As usual, we're missing the plot by focusing on the small things...
And by small things, I mean the idiocy of sports columnist Gregg Doyel and the merry bunch of fools ruining the good things for all of us.
Oh, let’s check my calendar over the past week. Four interviews (media-on-media crime type), one podcast guesting quietly sniffled through (yah, spring allergies), many words spoken, and ultimately, I’m at the point of zero you-know-whats to give.
I just want one week of no drama about women, in all forms, in sports: as athletes, as coaches, as media, as viewers, as spectators. All of it. Let’s take the world back to just doing what we do, and we all roll on.
Last week’s flaming circus of stupidity and overly Stefan Urquelle think pieces was triggered by all things, the WNBA Draft. I know, cluch the pearls, we’re on the bingo card square for debating all things WNBA. While some remained banging the dented gong about Caitlin Clark losing money for going pro (she’s not), others went to the racial politics of how Madison Avenue markets stars of color (evidence confirmed), the head scratching mostly revolved around Indy Star columnist Gregg Doyel managing to be creepy, icky, and bad at his job all at the same time in a 4/17 Indiana Fever intro press conference with Clark and her head coach Christie Sides.
The social spheres went aflame, my inbox blew up with multiple WTF’s from male and female sports media colleagues, Doyel did the sorry if you’re upset but I’m gonna be me song and dance, and the news cycle churn cranked up. (Not linking to any of his stuff, because no clicks for you, Gregg).
My sassy little response:
Doyel, despite a long history of saying hellaciously sexist/sexual comments on socials and straaaaange presser questions, remains employed. And some shriveled-heart media exec within the Indy Star/Gannett cabal probably is joyful over the increase in engagement. Win-win!
To quote the OG’s, my spin sauce, I’m not coming to praise or bury Caesar. I just want him and his collective ilk to go away away. (Hey, come for the dark and twisty interpretations of classic lit, say for the sportswriterly stuff…ya welcome.)
I’m kind of in the cynical world these days, as I know things do not happen to people like Doyel. They keep rolling along. We have the receipts that show the proof. The women in the world are just expected to smile, forgive, move on, and yadda yadda. We have former presidents, executives, stars who have done and said really awful things are keep rolling. It is obvious the guardrails are off on decency, accountability and anything mattering.
The only base that the public didn’t go to was victim-shaming, aka, somehow twisting this to say Clark deserved it, what was she wearing, etc. Thank the hoops gods the illuminati didn’t have that one cooked up to serve. Because you know they do, usually. Or maybe that just shows how out of pocket creepy he was, because we ALL AGREED. Whew. Need to sit down, the vapors are coming.
All jokes aside, I think that is what is the source of not-so quiet frustration for many. It’s not that it happened. Sadly, we expect it, because we know better from life experience. The bigger you are, as a woman, the more of a target you become for the randos and insiders. Fine - prepare, evade, ignore, confront, move on, et al. The lack of accountability or a sense of justice become the whetting stones that wear you down. You may get sharper, in some ways, but having to expend the extra energy to deal with unforced error drama, like Clark has had to deal with, is the drain of all drains.
Doyel likely thinks he is bulletproof. He likely is right. He only apologized because the flames and smoke reached his ivory tower. He knew the excuses were banked up for him, ready to whipped out - he’s awkward! He’s misunderstood! He’s an oaf! (His words, not mine. I have many, many, many others. But I am not going to pollute on Earth Day.) You can be all of those things, but still not be a jackass. The misunderstood and awkward kids in the yard automatically don’t become the gross people. Those who stoke the fires, gin up the social engagement, scream the loudest, push the boundaries… you win! That’s the new media paradigm, a leitmotif that is corroding political and sports journalism. It’s not serving us, the public, well, nor is it reflecting on the profession of journalism well. You can be seriously talented as a writer, which Doyel has a history of being, and still utterly be a social cancer in other ways.
The interviews I did last week, about this lovely subject, were less about the matter at hand. Clark should not have to be concerned about creepy press conferences. Women who work in sports should just be doing their jobs and not have an extra set of mental swords at the ready to fend off the hordes.
One of my Michigan State students, who is working to be a broadcaster, was sharing a series of odd social media messages where she is being asked by a male (older?) stranger to share photos of her feet. Because she is cute. And does the sports journalism thing on TV. I wanted to laugh at the messages, because Lord, help us all, but my heart sank a little as we blocked his accounts (yes, multiple) from her social handles. This is how it starts. Fending off the creepy.
It’s a small thing, a dumb human who now will begone or Doyel being creepy, but they’re all taking us from the plot. Sports are a big business, a source of fun and emotion, and a space for a lot of us to use our talents for work. The rest of the debris needs to be cleared out, like a good spring cleaning.
The student and I shared a smile when we finished the en masse block/report fest, and I assured her to go on with her life. Do her thing. Creepy foot fetish boy no more.
But I am probably wrong, because this is just another troll who is lurking under the bridges women in sports cross on the daily. And that sucks.