The Yang Slinger: Vol. XL

It's 2023. Is Ashley Nicole Moss a journalist? An entertainer? Both? Neither? Is she the future of the profession? And where, exactly, are we all heading?

I have been warned not to write this Substack.

And, in this age of the cancelled journalist, perhaps that warning should be heeded. We exist in an era of fragile feelings and heightened sensibilities and people being put on blast. And, to be honest, I don’t wanna be put on blast. I like my day-to-day existence as a relatively anonymous book writer transcribing audio in the corner of Crave Cafe.¹ Being put on blast sucks. It’s exhausting. It’s embarrassing. And, as a 50-year-old veteran, maybe I should be the very last voice to even touch this third rail of a topic.

But I also think serving as a writer means … probing. Examining. Asking. Not always dipping your toe into the ocean before charging in. It means taking a shot. It means self-reflecting.

So, let’s start with this …

Over the past bunch of days, a media member I’d never before heard of was suddenly popping up all over my feeds. Her name was Ashley Nicole Moss, and she was gaining steam for passionately/emphatically/convincingly standing up for Angel Reese, the LSU basketball star who was unfairly catching logs of shit for having the audacity to, eh, sling trash toward a white basketball player (Iowa’s fantastic Caitlin Clark) who also slings tons of trash.

Now, many in the press were chiming in on the whole Reese-Clark thing. But no one seemed to be doing it quite like Moss, whose myriad offerings from GO included …

And …

And …

And, ultimately, Reese’s first post-championship sit-down interview.

Yup. Instead of heading toward the couch of, oh, SportsCenter or Good Morning America or the Today Show or Two Writers Slinging Yang², LSU’s star spent an hour with Moss and her co-host, former NFL wide receiver Brandon Marshall, on their YouTube show, Paper Route.

As this was all transpiring, I started asking—“Who the fuck is Ashley Nicole Moss?” And the answers I received, well, they weren’t always pretty. I was told she was an overt New York Knicks and Dallas Cowboys fan who, despite identifying on social media as “Journalist”—rooted unambiguously. I was told she was more entertainer than chronicler. I was told she was yet another wanna-be celebrity. I was directed toward Moss’ Instagram feed, where she mixes various media-related items with a whole lotta CHECK ME OUT photographs.

I was specifically guided toward a Tweet Moss fired off back in 2022, shortly after leaving Sports Illustrated, where she had served as a host of the digital series “Laces Out” …

And I’m gonna be honest—my reaction, eh, wasn’t the best. I am a journalistic traditionalist. I came up via the Nashville Tennessean, where one could walk a few paces to the right and literally watch the presses churn out newspapers. I followed with six years at Sports Illustrated, the ultimate land of Who, What, Where, When, How and Why. The land of reporting your ass off and never showing any favor toward the athletes and coaches. The land of grumpy editors carving up your copy.

If anything, my time covering the Major Leagues for SI made me acutely aware of the shit women sports journalists had to endure. The catcalls. The dismissals. The flirtatious behaviors. The slammed doors. Within our offices, I argued voraciously (and fruitlessly) against the shit-stain Swimsuit Issue, insisting it reduced women into Come Hither cardboard cutouts. I’ll never forget, a good 20 year ago, observing a Florida Marlins announcer/retired player chat up a female colleague, then watching her walk far enough away before turning toward a pal and safely cooing, “Man, what I would do to that ass.” I was too cowardly to stand up to him. But I wanted to vomit.

So Moss’ posts irked me. Women have fought for so long in sports media to not be dismissed as sex objects or eye candy, and here was someone presenting herself as a sex object. As eye candy.

My indignation was right.

I knew it was right.

…

…

…

Then I started thinking.

A bunch of years ago, when my daughter was a member of her high school’s water polo team, the parent of a male athlete complained to the principal. Her gripe was that, because the girls’ team outfits were so skimpy³, her son (and the other boys) could not focus on the task at hand.

