The Journo Who Called Barstool 'Fanboy Softcore Porn' and 'Garbage' and Told Portnoy 'Go Fuck Yourself' Decries His Terrible Treatment at The Athletic
Brett Carlsen. Getty Images.Please forgive my absence over the last couple of weeks, but I took some much needed vacation time to go on a pilgrimage to my ancestral homeland for the first time in my (surprisingly long) life. And while I got a great deal out of this deeply personal and spiritual journey (which I intend to write about once the fog lifts from the 500 Guinnesses and liters of 7 Churches whiskey), I can honestly say I'm glad to be back. Both in the States, and on the blog. I can say in all honesty I consider myself blessed to pay the bills solely by expressing myself creatively, and doing so for a company that respects and appreciates their employees. Granted, I've put in the effort for almost 20 years to have this opportunity. But not for one hot second do I take it for granted.
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How ironic it is then, that one of the first things I come home to is an item about the current state of sports journalism. It just so happens that a week ago I was at a pub (that might be hard to picture, but try to conjure up an image in your mind's eye) in Shannonbridge chatting with an Irishman who asked me what I think of the New York Times closing down their sports operation. I was a little embarrassed to not have heard about this news, but I suppose that just goes to show how irrelevant old media like that has become to the every day consumer of sports and entertainment. And a little digging revealed that the NYTs ditched their sports page in favor of buying the feed from The Athletic. Which is obviously bad news for the ex-Times staffers. But apparently no walk in the park for anyone who works for The Athletic, either. At least not according to Bob Kravitz.
By no means should you be carrying this information around in your head, but Kravitz is a former Indianapolis sportswriter who was one of the first and most high profile Deflategate Truthers. Until he - like virtually everyone else who promoted that anti-science, Flat Earther bullshit - paid a terrible professional price:
A lot of the bad karma whose dogma bit Kravitz in the ass was built up when he chose to go to war with Barstool in general, and Dave Portnoy in particular:
Kravitz was at the media center when a man approached him. “I hesitate to acknowledge his existence,” Kravitz said. “But there was this guy from Barstool Sports Boston, which I guess is like a fanboy, softcore porn thing.” The guy was Dave “El Presidente” Portnoy, a student of the Unseen Hand theory, one who would later call Kravitz a “patsy” of Deflategate. “I think he hates the Patriots,” Portnoy told me. “He’s trying to basically do anything to cast them in a negative way.” …
“I said, ‘I think your website is garbage,’” Kravitz recalled. “Everything you’ve written about what happened is completely wrong and completely misrepresents who I am and what I did.” Portnoy doesn’t remember Kravitz saying that. “What he said to me was the reason he wouldn’t go on camera was because I had his source wrong.” Portnoy had written a post fingering the now-famous Mike Kensil as Kravitz’s source. Portnoy hadn’t included any “I think” caveats. Kravitz recalled, “I said, straight up, ‘You can speculate that Mike Kensil gave Kravitz all this stuff. You can’t say with 100 percent certainty that he was my source.’ “He said, ‘Who was your source?’” “I said, ‘Go fuck yourself.’”
And so it was that, in September of 2018, Kravitz was laid off, and landed at The Athletic. And now, is on Substack, where is first missive posted is about how miserable his existence at the non-fanboy, anti-softcore porn, ungarbage site was. What he describes is the work-a-day world of an Industrial Revolution workhouse. Grinding out piecemeal work in dangerous conditions. Literally putting one's health and life at risk, under the watchful eyes of cruel and uncaring shop foremen:
I wasn’t happy that they put me on probation just a few months after a quadruple bypass in 2020. (And during the pandemic, no less). I guess my numbers weren’t what they wanted, but hell, I was recovering from a life-changing medical event.
You would think that might have some impact on their thinking, but no. I had to produce 395 subscriptions in three months – or else. That’s absurd, unfair and outrageous, especially given my health situation. Well, I survived, producing more than 400 subs by working myself half to death, a great idea after open-heart surgery. But that soured me on the place forever. I felt it in my bones:
‘They don’t give a f–k about me as a human being.’
I wasn’t happy that I had four editors in four years, all of them wanting something different. Write long-form pieces. OK, fine. No, write strong opinion columns. OK, fine. No, write about roster construction (what?). The goalposts kept moving, and they’re still moving with the New York Times’ acquisition of The Athletic.
And the metrics…everything was metrics. (Add “old man yelling at cloud” gif) I understand that’s the current way of the world in a media business that is almost universally struggling, but the numbers were in our faces – and on our minds – 24/7.
The Athletic makes a really big deal about the importance of mental health, and that’s great, but I think I’m speaking for a majority of current Athletic writers, the primacy of metrics (subs, unique views and the rest) had a deleterious impact on our collective mental health as a staff. There was nothing more dispiriting than working your ass off on a story, only to look at the metrics and see one subscription and 2,000 unique views. It was soul-sucking, honestly.
After reading that, I regret comparing The Athletic to a workhouse. Dickens himself couldn't imagine forcing someone to work while convalescing from a quadruple (!!!) bypass. That's more of a feudal existence, toiling away in the online muck and mire, tending the cyber crops for his lords and masters.
And while this might just be the goodwill built up from a once-in-a-lifetime vacation talking, I honestly feel bad about it. This shouldn't happen to anyone. Not even someone who argued the Patriots should've forfeited the 2014 AFC championship and the Colts should've gone to Super Bowl XLIX in their place. Or who believed Bill Belichick and Tom Brady deserved to be banned from pro football over some cold footballs. The entire labor movement was created to put an end to these very sorts of working conditions. And it's appalling to think they still exist today, just because some editor thinks the public wants to read about roster construction.
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Oh well. It seems once again the people who run the fanboy, softcore porn garbage site who get told to fuck themselves are the ones who not only treat their staff members like human beings, but also have a business model that works. That is successful. That doesn't force their employees to whore themselves out for clicks and subscriptions. Just to be themselves and try the best they can to entertain the audience.
As Saul Bellow wrote to a fellow writer after People magazine twisted his words to make it look like he was being critical of his colleague, "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do about the journalists; we can only hope that they will die off as the deerflies do toward the end of August." You hate to see what the rest of the media landscape has become. Just hate to see it.