Tag Archives: Gary Mason

Fie On You, Sham Sportswriters!

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The hyped moment of this week’s Toronto Maple Leaf press conference was tabloid reporter Steve Simmons offering his vitriolic remarks on John Chayka’s hire as general manager. “You talk about due diligence…but many think this a sham. Words like ‘con artist’, ‘liar’, and ‘salesman’ have been said.”

Steve Simmons takes a quivering potshot at the hiring of John Chayka

While it’s possible that Mr. Chayka won’t do well as Toronto’s GM, the hiring isn’t the point here. It’s the bitter, self-centered nature of Mr. Simmons. I’ve previously blogged on the tendency of sports media towards flailing stupidity, focusing on reporters such as Dave Feshuck (Toronto Star) and Cathal Kelly (The Globe & Mail).

This has been on my mind for many years. Beginning in 1997, I worked as a sports reporter for a now-defunct Vancouver weekly and witnessed firsthand the behavior of these Neanderthals, many of whom only ask questions along the lines of “What’s it feel like to lose again?” I was once in a post-game scrum with Allen Iverson, an NBA rookie at the time, who fielded endless critical questions about his posse. When I asked him about his decision to change tactics in the fourth quarter, he looked at me in surprise. “Oh, a sports question.”

I eventually wrote a piece on the miserable state of sports journalism. I interviewed athletes such as Peter Zezel (Toronto Maple Leafs), Mark Messier (Vancouver Canucks) and Othello Harrington (Vancouver Grizzlies) as well as Blue Jays manager Cito Gaston and Neil Amdur, the sports editor for The New York Times, asking their opinions on the aggressive, often uneducated nature of sports reporting. There was a clear consensus on how challenging this could be, Mr. Gaston especially amused by line of inquiry, given the target the media had painted on his back in those days. I completed the piece, offering it to The Globe and Mail, and was told it couldn’t be published because I had named names.

Gary Mason espousing on some kind of irrelevence

Gary Mason, the sports editor of The Vancouver Sun at the time, was one of those names. Among other things, I cited his laughable decision to write about his personal hike up Grouse Mountain and not the Vancouver Canadians championship on their final day as a Triple-A Baseball Team. Instead of witnessing an historic day at Nat Bailey Stadium, Mr. Mason had wandered off. “The Grind is so popular, it has become a zoo.”

Astoundingly, Mason has since become a Globe and Mail national affairs columnist, giving us hope that Simmons too might drift off somewhere and allow someone else to take his place and actually report on the intricacies of decision-making in the sports world.

Writing Process: Virtual Junk to Myself

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My family had many Christmas traditions. Presents were not put under the tree until Christmas Eve. The living room door was kept closed until after we had a proper breakfast. Christmas cards were used as decorations around the house. And after receiving our gifts, we had to write thank-you notes to everyone. It was an onerous, yet vital task.

Thank-you notes are a thing of the past; now children just call aunts and grandparents, or worse, send texts and posts. A quick word with an emoji or two, and they can go back to their games and chats. The same goes for notes and letters. Indeed when was the last time you received a postcard?

Postcards from camp to my parents in 1973

It’s not as if I’m pining for the days of writing thank-you notes but that, as these artifacts go, so do our memories. The Young Chronicles series detailing my 1983 Cross-Canada hitchhiking trip would not exist if not for my hand-written notes.

Original notes for Young Chronicles

While these sophomoric scribblings are not vital to living my life, they are key to reminding me of where I’ve been.

I wrote a piece twenty years ago on the poor state of sports journalism. I interviewed many sports people including Allen Iverson, Mark Messier, Cito Gaston and the sports editor for The New York Times. It was a solid bit of writing which The Globe and Mail considered publishing but ultimately rejected as being too controversial because I named names – including Stephen Brunt and Gary Mason, godawful writers still working today. The story is gone, lost because it and all of the notes were on a floppy disk that vanished in the years of transition. And so I only have this picture from Gary’s Instagram.

I rarely write on paper anymore. I text myself my notes. I do this so much that my Gmail account has flagged me (the same Gmail account) as junk, junk unto itself. Yes, even my computer is sending the message for me to get back to paper, maybe even print out these posts so that I can reflect and share on whatever platform is to come.