The next day, the principal (a woman) instructed the water polo girls to please immediately cover up with towels as soon as their events wrapped and they exited the pool.

When my wife Catherine was relayed this story, she seethed—then acted. She called the principal and asked, bluntly, why it was incumbent upon the girls to be responsible for the boys’ lack of self-control. This actually mirrored a similar incident (written about here), when my daughter (then in middle school) was twice called into the principal’s office because her shorts were “too short.” And yet another incident, when a high school gym teacher more or less told parents that our daughters needed to dress appropriately, for fear some boys might sport erections.

And it all begs the question: Why did Ashley Nicole Moss’ outfits bother me? Why would any person’s outfits bother me? How is it my problem? How does it affect my existence? And, more to the point, why should Ashley—unambiguously young and pretty—feel as if she needs to cater to the hostilities of an industry that has standards constructed largely upon the presence and feelings and reactions of men? If a woman enters, oh, a Major League Baseball clubhouse wearing a form-fitting dress and boots, and three pitchers make rude remarks—why do we place that upon her? What has she done wrong, save feel good about herself and her outfit? How in God’s name is that her fault?

More to the point, why do we hold women to these standards—but not men? Back in 2018, ESPN’s Izzy Gutierrez literally did a Men’s Journal photo shoot where he posed, well, thusly …

… and no one in the industry uttered a peep. We all saw it. Or at least heard about it. Our well-respected colleague, buff and bold and half naked. So why didn’t we complain? Why didn’t we write blog posts (it was still the age of blog posts) questioning Izzy’s professionalism and character and need to self-sexualize?

Instead, we celebrated it! Look at Izzy! Woo-hoo!

And here’s the thing: We behold women like Ashley Nicole Moss, and Erin Andrews, and Kirsty Gallacher, and Samantha Ponder and … on and on and on. The list is endless. Attractive, well-dressed women in sports media. And we belittle them. We ask, “How can women ever be taken professionally if some continue to doll up and emphasize looks?” We robotically repeat the tropes, citing the sacrifices made by those who came before them. Noting that older women went through hell so the modern female can stand tall and be a pro.

But what the fuck do we know?

What the fuck do I know?

Way back on Oct. 11, 1977, Melissa Ludtke was a 26-year-old Sports Illustrated reporter, assigned to help cover the World Series between the Dodgers and Yankees. Her task was fairly simple—enter the team clubhouses before and after the opening game and snag as many useful quotes as possible for Ron Fimrite’s later-in-the-week cover story.

Yet, because she was a woman, Ludtke was banned by the Yankees. She could not enter. Under any circumstances. Ever.

What ultimately followed was a lawsuit—Melissa Ludtke and Time, Inc., Plaintiffs, v. Bowie Kuhn, Commissioner of Baseball, that wound up granting women equal access to Major League clubhouses. It also makes Ludtke—a quiet, dignified, talented journalist—one of the most important and influential women in the history of American sports media.

“I know I made very deliberate choices about what I wore to work at ballparks in the mid-1970s, when I was often the only woman working a sea of men,” Ludtke told me. “My rules of the road were that outfit I wore showed no cleavage, and I wore flat shoes, little, if any, jewelry, flowery skirts or dresses, a feminine look but not a sexy one, often Laura Ashley, and the hemline was long enough so that when I sat in dugouts I could cross my legs and not worry. On colder nights, I wore slacks with sweaters. I never did wear much make-up, so that wasn't an issue. It was hard enough back then for the men—writers, ballplayers and managers—to take me seriously, so had I shown up dressed in such a way that reminded them of their date after the game, then it would be even harder for me to be taken seriously. Nor was I at the ballpark to be viewed as a possible date for a ballplayer, even if writers speculated that I was; I was there to do a job, and to do it well for me meant dressing down not up.”

And if you hear Melissa tell stories about the bad ol’ days, you might think she’d see media members like Ashley Nicole Moss and recoil. How dare they overlook what I went through. How dare they emphasize appearance and looks and … and …

That’s not how Melissa feels. At all.

