Today, a Chicago
sportswriter came up with this gem: “All
of a sudden, the Cubs were trying to complete a perfect homestand. [They went 5-1.] How stupid is that?” No more than slamming them for losing all
the time.
I try not to
wallow in nostalgia. While parts of my
childhood were idyllic, I never contacted polio, and I never grew up on the
other side of a racial boundary that defined so much of Chicago life in the
1950s and ’60s. That said, I’ll take the
old sportswriters to these guys any day.
For openers, the
old-timers made me want to read. David
Condon, Jerome Holtzman and Bill Gleason all came out of the so-called
“Greatest Generation.” I know Gleason
saw combat, which may explain his writing style, always direct, nothing
wasted, like running from foxhole to foxhole.
The same went for Condon and Holtzman.
Together, they turned baseball into a sport worth following.
And now? Everyone wants to be the next Jay Mariotti,
except for having to go to court over domestic abuse charges. In print and on
the air, commentators mock in equal measure to the way networks treat a sport as if they were covering Mother Teresa.
Give me the old days of Condon et al anytime.
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