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Jay Mariotti

Lesson of Erin Andrews: Grow Up, Boys!

Posted Jul 23, 2009 12:08AM By Jay Mariotti (RSS feed)

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Erin AndrewsThis is the decade when sports stopped being about sports. So shamefully, too much focus shifted toward an immature and sometimes creepy blogosphere obsession with, oh, I don't know, the women in Matt Leinart's hot tub, the woman on Scott Van Pelt's voice-mail machine, Hannah Storm's outfits, Chris Cooley's penis, an attractive female high-school pole vaulter and, of course, Erin Andrews.

Occasionally glancing at such junk through the years, I was whisked into a cross between a frat boy's porn fantasies and a sports remake of Revenge of the Nerds. Who were these geeks? Why was the Internet, once again, giving semi-lives to people with no lives? Didn't it make a supermarket tabloid look responsible and dignified by comparison, or at least until the New York Post crossed every line imaginable? And wasn't there bound to be a cyberspace version of a nuclear explosion, a boiling point where one of the frequent blog subjects became a victim of some sick act?

A second-guess, this is not. I've been saying it for years. And sadly enough, I've feared it would involve Andrews, whose only sin is being good-looking and blond on a powerful television network watched predominantly by sports-and-female-loving males. Am I blaming sports bloggers and their commenters that a very disturbed person secretly videotaped Andrews as she was standing nude in her hotel room, then posted the five-minute video on the Internet? No, I am not, even though the video was posted under the title "Hot naked blonde who looks a lot like a sports blogger favorite in her hotel room.'' But am I blaming bloggers for helping create the daily sex-and-objectification culture that turned Andrews into an ongoing peep show on their Web sites?

Damn right I am.

And I wish they'd grow up -- now, today, yesterday -- before they continue to dumb-down what is left of sports journalism and plunge it into an inescapable sewage pit.

Unlike one of the Erin-consumed leeches -- who admitted this week, "I have never met Erin Andrews,'' -- I have met her as an ESPN colleague. She could not be more friendly and down to earth, which, in this case, probably contributed to the rampant EA Mania. If she were aloof, she wouldn't be nearly as popular and droolworthy among the testosterone-fueled masses. But by smiling everywhere and saying hi to everyone -- from the face-painted freshman at Michigan State to, yes, even the very bloggers who exploit her -- she only fed the monster and left the absurd impression that she actually might dig them. Wrote Christine Brennan, the USA Today columnist: "I wish it didn't happen to Erin, but I also would suggest to her if she asked (and she hasn't) that she rely on her talent and brains and not succumb to the lowest common denominator in sports media by playing to the frat house.'' In truth, Andrews has been vexed in handling the intense amounts of attention, including her distinction as Playboy magazine's "sexiest sportscaster in America.'' One minute, she's on the dance squad at the University of Florida. The next, she's wondering how many millions of perverts are blowing up her photos on the Internet. Or what rumor is surfacing next on a blog about this sex tape or this baseball player or this college basketball player, none of which involved any attempts by the bloggers to substantiate.

But when another sleazy day has ended and the creeps tell their bosses about all their Erin-generated page views, Andrews still has to live with the fallout. She grew to be a well-respected sideline reporter who was placed on college football and basketball because, well, she's young and relates to her audience. They're not stupid in Bristol; she brought in ratings. And for anyone who suggests she exploited sexuality with some of her outfits, I'll remind you that it's 2009 and no one should expect her to dress like a Granny. I've seen Katie Couric wear shorter dresses. Last summer, Chicago Cubs manager Lou Piniella saw her in a stylish summer dress before a game in Milwaukee -- professionally acceptable, according to my sample poll of females -- and cracked, "Is this a baseball game or a modeling assignment?'' That prompted an Illinois sportswriter to columnize that she "sauntered around the visiting clubhouse, flitting from one Cubs player to another. Her skimpy outfit -- designed to accentuate her, um, positives -- had players leering at her.''

What you need to know: Piniella is 65; the writer in his 50s.

"It's really sad that ... I have people watching every single move I make," Andrews told a Minnesota newspaper at the time. "These players are not into me like that. If anything, I think these guys look at me like a little sister or one of the guys. I don't look at myself as a sex object. I've never carried myself in that way. I'm a girl that loves sports. I'm a tomboy. That's the last thing on my mind when I'm in the clubhouse -- worrying about players checking me out.

"I thought at some point we were all past this. I'm not going to change. I can't change.''

Unfortunately, the perverts didn't change, either. It's unconscionable to think a human being would hatch a plot knowing the hotel location, the number of her room and, apparently, when she would disrobe long enough to shoot video footage through the door peephole. She is seeking criminal charges and filing civil lawsuits, but face it, she has been robbed of her privacy and equilibrium forever. How can she return to a hotel room without wondering if someone's peeping? How can she live wondering 24/7 if someone is leering? I wouldn't blame her if she left the sports business and entered the entertainment world. Just a few months ago, USC linebacker Rey Maualuga approached her from behind on the sideline and did a grind dance, which invites other athletes to do the same. But I fully expect her to stand firm and report back to work in September, when her college football duties begin on -- gulp -- college campuses across the land.

It's one thing for a sports media person to be covered aggressively, quite another to be cyber-stalked. For decades, Sports Illustrated has been trotting out bikinied swimsuit models for leering eyes, but the magazine only does so once a year, not every day. What kind of lewd mind lusts publicly for Allison Stokke, a California pole vaulter who became a blog "sex symbol'' at 16, much to the dismay of her father? What kind of idiot is Cooley, the Washington Redskins tight end, for "accidentally'' taking a picture of his penis and posting it? And why would anyone but a blogger care to run audio tape of Van Pelt, the ESPN TV/radio personality, leaving a message for a lady friend? Do these dopes have lives? Have they ever been out on a date?

I'm sure their parents are very proud.

My punishment for writing this, naturally, will be a full-scale assault on my character by these very sites, none of which are worthy of being mentioned on a respectable, globally regarded site such as this. See, these dweebs can dish out the criticism but can't take it. Rather than take on an almighty sports executive -- the real test of a sportswriter in an age when leagues and media are frequent bedfellows -- they go after media people. When a blog gets something right about me, for instance, I'll be the first to say so. To date, they're batting way under the Mendoza line, about .150. A blog said I was with a "semi-hot blonde'' at an NBA party; she was a public-relations person for a player marketing a charity game. A blog was woefully wrong about my salary, just guessing and never bothering to look into it. A blog recklessly ran items that weren't remotely true when I left the Chicago Sun-Times. A blog said I brag endlessly about our TV show in bars; when people ask about Around The Horn, I'm friendly and answer all questions or else I'm called a jerk. A blog said I don't like to have pictures taken in bars; that's true, because I don't want some blogger running a picture and calling me drunk when I've had one beer.

If this is the American Way, what happened to the truth and justice part?

A few years ago, after the blogs had their way with me during another Ozzie Guillen meltdown, I had death threats in Chicago. The newspaper ordered me to have a driver take me to U.S. Cellular Field so I would avoid possible violence in the stadium parking lots. So, sure, the Erin Andrews case gives me the shivers, too. While I'm more Jim Belushi than George Clooney, I think I'll take a good, long look at the peephole the next time I'm in a hotel room.

And wonder what the hell happened to my profession.

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Jay Mariotti

Jay MariottiJay Mariotti is a national columnist and commentator for FanHouse.com. He is a daily panelist on ESPN's sports-debate show, "Around The Horn,'' seen Monday through Friday at 5 p.m. ET. Mariotti spent 17 years as a lead sports columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times and has covered every major sporting event -- national and worldwide -- on multiple occasions.