Dear ESPN the Magazine…

Dear B. Lopez,

Thank you for your form letter asking in all caps at the top “IS THERE A PROBLEM?”  Yes, you asshole.  You can’t take a hint.

My mom got me a subscription to ESPN the Mag about a year ago, and I want to let it expire because your mag  is trash. When you write, “It has come to my attention that despite numberous attempts to contact you, we have still not heard back.,”  I want to throttle you. You haven’t heard back  because I’m a polite person.  I don’t ordinarily respond angrily to form letters, but get a clue man.

I didn’t respond to your first six paper-wasting requests for me to re-subscribe.  I thought I could let the subscription lapse in peace, but you sir have push a decent person past her limit.

You ask, “Is there some sort of problem with your subscription?” Yes, and let me spell this out for you clearly.

1) Cover ads are bullshit.  I have the Yadier Molina issue next to me, the one I swiped from under my coffee table where it was collecting dust.  Well only half of Molina has dust on him, because the rest is covered by a half page RESUBSCRIBE ad.  What are you thinking?  I’m instantly turned off when I see your magazine.

2) Too many ads, and FAR too much self promotion.  Let’s go through the Yadier issue, and I’m going to count the pages that have either ads, columns, or features regarding ESPN personalities or ESPN programming.  Ready?

Ad, ad, ad, ad, ad, ad, ad, table of contents, contents continued, ad, ad, column, column continued, ad, Stu Scott Q+A drivel, ad, mailbag about previous ESPN the Mags, ad, 2 page picture (AWESOME!), Page 2 short write up and picture, Page 2’s Big 10, ad, Jesus…more Page 2, ad, Page 2 with Gina Carano, mini ad with video game thing, more Page 2, ad, Page 2 still with sidebar ad, ad, Hey Mike and Mike…I hate these guys!, ad, and FINALLY we arrive at a STORY.  I got to Yadier 34 pages later in a 76 page issue.

Damn.  CONTENT please, not self-promotion and a sea of beer and deodorant ads.

3) MORE self-promotion.  Your magazine is a machine, essentially one big ad for ESPN and it’s so obvious.  That’s the problem, I’m AWARE that I’m reading an ad.  Subtlety is lost on you in a way I can’t forgive.  Reading your magazine is painful.  Please get to the CONTENT, because…

4) It’s all your mag is surviving on. I don’t know whose idea it was to put the Bill Simmons or Rick Riley columns online nearly a week before the columns run in the Mag, but that’s a bad move.  What’s my incentive to read your high-rollers in a magazine when I can find them online?  You’ll argue that’s the point, right?  You want the page views and those two draw readers. Alright….don’t run their columns in the Mag. They’re already outdated by the time the Mag hits my mailbox (unless Riley is going off about cheerleaders and dentists again in one of those Evergreen flashback-to -something-I-kinda-wrote-already-in-2002 columns….).  Instead, give me smart content that I’m not going to see anywhere else.

I LOVE the longer Outside the Lines stories.  I love anything that does NOT have to do with Farve, the Patriots, or what Lane Kiffen said. Treat me like I’m a smart reader, ok? Give me the stories I wouldn’t otherwise see, because ESPN is a juggernaut and has the resources to do fantastic story-telling. Reward intelligence and intrepid reporting.

5) I’m flipping thru this issue for more things to tell you….Oh, here’s a two-page ad on the swag rich people get for going to the ESPYs. Gag.

You get the point, Mr. Lopez. Cut the ESPN self-love and treat me like I care about sports.  Because I do, truly.  But I’m not getting sports from you in what’s supposedly a sports mag.  I’m getting saturated with the opinions of Mike and Mike and Sportsnation pie charts. Do not want.

In closing Sir, thanks for a good vent.  NOW LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.

Words for Erin Andrews

Erin Andrews is the measuring stick for female sports reporters.  TV, print, whatever, it’s always “You’re going to be the next Erin Andrews!”  She’s the most recognizable woman covering  sports.

Guys harass her and she hides on the sidelines.  When she doesn’t have a live hit, she’s in the ESPN tent, out of sight.  I’ve passed her on the sidelines, finally said hi, and she extended her hand and said “Hi, I’m Erin!” with a warm grin because she doesn’t come with arrogance.  We talked about how it’s tough for her to date and then we got back to work. I like her.  I don’t know her, but in my brief times around her, she’s pleasant.  I felt sad when some asshole taped her in a moment when she had her guard down. Fuck it, I cried.  I was angry at what they did to her, I was angry all over again at the small things I’ve been through, and I was upset by acknowledging it was her in the video, she opened herself to national news by sticking up for herself.

I’ve been looking forward to Thursday.  Not only is it the start of my favorite season–COLLEGE football–I hope I’ll spot Erin.  I want to tell her, “Never let the bastards get you down.”

I want to ask her why the hell she’s going on Oprah as well, but all summer people had their say on message boards and blogs.  I guess it’s her turn to speak uninterrupted. Probably not the decision I would have made, but I’m not in her shoes.

This is a softball entry, I know. But E, never let the bastards get you down.

Second thing: I’m a decade younger than my coworkers, and they talk about “how it used to be.” At media luncheons, hey LUNCH was served with an open bar occasionally, and access for the type of buddy-buddy story-telling that doesn’t exist anymore.  Now I need a meal ticket to eat (two inch by one inch strips of colored paper so I can get a sandwich and some water for my shift…)

With less than five years on the job, I’m watching myself become obsolete.  I’m a middle-man getting cut out because schools, coaches and athletes can speak for themselves on websites and twitter. Games are on TV.  They have their own camera crews, so highlights are on a school’s website.  Raw interviews are online. Doing live shots with post following a game make sense because of the immediacy, but shit….sports reporters are getting cut out of the picture. My job is fading.

I know the rule: Be friendly with players, but not friends….but we’re barely acquantences at this point. To some degree, I need to know their struggles, their history, their interactions with other players, their sense of humor,  so maybe I can crack the PR-speak and get a real soundbite from these guys. I need to know them and they need to know me. 

Looks smart on the part of the teams…controlled access with the message they want to send fans, a well-planned propaganda machine, without the criticism media provide or the angles schools don’t want to acknowledge.  I’m watching a machine move that has me in awe of its power and fearing its reach.  The writing is on the wall baby.