When I went back and read my last entry, I was drawn to that little snippet I had about Michael Irvin essentially wiping TO's backside. Firstly, it was written a little awkwardly and was probably funny only to me. But more than that, I thought about that whole rite of passage for select superstars where they have a particular interviewer who serves up the journalistic equivalent of batting practice.
This rite of passage was established by the greatest we'll ever see play basketball, Michael Jordan. Ahmad Rashad gave Jordan complete control over every interview they ever did. Jordan used Ahmad to craft his own public image and in exchange Ahmad got exclusive access. He served as Jordan's public security blanket. Jordan needed that if he wanted to keep selling sneakers. At the time I sort of begrudged Jordan for it, but in retrospect he probably needed it. His fame, greatness, eagerness to compete, and his love of gambling made him a target. His public image was too much of corporate asset to risk the wrong answer to the wrong question. But this trend now borders on ridiculous, mostly because you'll always find a reporter who will be someone's "Rashad".
Barry Bonds has, does, and always will despise the media. Evidently, when people starting discovering that baseball players were cheating and that Bonds didn't hit 73 homers using protein drinks and flaxseed oil, the media was to blame for writing it. But, yet with no endorsements to speak of (i.e no corporate image to protect), Bonds will grant special access to only Joe Morgan. I like Joe as a baseball analyst, but those interviews with Bonds are forced and uncomfortable. Morgan completely ignores the fact that this guy has a reputation of being one of the nastiest people on earth and is universally disliked in baseball circles. He lets Bonds put on an act, and he keeps getting long interviews. But Joe's not the only one.
Which brings me to the reporter who to me is the worst offender of being a "Rashad". In 1991, in a bar called Saints in Teaneck, New Jersey I ran into the New Jersey Nets coach at the time Chuck Daly. He was sitting at a table with a little known sideline reporter whose face I recognized, but whose name escaped me. My friend and I walked over to Daly and introduced ourselves. He was happy to meet us and actually acted interested in chatting a little basketball.
After about 2-3 minutes of conversation, in which Daly seemed to be enjoying, this twerp across the table scolds us to, "leave us the hell alone right now!" The following week I was watching an NCAA basketball game on CBS, and the sideline reporter was the guy sitting with Daly, Jim Gray.
The same Jim Gray, who during a celebration of the 50 greatest baseball players of all time at an All-Star game, brow beat Pete Rose for the sole reason of trying to promote himself as a "guy who asks the tough questions." Those of you who read this space regularly know I am no fan of Pete Rose. But Gray's ambush that night was misplaced and cowardly. Which is why his evolution into a "Rashad" is probably the most nauseating of all.
Kobe Bryant is a young man who thrust himelf into the spotlight far before he was ready to be there. For as amazing as his basketball talents are, his reputation for dealing with people is amazingly bad. Between his ongoing feud with Shaquille O'Neal, his rape trial, and Phil Jackson's book, his squeaky clean image has been flushed down the toilet. Yet for some strange reason, the same reporter who tried to create a tough guy reputation at a vulnerable flawed man's expense during what may have been his last moment of glory, now acts as Kobe's public lap dog. And when you break it down and think about it, its perfect kharma. Gray's reputation as a credible reporter goes up in smoke for a guy who's made himself publicly irrelevant.
Which brings us back to Michael Irvin, who by comparison is not so bad. You can at least understand that access to and defense of TO could keep Mike working another year. Because when he needs to count on skills as a football analyst, its all over.
While I'm on the topic of ESPN's football coverage, are there any worse people to listen to talk about football than their Sunday night crew, Mike Patrick, Joe Theismann, and Paul Maguire. Patrick hollers all the time and every play he calls gets trivialized by yet another superlative. Theismann only wants to discuss who he talked to yesterday and carries way too much ego for a guy who wasn't that good and isn't that cool. Joe, no one cares that you were once married to the blonde chick from "That's Incredible." And Paul Maguire should be watching these games from his couch drinking a Schlitz beer. He tries to have strong opinions, but they're always on calls that are totally wrong. And Theismann preens like a peacock when he's right and Maguire's wrong. Joe could find a better argument at his local nursing home.
Speaking of Theismann, whats the over/under on games it takes Al Michaels to approach ESPN next year and issue a him or me ultimatum about Theismann. I set the number at 6 1/2 games and I'm taking the under. The last analyst AL had who was as bad as Theismann was Frank Gifford. That last year they worked together, Al had such an attitude with Giff, that you thought that Dierdorf had to pull Al's hands off of Giff's wrinkled neck during the commercial breaks. Al even had a tough time with Boomer who isn't the best, but he's not bad either. But Theismann makes Boomer look like John Madden in his prime. Speaking of Madden, how's that for a trade for Al. Losing Madden and adding the lovechild of Forrest Gump and Fabian. By game 5, AL will have thrown Theismann down a flight of steps, screaming, "do you believe in miracles???"
So I just recently renovated my house. I installed new toilets in all of the bathrooms, and I went to extra expense to make sure that I had the best toilets money could buy. Around three weeks ago, I was taking one of my Saturday morning monster dumps. (Friday's always a big eating night) And even though I have these expensive toilets, I always keep a plunger handy. As you can probably guess, I clogged the toilet and the plunger didn't work. So being the lazy ass that I am, I called the plumber. To his credit he shows up within a half hour and gives me a tutorial on how to not clog up the toilet. And he seems like a really nice guy. Then as he finishes within 10 minutes, I ask him the dreaded question, "what do I owe you?" He hands me an invoice for $205.43. I couldn't help myself. I look at him and ask him incredulously, Do you mean I just took a 200 dollar dump? And this ripoff artist, who's currently billing out at $1200 an hour, deosn't seem to find the humor in it as I hand him a check for $205.43.
The ironic part of the whole thing, I clogged it up again. This time I borrowed my brother's snake and took care of it muself. I figured if the overly friendly plumber with the bad sense of humor can bill out at $1200 an hour, maybe its something I should learn.