Back when I was covering the Kansas City Royals and writing about every game, I had a weekend I couldn’t cover the team because I’d been invited to a Cartoonist Seminar /Love Fest in Marceline, Missouri, home of Walt Disney which is a story in itself because I got to stay in the “Mickey Mouse” room which had every Disney product ever made and at three in the morning when I got up to use the bathroom, was actually kinda creepy.
Which is a totally different story, so let’s get back to baseball.
I needed someone to cover the Royals that weekend and post stories on the Judging the Royals blog and convinced my editor that my son Paul could do it.
Paul’s now a music producer in LA and also has a podcast about movies on the Patreon platform called JUDGE MOVIES and I just now realized he copied my blog’s name and should pay me royalties which will be discussed in detail at the next family gathering. (Paul better bring legal representation.)
Anyway…
Paul’s an excellent writer and even more importantly, knows a lot about sports and understands the difference between “process” (how and why you do something) and “results” (what happens after you do it). While team owners and approximately 103% of fans disagree, managers, coaches and players know “process” is more important than “results.”
Because if you do the right thing and keep doing it, that will work more often than not. Bottom line: if your effort was a good one, but it didn’t succeed, don’t panic and start doing stuff that has even less chance of succeeding.
And Now a Completely Unnecessary Digression about Sports Reporting
Generally speaking players love to talk about process (like why you might want to throw an above-the-letters fastball with a runner on third and less than two outs – hitters want to hit the ball in the air for, at the very least, a sac fly, and might chase an unhittable pitch), but unfortunately way too many reporters would rather talk about results.
And way too many reporters like to explain those results through emotions.
Team A “wanted it more” or have “fighting spirit” or “confidence” or “poise” or a star player promised to hit a home run for Little Timmy who’s in the hospital with a severe case of scurvy. (Timmy clearly needs to eat more fresh fruit and quit asking athletes to do things athletes can’t control. Let’s face it, Timmy’s a pain in the ass.)
What follows is a clip I’ve used before – because it’s freaking awesome – and it demonstrates why reporters would rather talk about feelings because talking about process might get reeeeeeeeally complicated:
That clip looks like a player who’s heard enough bad questions and decided to flatten a reporter with a bunker-busting truth bomb: “Oh, you want to know how we scored a touchdown? Here you go.”
Recently, LeBron James and JJ Reddick started a podcast called Mind the Game and they talk about the Xs and Os of basketball at the NBA level. They’re not the first players or ex-players to do this which brings up an interesting point:
Reporters often feel that athletes don’t want to talk to them, which is true a lot of the time, mostly because athletes aren’t all that interested in the stuff most reporters want to talk about.
But now that we have social media and pretty much anyone can have a podcast or blog (I’m proof of that) some athletes are going around the media straight to the fans and talking about the stuff that interests them and if you want to hear two great basketball players talk about the things they want to talk about, here you go:
As Paul pointed out when he sent me this link, the Greatest Basketball Player of All-Time (Paul’s opinion, but it’s a damn solid opinion) obviously wanted to talk about this stuff, but reporters never asked him about it.
And Now Back to Our Thrilling Story about Covering the Royals
After it was agreed Paul could take over for the coming weekend, I got him a temporary press pass and took him to a game so I could introduce him to the people he’d need to deal with and know where he needed to go and when he needed to go there.
So we arrive at Kauffman Stadium before “early work” which can be stuff like bunting or base running or cutoffs and relays and takes place in the early afternoon before a night game. I tell Paul he needs to do the same thing when he’s on his own because “early work” is a great time to interview players.
It’s rarely attended by other media, so there’s no competition for interviews and athletes are way more likely to say something meaningful one-on-one. You can also learn a lot of baseball by watching players practice.
So we park in the media lot just across the street from the ballpark and everywhere we go I’m introducing Paul to ushers and elevator operators and security guards and we set up our laptops in the press box (it’s got a couple long counters with captain’s chairs) and we then go down to the field and I start introducing him to players.
And the players are great with him.
We watch early work and batting practice, then it’s time for dinner. We go back up to the air-conditioned press box, get dinner in the dining room and after that I ask Paul if he wants an Ice Cream Sundae for dessert.
“You guys have ice cream?”
And right about there, while sitting in the air conditioned press box, eating his Ice Cream Sundae and lounging in a comfortable captain’s chair, Paul points out the window (it’s about a bajillion degrees outside) and says:
“Dad, I don’t think I can go out there anymore.”
Which I totally get because for the first time in over a decade, I had to buy a ticket to see a ballgame.
The High Cost of Being a Baseball Fan
My doctor friend who joined me on this spring training trip was only going to get to one game and we agreed to spend the money for good seats, so two tickets cost us approximately $140. Baseball has gone cashless (I was told third-hand, too much cash was finding its way into ballpark employee pockets so classify that as an unsubstantiated rumor, but it sounds possible).
Baseball has also gone paperless, which means if you want to see a ballgame you need a smartphone and have to download the MLB app and take a night class in computer sciences and spend a minimum of two years working for NASA.
I’ve had it up to here (and if you were in my hotel room right now you’d see I have my hand at neck level and also get arrested, because what the hell are you doing in my hotel room) with everybody wanting you to download their damn app. (Although my position might change dramatically if I ever get an app and figure out how to make money off it.)
