An e-mail arrived in our editor’s in-box the other day, bearing an incredulous compliment.
“I don’t know how you did it,” wrote Janice Johnson of Lyndhurst. “The game was still going on when I went to sleep, yet full coverage when the paper hit my door before 5am! . . . Fantastic!”
She was writing about a Cavaliers playoff game, and I’ve got to agree with her. I’ve worked in sports departments at three newspapers, but I’m not sure I can explain how the sports reporters and editors do it, day after day, under more deadline pressure than most of us will ever experience. “Because they have to” is the only explanation I’ve ever heard that makes sense.
Deadlines are a part of any newspaper job. But no where is the heat as high or as constant as in sports, because those folks are caught in the crossfire of three constricting and unyielding realities:
1. The games that are their lifeblood start late — usually 7 or 8 p.m., later if they are being played in another time zone — and they end when they end.
2. The press run must be finished in time to get the papers to our readers before they leave for work. To do that, we must start printing no later than midnight, which means that the last page must be complete and on its way to the pressroom by 11:30 p.m.
3. Readers rightly expect all the game stories, columns, photos and statistics to be in their newspaper.
The next time you snap off the TV and head for the sack after a game that ended at 11:15 p.m., you are invited to do the math on how long our sports crew has to pull it all together for the newspaper that will be at your house in a few hours.
Consider last Monday: We had the usual raft of high school sports, features and other things, but the key pieces were the Cavs’ playoff game with Boston and the Indians’ doubleheader with Toronto. The Cavs’ game would start about 8:15 p.m. and end about 11. The doubleheader would start at 4:05 . . . who knew when it would end?
So here’s how it went:
6:35 p.m.: Indians’ first game ends with a quick 3-0 victory. Paul Hoynes works on his notes column and begins his game story, while Dennis Manoloff works on a feature about second baseman Asdrubal Cabrera and files notes on the Cleveland.com sports blog. Over at The Q, our five sportswriters and three photographers begin shooting video for the Web, filing to the sports blog, working on notes columns and sending back early photos.
7:15 p.m.: Second Indians game begins, high school results start coming in, editors rough out where everything will go on the sports pages.
8:25 p.m. The Cavs are on TV in the sports department when Assistant Sports Editor Bob Keim sees a note from Manoloff that Cabrera just turned an unassisted triple play at the Indians game. Saying a silent thanks for the coincidence that Manoloff was already working on a Cabrera story, Keim pulls together the facts of the play in a list that will go on the sports cover.
About 9 p.m. LeBron James tumbles into the stands and his mother winds up in a confrontation with Celtics players. Sportswriter Jodie Valade heads for the scene to report on what will become the lead to her notes column. Photos arrive steadily from both games — including the tussle. As the game wears on, Anderson Varejao begins making baskets from everywhere, and the focus of one of the sidebars shifts from Joe Smith to Varejao.
10:15 p.m. Indians game ends with an extra-inning loss.
10:45 p.m. Cavs game ends with a win.
10:59 p.m. Hoynes’ Indians game story arrives, followed in quick succession by two columns from the Cavs game, the Cavs game story and the LeBron mom story, which are all in by 11:05. That gives editors 25 minutes to edit the stories, write headlines, get it all on the cover and inside pages, put in the box scores, update the standings, etc. In other words, about the amount of time it takes you or me to stop for a beer after the game.
11:31 p.m. Last page is sent to the press, which starts on time at midnight, and the circulation department’s race to Janice Johnson’s door in Lyndhurst begins. But there’s no time for celebration. Stories, photos and headlines from the games are reworked and updated with quotes and additional information for the second edition, which goes to press about 1:30 a.m.
All this action is best described as controlled panic, where a thousand things can go wrong but it all has to be correct. I wish I had the space to single out every editor and clerk who races the clock so well every night.
But everything begins with the writers, whose pace must contract into the time available.
Writing is an individual art. All our brains work at their own speeds, but a sportswriter doesn’t have the luxury of time and reflection.
I’m thinking of a night some years back when I was sports editor here, and columnist Bill Livingston was in Atlantic City covering the Evander Holyfield-George Foreman heavyweight championship fight.
It was late on a Friday, right on deadline, and we were watching the fight’s end on TV so we could get as much done as possible as soon as we knew who won.
The decision was announced. Holyfield’s arm was raised in triumph. And about 10 seconds later somebody on the desk shouted, “Livingston’s in.”
Bill’s column had arrived . . . well-crafted and literate as always.
And I thought, not for the first or last time: “How do they DO that?”
