Young Drachma
05-14-2004, 12:48 PM
You agree?
Next on ESPN...More programming about ESPN! (http://www.holecity.com/asp/sportshole.asp?issue=227&sec=3&hole=1)
Since the dawn of 2004, ESPN has aired a swirling, CGI-dominated commercial depicting a million television sets. In each telly appears either a dramatic sports moment---say, a celebrating hockey player followed by an immolating linebacker---or a talking head explaining his or her "fan" outlook on sports. Computer wizards have emblazoned quite a claim over this steaming, cylindrical Marshall McLuhan nightmare. To celebrate ESPN's 25th anniversary, the network's poobahs have deemed 2004 "The Year Of The Fan."
Surely, this is born from a noble impulse. The idea, one supposes, is to pay back sports and ESPN fans, who have made the Boys From Bristol the most powerful sports media outlet in existence, have made celebrities out of sports geeks with bad haircuts, have, through their cable-TV viewing habits, helped engineer a (some say sorrowful) change in the ways highlights are viewed, contracts are negotiated, and athletes are revered. In theory? A fine idea. In practice? Good lord.
ESPN's idea of "celebrating fans" is to allow them to apply for a SportsCenter job. ESPN's idea of "celebrating fans" is to give them a glimpse of what it takes to create a SportsCenter broadcast. ESPN's idea of "celebrating fans" is to cover the trials and tribulations of ESPN personalities like Rush Limbaugh and the cast of Playmakers with breathless abandon, as though they were external news. For God's sake, ESPN's idea of "celebrating fans" is Dick Vitale.
Like all evil empires, somewhere along the line ESPN stopped drawing a distinction between itself and its subjects, and assumed that what is good for ESPN is good for the nation. Like all evil empires, ESPN started mistaking self-recognition for ubiquity. Like all evil empires, somewhere along the line ESPN became convinced that it was the most powerful and intriguing game in town.
Remind us again: Does ESPN stand for "Endlessly Self-Promoting Network?"
Perhaps the roots of ESPN's demise as a legitimate news entity can be traced to its most famous Sunday-night SportsCenter duo: Keith Olbermann and Dan Patrick. We loved them because they were funny and different, and we watched them incessantly. What would Keith say next? How would Dan smarm his way out of that one? Which running gag would carry on through an entire show, which one would make it into the next show? It was, we thought, innocent fun.
And in the hands of a sublime partnership like Patrick/Olbermann, it was relatively innocent. But it was also subtly self-referential, as though the day's sports news wasn't quite enough, as though that extra spice of "inside joke" would add to a show that, let's face it, is still just a glorified George Michael's Sports Machine.
Next came Chris Berman, a walking self-parody, a truly nice man whose gags---"back-back-back," "Santana 'A-Rolling-Stone-Gathers-No' Moss," singing 1960s and 70s lyrics as though anyone cares---were old in 1990. These days, Berman can't open his mouth on the air without doing schtick, which is to say, doing his old familiar schtick, which is to say, he injects himself into every story, every analysis, every highlight. Dick Vitale's ridiculous screaming act and his oft-imitated fellatio of every coach, every player and every school in college basketball ("what's being done to Jim Harrick at UCLA is nothing short of criminal") routinely lead ESPN as far away from "journalism" as Stuart Scott leads it from "subtle."
Oh, yes, and then there's Stuart.
His long-ago "boo-yeahs," which seemed so stupid at the time, were sublime compared to his latest gigs on last year's Inside SportsCenter and the current Dream Job mess. Scott has an American Idol way of breathlessly intimating that whether this Steve-Levy-wannabe will be voted off the island is only slightly less important than, say, whether WMDs are discovered in Iraq. How, exactly, does it "celebrate the fan" to show viewers "what it takes" to make a SportsCenter broadcast? How, exactly, does it "celebrate the fan" to pick ten possible SportsCenter employees, and then elevate one of them out of the masses, into that benighted studio chair? Doesn't that essentially communicate the message that you, the audience, are outside, while we, the Bristol Stompers, are inside, and never the twain shall meet? What's next? "Check out John Buccigross's beautiful Stamford mansion on ESPN Cribs?"
You see, sports are no longer the story; ESPN is the story. This is a message communicated at every level of this self-important commercial entity. Playmakers was a pretty terrible show, but when it was canceled (by ESPN!), ESPN covered it as though the Hindenburg had gone down again. After the network enabled big-fat-idiot Rush Limbaugh to spew racist garbage on NFL Countdown, its bottom-screen crawl breathlessly reported that Limbaugh had been fired. On ESPN.com, faux-journalists like Bill Simmons are endlessly reporting their own experiences, their own histories, their own rooting interests. And all this is to say nothing of the ridiculous, self-created "events" like the Great Outdoor Games or the Winter X Games, whose commercial cynicism and pre-programmed demographics hawk a giant loogy in the face of any self-respecting sports fan. "Fuck you," ESPN says, "if we're showing it, it must be sports, and if we're mentioning it on SportsCenter it must be interesting sports. Watch it, now!!!"
Oh, but that's right. 2004 is the Year Of The Fan.