Next we head to Tempe Diablo Stadium to see the Reds play the Angels and hit a traffic jam because, just like the Royals proposed downtown stadium, Tempe Diablo doesn’t have enough on-site parking. While moving approximately no miles-an-hour (if we were going any slower we’d be going backward) we eventually ooze our way into a dirt parking lot and have to use a credit card to give the attendant $10.
We find our seats which are great, but there’s no shade and when you’re in dry places like Arizona, the sun feels like a microwave set on “baked potato.” I can feel basal cell carcinomas forming on the back of my neck. So we order two beers ($40) which do absolutely nothing to stop skin cancer, but makes you care less about dying.
To be fair, the two beers are 24 ounces each, so it’s two 12-ounce beers in one can which is a great idea if you don’t mind the last 6 ounces being slightly warmer than fresh urine and if that mental image puts you off drinking $20 beers, you’re welcome.
We also buy two brats ($20) so now we’re up to $210 not counting the looming dermatologist’s bill.
My doctor friend isn’t as big a baseball fan as I am and I realize after five innings he’s had enough (he recently suggested 18 holes of golf should be reduced to a more reasonable 14) so after seven innings I say we can go if he wants to and he does.
I then realize Paul was on to something when he said he couldn’t go “out there” anymore.
Paul and I got way too spoiled so I want to salute the fans that keep paying and paying and paying to watch Big League baseball because it turns out I love baseball a lot more when I’m in an air-conditioned press box, seated in a comfortable captain’s chair and I’m not drinking $20 beers.
Before We Go: Two More Stories from Paul’s Weekend Covering the Royals
It’s now Sunday and I’m back from Marceline and Paul and I watch the last game of a White Sox/Royals series.
At one point Paul says the last three Royals swung at the first pitch (which I totally missed) and then wonders if that’s a good question to ask a player in the clubhouse after the game. I say that’s a great question, so later Paul asks Jeff Francoeur about it and Frenchy says, yeah, we noticed the pitcher was throwing a lot of first-pitch fastballs and decided to “ambush” him.
(An “ambush” is jumping on the first pitch when a pitcher is trying to get ahead in the count.)
As Paul is asking Frenchy his question and Frenchy is answering it seriously like he’s conducting the presidential half of a Presidential press conference, I walk by and Frenchy tries to hit me in the nuts.
(I love Jeff Francoeur because he’s a 12-year-old at heart and I totally relate to that, although I like to think I’m more like a 14-year-old at heart who didn’t get enough attention and eventually developed an insecurity complex and a drinking problem.)
The Second Paul Story
During games, reporters tend to have their heads down looking at their lap tops and only look up to see a replay if the crowd makes noise. I try to pay attention to the field, but need to take Paul back to the University of Missouri after the game and tell him I’m going to start writing so we can get going early and he needs to watch the field and let me know if I miss anything.
Doesn’t take long before Paul hits my elbow and says: “Nobody’s covering third.”
Here’s the situation:
The Royals are up by one, with a runner on first base when the White Sox batter hits a flare over the Royals third baseman. The Royals third baseman retreats to try to catch the flare (which leaves third base unprotected) but the Royals shortstop fails to move and cover third base which allows the runner on first base to round second and take third base when the flare drops.
The next batter hits a sac fly, the runner on third (who should still be at second base if the shortstop had done his job) tags and scores the tying run and the game goes to extra innings and the White Sox eventually win.
So now I’m at the postgame press conference and Royals manager Ned Yost is winding things up when I raise my hand and ask: “Who was supposed to cover third in the seventh?” (Actually, I was already 99.9 percent sure, but it never hurts to have your theories confirmed.) Ned says the shortstop and adds: “It changed the entire game.”
As he leaves the room, Ned leans in to where I’m sitting and whispers: “I knew you weren’t going to miss that.”
Not only did I miss that, every other reporter in the room missed it – we were all looking at our laptops – and the pivotal moment in the ballgame was caught by a college kid who doesn’t normally cover baseball.
In Conclusion…
So now we’re driving back to Columbia, Missouri and I tell Paul what happened in the post-game press conference and he asks if I told Ned he was the one who spotted the defensive mistake and being a loving father who would do almost anything for his son, I say:
“Fuck no. I need Ned to be impressed with me, not you.”
(Feel free to disagree, but I really think I made the right call there.)
I ask Paul what he thought of the weekend overall and he said it was awesome; he got to meet players and watch practices and see ballgames and ask meaningful questions and realize he had the right stuff for sports reporting because he caught something professional sports writers missed:
“And then I got to see Jeff Francoeur try to hit my dad in the nuts.”
The things we do for love.
Who takes the photos used in your newsletter? As a former photojournalist at the Star, I know how I would feel if my work was not attributed.
"I love baseball a lot more when I’m in an air-conditioned press box, seated in a comfortable captain’s chair and I’m not drinking $20 beers."
Chuckled when I read this. Reminded me of the first KU-MU football game at Arrowhead (before they got smart and designated seating areas according to which fan base you wanted to be seated around). After the game the athletic directors, sportswriters, politicians, etc all proclaimed what a wonderful event it was. Of course it was... they didn't have to have eyes in the back of their head in the restroom, or witness the drunk fans of one team pour beer over a family with two small children who were fans of the other team.... they were in suites and the press box!