“It's been nearly 50 years, and just as I would not have dressed like my grandmother did in her day, neither should these young women be expected to dress as I did,” she said. “Nor should I impose my dress code on them. I think one key question to ask these younger journalists, who dress like the [Moss], is whether she feels she's objectifying herself by dressing this way? That could easily be you or me imposing that view, while it simply isn't true in her experience. If this is her style, and she feels like she's able to do her job effectively wearing the clothes she wears, then I haven't earned any right to tell her that she should change her style. Yes, my legal action opened doors, but once the women walk through them, they are free to do their jobs as they see fit. If dressing in this fashion ends up having downsides for them or other women, then it seems likely she will adjust.”

Roughly a decade and a half after Ludtke’s ordeal, a former model/actress/Los Angeles Rams cheerleader named Lisa Guerrero was hired by Sports Channel New England to co-host a talk show. From there, she went on to work at a bevy of Southern California-based TV stations as a sports reporter. I vividly remember Lisa from my days chronicling baseball. In a sea of male journalists packing the Angels and Dodgers press boxes, she was hard to miss—long hair, bright outfits. And, usually beneath their breaths, gross comments from men.

Plenty of gross comments.

“I’ve certainly been slut shamed in this business,” Lisa said. “By men and women.”

I spoke with Lisa at length for this post, A. Because she’s been through the battles and B. Because she understands the complications of it all. While working in sports media, Lisa posed for Maxim—a move that led many journalists (male and female) to question her professionalism. Why, in a 2002 Los Angeles Times column, Larry Stewart asked, “What is Guerrero, a sports reporter or a sex symbol?” then followed by having Christine Brennan, the veteran scribe, opine: “This is a shame, here in 2002, that women are embarrassing themselves in this manner. This is very disconcerting. Some women still believe they have to do this. Why not stand up to the bosses and say no? It’s demeaning. It plays to the oldest stereotype, that women can’t be appealing with their brain, only with their body. We don’t have to do that anymore.”

Lisa has heard the arguments. Over. And over. And over. And over. Women need to dress a certain way. Women can’t be too attractive. Women can’t use their attractiveness for an advantage. Women can’t do this. Women can’t do that.

“Have you ever heard any rules like that for men?” she said. “Seriously—name one. Name one rule men have to follow. Look, I decided to commoditize myself at an early age. I realized that part of my worth and potential is what I look like. I realized early on that I could use it all as an asset. Does dressing nicely mean I’m flirtatious or slutty? No. Does being pretty mean that? No. I work my ass off.”

Now an author and reporter for “Inside Edition,” Lisa considered Moss—whose feed she reviewed. “I think young women are offended by the thought of someone else being the arbiter of how they should dress or what pictures they should post,” she said. “Is Larry Stewart the judge? Is a 50-year-old sports book author the judge? Young women are saying, ‘I’m my own fucking judge! Fuck you! I want to use my own voice and speak in my own voice!’ I checked out Ashley’s Instagram feed, and she’s a little badass—and one hell of an interviewer.

“Let her be her.”

If you have some free minutes, watch Ashley Nicole Moss interview Angel Reese.

It’s good.

Really fucking good.

Ashley is probing, empathetic, understanding, open. She allows Reese the space to talk freely, and—as a young Black woman—validates her opinions without force-feeding anything. Had Reese opted for, oh, the Good Morning America couch, she would have sat through six minutes (hard commercial break in three … two …) of safe babble before walking off onto the Manhattan pavement feeling empty and, quite possibly, unheard.

Moss heard her.

She really heard her.

And, technically, nothing Moss does is traditional. She roots for teams. She promotes products. She poses for photos with interview subjects. She does stuff I would never, ever, ever think of. Things that legitimately bother me—and will always bother me. She crosses lines that, journalistically, I don’t like seeing crossed.

