logo has/once had a picture of supposed twins shaking hands. Did I mention my brain was toast at this point?)

But my uncle brought up an interesting idea. It dawned upon me, as a journalist, that Bob Costas is the embodiment of American sports journalism. Almost anyone who holds an iota of sports knowledge knows who he is. You know an event is big when Bob Costas is either there, or speaking on it.

In essence, becoming the next Bob Costas is dream much like the dream of playing professional sports for both aspiring and successful sports journalists. It's like putting on the pinstripes, sporting the star, or wearing the white.

And who knows? Fantasy allows us to dream. Maybe in 2029, when MLS Cup, or whatever it's called then, will become a premier television event, much like the Super Bowl. A pre-game, halftime, and post-game studio show will be required. Somebody's gotta lead the discussion. Why not me?

Alas, reality will likely step in and grant the title of "the next Bob Costas" to someone who is much better versed, more knowledgeable, and well-connected. That is fine. But I guarantee you that he not be better looking than me. Nor will he have the acute insight to proffer that Dave van den Bergh is the soccer equivalent of Sean Morey. So long as those variables remain in place, I can accept the next Bob Costas' existance, whoever he is/will be, as legitimate.

Meanwhile, I am what I am. Journalism is not my full-time gig. I simply write here whenever I feel like it. I've been afforded enough respect among my peers to write semi-regularly for an online soccer publication and appear on a weekly radio program. I've met and interviewed some really cool people. And you know what? In my own little world - my world within the world - I am the next Bob Costas.

And that's absolutely fine by me.