ESPN's Rick Reilly wrote a sports poem so bad it changed the way I see the world. In the chaos of our new sports media dystopia, we hold a handful of gray ash and wonder: how did this happen?
From a story on SB Nation...
And now the poem.
How did this happen? I don't
pose this question with the intent to answer it. I am asking it
sincerely and earnestly: I genuinely want to know how, in the year 2013,
Rick Reilly and the so-called "Worldwide Leader in Sports" published a
poem so ham-fisted it barely belongs in a high school newspaper. This is
my public and heartfelt plea for answers in a world I no longer
understand, a message in a bottle that I'm throwing in the general
direction of Bristol, Connecticut: how in the living fuck did this see
the light of day?
How many editors died or quit
or threw themselves out 12-story windows in order for this childishly
amateur work -- and I use the word "work" as loosely as possible --
reach the viewing public? Who was the brow-beaten chump who said, "Sure,
okay, Mr. Reilly, let's run with this"? Or is there no brow-beaten
chump with the misnomer of "editor" at all? Does Reilly truly have the
unfettered freedom to publish without an editor? I'm not kidding: if you
work or worked at ESPN and can offer me insight into this, please email
me or explain that peculiar alchemy in the comments.
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