I wish I could say the Petrinos are caricatures of football coaches. Whistle-wearing grotesques. But it seems they're more and more what's to be expected out of a coach. That's a shame.
But someone else on staff should've written the story about the confrontation for the D-News. Dugar made himself the story by writing it. Another reporter could've written it, quoted him and gotten his side.
The Petrino Brothers' clownish act aside, I will say one thing: I'm disturbed by the amount of "insider" reporting required of a beat writer these days. As people want to read less and less dry, informational reporting, they want more and more (for a lack of better term) "impressionistic" stuff. While some of it is great (Arkley strikes a nice balance of facts and impressions and seems to build enough trust with coaches to be able to splice the thoughts perhaps they wouldn't want quoted into his own thoughts), it's more and more inviting people who don't coach football for a living to talk as if they do coach football for a living. And it's not the reporter's fault. That's what the reader is asking for. But here's a little problem with it: IF THE REPORTER COULD BREAK DOWN FOOTBALL LIKE A FOOTBALL COACH, HE OR SHE WOULD BE COACHING FOOTBALL.
So when coaches and players are no longer forthright and when players aren't even available to talk (like Petrino does with his star wide receiver), you're going to get impressions, innuendo, gossip, bluster, exaggeration based on teeny tiny things like vertical passing game drills.
This long, rambling post boils down to this: Maybe we should all watch the game more and demand less from inside the huddle. Maybe football, unlike actual important things in life where simple informational reporting still suffices in many ways, could be a little bit more of a mystery. I got out of sports writing recently and I really do enjoy the games more now. I'm not worried about finding an angle or stringing together narratives. Heaven knows at times I've stretched some small detail into a lede and probably made a football coach want to run across a field to read me the riot act. And I probably deserved it. But I always tried to approach an interview with a head coach as if I was a student and they were a teacher. Not in a bullying sort of way, but in the football sense. I wanted to ask informed, good questions about their teams, but I never wanted to give the impression I knew better. Or that I ever knew much at all. My job was to get their impression.
But when the coach isn't open, you're stuck with a news hole to fill. You're then grasping at what you know and that usually isn't enough to not make you look like a fool. Then you start describing the color of curtains in the post-game news conference room and gestures of their hands. Or you invent a narrative.
Sometimes in sports, there are no narratives. Sometimes a team is working on its vertical passing game in practice and the quarterback isn't connecting with receivers because...well...IT'S PRACTICE. And practice isn't perfect. To be trite, it's to become perfect.
The demands on a reporter these days trying to gain eyeballs against the flash and convenience of video and louder voices on radio and cable and the pressures on a football coach who can be scrutinized and fired for the tiniest amount of program atrophy can be a volatile pairing.
Last Edited: 8/21/2015 1:14:40 PM by Brian Smith (No, not that one)