Athletic, Axios talking merger?

If I asked you about art, you’d probably give me the on about every art book ever written. Michelangelo. You know a lot about him. Life’s work. Political aspirations. Him and the Pope. Sexual orientation. The whole works, right? But I bet you can’t tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You’ve never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling. Seen that.

If I ask you about women, you’d probably give me a syllabus of your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can’t tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy.

You’re a tough kid. If I ask you about war, you’d probably throw Shakespeare at me, right? ‘Once more into the breach, dear friends.’ But you’ve never been near one. You’ve never held your best friend’s head in your lap and watch him gasp his last breath, looking to you for help.

If I ask you about love, you’d probably quote me a sonnet. But you’ve never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone who can level you with her eyes. Feel like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of Hell. And you wouldn’t know what it’s like to be her angel. To have that love for her be there forever. Through anything. Through cancer. And you wouldn’t know about sleeping, sitting up in a hospital room for two months, holding her hand because the doctors could see in your eyes that the terms ‘visiting hours’ don’t apply to you.

You don’t know about real loss. Because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt you’ve ever dared to love anybody that much. I look at you, I don’t see an intelligent, confident man. I see a cocky, scared-shitless kid.

But you’re a genius, Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine. You ripped my fuckin’ life apart. You’re an orphan, right? Do you think I’d know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you?

Personally, I don’t give a shit about all that. Because you know what? I can’t learn anything from you that I can’t read in some fuckin’ book. Unless you want to talk about you. Who you are. And I’m fascinated. I’m in. But you don’t want to do that, do you, sport? You’re terrified of what you might say.

Your move, chief.

 

Honest question - why would anyone pay anything for the Athletic instead of just hiring away their talent? The Athletic is its writers. If the New York Times wanted to, it could spend $50 million on hiring and put the Athletic out of business.

 

I used to come here looking for interesting journalism conversation, but then I realized this site is just a bunch of crotchety old white dudes who think people still read newspapers and poo-poo anything new just because it's new. I check in occassionally to give myself some laughs. You're one of my favorites because you always write long-winded posts explaining basic business principles they teach in high school as if you're Warren Buffet. Keep doing your thing, my man.

 

The Athletic signed writers to contracts at big raises from their previous jobs, yes. But, as those contracts have expired, at least some of those writers have been asked to take pay cuts in a second contract. So maybe it wouldn't take more after all.

 

aye, it probably is, but at least we still care.

I like people who've logged some time in the business acting like a philosopher-king in regard to these matters.

375 years was a good run for newspapers in our country. That's how this old dude sees it.

Don't be sad it's over, be glad it happened.

 

Now they have to keep up with the wives of the UES, first and foremost.

 

You literally said you know how valuations work because you watch Shark Tank

 

Yes and none of you picked up on the sarcasm. Hence why I told Mr. Ragu to stop taking things so literally.