The Yang Slinger: Vol. XXIX

All writers are warned to avoid the cliches. So why do we keep returning to them—and is there a larger picture we're sort of missing? Also, five questions with ESPN's T.J. Quinn.

This is the Substack entry you’ve been waiting for.

It’s the Substack entry nobody ever believed I could write.

It’s the Substack entry that shows the little guy—in this case, a Jewish writer out of the University of Delaware with unnaturally long arms and a probation officer mother—can bark with the big dogs.

It’s the Substack entry that proves I’ve got the heart of a lion.

It’s the Substack entry that proves I’ll never say never.

I’ll never die.

I’ll soldier on.

It’s the Substack entry that’ll take you behind the scenes to the local hospital, where—when I’m not giving everything I’ve got to this essay—I’m finding time for little Joey, the lisp-plagued, cleft-palated orphan who lost his left leg in a tragic bass fishing accident. Because, deep down, I’m the Substack writer who cares. And you need to know that.

For me, this Substack isn’t about the money.

For me, this Substack proves defense wins championships.

For me, this Substack shows I’m a team player.

I’m a family-first guy.

I play through pain.

My body is a wrecking ball.

I never cough up the rock.

I believe time will tell.

I will avoid writing a bad Substack entry like the plague.

Because this Substack entry concerns cliches.

And.

It’s.

A.

Born.

Winner.

[motherfucker!]

Back in 1985, when she was covering the NBA for the Detroit Free Press, Johnette Howard committed the unforgivable, one-of-a-kind offense of writing that a player had “exploded” for 40 points.

It’s the sort of thing no sports scribe would ever do—except for, eh, pretty much every single sports scribe who has ever spent time on the planet. A quick newspapers.com search for “sports” and “exploded for” brought back a mere 1,082,424 matches. And while some of those probably involve the unfortunate explosion of a car or human or pig, a high percentage were produced by writers paid to use words to describe sporting events. My personal favorite appeared in the Dec. 11, 1990 edition of the Tooele Transcript Bulletin (in Tooele, Utah), where a mercifully un-bylined article with the head ONE MEN’S SQUAD STILL UNDEFEATED included one … two … three(!) explosions.

Thankfully, the accompanying photograph of Toole guard Jordan Nigh (see above) served as proof that not all of the town’s youth basketball players had their torsos detached from their limbs. But there was concern.

I digress.

Johnette Howard went on to become one of our generation’s great sports scribes—a woman who has written for the National and Sports Illustrated and ESPN.com and a million other places. But she still possesses the vivid memory of an older colleague leaning in—post-”exploded for”—and saying, bluntly, “Stop it.”

“I am also sure that early on I wrote somewhere that someone had a ‘rifle’ arm,” Howard texted me. “I'll have to carry that the rest of my life.”

And here’s the thing I want to reemphasize about cliches: We are all guilty. Not some of us. Not most of is. All of us. “People who use cliches don’t realize it,” Jon Heyman, the New York Post baseball columnist, texted me. He’s correct. We’ve all lazily described Dansby Swanson rifling a throw or Josh Jacobs bowling over a linebacker or some small podunk school showing the world that David can topple Goliath. J.A. Adande was a brilliant writer for the Los Angeles Times who still—16 years later—regrets ending his final newspaper column with, “Nothing lasts forever.” We’ve referred to 100,000 unheroic figures as heroic. We’ve tagged folks legends who, a decade later, walk the Jefferson Valley Mall unnoticed. We call someone “unconventional” because she plays XBox while wearing a ski cap. We say someone is “upstanding and moral” because he attended church. “I don’t know if the following count as cliches but they make me nuts,” said John Feinstein, the Washington Post contributor and biographer galore. “‘Student-athlete’—I instantly distrust anyone who uses it. ‘Very unique.’ No such thing. ‘Coach’ used as a first name … especially ‘Coach Cowher,’ on CBS. ‘Lower (or upper) body,’ injury. Come on. Guy breaks an ankle, tell us. And, finally, the legendary, ‘We’ll have to look at the film.’ Did you watch the damn game?”

