Fans who get press passes

When I covered JC football, part of the amusement factor was wondering which new expletives the booth coaches would come up with next. Of course, many nights the only people in the press area was me and the guy shooting game films. Recall it only getting heated once, when someone left a door open and a coach was convinced the other school could hear the plays, but it all got patched up after the fame. Never considered using it for a second.

 

Yeah, I wouldn't use it either unless something egregious happened like them cursing out the woman who asked them to watch their language and it causing a dust-up.
My general rule of thumb on those things is that they make for funny stories to tell your friends and colleagues, not funny stories in the newspaper. Part of the unwritten rules of journalism, or something.
Similarly, I've been in plenty of high school locker rooms or lurked on the edge of postgame huddles waiting for coaches to finish talking to their teams. Invariably, they'll start yelling or cursing at some point and I'll get some overzealous manager or assistant coach asking me to wait outside because they think I'm writing down everything the coach is saying and it's going to make it into the game story.
No, pal. I really don't give two shits. I don't give one shit, other than that the sooner he finishes his speech the sooner I can get to work and go home. As long as he's not smacking a player around or anything, what's said in the locker room (or coaches booth) stays there as far as I'm concerned. If there's something especially interesting in the postgame message, I'll ask about it directly.

 

I've always been curious about how HS coaches get away with swearing so much, often with the principal or other administrators on the sidelines. Can you imagine other teachers doing that?

Math teacher: What the Bleep? Are you bleeping stupid? Do that bleeping problem again?

Drama teacher: Bleep, bleep, bleep. That's not the bleeping line.

Can't imagine they would last long.

I find a lot of the swearing is from assistants who are only there for football and not school staff members.

 

They get away with it because sports is seen as different from academics and athletes and their parents don't push it.

 

Two quick stories:
In my former life, besides being a sports writer, I was an avid scanner listener. At home one Friday night, I was watching a bit of the live local HS game that was on the local school channel. The city had recently switched to a trunked radio system and for whatever reason, put the pressbox-to-sideline phones on the system. Four talk groups, home offense, home defense, visitor offense, visitor defense. So in most cases I could hear the play calls (and the salty language) from the comfort of my living room. That changed a few years ago with new pressbox phones.

Two guys started a preps website, but it folded after a couple of years and when nobody paid the hosting fees, all you got was an error message if you tried to access the site.At a regional basketball tournament two years ago, a guy showed up with a press credential who obviously was a freeloader, including chowing down on massive quantities in the hospitality room. The tournament director took note and asked a couple of us if we knew him. We did, because he was a former HS football player, but he was using this defunct website's name as his free entry. Director tried to access the website on his smartphone and when it came up as non-existent, booted the guy out on the spot.

 

Thanks for the story. Love reading stuff like this. +1

 

This happened at my shop at the state finals earlier this month. Directive came down from the publisher to secure credentials for this guy to shoot photos for us, despite the fact he straight up stood us up on a similar assignment last year. Guy shows up wearing a T-shirt and hat of the team that we're there to cover. Totally bush league. The guy only wanted the credential so he could be down on the floor. He did actually shoot photos, unlike some of the people in earlier posts here, but he also sat on press row and, as our local team was going on a big run in the second half to erase a double-digit deficit, actually stood up and started waving his arms up and down to egg on the team's fans to get louder. I've never been more terrified of anything in my life than the idea that someone with the state association would ask him what paper he was with. It was an absolute joke.

 

This x 100.

 

The suburban high school I attended had one of the area's biggest football pressboxes -- and yet there was never much space for reporters because the athletic director gave priority seating to his drinking buddies. The reporter from the local weekly (also one of the AD's pals) always got a seat up there, as did writers from the region's major metros if they happened to cover a big game. But reporters who covered the opposing school usually were told there wasn't any room for them, so they had to walk the sidelines.

 

One thing that has made me angry over the years I have been doing this is one of my best friends asking for a press pass to basically come with and do the things you guys are bashing. We both were obsessed with sports at a young age and I kind of started him getting obsessed with sports and involved in sports. His parents were strict and didn't allow him to play sports at a young age but I basically begged him to play in middle school basketball and he did and he loved it and started to love sports as much as I did. The reason I say that is because he doesn't get that just because I love sports doesn't mean it's not f-ing work to cover the games. I chose to do it because I like it and want to do something I love to do, but he therefore I think doesn't look at it like work. I have to do a notebook, gamer and a feature after the game for later in the week so I am not going to friggin' get you a press pass to the state tournament to let you see the Division I players you want to see. It is my job not just sitting eating a hot dog and enjoying a game.

 

Reactions from acquaintances outside the business always have been a pet peeve. I've lost count of the number of times I've had to explain to people that good sports reporters work just as hard at covering their beats as news reporters do covering fires and crime stories. And it's not limited to reporters. The all-time classic phone call I received on a sports desk was from some guys who wanted to settle a bet, something like who started at shortstop for the 1963 Cleveland Indians. When I explained I was on deadline and suggested a better time to call, one of them said, "Don't you guys just sit around eating pizza and talking sports all night?" That's when I went into my imitation of "The Scream."

The Scream, 1893 by Edvard Munch

 

Whenever people used to say to me, "Wow, so you get paid to watch games?" I would say, "No, I get paid for writing about games that end at 10:30 when my deadline is 10:15."