The relationship between athletes and the media is a vexing one, a bond that continues to baffle me to this very day. Every time we want to talk to them, they don't want to talk to us. Then, when they do decide to talk to us, we don't need or want to talk to them. So they go back to not talking to us altogether. Every time we wear red socks to a press conference, they are set on blue. Puzzling, I must admit.
Yet in my limited dealings with athletes, both collegiate and professional, I think I've finally figured the athlete out. Now the true test is getting him to tell me whether or not I'm right.
In their - at times amicable, at others nonexistent - relationship with the media, athletes can be pigeonholed into one of four categories: the mute, the one that never mutes himself (see Bryan Cox), the All-American Boy and in a category all by his lonesome, Ricky Williams.
The mute confuses me most. He's certainly capable of physically separating the upper and lower portions of the jaw to emit what we affectionately term words. He just won't.
Sterling Sharpe is the poster-child for this burgeoning movement. First, while a member of the Green Bay Packers he refuses to talk to the media. Then he breaks his neck, tries to come back, practically numbs his entire body, calls it quits again, and joins, of all groups, that's right, you guessed it ... the media.
Okay, so balding "Boomer," Tommy "what do you have" Jackson and the man they call Mort decided to do their good deed for the day and welcome Mr. Sharpe on board. Nice guys.
But the story gets better.
For no good reason in particular, Sharpe proudly pronounces that were he to return to the playing field, he would no longer associate with, talk to, look at, or in any other way be caught dead anywhere near the media.
"Hey Berman, what've you done for me lately?"
I don't want to apply the label unfairly to Sharpe, who by the way, is a fine NFL announcer. But unfortunately, his influence has disseminated like a virus spread through the air - it now invades the minds of younger and younger players, and even penetrates the college ranks.
Now Virginia Tech defensive end John Engelberger, of all people, doesn't particularly want to talk to the media. Now I can understand the tedium and monotony of sitting at a table while 15 tape-wielding Dobermans scour your childhood in search of an elementary school memory worthy of a story. But on the flip side, John, talking to the media has its distinct advantages. Yes, it can be fickle, but it can also get you noticed if you milk it the right way. No shouting or barking, just plain and simple talk will do, and the name Engelberger might begin to sound less like something out of a spelling bee and more like a household name with NFL stamped on it.
The not-so-mute is just the opposite. He knows what the media does and what it's capable of doing, and before you know it, words start spewing. Bryan Cox and Keyshawn Johnson always seem to come to mind - Cox, a human expletive just aching to erupt like an R-rated volcano, Johnson just yelling at everyone to "throw him the damn ball." Every single member of both the Tennessee and Florida football teams also seems to come up. With all that shameless bragging and self-promotion, somebody had to be wrong.
Now I appreciate guys like this who are willing to take a few risks. At times, however, some of these "rebels" have a tendency to cross the line or make claims they simply can't back.
Ask North Carolina point guard Ed Cota about this. After the Tar Heels had their collective heads handed to them, 96-73, by Duke in the final of the ACC Basketball Tournament last March, Cota, showing Cox-like humility, ranted: "Hopefully we'll play them again, but I don't think they'll make it that far. There are probably 10 teams that could beat them. If we had Vince [Carter] and Antawn [Jamison] this year, it wouldn't have even been a contest. It's that plain and simple."
You know what, Ed's right. Plain and simple, Carolina did not have either Carter or Jamison. But just think, if Jordan, Worthy, Perkins and Montross were all there, then ...
Off the record, Ed. Off the record.
The All-American boy grew up playing on the little-league baseball team that frequented the ice cream parlor after every single game, win or lose. Play well, play miserably, get ice cream, bond with your brethren.
That's why, 12 years later when they make it to the pros, their heart is still wolfing down rocky road with the "guys from down the block."
Question: "Johnny Quarterback, you just shattered every single-game NFL passing record on file. You must be thrilled?"
Answer: "It's nice and all, but I just want to help my team win. I just want to go out and give 100 percent and do my best on every play to help my teammates out. I'll do anything I can, play any position the coaching staff needs me to, to help us win."
Selfless, generous, humble, and in a way, crazy. Obviously the penultimate goal is winning, but a little "me" has to creep in there somewhere.
Again, let's bring in the "Engelberger example." Use the media to your advantage - milk it, coax it, joke with it, talk to it, reap the benefits of it. The media can put a person on the map - just ask Kato Kaelin.
Finally we come to Williams, my personal favorite. Ricky has initiated another trend. First it was running over and through college football for four years. Then it was Master P. Then a contract that may see Williams paid $40 million less than Edgerrin James, who was drafted just one slot ahead of him. Then he married Mike Ditka. Now he won't take his helmet off for anything: not when he talks, not when he flosses, probably not even when he sleeps.
Perhaps the moral of the story goes something like this: yes, it's a tumultuous relationship right out of a Danielle Steel novel, but the media and athletes can get along. All they have to do is be themselves and stop allowing media-types like me to pigeonhole them.
I'm not a muckraking journalist. Honestly. I just want to do my best in everything I do and give 100 percent to make this newspaper the best publication it ...
You get the picture.
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