Better look out, 2005. We hear you might be the Year Of The Network Executive.
Next on ESPN...More programming about ESPN! (http://www.holecity.com/asp/sportshole.asp?issue=227&sec=3&hole=1)
Since the dawn of 2004, ESPN has aired a swirling, CGI-dominated commercial depicting a million television sets. In each telly appears either a dramatic sports moment---say, a celebrating hockey player followed by an immolating linebacker---or a talking head explaining his or her "fan" outlook on sports. Computer wizards have emblazoned quite a claim over this steaming, cylindrical Marshall McLuhan nightmare. To celebrate ESPN's 25th anniversary, the network's poobahs have deemed 2004 "The Year Of The Fan."
Surely, this is born from a noble impulse. The idea, one supposes, is to pay back sports and ESPN fans, who have made the Boys From Bristol the most powerful sports media outlet in existence, have made celebrities out of sports geeks with bad haircuts, have, through their cable-TV viewing habits, helped engineer a (some say sorrowful) change in the ways highlights are viewed, contracts are negotiated, and athletes are revered. In theory? A fine idea. In practice? Good lord.
ESPN's idea of "celebrating fans" is to allow them to apply for a SportsCenter job. ESPN's idea of "celebrating fans" is to give them a glimpse of what it takes to create a SportsCenter broadcast. ESPN's idea of "celebrating fans" is to cover the trials and tribulations of ESPN personalities like Rush Limbaugh and the cast of Playmakers with breathless abandon, as though they were external news. For God's sake, ESPN's idea of "celebrating fans" is Dick Vitale.
Like all evil empires, somewhere along the line ESPN stopped drawing a distinction between itself and its subjects, and assumed that what is good for ESPN is good for the nation. Like all evil empires, ESPN started mistaking self-recognition for ubiquity. Like all evil empires, somewhere along the line ESPN became convinced that it was the most powerful and intriguing game in town.
Remind us again: Does ESPN stand for "Endlessly Self-Promoting Network?"
Perhaps the roots of ESPN's demise as a legitimate news entity can be traced to its most famous Sunday-night SportsCenter duo: Keith Olbermann and Dan Patrick. We loved them because they were funny and different, and we watched them incessantly. What would Keith say next? How would Dan smarm his way out of that one? Which running gag would carry on through an entire show, which one would make it into the next show? It was, we thought, innocent fun.
And in the hands of a sublime partnership like Patrick/Olbermann, it was relatively innocent. But it was also subtly self-referential, as though the day's sports news wasn't quite enough, as though that extra spice of "inside joke" would add to a show that, let's face it, is still just a glorified George Michael's Sports Machine.
Next came Chris Berman, a walking self-parody, a truly nice man whose gags---"back-back-back," "Santana 'A-Rolling-Stone-Gathers-No' Moss," singing 1960s and 70s lyrics as though anyone cares---were old in 1990. These days, Berman can't open his mouth on the air without doing schtick, which is to say, doing his old familiar schtick, which is to say, he injects himself into every story, every analysis, every highlight. Dick Vitale's ridiculous screaming act and his oft-imitated fellatio of every coach, every player and every school in college basketball ("what's being done to Jim Harrick at UCLA is nothing short of criminal") routinely lead ESPN as far away from "journalism" as Stuart Scott leads it from "subtle."
Oh, yes, and then there's Stuart.
His long-ago "boo-yeahs," which seemed so stupid at the time, were sublime compared to his latest gigs on last year's Inside SportsCenter and the current Dream Job mess. Scott has an American Idol way of breathlessly intimating that whether this Steve-Levy-wannabe will be voted off the island is only slightly less important than, say, whether WMDs are discovered in Iraq. How, exactly, does it "celebrate the fan" to show viewers "what it takes" to make a SportsCenter broadcast? How, exactly, does it "celebrate the fan" to pick ten possible SportsCenter employees, and then elevate one of them out of the masses, into that benighted studio chair? Doesn't that essentially communicate the message that you, the audience, are outside, while we, the Bristol Stompers, are inside, and never the twain shall meet? What's next? "Check out John Buccigross's beautiful Stamford mansion on ESPN Cribs?"
You see, sports are no longer the story; ESPN is the story. This is a message communicated at every level of this self-important commercial entity. Playmakers was a pretty terrible show, but when it was canceled (by ESPN!), ESPN covered it as though the Hindenburg had gone down again. After the network enabled big-fat-idiot Rush Limbaugh to spew racist garbage on NFL Countdown, its bottom-screen crawl breathlessly reported that Limbaugh had been fired. On ESPN.com, faux-journalists like Bill Simmons are endlessly reporting their own experiences, their own histories, their own rooting interests. And all this is to say nothing of the ridiculous, self-created "events" like the Great Outdoor Games or the Winter X Games, whose commercial cynicism and pre-programmed demographics hawk a giant loogy in the face of any self-respecting sports fan. "Fuck you," ESPN says, "if we're showing it, it must be sports, and if we're mentioning it on SportsCenter it must be interesting sports. Watch it, now!!!"
Oh, but that's right. 2004 is the Year Of The Fan.
Better look out, 2005. We hear you might be the Year Of The Network Executive.