But maybe, just maybe, I’m old as fuck. Maybe I’m a dinosaur who needs to accept that times (and approaches) have changed. Maybe my way isn’t the only way. Maybe my way isn’t even the right way.

I spoke with Ashley via phone the other day. She’s a New York product who talks with a certain Big Apple edge that reminds me of my Washington Heights-born mom. Gimme two slices and a Coke. Having graduated from Florida Atlantic in 2015 with a degree in journalism and 3.8 GPA, she landed a job at Miami’s NBC 6, covering (of all things) Pop Warner Football. Ashley moved on to iHeart Radio roughly two years later, where she worked part time while also holding a position selling glasses at an optical store, For Eyes. When the pandemic hit in 2020, the iHeart gig vanished—and a woman who dreamed of the sports media landscape was left peddling lenses and bemoaning her fate. “I felt like a total failure,” she said. “I had this dream I was pursuing, and now I was being told I probably needed to be realistic and get a ‘real job.’ I was in my 20s, and I knew far too much about glasses and insurance.”

As the pandemic worsened and people ceased entering stores, the For Eyes position dried up. Ashley was home, alone and sad and wayward and unemployed, when her mother Patti, a copywriter, came up with an idea: Why don’t you start a YouTube channel?

Hmm.

Ashley purchased some equipment and kicked off ALL IN WITH ASHLEY NICOLE. Her first offering, posted about two years ago, was viewed 844 times. It’s raw and simple, but also speaks to an aspiring media member’s hunger …

What followed were a bevy of videos—Ashley offering NFL takes, Ashley interviewing jocks like Melvin Gordon and Allen Hurns. Nothing particularly jaw-dropping, but someone being inventive and showing self-initiative in pursuit of a career. Ashley’s work caught the attention of SNY, where she served as a contributor, then took her to Sports Illustrated’s digital operation. “A producer at SI told me they were looking for people,” Ashley said. “I actually started working at SI for free. I told them, ‘Don’t pay me—let me hop on. I just want an opportunity.’” This was in 2021, and while filming SI segments she was contacted by the Dallas Cowboys, who interviewed Ashley for the team reporter gig. “I told Sports Illustrated, and they hired me,” she said.

From Sept. 2021 through Sept. 2022, Ashley worked as the host of SI’s “Laces Out”—and her time with the program was a (both humanly and professionally) revelation. When she started sitting in front of a camera, Ashley felt the same pressures most of her predecessors surely suffered. “I allowed a lot of people—especially men—to tell me how to dress, how to talk, how to act,” she said. “When you’re a young woman you’re already very unsure of yourself. And then you have all these people trying to define you. It gets confusing. In my old demo reels I have straight, blonde hair because people said it was better than curly dark hair. I was wearing boring blazers and slacks because that was what I was told. I was unhappy and inauthentic.”

By the time she left Sports Illustrated (as part of the mass exodus that continues today), Ashley felt as if she’d discovered her voice and, in a way, herself. It was OK to be expressive. It was OK to shape opinions. It was OK to be bold and provocative. “I AM Athlete” the platform that employs her, has gained an enormous following, and the episode featuring Reese is closing in on 500,000 views.

She is, to reiterate, a savvy interviewer who knows her way around a subject.

But is she a journalist?

That’s the question—isn’t it? Not an insulting question. I mean, maybe one simply doesn’t require definition. But, in 2023, can a journalist (a la Bill Simmons) openly root? Can a journalist promote products? Can a journalist turn to social media to, oh, pose in bathing suits and write captions like “you can play yourself, ain’t no tryin’ with me”? (Said ESPN’s Sarah Spain: “I think the main thing is that you are a full, complete person outside of work. And that full complete person is likely to be represented on your socials. And for older people, that's hard to reconcile, because they're not used to all that oversharing.”). Can a journalist take the norms an industry has been regurgitating for decades and pretzel twist them for modern times?

Answer: I don’t know.