Bill Werde, the director of Syracuse University’s Bandier Program and a former Billboard editorial director, wisely told me that, “I think every writer either starts out with cliches early in their career, or is lying to themselves about where they started out.”

Bill continued: “Just because a woman sings with passion or flair doesn’t make her a ‘diva.’ And chances are, that A- level pop star is not, in fact, an ‘icon.’ Very few of the albums identified in many music pubs as ‘highly anticipated’ actually are, at least by any meaningful number of people, nor are they ‘criminally overlooked.’ If you think a song is ‘ethereal’ ‘bombastic’ or—god help me—‘Beatlesesque’please keep thinking.”

Bill is right. Like, 100 percent right. All those things suck. Hell, all cliches suck. But (like starting a sentence with ‘Hell’), we keep returning to them. Scott Adamson, author of “The Home Team: My Bromance with Off-Brand Football,” remembers a long-ago high school career day when Al Browning of the Tuscaloosa News came for a visit. “His favorite [cliche] to hate was “Coughing up the football,” said Adamson. “I remember him saying that if we ever see someone cough up a football, we should ask our editor to send a news reporter to the scene because it was front page material.” For the last 24 years, the website sportscliche.com has maintained a running poll of the most overused sports cliches. As of this week 1,618 people have responded, and the results are fantastic …

I asked some of my writing pals to list their go-to cliches, and few had trouble coming up with answers.

Amy Bass: “I use the phrase ‘writ large’ all the time and I wish I didn’t but I cannot quit it. 

Doug Farrar: “I have a few that I've overused over time (like ‘over time’ and ‘going forward’) that I will endeavor to remove.”

Russ Bengtson: “Stuff like ‘For that matter’ or ‘As a matter of fact’ or ‘To be sure.’ All those kinds of verbal filler.”

Eric L. Smith: “I roll my eyes when people/players say them, and try not to use them in my work, but I'm guilty of it, too. ‘Time will tell’ is one I use way too much.”

Michael J. Lewis: “Oh yes, definitely early in my career I was addicted to them. ‘One hundred and 10 percent’ makes me nuts.”

Adam Drovetta: “Comparing anger to some sort of violent weather.”

Adrienne Lewin: “I wish I had a dollar for every time I've written, ‘To that end ...’”

So why, if we all know cliches are bad, do we continue to break ‘em out? Steve Rushin, the author and former Sports Illustrated senior writer, offered the best explanation I’ve heard. “A lot of people seem to find comfort in them,” he texted. “Look at all the social media phrases that become instant cliches: ‘If you know you know.’ That’s it. That’s the Tweet.

“Cliches are often derided as ‘lazy’ writing but I don’t think that’s always the case. Some young or aspiring writers—I was one—use cliches to sound like ‘real’ writers. They’ve read these phrases in published books and articles and think they must constitute ‘real’ writing. Take a book off your shelf—not one that you wrote—and open to a random page. You’ll probably find one or more cliches.”

To be clear, Steve isn’t defending cliches. He loathes them (Rushin: “If I’m only allowed two words of writing advice, I’ll go with: ‘Avoid cliches.’ What’s the point of writing what has already been written—written endlessly, in the case of cliches. Martin Amis called one of his books of essays ‘The War Against Cliche.’ Avoiding them is not just the minimum required of a writer—it’s what’s fun about writing. Finding a new way to say something, or something new to say, is the challenge and the pleasure. At least it is for me.”). But he also understands the impulse. You need a word. You require a phrase. You’re on deadline. You’ve written “thrown” three times already, and “rocketed” just sounds ... refreshing. You’ve described a sprinter as “fast,” then "quick," then "fast"once more. So what’s the harm in a single, “rocket-like”? What's the harm in using some terminology that doesn't repeat your other terminology? Is it really that bad?

And maybe the hyper-specific answer is … no. Cliches aren’t necessarily that bad. Yeah, they do (truly) suck. But they’re just words. Just thoughts. They come and go, and the reader moves on. Jonathan Abrams of the New York Times DMed me that, “Everything can be described and as journalists, it’s our job to do so”—and I don’t disagree. But cliches do, to a degree, describe things. Not well. And not originally. But they are, by nature, descriptive.

