Press Row

Lost in today’s celebration of the Pro Football Hall of Fame’s six newest members (including former 49ers great Fred Dean) was the 40th annual presentation of the Dick McCann Memorial Award.

Per the Pro Football HOF’s website: “The Dick McCann Memorial Award, which is named after the first director of the Pro Football Hall of Fame, is presented by the Pro Football Writers of America (PFWA) in recognition of long and distinguished reporting in the field of pro football.”

In reviewing these simple criteria for enshrining members of the pro football media world, there’s no question that Len Pasquarelli is surely a worthy candidate.

Pasquarelli has covered pro football for 30 years: that takes care of the “long” category.

He’s written for the AJC (1989-1999), CBS Sportsline (1999 - 2001), and of course, ESPN (2001 - present) among many others. A former president of the PFWA, Pasquarelli can claim numerous sports reporting awards to his credit, among them, NFL Beat Reporter of the Year and an AP Deadline Sports Reporting Award (references: Business Wire and Wikipedia). Distinguished? Check.

Why, then, during this weekend where we should be celebrating all of these men’s accomplishments, the feeling surrounding Pasquarelli’s accomplishment is…a little hollow? Perhaps it has to do with what people thought of him before winning this award–and how adding his name to a list that includes Paul Zimmerman, John Clayton, Rick Gosselin, and Ira Miller, among countless other legends in sports writing, may not change anyone’s mind.

We sadly have not seen or heard from Pasquarelli since February’s Super Bowl, when Pasquarelli fell ill and required quintuple bypass surgery. That doesn’t just go for his readers, either–many members of the media, with whom Pasquarelli formerly had frequent contact, haven’t spoken to him in quite some time.

Granted, the man is recovering from quintuple bypass surgery. But, as an icon in the football media world for three decades–and after honor his career with enshrinement–we’re forced to a) take a look at his professional legacy and b) prepare for when his career will come to an end.

His professional accomplishments aside, let’s review what bears discussing about LenP:

- His “abrasive personality” is well documented. Any frequent reader of Pro Football Talk remembers when his “move on or move out” segment was…uhh, “referenced” on a weekly basis. On a radio appearance, he claimed that Sean Taylor’s murder in his home last year was a result of his “lifestyle,“ even though it turned out to be a direct result of a failed robbery attempt. A very defensive and bitter conversation with another journalist resulted in this article from Portfolio Magazine’s Jeff Bercovici, written just a month before this year’s Super Bowl.

Of course, that careless attitude (sometimes called arrogance) also gave Pasquarelli the gusto to write essentially whatever was on his mind, having no problem nationally calling out Hall of Fame coaches for being too old (which, in turn, resulted in Pasquarelli being called out for his age).

That, however, leads us to…

- The oft-rumored “Pasquarelli Agenda.” His hatred for everything Redskins is well documented (warning: re-link). He’s had no problem praising people he’s connected with, like with his annual pimping of Jeff George (2001, “how dare they treat him this way“ Jeff) (2002, “finally re-signed” Jeff) (2004, “out of work” Jeff) (2007, “out of work” Jeff, ESPN Insider). Many think his steadfast backing of Todd Pinkston was from his friendship/news feeding source with agent Joel Segal, who represented Pinkston. (This article was one of the main headlines on ESPN.com when Pinkston was cut; probably less because of Pinkston’s “star power“.) (On a side note, how can anyone be so adamant over such a mediocre player? Seriously?) Over the latter years of his writing, some of his perceived biases became more prevalent in the eyes of the well-read fans.

- In the last year and a half, Pasquarelli became a controversial center of, possibly, the journalistic equivalent of cheating: claiming the breaking of a story when, in fact, he hadn’t. It would be one thing if it happened once, a mistake, or even just a close call. But, Pasquarelli “learned” one too many scoops way after the fact it had been reported elsewhere. That’s a sure-fire way to burn bridges with your colleagues.

It’s possible this internet generation has been subjected to a version of Pasquarelli different to the one that made a name for himself in some of the NFL’s biggest media markets. Clayton’s Saturday Hall of Fame article on ESPN.com is his account of he and his good friend Pasquarelli’s rise to the top of the sports media world.

There are some revelations that I had no idea about and, honestly, have a hard time visualizing the Len Pasquarelli I’ve read about on Pro Football Talk seriously accomplishing. Gained the trust of Deion Sanders? Or, this statement from Clayton:

“Other than Peyton Manning or Bill Polian, no individual had a bigger impact on the pro football landscape in Indianapolis than Len. He immediately established trust with the Colts players and escalated his Hall of Fame writing career.”

As a total aside: Granted, Indianapolis football is a relatively young creature, but…really? Do you suppose without Pasquarelli, football as we know it in Indianapolis never would have happened–or that the entire franchise would have just crumbled without Pasquarelli’s beat? Can we seriously equate any member of the media with the success of the entire team? In Pasquarelli’s time covering the team (1985-1989), the Colts went 34-45, with one playoff appearance, in the strike-shortened 1987 season. Probably the only three people anyone can name from those Colts teams are Eric Dickerson, Chris Chandler, and a young Andre Rison (I had to look that one up). Maybe Jack Trudeau and Brian Baldinger, if you really know your stuff. Can we really say that Pasquarelli was a key instrument in football’s rise in Indianapolis?

So then, how will we remember Pasquarelli?

I’ve always been the hopeless romantic in this type of discussion: I like to think that we remember legends in their prime. My lasting memory of Michael Jordan is a right arm stuck in time, sinking one final jumper in Bulls’ red. I sometimes forget that Joe Montana played for the Chiefs, or that Emmitt Smith played for the Cardinals. I agree that Cal Ripken probably played a season or two too long, but his home run in his last All Star Game really was something special.

But how will we remember Barry Bonds? How do we remember Lawrence Taylor? If anything, we see them as evidence that career suicide is real–and very easy. It’s simple: all you need to do is shut out everyone who supports you, blame everyone else for the downfall of everything, and show you’ll do anything to keep your spot on top of the mountain.

I suppose Lawrence Taylor said it best, on the eve of his own Hall of Fame induction (NYT):

”If you’re going to start going into off-the-field problems, you’re going to have to kick half of the people out of the Hall of Fame now,” Taylor said in a conference call.

”I’m sure there have never been writers who have ever done drugs,” he said.

Links:

Transcript of Len’s acceptance speech (a very good read) (ESPN.com)

John Clayton’s column about Pasquarelli (ESPN.com)

Len’s Wikipedia (Wikipedia)

All-time list of McCann Award winners (Pro Football HOF)

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