I threw the question (broadly, not merely about Ashley) toward Larra Overton, a producer, host and reporter for Colts Productions who spent five years working in TV news. On the one hand, Overton noted, “How journalists differentiate themselves from influencers or personalities on social media comes down to what you're promoting on your feed—is it your work or yourself? The nature of a journalist's work is telling others' stories, and that person's social persona would reflect that. To me, it all comes down to owning what you want your social media presence to accomplish. Is it gaining a following for yourself, or is it sharing the stories of those you're in a position of covering?”

And yet …

“When I am asked for advice to those who are pursuing sports careers, I always tell them: there is no road map,” Overton said. “No person's path to success in sports media mirrors anyone else's, so you have to use your unique path to navigate that journey. I tell them ‘Take risks!’ and ‘Be confident!’ It's dangerous to then say, ‘But, no, not like that’ or ‘That's not what I would have done so that's not what you should either.’ It's tricky because I feel like very early in my career I tried to downplay being too girlie or too feminine. I was trying to not stand out too much. Now I tell young people regardless of their gender to embrace who they are and be proud of who they are and reinforce how important representation is. Therefore, I think it's dangerous to try and say ‘This is the right way’ because it's so dependent upon an individual's intentions, aspirations and perceptions.”

In other words, Ashley Nicole Moss is doing her thing.

It’s bold. It’s brash. It’s different.

I’m here for it.

The Quaz Five with … Danté Stewart

Danté Stewart is a writer, ordained minister, and author of Shoutin' In The Fire: An American Epistle. You can follow him on Twitter here.

1. You recently wrote a piece for MSNBC.com on why you refuse to stop believing in black boys from South Carolina. So Danté, why do you stop believing in black boys from South Carolina? (and can you give some love to Jewish boys from Mahopac, N.Y.? There aren't many of us): For me, I think it goes back to I know the world that we come from and the ways we exist in the world right now – and most of all, the time in between.  There is a picture that I keep in my journal. It’s me as a teenager. I have on a green fleece, baggy blue jeans, with a white durag covered halfway by a black skull cap. I am sitting between my cousin, Darius, and a friend of another cousin. In my hand there is a deck of cards. I’m fifteen, full of audacity, intuition, and most of all, self-trust. In my imagination, I am about to beat others in Tunk, a game of chance. Only thing is, I don’t know if that is true. I didn’t know how to play but that didn’t matter. So this image reminds me of that time. I go back there often. A young man. A deck of cards. Lying. Having fun. Faking it until I actually made it. I could not have imagined what cards I would be dealt in life, but eventually I would learn how to play my hand. And somewhere along the way, create some magic while doing it. Any place where children hold on to their audacity, intuition, and self-trust, learning to play the hand as best they can, those are places and people worth believing in.

2. You're an ordained minister. I have a theory, and I'm curious what you think: I feel like the evangelical backing of Trump has really damaged faith in America, because why would I ever look at evangelicals and admire their love of Jesus when they set aside ALL of his teachings and principles to kneel before a spray-tanned false prophet. What says you?: I agree with your theory. I do think former disgraced president Donald Trump damaged faith in America. I think he exploited and expanded the ugliness of faith traditions that have been deeply steeped in whiteness, patriarchy, religious bigotry and homophobia. But I must be clear, this is not new. Their tradition of faith was already in crisis way before Donald Trump. These communities were the same people whose ancestors gave theological and political justification for injustice of all types of forms – from slavery to voter suppression to book banning to separation of children to war to lack of care about how everyday people are treated (having to name them all would take too much time). If anything Donald Trump fit into a tradition he was formed by more than actually changing a religion he had no part in. James Baldwin was clear in his essay, “To Crush A Serpent”: “They have taken the man from Galilee hostage. He does not know them and they do not know him.”

