This year is the 50th anniversary of the night Edmonton Eskimos’ head coach Ray Jauch evicted the media from the dressing room after his team had lost the Grey Cup. The room had been open to sports writers in search for words of wisdom from the combatants for maybe 10 minutes, 15 tops.
A couple of weeks ago, the Vancouver Canucks were eliminated from the Stanley Cup playoffs. They left home ice to resounding cheers from fans who’d expected much less. It was an emotional, happy moment. When the sports writers in search for words of wisdom from the combatants were allowed into the dressing room, it was empty. Four players of the team’s choice were presented for interviews — that’s how it works now.
So, while the rules may have changed, the philosophy hasn’t. Fifty years ago, teams went out of their way — under the guise of kindness or even gifts — to convince reporters to help sell tickets; then slammed the door on the post-mortem part of their reporting. The games were over. No more tickets to sell.
Who cares?
Well, like it or not, sports reporters are the link between the fans and their heroes. If a fan wants to know “why” something wrong or who’s articulate and analytical, or where the team goes from here, reporters are the ticket to that. Yes, even when access is limited, or stifled. Loyal, intelligent fans usually want an intelligent explanation before investing another dollar in the emotions of being a fan.
The team-vs-media relationship has, like everything else, changed. In my first season covering the Montreal Expos, I was handed a slip of paper before Opening Day. On it was a list of every player’s home phone number, not be public, of course, and for professional interviews only. Private phone numbers, provided by the team! On road trips, the travelling party included media (usually half a dozen French and as many English), on the chartered plane, on the bus to the hotel, and in the hotel. I recall dropping five bags — a typewriter in one, a portable fax machine in another, assorted reference books/papers in a third — at the airport, as part of the team’s baggage. The next time I saw my bags, they were in my hotel room.
Teams tried to help reporters do their jobs. Now, they would prefer to operate in a vacuum, as long as they could squeeze in enough people and squeeze out enough money from them to pay the bills. Information is secondary. What exactly is that “upper-body” injury and how long will he be out…who cares?
Indeed, who does? The father taking his son to see his favourite player, only to discover said favourite player is hurt. The bettor trying to get an edge, and the more sports gets in bed with betting, the more transparent they should be about injuries.
To be fair, a media that includes bloggers, podcasters and correspondents from mysterious news services is unmanageable. Or is it? At one World Series Game 7 that I covered, I squeezed under the arm of a New York cop and just made it into the dressing room before the lockout went into force.
Today…what cops?