So what’s all the fuss about?

Here’s what all the fuss is about.

When I began considering this Substack entry, I found myself thinking of cliches in the micro. You jot down a sentence, it features a cliche, you acknowledge such after the fact and realize, “Oh, that sucks. I shouldn’t have written, ‘He gave 110 percent.’ Bummer.”

But then I received a DM from Jon Wertheim, my longtime SI chum …

And I swear—this shit hit me. We oftentimes consider cliches in the context of words when, in reality, the plague is a cliched approach to storytelling as a whole. Describing Stetson Bennett as throwing a football “through a tight window” in Georgia’s national championship throttling of Texas Christian is a singular blemish that 99 of 100 would never notice. The far greater issue is the writer who devotes 1,500 words to Georgia’s “crowning football achievement.” Or the writer who tells us, for the 743,654,667th time, that Bennett’s “rags-to-riches” journey from Juco to “gridiron king” is “one for the ages”—then regurgitates the same talking points that were regurgitated by 25 other writers on the same day. It’s the non-art of seeing the story that’s placed right before you, because you’re too intellectually numb/bored/unstimulated to look past it. "The thing that drives me crazy is not a cliched phrase," said Jesse Washington of Andscape, "but a cliched approach."

The University of Georgia’s football roster contains, oh, 110 players. There are kids from Texas who likely grew up rooting for TCU. There are kids who were raised so poor they never flew on a plane until college. There are kids who probably didn’t play a game of football until high school. There are kids whose parents died tragically, whose sisters are rocket scientists, whose uncles murdered a cab driver, whose aunts opened bake shops with the best fucking vanilla-fudge cupcakes in all of Bethesda. Those 110 players have 110 different sagas of winding up at Georgia; of standing on the sideline; of that moment of weird, quirky, uncomfortable, fleeting glory. Maybe some were underwhelmed in the moment. Maybe some thought, “Huh, is this as good as it gets?” Maybe, in the stands, a jilted girlfriend was stalking her punter boyfriend. Maybe the tuba player in the band was waiting for the final gun to propose to his boyfriend. Maybe the best stories weren’t in Georgia’s win, but TCU’s humiliating loss. What did it feel like—truly, truly feel like—watching one touchdown, then another touchdown, then another touchdown … scored on you with millions observing? What does that humiliation taste like? How did your parents take it? Did any family members leave early? Say, “To hell with this shit—I’m catching the late showing of ‘Puss in Boots.’” Fuck, there’s a real argument to be made that the Horned Frogs’ loss was far more interesting than Georgia’s win. All those players, optimistic three hours earlier, now wondering what in God’s name went wrong. “Trope,” ESPN’s Wright Thompson told me, “is another way of saying under-reported.”

Without calling out specific writers, the Georgia triumph was often hailed as a redemption saga—a team redeeming itself over past failures; over Alabama’s SEC dominance; over (the invisible, never-identified) non-believers. And sports redemption is, with almost no exception, cliched bullshit. “Redemption—the genuine act, rather than the easy out—is really hard,” said Tom Junod, the ESPN.com wordsmith. “I’m all for redemption stories that show how difficult and fraught it is. But so few do; it’s the narrative that sports hands you and way too many stories accept it with no questions asked.”

So what are the cliched solutions to cliched writing? First, if it enters your head too easily, it’s likely worth reconsidering. Second, if it’s a narrative brought to you by someone with a vested interest in the angle, it’s likely worth ignoring. Third, if there’s an obvious hero and an obvious goat, it’s likely worth thinking a bit deeper. And lastly, if it’s a storyline that’s been told, it’s likely worth finding a different one.

“I live by a cliche,” said Susan Paterno, the ‘Game On’ author. “‘If you see a cliche, kill it.’”

The Quaz Five with … T.J. Quinn

T.J. Quinn is an investigative reporter and senior writer for ESPN, as well as one of the nicest people in the business. We first met decades ago, when T.J. was covering the New York Mets for the Bergen Record. His career has been a joy to behold. One can follow T.J. on Twitter here.

