May 07, 2013
Andy West is a sports writer originally from the UK and now living in Barcelona. He has worked in professional football since 1998 and specialises in the Spanish Primera Division and the English Premier League. Follow him on Twitter at @andywest01. |
MAY 7 — Every sports fan has witnessed a journalist — TV reporter, newspaper writer or radio commentator — who is more than happy to flaunt his close relationships with star players or big-name managers. It's pretty much seen as a perk of the job — the opportunity to mix and mingle with the stars.
Well, I currently have a bit of a personal dilemma that gets to the heart of that topic.
One of my daughter's classmates at school happens to be the child of a Barcelona player. For somebody who makes a living from writing about football, in particular Spanish football, in particular FC Barcelona, this obviously presents an interesting opportunity.
Put starkly, I am suddenly gifted with a golden chance of cultivating a family friendship with a superstar footballer. Maybe arrange the odd play date; a trip to the park or the beach; perhaps an outing to the cinema.
In time, we could develop inter-family relations to the extent that I'm granted an occasional exclusive interview. If I gradually ingratiate myself with dad/player and establish his trust, he might even start to divulge some of the deepest secrets of the dressing room: which players are signing or leaving? Who is injured or fit? What does Lionel Messi really think of Cristiano Ronaldo?
For someone in my position, that would be a tremendous competitive advantage. It's cynical, maybe, but being handed such an easy route directly into the heart of FC Barcelona, circumventing the need for press officers and agents, is an opportunity that anybody in my profession would jump at.
However, here's the problem.
Let's assume I was able to achieve exactly that, using my daughter to wheedle my way into the secret, hidden world of the Barcelona footballer, establishing the trust and confidence of my child's schoolmate's dad to develop a professionally-rewarding personal relationship with one of the team's superstars.
And now let's assume he's playing an important game... and he has a shocker. He misses a simple chance to win the game; he commits a terrible error that leads directly to an opposition goal; he launches into a reckless challenge to earn himself a needless red card.
Now what do I do? Sitting high up in the press box overlooking the action, I am tasked with writing honestly and objectively about the action that is unfolding beneath: the right thing to do, clearly, would be to call it as I see it and criticise the player — my friend and my child's friend's father — for his poor play. That is what my readers and my employers would rightly expect.
But let's take it further. Let's imagine the player finds himself out of favour with the manager or the fans, leading to media speculation that he will be sold. The player wants to stay and win back his place — he'd actually quite like a lucrative new contract — but, secretly, I agree with the manager's assessment that he is surplus to requirements and should be jettisoned.
Now what? Do I lie through my teeth (or my fingertips) and write dishonest articles about the merits of the player and his value to the team, simply because I know it's what he would want me to say? Or do I tell the truth — or my version of the truth, at least — and risk destroying my relationship with the player because I've publicly stated he's not good enough?
So now my current situation — the opportunity of attempting to develop a relationship — is less straightforward.
This is nothing new, of course. Anybody working in the media has to find the right balance between gaining privileged access to the inner circle and maintaining their objective professional integrity.
It can become even more difficult for senior, influential journalists to find that balance because they will frequently be tempted, cajoled and gratified by the subjects of their reporting, who are eager to be depicted in a positive light. Indeed, the entire, enormous industry of public relations is essentially based around the simple concept of courting positive coverage by establishing personal relationships.
In some areas of society, this doesn't really matter. As a sports writer, for example, it wouldn't really change anybody's life if I claimed a player was on top form even though I knew it wasn't true. It's only football.
But elsewhere, particularly in political reporting, it's a far more serious issue.
Back in the UK, for example, the relationship between the vast Murdoch media empire (containing various television networks and national newspapers) and the Conservative party is unpleasantly cosy. It's impossible to escape the conclusion that, for many years, the Conservatives have made a series of policy decisions because they know they will receive favourable coverage from Murdoch's media outlets.
And likewise, it's no great revelation to suggest that Murdoch's publications and networks are prone to covering news stories in a certain way because they know it's the interpretation that their political allies would prefer to see.
This is common practice, absolutely accepted as par for the course. And it's only inevitable that some kind of relationship must exist between journalist and subject, because it can be an invaluable method of uncovering important information that can only be divulged to trusted sources.
But too often — far too often, I believe — the line between professional diligence and blatant cronyism is crossed. Perhaps uncharitably, during my 15 years working with and around football journalists, I've often suspected that a fair number of them are more interested in the opportunity of hanging out with the stars than they are in being good reporters; they're keener to attach themselves to fame rather than to write honestly about the famous.
Realistically, sports writers don't need relationships with players and managers to write objectively about sport. If you have know your subject, do your research and are given access to watch games, attend press conferences and interview players, you should be able to develop your own informed opinions without needing to ingratiate yourself with players and managers.
It makes some difference if your style of reporting is more investigative — digging around to discover exclusive news stories and shocking revelations. For that kind of journalism, contacts and trust are more important.
But that world is not for me. I'm happier to stay impartial, protecting my objectivity by keeping my distance and not becoming personally compromised.
I will not, therefore, pursue a relationship with my daughter's friend's father. In fact, I'd rather she wasn't even aware that it was a potential issue because she should be able to form and dissolve her own friendships without any pressure from her parents. So I won't be showing her this article, and I certainly won't be asking her to introduce me to her friend's dad.
Shame — we might have been invited to some great parties.
* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.