By Robert Lipsyte
An established activities columnist for the recent York occasions interweaves tales from his lifestyles and the occasions he coated to discover the relationships among the video games we play and the lives we lead starting to be up, Robert Lipsyte used to be the smart-aleck fats child, the bully magnet who went to the library rather than the ballpark. because the perpetual outsider, even into maturity, Lipsyte's alienation from Jock tradition made him a rarity within the press field: the sportswriter who wasn't a activities fan. this sense of otherness has coloured Lipsyte's activities writing for 50 years, a lot of it spent as a columnist for the hot York instances. He did not persist with specific athletes or groups; he wasn't awed via the entry afforded through his press go or his familiarity with the gamers within the locker room. among bouts on the occasions, he introduced a profitable profession writing younger grownup fiction, frequently approximately activities. The adventure and perception he earned over a part century infuse An unintentional Sportswriter. Going past the standard memoir, Lipsyte has written "a reminiscence loop, a round look for misplaced or forgotten items within the puzzle of a life." In telling his personal tale, he grapples with American activities and society—from Mickey Mantle to invoice Simmons—arguing that Jock tradition has seeped into our enterprise, politics, and relatives existence, and its definitions became the traditional to degree worth. jam-packed with knowledge and an knowing of yankee activities that contextualizes instead of celebrates athletes, An unintended Sportswriter is the crowning success of a wealthy profession and a e-book that would converse to us for years yet to come.
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P. classmates was notorious for holding their jackets while they beat us up. He went on to become a famous television executive. (Twenty-five years later, when I worked on a show under his supervision, he turned away when he reached me in a group waiting to shake his hand. ) I became a particular target of the bullies because I compulsively talked back and was too fat to run away afterward. My weight has always been higher than my IQ. I hated getting beaten up, hated having friends, especially the girls, be sorry for me, hated feeling my scabs harden and my insides shrivel, but it seemed preferable to giving in or sucking up or hiding.
Gay was modern and funny without being snide. I’d rush into the wire room to get his incoming copy, then walk slowly back, reading it. He was the only Times sportswriter we ran to read with the same anticipation we had for Red Smith of the New York Herald Tribune. One story Gay didn’t write, but told me about on his return, was his amazement with his fellow scribes. A tall, messy sportswriter from the tabloid Daily Mirror would often show up drunk for games; a short, dapper sportswriter from the Daily News, his archrival, would write his story for him.
Raines was serious. He was ruthless, capricious, and inaccessible, and for all his micromanaging, he was careless. Maybe he was scared, in over his head. He ignored warnings about a young reporter, Jayson Blair, who was ultimately fired for plagiarisms and fabrications. Using that as a weapon, the newsroom rose up and drove Raines out of the arena. But not before he got me. At the end of 2002, Raines, who may have felt personally defied by my columns on the corruption of college football, refused to renew my thirteenth consecutive annual contract.
An Accidental Sportswriter by Robert Lipsyte