The oppressiveness of being a smart sports journalist
 

It has occurred to me that it must be extremely boring for a very smart person to cover sports year after year, decade after decade. A lot of people think Bob Costas is smart. Ok. But shouldn't it be boring him to tears?

Ways a smart person might be persuaded to be a sports journalist decade after decade:

1. If you got paid a lot. Money talks. And no one wants to read your Great American novel.

2. People pay attention to your opinion and think its important. When you say someone should be in the Hall of Fame, people start listening. That must be very ego-stroking.

3. It's easy. And you are lazy.

4. You are smart, but generally unconcerned about things in the world. In fact, you get a tremendous feel-good buzz when the puff piece with the somber voice-over, the footage of the single-mom's headstone, and the teary athlete made good. "Damn, if we aren't doing something good here," you tell yourself.

5. Your talents don't translate into other areas. You are smart, you are knowledgeable, but only in a few areas, and you are not prepared to do the homework required to be an expert in other areas. That is, you are glib, you speak well, but being a sports journalist beats doing corporate retreat gigs.

6. You enjoy easy targets. Dumb athletes--easy to outsmart them. Dumb fans--easy to impress them and outmaneuver them.

7. The last bastion of sanctimony that is generally acceptable. If you get sanctimonious about religion, politics, poverty hunger, sex, or whatever, you are bound to upset a lot of people. But getting sanctimonious over a sports issue? You are a god, a prophet.

So when Bob Costas kicks the bucket, dies, passes away, to great national mourning, I hope some of you will remember what I said here and realize that he was as much an ass munch as he was a legend.