3. Serious question: In 2022 you were named by Georgia Writers Association the "Georgia Writer of the Year.” What exactly does that mean? And did you at least get a big-ass trophy and a year's supply of milk shakes from The Varsity?: That’s funny, I wish. A better choice for me would be a lifetime supply of Waffle House because my toddlers love Waffle House and they scream for Waffle House every day and that would make my life much easier. Waffle House is the closest thing to Jesus. And as far as Georgia Writer of the Year, I was voted by a group (Georgia Writers Association) as having the most well-written memoir of that year. It was a wonderful gift, honestly. It was the first and only award I have won as a writer. Playing football in college, you come to cherish awards because you know they come few and far in between. Whenever your work is affirmed it feels good. It makes you want to do better, to work harder, to love what you do more and to just live in the goodness of what it is to be who you are. So yeah, it’s cool. So I didn’t get a trophy per se but they did give me gold stickers, an award document, and these really dope piece of art that has a meaning to it. I don’t know what it means, I threw the paper way by mistake. But every time I look at it, I create my own meaning. Today, in this present moment, it means that I have trusted myself before and I can trust myself again. Tomorrow it may mean something else and then the next day and then the next.

4. Recently the American sports world has quite the discussion about Angel Reese and Caitlin Clark and race and perceptions. And I'm curious—do you see that sorta thing unfold and just sigh from the predictability of it all? Or can you see any teachable moments?: You know, the more things like this happen, the more I realize that it takes so much energy to have to talk about them. Like for example, it’s clear that no matter what anyone says, Iowa v. LSU was a game deeply steeped in race and power. The stakes were high. Having talked with people who attended the game, they describe the place and fans as embodying the racial tension surrounding the game. We see it clearly unfold in what people have thought about both Caitlin Clark and Angel Reese. For starters, Clark’s passion and game is just seen as that: passion. For Reese, her passion as a young black woman is seen as problematic. Clark’s antics are seen as “just part of the game”. Reese’s are seen as a distraction. The question becomes why? It clearly can’t be about lack of talent and believing that one earns the right while the other doesn’t because Reese holds her own just as Clark holds her own. It can’t be able morality and sportsmanship because Clark did the very thing Reese is being chided for. There seems to be no other reason but race, racism, and power. And looking at history, sports has always been the battleground for how those three words play out in the world. I personally think all these moments are teaching moments. There is so much to discuss and to say and to learn.

5. We both saw what happened in Tennessee yesterday. Nashville is my old hometown, and it breaks my heart. And I wonder, as a Black man living in the South—is there really any way for shit to change? Like, the state is gerrymandered to death. Old white guys are addicted to power. On and on. I feel helpless: Yeah, we did. I'm actually writing about that right now as we speak. As much as I want to say I don't think things will change—old ways die hard, and shift often—I do believe that things at least can change. To think that two young black men, along with the many other young people who are there, are defying what Baldwin calls the "unimaginable and unspeakable" makes me believe that the hope lies in the many ways our defiance is resistance and liberation. The way this country has been made has been imagined and built this way, and history suggests that there are those, whom Fred Rogers's mother calls "The Helpers", who move us into a future we desire for us all. I'm not a hopeful person. I am a determined person. I believe the determination to better the world for us and our children, literally and metaphorically, is the hope that keeps us going. White men in power have taken away many things, that is a fact. But white men in power have not taken away everything, that is energy. When I look to my people, I know the most important ones in the story aren't white men in power but those of us who defy them and disrupt them and live beyond them.

[BONUS] Rank in order (favorite to least): Orange Tang, Han Solo, Nas, matzoh, James Baldwin, Alec Baldwin, Joe Frazier, MLB rule changes, Ashley Reese, Menudo and waking up at 6 am: 1. Waking Up before 6 am. 2. James Baldwin 3. Orange Tang 4. Mighty Joe (South Carolina connection) 5. Angel Reese. 6. Nas 7. MLB Rule Changes 8. Never ate Matzoh but they got to be better than Han and Alec. 9. Han. 10. Alec.

