A Farewell to Leather: the Death of Deadspin
Deadspin, the much beloved/maligned/emulated “sports” weblog, died last week after cascading resignations from editors and contributors. Barry Petchesky christened the mass exodus, fired for rebuking a quickly-leaked memo from Paul Maidment, editorial director of G/O Media, Deadspin’s parent company. Therein, Maidment ordered his employees to “stick to sports,” that is, Deadspin must soley publish articles about sports “and that which is relevant to sports in some way.” Not coincidentally, “stick to sports” stood as a Deadspin topic of choice since it came into full bloom in the 2012 election. Petchesky’s exit followed former Editor in Chief Megan Greenwell, who quit after G/O refused to guarantee the site’s editorial independence, violations of the employees’ bargained-for labor agreement. Today, we mourn the loss of one of the true original outlets, and celebrate all those who question the answers.
The editorial board of Suburban Decay learned about Deadspin in 2005, setting us on our current path. At the time, we were young and gainfully employed, but not too gainfully. Only following sports for a few years prior, our media intake skewed to the middle: ESPN’s Page 2, Sports Illustrated, and the other minimal bits of editorial content available online. Deadspin loathed the middle and hit like lightning. Their motto, “Without Access, Favor, or Discretion” says it all. Cued by their parent site and spiritual leader Gawker, founding voice Will Leitch loved sports, but also loved the lurid details bigger outlets omitted. The writers refused to disappear into the text, making explicit their teams of choice, biases, and opinions. Because, of course, that ends up influencing the editorial product anyway, and you might as well spell it out. The staff and contributors made themselves freely available, and Leitch both sent supportive replies to Suburban Decay, and linked to our first forays into sportsblogging. The early days of Deadspin approached sports as a fan. A tipsy, skeptical fan, who loved to argue and mock people in power.
What did Suburban Decay learn from Deadspin? First, that ESPN has serious conflicts of interest which irreparably warped the network’s ability to cogently cover sports. In every situation, the staff enjoyed the opportunity to make a nuisance. Leitch felt no hesitation posting gossip submitted by tipsters detailing various misbehavior by athletes, frequently under the influence. Their greatest early submission provides the title of this post, where ESPN alpha Chris Berman wooed a woman wearing a stylish jacket into his company by stating, simply, “You’re with me, leather.” Berman reacted very poorly. The site did actual journalism, but the ethos that drove them to publish that apocryphal story also motivated the more significant work: question the answers. Authority figures don’t deserve your unthinking fealty. Mindlessly regurgitating what money and power would like you to believe only benefits them. We can’t expect a company to willingly offer up facts that might interfere with their ability to sell a product. ESPN gained access and favor in exchange for their discretion, meaning they could not be trusted to make their journalism independent of their very expensive live broadcasts of sports.
This generalized skepticism pushed to new levels of aggression with the exit of Leitch and elevation of AJ Daulerio. As Editor in Chief, his most infamous scoop came from then-New York Jets employee Jenn Sterger, who alleged a pattern of sexual harassment by Hall of Fame quarterback Brett Favre. Daulerio decided to publish before Sterger consented, and included a purported photo of Favre’s withered and unsolicited penis. The quarterback was later fined by the NFL for “failure to cooperate.” The stunning story demonstrated the complex, messy results of the full execution of Deadspin’s ethos. It touched many of the uglier features of sports: toxic masculinity, stupidity, corruption, and the incentive to sweep ugly realities under the rug. ESPN would never take the lead on this narrative, only carry completed work. Daulerio identified a newsworthy situation that gave a fuller picture of an athlete looking for enablers. Unfortunately, he released the report without Sterger’s okay. The ability of sources to control what’s on the record is sacrosanct, and Jenn’s life since, hearing awful questions from drunk strangers, exemplifies what she wanted to avoid, not Daulerio’s choice to make. AJ rose to EIC of Gawker, only to zealously pursue a gonzo story about a Hulk Hogan sex tape, wherein vampiric billionaire Peter Thiel enacted revenge against Gawker founder Nick Denton by burying his flagship with a successful lawsuit in Florida. Negotiated down from $160 to $31 million, the resulting settlement permanently submarined Gawker, and made its sister publications vulnerable for acquisition.
Deadspin stood caught in this mire, first acquired and sold by a flailing Univision, then sold to Great Hill Partners, venture capital ghouls who eagerly initiated the power struggle that led to last week’s sad collapse. Losing it only emphasizes how many great people and stories lived on this site. Drew Magary, a founding-generation commenter became the signature Deadspin columnist, famous for his explosive rants but equally capable of introspection and self deprecation. Hamilton Nolan wrote movingly about labor, detailing all the ways capital is used against us, and urging workers everywhere to organize. Diana Moskovitz explored domestic violence, how institutions protect abusers and re-victimize the abused. Dave McKenna drove widely-hated NFL team owner Dan Snyder insane. And those are just a few of the many significant, newsworthy Deadspin threads. They also had a lot of fun with non-newsworthy ones. The site never forgot the simple pleasures of bears, using open records requests to look at a baseball player’s water bill, or watching adult men fuck cars. Deadspin appreciated both significance and insignificance. And by all accounts, it remained profitable and popular until the end. Everyone loses for its death, including Great Hill Partners, as Deadspin will struggle to sell ads with no creative team and a permanently alienated readership.
In this new world, Suburban Decay reflected on the status quo, where many of the obsessions of Deadspin and Gawker dominate life on earth. A cruel billionaire class sees us as gristle for the mill, and the law sides with them. ESPN’s muddy ethics only get muddier, as CEO Jimmy Pitaro commanded his employees to stick to sports, lest reporting sour a sale or annoy someone powerful. The NBA twisted itself into a pretzel trying to be the woke league that partners with a totalitarian regime. Our awful clown President might get booed at the wrong stadium, but owners of professional teams either directly support him, or his massive tax breaks. We need Deadspin. But for everyone who wrote for the site, and all those lucky enough to read it: question the answers. Don’t accept what they feed you. All writing is political, pretending otherwise is a luxury reserved for people in power. Deadspin started as a site, but it became a philosophy. In his farewell post, Drew Magary said it best:
Today, it lives on with you. Once you get a taste for sports news without access, favor, or (nor?) discretion, it doesn’t go away. That is how this will work. That is how you and I will keep the joy afloat. You are told every day that the internet is a shitty place, and you are given, in a steady stream, ample and mounting evidence that proves it. But there’s a reason people stay online. I came here to eke a career out of yelling about things sucking, but I also came here to make a friend or two. And I did.
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