Sportswriting 101

Certain things are expected from sportswriters. Although there has been, in recent years, an increasing amount of criticism levelled at the relationships between journalists and the athletes they cover, relationships which more often than not seem to be based on nothing more than mutual back-scratching. In theory, we like to think that sportswriters are privileged by having access to sports in a way in which the fan never could, and hence, they can provide greater insight. Needless to say, more often that not, this is a rather erroneous and idealistic view to take.

We can, and often do, find a good deal of humour in the symbiotic relationship existing between sportswriters and athletes, which in turn leads to the perpetuation of hackneyed clichés. We rarely get a glimpse behind the facade of such niceties. The Guardian's Daniel Taylor recently gave such a glimpse, when he recounted a story about Cristiano Ronaldo's prima-donnaish behaviour at an event to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the Munich disaster. This incident was initially hushed up by the journalists present, but Taylor chose to tell the tale when Ronaldo's move to Real Madrid looked likely.

There is a whole lot more on this topic which I will get to at another juncture. For now, I believe it is enough to say that this malaise in sports journalism generally goes unspoken. They ask the athletes easy questions. The athletes respond with something from the Big Book of Sports Clichés. We know very little of what else happens.

Until...

Until a New York Times journalist who is present at Wimbledon to cover the final weekend of the tournament reveals the following:

No one expected a day-night match for the ages. Who thought that in a stretch of 24 hours, Venus Williams’s great accomplishment — a fifth women’s singles championship — would be dwarfed by a tennis marathon? Who thought? Not us. So we watched as Nadal took a commanding two-set lead, concluded that this was Nadal’s day and decided to take in a movie, “Hancock.”

Seriously. This is reminiscent of George Best famously departing the Nou Camp with ninety minutes of the 1999 European Cup final played and Man Utd trailing by a goal, but surely the difference between three minutes and another whole set of tennis is rather large indeed. There was something endearing about Best leaving early, as in many ways it showed how he was passionate and emotional, just like any fan. William Rhoden is paid to report on sporting events for one of the most prestigious newspapers in the world.

The question is this: what insight does a New York Times journalist bring to proceedings when he merely recounts how he watched the tail end of one of the greatest tennis matches of all time from a pub? Sometimes it's better off not knowing these things.