A random old article worth revisiting …

On Dec. 2, 1992, Bill Handleman of the Asbury Park Press wrote about a George Washington University freshman named Yinka Dare—who many believed would ultimately revolutionize the center position. To the chagrin of New Jersey Nets fans, the team Selected Dare with the 14th overall pick in the 1994 NBA Draft. Dare wound up averaging 2.1 ppg over four forgettable seasons, and died at age 31 in 2004. He was (weirdly) one of my all-time favorite players.

This week’s college writer you should follow on Twitter …

Chloe Richmond, beach volleyball reporter for The Reveille, LSU’s student newspaper.

So this is a huge run for the ol’ Tigers. The women’s basketball team takes the national title. Angel Reese becomes a household name. And now Richmond captures the weekly $25 million prize that comes with landing on the ol’ Yang Yang Substack.

Eh … well …

Richmond ain’t getting rich. But her latest column, ‘I REALLY JUST WANTED TO GRADUATE AND GO’: THE STORY OF KYLIE DEBERG’S SIX-YEAR CAREER, is some legitimately top-shelf work.

Writes Richmond: “DeBerg’s six-year career has been full of high accolades and record-breaking performances—all that’s missing is a national title ring for LSU. The beach season is coming to a close in just one month and the national championship is set to begin in the first week of May, but she considers other things to be more valuable than winning. ‘Obviously winning is fun, but I think with this program, I think we’re here to just do what God wants us to do,’ DeBerg said. ‘Winning it would be really cool, but that’s not the end-all-be-all. I think it comes down to how much we love each other and how hard we work for one another. Winning would be awesome, but that’s not the greatest thing, I don’t think.’”

One can follow Richmond on Twitter here.

Nice work, kid …

Jim Murray speaks with …

A new feature to the Pearlman Journalism Substack—thanks to the warped geniuses at Chat GPT, we can sorta kinda see what would happen if Jim Murray, the late/legendary Los Angeles Times columnist, sat down with three random celebrities. This week, here’s what GPT offers from Jim’s meeting with Vanilla Ice, Chewbacca and the late Sandro Pertini, president of Italy …

Jim Murray: Good evening, everyone. I'm here with an interesting panel tonight. On my right, we have Vanilla Ice, who seems to have something to say. Word to your mother.

Vanilla Ice: Word to your mother.

Jim Murray: On my left, we have Chewbacca, the Wookiee co-pilot of the Millennium Falcon. And in the middle, we have Sandro Pertini, the former President of Italy. Sandro, can you tell us a little about your background and how you got involved in politics?

Sandro Pertini: (speaks Italian)

Jim Murray: I'm sorry, Sandro. I don't speak Italian. Can you elaborate on that for us?

Sandro Pertini: (speaks Italian again)

Jim Murray: I see. Well, Chewbacca, can you tell us a little about your experiences working with Han Solo and piloting the Millennium Falcon?

Chewbacca: (emits a series of growls and roars)

Jim Murray: I'm afraid I don't speak Wookiee, Chewbacca. Vanilla, you had a hit song in the 90s with "Ice Ice Baby." Can you tell us a little about what inspired that song?

Vanilla Ice: Word to your mother.

Jim Murray: Okay, but can you give us a bit more detail?

Vanilla Ice: Word to your mother.

Jim Murray: Alright, then. Sandro, you were President of Italy during a difficult time in the country's history. What were some of the biggest challenges you faced during your presidency?

Sandro Pertini: (speaks Italian)

Jim Murray: I'm sorry, Sandro. It seems we're having some communication issues tonight. Well, folks, it seems that we're having a bit of trouble communicating tonight. I'd like to thank our guests, Vanilla Ice, Chewbacca, and Sandro Pertini, for joining us. It's been an interesting experience, to say the least.

Journalism musings for the week …

Musing 1: I’m a big fan of Jemele' Hill as a person and a scribe, and her latest Atlantic piece, ANGEL REESE CAN SHINE AS BRIGHTLY AS SHE WANTS, is perfect 800 ways over. In many ways, Jemele’s fame through the years has overshadowed a legitimately feathery touch as a writer. Put differently: She can bring it.

