The Death of a Teacher

Lots of people taught me baseball.

When I was barley old enough to pee straight, I saw a movie about a corn field with the guy from the Bell Atlantic commercials in it, and although I didn’t quite understand what was going on, Kevin Costner taught me there was something special about this silly game, something that went beyond the final score.

When I was a little older, my dad taught me how to actually play. He taught me that you score runs not points, that if you swing at three pitches and miss you have to sit down, but if you don’t swing at four bad pitches you get to go to first base, kind of like a hit. Years later when it became clear that my 34 m.p.h. fastball wasn’t going to get me to the bigs, he taught me to sit in the stands, studiously filling in my scorecard and cheering until my face was the same color as my Phillies hat.

Then, one evening after a Phillies game, I happened on a guy who seemed right out of one my old man’s union parties. He was on TV, but didn’t have the stiffness and apathy that too often comes with objective journalism. He was a smartass without being a jerk. He was bombastic without making himself into a sideshow. He still had his Philly accent and definitely wasn’t scared to be a fan. That was John Marzano, and it was never anything short of a joy and privilege to let him teach you a thing or two about the game.

Chicks might dig the long ball, but Johnny Marz could talk for hours about the beauty of a perfectly executed squeeze play. Strikeouts are sexier than groundouts, but Johnny Marz would be quick to point out that that double play ball is a helluva rally killer. All the finer points of baseball, the overlooked nuances both mental and physical, John Marzano was happy to share with the Delaware Valley. And never was it condescending, instead it was like a talk from your big brother before he took you to the sandlot for the first time.

When asked to comment about Marzano’s passing, ESPN senior baseball writer and former reporter for the Philadelphia Inquirer Jayson Stark echoed that sentiment, while also pointing out Marzano’s ability maintain the veneration of the people he worked with and covered.

“[John Marzano] understood his audience wasn't the players or the manager, but the people watching and listening. So he wasn't afraid to say what needed to be said. But he showed up at the park all the time with a smile on his face, was always willing to listen to anybody's complaints and earned incredible respect in a short time.”

I’m not going to sit here and pretend that the John Marzano’s death is tragically impacting my life. The pain and frustration his wife and daughters are going through is far greater than that of any of his viewers. Our relationship with Johnny Marz was one of post-game detachment. But for a lot of us who learned from him it doesn’t feel that way, because nothing about John Marzano was detached from the Philadelphia fan mentality. And I, like a lot of Philadelphians, felt a genuine sadness when I realized Philly-sports carnival barker Michael Barkann would never again excitedly yell, “Johnny Marz is in the house!”

I Don’t Give a Damn ‘Bout My Bad Reputation

Growing up, I really liked reading Bill Conlin tell me why the Phillies were inept in the pages of the Philadelphia Daily News. And nothing could make me chuckle like Rick Reilly’s last page sarcasm in Sports Illustrated. And Jay Mariotti – awe hell who am I kidding, I can’t stand Mariotti.

The point is, there are a lot of well established writers out there – some of whom were a direct influence on my decision to go into journalism instead of something profitable like business or funeral home operations – who feel that bloggers are cheapening their once noble profession.

I find this troubling for a number of reasons. First and foremost, these are the guys I want to emulate, who before I was even aware of it were teaching me how to write. Until the day I die I'll site Reilly's column about Jayson Williams murdering his limo driver as one of the most infuriating and important pieces of opinionated journalism. And I still can't imagine getting through a Phillies season without Conlin's guidance.

But apparently they hate me and my ilk.

Some quotes from sportswriters:

"There's some good journalism, and some really horrible crap on [the Web] from guys holding down the couch springs in their mother's basement that have never been in a locker room but are pining on this and that. And this gives them cache, and then they're being quoted? What? This guy is in his underwear. They could us a Greyhound bus full of editors and it still wouldn't help them. So this is the 'new style of journalism' we gotta learn?”
- Rick Reilly (I feel it’s worth noting that Reilly is being paid $17 million dollars to write for ESPN, which hosts numerous blogs)

“Know what, pal? Bash this. . .Tell your bloggers, my career against theirs…”
- Bill Conlin in response to criticism from FireJoeMorgan.com

And other sports media personalities:

“It's fascinating to read what fans say. The Internet gives all these people a voice. What's the old saying, freedom of speech just makes it easier to identify the idiots?”
- ESPN Anchor (who hereto-fourth seemed like a cool guy) Scott Van Pelt

"It’s one thing if somebody just sets up a blog from their mother's basement in Albuquerque and they are who they are, and they're a pathetic get-a-life loser, but now that pathetic get-a-life loser can piggyback onto someone who actually has some level of professional accountability and they can be comment No. 17 on Dan Le Batard's column or Bernie Miklasz' column in St. Louis. That, in most cases, grants a forum to somebody who has no particular insight or responsibility. Most of it is a combination of ignorance or invective. It's just a high-tech place for idiots to do what they used to do on bar stools or in school yards, if they were school yard bullies, or on men's room walls in gas stations. That doesn't mean that anyone with half a brain should respect it.''

- Bob Costas (who clearly doesn’t understand his everyman appeal)

And Mark Cuban (via a Dallas Mavericks Press Release):

“The Dallas Mavericks will not allow ANY writer into the locker room areas pre-game and post-game whose primary purpose is to blog no matter what affiliation.”

If anything, I would say this is probably generational. Sportswriters like Buster Olney and Ken Rosenthal (who are both under 50) have their own blogs that actually utilize the format so that it informs in a way that a newspaper column could not (Rosenthal is so net savvy that he’s been known to post on fan hosted message boards).

ESPN - who once quoted a DeadSpin report in one of its stories and profiled DeadSpin in its magazine – is now in complete denial of the existence of Will Leitch et al. So intense is this mandated denial of the DeadSpinners that according to Leitch’s book, it is now punishable to mention the website either on air or in print.

And that right there is why blogs are so important. Yea, there’s a lot of crap out there, but it’s keeping the mainstream media on their toes (and despite what a lot of bloggers would have you think, sports fans desperately need the ESPNs and Sports Illustrateds otherwise we'll be left with...just bloggers). If the press is the fourth estate, bloggers are the fourth-and-a-half estate.

So memo to Bob Costas, Rick Reilly and everyone else who thinks I’m just a fat slob in his mother's basement sipping on Red Bull and writing my thoughts between innings: It’s the United States of Wikipedia, and brothers, you’re living in the past, it’s a new generation.