Journalists as Paragons of Truth, Justice, etc.

Lately I’ve been reading what seems to me an essential book: W. Joseph Campbell’s Getting It Wrong: Ten of the Greatest Misreported Stories in American Journalism. Just a couple of notable examples ... Edward R. Murrow was not largely responsible for bringing down “Gunner Joe” McCarthy, and Lyndon Johnson did not decide he’d lost the American public after watching Walter Cronkite’s television commentary. Both Murrow and Cronkite admitted as much. Woodward and Bernstein’s role in the Watergate investigation is greatly overblown, too.

In these cases, the myths have endured for many reasons, but among the biggest is the media’s tendency to perpetuate self-congratulatory, influence-inflationary storylines.

Why do I bring this up? Well, when you read about Alex Rodriguez and others of his ilk, it’s often hard to miss the self-righteousness dripping from the page or the screen. So occasionally it’s worth remembering that baseball writers aren’t perfect, either. Case in point? There is exactly one baseball writer in the Hall of Fame: Henry Chadwick, and he actually was elected as “Pioneer”. But how many times have you seen someone referred to as a “Hall of Fame writer?” Or broadcaster? Dozens of times, or probably hundreds.

It’s not true. It doesn’t matter how many times they or their employers or their friends say so; they’re not actually in the Hall of Fame. They are officially honorees, which -- according to the Hall of Fame itself -- is a completely different sort of thing. If you’re elected to the Hall of Fame, you’re a Hall of Famer. If you win the Spink Award (writers) or the Frick Award (broadcasters), you’re an honoree. It’s as simple as that. Or should be. But thanks to both laziness and dishonesty, there is a great deal of confusion among the public.

Here’s a passage from my favorite baseball book last year, Bill Deane’s Baseball Myths: Debating, Debunking, and Disproving Tales from the Diamond ...

The Hall of Fame does little to clarify this matter, not wanting to offend the honorees, some of whom shamelessly refer to themselves as Hall of Famers. In 2010, a longtime employee of the Hall of Fame attempted to set the record straight on the “wings” in his baseball blog. This angered at least one winner of the Spink Award, and the employee was promptly fired. But the Hall’s current president, Jeff Idelson, has made the distinction clear. In an August 31, 2004 letter, Idelson writes,

“While we don’t agree with award winners being referred to as Hall of Famers, we also don’t have plans to outwardly stem that action, which really would not be in the museum’s best interest. We will, however, continue to remind the winners that they are award recipients and not Hall of Fame members.... Our museum does not have wings.”

It is fair to say that winning the Spink or Frick award is as near to Baseball Hall of Fame election that a writer or broadcaster can get, but, to call winners of them Hall of Fame inductees is just plain bad journalism.

Yes, and yet it happens every day.

Granted, the honorees are in a tough spot. If your boss wants to market your contributions by referring to you has a Hall of Fame baseball writer, what are you supposed to do? Ask him to dial it back some?

Well, yes. You should. I don’t know if I would, though. Things are tough enough out there without making yourself harder to promote. I’m not picking on baseball writers generally, or any writer specifically. But sometimes it’s worth remembering that we all make mistakes. And that even those of us who do have principles, sometimes compromise them.

My prescription? Maybe just the occasional measure of humility, and compassion. Both of which seem in short supply every time a Hall of Fame baseball writer writes about Alex Rodriguez.