Musing 2: This was recently brought to my attention, so even though it’s a year old, well, hey. These are my musings. So there’s a social media influencer named Lex Fitzgerald, and last June she live birthed her kid on Instagram. As as the wife and I watched it, we both thought the same thing: Is nothing private any longer? Does everything have to be shared? And, if so, why?

Musing 3: A few days ago Sweeny Murti, the longtime WFAN Yankees reporter who recently left the station to join Major League Baseball as a senior contributor, lost his father Vedula. He posted his beautify eulogy on Facebook, and the opening made me grin ear to ear …

Musing 4: A really smooth piece of writing here from the Washington Post’s Ian Decker, who in OAKLAND MILLS EMERGING STAR HURDLER GOT HER START IN TACKLE FOOTBALL profiles a female high school track star who cut her chops playing tackle football. Writes Decker: “Olakunle wanted to play football growing up because of the challenge it provided. She started playing flag football in middle school; when she got to high school, Olakunle felt she owed it to herself to play tackle football. Growing up around boys — including her cousins, family friends and younger brother — made her more competitive, she said. She wanted to prove she could keep up with those bigger and stronger than her. That drive has carried over to track, where her most difficult competition may be herself.”

Musing 5: One of the great joys in life is talking sports shit with someone you genuinely like—so I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge my neighbor and Laker-loving pal, Drew Corbo, who lives down the street, attends San Diego State … and regularly texts me his highs and lows and lows and highs about Team LeBron.

Some recent gems …

Musing 6: I guess the weather can be appealing, but why would anyone live in Florida?

Musing 7 : Marjorie Taylor Greene is dating Right Side Broadcasting Network program director Brian Glenn—which explains this super weird and inappropriate post-interview smooch. I know asking journalistic questions of RSBN is like asking a pig to break down Clayton Kershaw’s mechanics, but why is he dating the racist congresswoman—and interviewing her?

Musing 8: Years ago ESPN’s Bob Ley told me about “red light fever”—the addictiveness of attention that comes with a career in television. CNN’s Don Lemon seems to have that problem and, according to Variety’s Tatiana Siegel, a wee bit of a gross ego. Wrote Siegel: “Those who worked with him say he was a shameless name dropper and left behind hints that he socialized with important people, like a hand-written note from Stedman Graham that he had taped on his computer. Some were unnerved by his talk of his previous lawsuits, believing it signaled that he was litigious. He frequently let drop that he successfully sued Tower Records as well as the Chicago PD for racial profiling and didn’t need to worry about money thanks to the settlements. (Variety can only find record of the former, which was settled in 2001 and appears to be sealed. Through a CNN spokesperson, Lemon says he never sued the Chicago PD). All the while, he began openly dating a fresh-out-of-college staffer despite a major age difference and power imbalance. (Lemon was 41, while the staffer was 22.) The ambitious anchor, who is gay, was not out of the closet at the time, but wasn’t hiding it either. The pair would drive to work together in Lemon’s car and began a long-term open relationship. Dating a junior employee was frowned upon at the time.”

Musing 9: Photographer Nicole Hester of the USA Today Group has been chronicling the tragedy/madness in Nashville—and her work is Pulitzer-worthy.

Musing 10: Matt Taibi used to be must-read in Rolling Stone. Gifted writer and reporter. I don’t understand what went wrong.

Musing 11: The new Two Writers Slinging Yang stars James Boyd, the outstanding Indianapolis Colts beat writer for The Athletic. I loved every minute of this chat.

Quote of the week …

“On the Kansas City Star you were forced to learn to write a simple declarative sentence. This is useful to anyone. Newspaper work will not harm a young writer and will help him if he gets out of it in time.”

—Ernest Hemingway

1. Open until 2 am! Free refills! Outlets aplenty!

2. Kidding.

3. They were, eh, swimsuits. Ordinary swimsuits.