So who is “the sleaziest man in sports”?

One of my favorite podcasts is Slate’s Hang Up and Listen. Maybe because there’s no shouting and no “Brian from Bridgetown, you’re on the air.”

One of the topics in this week’s edition was the latest Favre selfishness: did he or did he not inappropriately send messages (text and voicemail) to Jenn Sterger, attention-seeker de semaine? I don’t know Ms. Sterger’s body of work, but every story seems to be accompanied by a photo (or slideshow of photos) of her in as little attire as the editorial rules of each outlet allows, so I’m just guessing she’s not a panelist on Meet the Press. (In fact, she was (still is?) a “sideline reporter” and contributor to the Sports Illustrated website.)

The conversation on the show laid most of the blame — if that’s the correct word — on Deadspin, the “let’s skewer the athletes” website — for flaunting all established rules of journalism when it comes to attribution. In it’s rush to release the story, did the website have the right to use her name as the source when she was still deciding if she wanted to do so? The question, then: is it Favre or the Deadspin reporter or editor who made the decision to publish the sleaziest?

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Digging up some new business

Sorry, couldn’t resist.

“Local TV Garners Revenue From Obituaries” reads the headline for this story about “a CBS affiliate in Saginaw, Mich., [that] is generating revenue by running on-air and online obituary ads after three of the region’s four daily newspapers reduced publication to three days a week. The venture could make obits “one of our top billers within two years,” said Jeff Guilbert, general sales manager of WNEM.”

Seems appropriate since the regular newspaper business is dying anyway.

  • A reluctant welcome

    It’s no secret what’s going on the field of print journalism. It’s going into the crapper. I wonder if Mr. Internet realized this would happen when he invented the World Wide Web. Regardless, the situation is here and we’re stuck with it. The purpose of this blog is to blow off a little steam, and I invite my fellow ink-stained wretches to join in with their own tales of woe or triumph. Maybe this will turn into a nice little support network. Questions? Suggestions? E-mail me at worriedjournalist(at) gmail(dot)com.
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