1. I still think of you as a newspaper guy, just because that’s when I first knew you, and you have that grit. But do YOU think of yourself as a newspaper guy? Or does that feel 1,000 years ago?: I thought of myself that way for a long time because I think so much of my identity was wrapped up in it, even after I went to ESPN. From the time I was a little kid I wanted to be Pete Hamill or Jimmy Breslin and work at one of the NYC tabs and I got to do that; I was T.J. Quinn of the New York Daily News and I was damned proud of it. TV never had that same romance for me, although I’ve been incredibly proud to be part of our unit at ESPN for 15 years. I think more than ever I think of myself as a reporter, first and last, medium be damned.

2. You recently appeared on ESPN Daily, the podcast, the break down the whole Brittney Griner saga. And I wonder: Where do you see podcasting, in 2023, as a storytelling medium? Is it the new magazine bonus? Mere fad? Both? Neither?: I had done a few podcasts before the Brittney Griner story but then it suddenly seemed like I was doing most of my reporting that way. I think podcasts have become a vital part of the news ecosystem because they combine a forum for nuance and depth in a way that is more engaging for the news consumer than TV talkbacks, internet/newspaper articles or radio interviews. It will never be the frontline source for news: Twitter (or whatever replaces it) has that role, and traditional reporting platforms are right behind social media. But podcasts—especially when the host is as skilled as Pablo Torre or Richard Deitsch—can serve as a document of record along with the classic written takeout piece. People need a place to go for that definitive record. When I was reporting on Griner it seemed like most people I spoke to in the government and academic worlds were more familiar with what I said in podcasts than anything I wrote.

3. In late December you signed up for Mastodon and wrote, on Twitter, "It won’t even let me put a Mastadon link in my bio. But wherever there’s a platform that doesn’t suspend journalists for doing their jobs, I’ll be there…" Do you feel like Twitter is still a place for journalists? SHOULD it still be a place for journalists?: That’s a hell of a question. You can’t care about good journalism and not be concerned about where Twitter is headed. With Griner, I decided to limit who could respond to those tweets because my timeline became a vehicle for Russian bots and other agents for disinformation and chaos. There’s something seriously fucked when you see all the @ILOVEAMERICA4875629473 accounts that were created in the past month and have two followers (both porn accounts) spouting identical talking points … starting at 6 am Moscow time. But until it becomes completely untenable, the bottom falls out, or something better comes along, we have to be on Twitter because that’s where the conversation is.

4. Do you still love sports the way you did, oh, 20 years ago? Why? Why not?: Another hell of a question. I don’t think I love sports in the same *way* I did. I found that after seven years as a MLB beat writer and the next 20 as an investigative sports journalist you simply can’t. I can’t root for a team the way my sons can or the way I could when I was their ages. The business of sport is too ugly to ignore and the common mythology of it is too dumb to swallow. The pattern of seeing the media and public create heroes only to tear them down when they show they’re human gets really, really old. I also loved playing football and I loved boxing, but I can’t watch those sports the way I used to; I know too much about them now. I’ve also lived the ugliness of our youth sports culture as both a parent and coach, and that bleeds into everything. We constantly use sports to lie to ourselves. But … that said, having covered baseball I see beauty in the sport and in athletes that I never could have appreciated before. When you really understand what it takes to get to elite levels, how can you sit in the stands and say somebody “sucks”? The worst athlete in professional sports is a HELL of an athlete. And when you get to spend significant time with certain people, like I did with Dusty Baker, Darryl Hamilton, Joe McEwing, Robin Ventura, Reggie Smith and a number of others, you can’t help but be moved by the excellence, grit, grace and class they bring to their craft. So, I love sports as much as I ever did, but the business and culture of it make me want to hurl sometimes.

5. Would you advise a 22-year-old aspiring journalist to still enter this field? What's the advice you'd give?: I have a 24-year-old son in the field, so I would absolutely say yes, give yourself to this craft if your heart is telling you to. It’s maddening and frustrating and in most cases not very rewarding financially (I am so damned lucky to have the job I have) and much of the time you don’t feel like it’s making any difference. But I believe what we do is vital and even on days when you feel like you’re writing only for yourself and your editor, at least you’re on the right side of the fight. What I constantly tell aspiring young journalists is that it’s worth it if you know why you’re doing it. Don’t get into it for the attention or to be a brand, although some people do that very successfully and they seem like happy people. Do it because there’s no other way for a democratic society to work and there’s no chance of progress if someone isn’t holding up a mirror and saying this is who were are, whether you like it or not.

