Mark Whicker, what were you thinking?

Well, since you asked, this has always been my gold-standard example of Worst Column Ever by a big-market guy. One man's opinion, of course, and a little benign in subject matter compared to a kidnapped girl (although just try, at the end, to un-remember the image of Naked Skip and the naked ghosts of two old men after reading this. It's like un-ringing a bell). I still think this one may win, however:

THE NAKED TRUTH: BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU PREDICT
Skip Bayless
760 words
30 September 1999
Chicago Tribune
TRIB
CHICAGO SPORTS FINAL; N
1
English
Copyright (c) 1999 Bell & Howell Information and Learning Company. All rights reserved.

So there I was the other morning at 4 a.m., standing on the Wrigley Field mound, doing the macarena, wearing only a frown.

I said I would do it, and by Harry, I was.

I said in an Opening Day column that if the Cubs finished any lower than second in the NL Central, I would do the macarena naked at Wrigley. Proving that many readers lose interest after a couple of paragraphs, many failed to read or remember my wimp-out disclaimer in paragraph No. 3.

"At 4 a.m. Lights off. Nobody watching."

So there I was, illuminated only by the distant glow of streetlights, freezing my bare bottom off. Of course, the Cubs had been mathematically eliminated from second place on something like June 28. But I had held out hope that players on other teams would be declared academically ineligible or that the Cubs would find a way to win a 50-header.

Extend right arm, palm down. Extend left, palm down. Right palm up, left palm up. Slap upper left arm with right hand . . .

I hummed that brain-cell-killing "Macarena" song as I danced, knowing I wouldn't be able to get it out of my head for three freakin' days. Right hand to back of neck, left to neck. Right to "pants pocket" region. Left to same.

Move butt right, then left. Clap. Turn 90 degrees right.

"Hey, that's a balk," I suddenly heard someone say in the near- dark beside me.

I was stunned to see what certainly appeared to be Harry Caray, dancing along with me, wearing nothing but his signature glasses.

"Harry," said a voice on the other side of me, "I think you just gave the suicide-squeeze sign."

I jerked my head the other way to see what appeared to be Jack Brickhouse, dancing along, wearing only much smaller black glasses.

Speechless, I could only keep dancing. Harry and Jack fell into music-less unison, something like three naked white guys doing a bad Supremes imitation. Together, we clapped and turned.

"How could you be such a fool, Baylor?" Harry said.

"It's Bayless, Harry," Jack said.

"Chip Baylor, Chip Bayless, whatever," Harry said. "How could you watch the Cubs curse ruin poor Kerry Wood in spring training and still think this team could finish ahead of Cincinnati? Holy cows."

"You said cows, Harry," Jack said.

"Jack, have you seen all those damn painted cows downtown? Cows on every corner, cows riding in cabs, cows selling StreetWise. So I decided to change it to holy cows. Maybe you should change yours to h- a-y, h-a-y."

Brickhouse was laughing so hard he went down on one knee. Harry and I didn't miss a beat: clap, turn.

I said, "Harry, I made the mistake of buying into what all the players said about how Wood won only 13 of their 90 games last year."

"But Chip," Harry said, "Kerry Wood had a Hall of Fame arm. That 100-mile-an-hour fastball made a bunch of losers believe they finally had a nuclear weapon. This organization won't go out and buy a Pedro Martinez or Randy Johnson, but one finally fell into its lap."

"OK," I said, "but they did sign Rod Beck."

"That guy," Jack said, falling back into rhythm, "gave this franchise the kind of battling spirit we could've used in August of '69."

"Aw, Jack," Harry said, "observations like that are why I got a statue and you only got those Christmas decorations on the foul poles."

"But Harry," I said, "Beck convinced me in spring training that he was healthy."

"For you and Eddie Lynch," Harry said of the Cubs GM, "I have some prime real estate just a couple of miles east of downtown Chicago that I'll sell you real cheap. Eddie's moves were as god-awful this year as they were blessed last year. Riggs (manager Jim Riggleman) and Eddie are so close that you wonder if both of 'em shouldn't go."

I said, "But I thought Sammy could . . ."

Breathing harder, Harry said, "Sammy Sosa can run Michael Jordan out of his restaurant, but he'll never be a Michael Jordan."

"Harry," Jack said, "you need to have another Bud and lighten up."

"Hell," Harry said, "I'm going to start doing this every morning and get back in shape. Just keep making those predictions, Chip."

 

If it's a manager, that's fine, but it is completely unfair to expect a copy editor to make the determination whether a column from the star columnist should be pulled. They can make recommendations to management, but ultimately, it's got to be the SE or the Night SE who decides to pull a column.

If you're stupid enough to write that column, maybe you deserve whatever you get. I've re-read it a couple times and if it's possible, it gets worse with additional readings.

 

Mr Wretch

Twas in jest. It was, obviously, a weak idea in the worst possible context. I'd be shocked if it took 20 minutes and I can't imagine anybody reading it--or thinking as highly of this guy as some here do. I've had stuff spiked that I thought was defensible (eg, Wayne Gretzky having bad taste in friends and business partners, prophetic enough ten years ago). It was at least reassuring to know someone was reading it before it reached the page. I still have no idea how this ever saw the light of day.

o-<

 

Not even in the same ballpark as Whicker's column.

 

In all fairness, the Macarena was very popular in 1999.

 

That's not good by any stretch, but it is nowhere near as tasteless at Whicker's effort.

And as someone stated earlier: I empathize with the guy and hope he gets through this. As a writer-columnist who has also made that awkward mistake I feel for the guy. I hope he is really sorry for the piece and comes out of this a better, wiser columnists and person

 

So was Bayless. ;D

 

It doesn't sound like he's sorry.

 

From the Deadspin comments about Whickergate...

The editors also made Whicker scrap his planned column for Friday in which he pretends to converse with the ghost of Mohamed Atta, telling him that he missed a hell of a World Series.

 

This column, in my mind, is a fireable offense. Not saying he should be fired, but it would definitely be understandable if he was.
People get fired every day, in every walk of life, for making errors in judgement. From showing up at a frat party drinking Natty Lite to thinking it's OK to look at porn on your work computer, people are held ACCOUNTABLE all the time for their mistakes. Many times we, as journalists, hold these people accountable if they are high-profile enough. That's part of our job.

This column was grotesque. Simply grotesque.
It was not a slip of the tongue. It was not a speak-without-thinking type of question like 'have you ever cooked human flesh?'

It was an error in judgement that took HOURS, not seconds, to commit.
Again, not saying he should/will be fired. He's been doing this a long time and is, typically, very good. But he had plenty of time to realize how truly awful and tasteless that idea was. He didn't. So he deserves whatever punishment comes his way (if there is any, other than the barrage of emails).

 

Be honest. Was your awkward mistake even in the same ballpark?

 

really? you call that an apology? he didn't sound sorry.