A random old article worth revisiting …

On June 27, 1973, a Texas Rangers pitcher named David Clyde started his first Major League game—mere weeks after graduating high school, and without a single day in the minors. It was, we later learned, absolute bullshit—Clyde wasn’t ready, but Rangers owner Bob Short saw him as a cow itching to be milked. Clyde was out of the league by 1979. But that first start was pure buzz, and Bob Clanton of the Fort Worth Star-Telegram captured it perfectly.

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

Connor Smith, Syracuse University.

Sometimes, when I’m seeking out a college scribe to fill this space, I accidentally turn toward flash, pizzazz, dazzle. It’s understandable, because we tend to choose the mango over the apple. But then I went to the Daily Orange, and stumbled across Smith’s breakdown of the Syracuse men’s basketball team—The next day: Virginia loss shows Syracuse isn’t ready to compete against ACC heavyweights. And I learned a ton.

Smith, a junior senior staff writer, isn’t trying to channel Hunter Thompson or Sally Jenkins. Nope, he’s here to explain what’s going wrong with the team. And within a relatively tight space, he skillfully educates the reader …

There’s a reason the Daily Orange is always one of America’s best college newspapers, and Smith’s work is an excellent reminder.

You can follow him on Twitter here.

Great work, kid …

Random journalism musings for the week …

Musing 1: I’m pretty confused by the coverage of Joe Biden having removed classified documents from the White House during his time as vice president. Yes, it needs to be chronicled. And yes, it’s a legitimate blunder with questions that need to be asked. But it also feels like the Washington Post and New York Times are—once again—falling for the “We need to cover everything 50/50.” Unlike Donald Trump, who knowingly hoarded classified docs and refused to turn them over, Biden’s actual people alerted the government of the transgression. That’s a HUGE difference that seems to rarely be noted. I dunno, maybe I’m biased. But the coverage is strange.

Musing 2: The Cleveland Browns firing Bernie Kosar (as a member of the pregame radio show) for betting $19,000 on his team to beat the Steelers is such a joke. The NFL is now fully, fully, fully in bed with gambling in every possible way. So to exile a Browns legend for gambling is just silly and small.

Musing 3: Excellent piece from Huff Post’s Jonathan Nicholson on David Holt, Oklahoma City’s anti-Trump Republican mayor. Very refreshing man profiled in tremendous detail. Bravo.

Musing 4: I’m a bit late to this, but I was really moved by this chat between Tim and Fred Williams—the Gary, Indiana-based brothers who host the popular YouTube channel, TwinsthenewTrend. Along with the important wider topic of depression, I found it riveting to hear two YouTubers explain the sense of loss that comes when followers inevitably start drifting away. Nothing (on the Internet) lasts forever, and the Williams brothers express the pain extraordinarily well.

Musing 5: Really proud of my pal Mike Organ—former Tennessean colleague and one of the legit great guys in sports media—for being named the NSMA Tennessee Sports Writer of the Year. Being kind, being gracious, being a pro—it all matters.

Musing 6: Holy shit! A rare siting of Jenna Ortega and Selena Gomez! Side by side! In one place! Um … who is Jenna Ortega? And why was this covered?

Musing 7: Rick Rojas of the New York Times with a stellar profile of the new mayor of Earle, Arkansas—who happens to be all of 18-years old.

Musing 8: We have met the future of TV sports journalism, and it’s this kid—who seems ready for ESPN.

Musing 9: This week’s Two Writers Slinging Yang podcast stars Jesse Washington of Andscape. Fantastic writer who has seen pretty much everything.

Quote of the week …

“After laboring through a dozen such tales, Elliott gave me one of the most valuable suggestions I’d ever had about writing. ‘Don’t you think it would make your tough guys a little more interesting to the reader if once in a while you had one bend down to smell a rose?’”

— Russell Baker, “Growing Up”