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Gammons and Hohler occupy two distinct schools of journalism.   Hohler comes from a background of hard news.  Gammons does not.  Gammons is out of his element in hard news, as . . . → Read More: The Venerable Peter Gammons]]>

Boston Globe sports media columnist Chad Finn called out Peter Gammons for calling out Bob Hohler for calling out the Red Sox.

Gammons and Hohler occupy two distinct schools of journalism.   Hohler comes from a background of hard news.  Gammons does not.  Gammons is out of his element in hard news, as was the case when he interviewed Alex Rodriguez about steroid use in February 2009, at least in the estimation of the ESPN ombudsman, who wrote:

“My own assessment is that Gammons asked the hard questions — Did you take steroids? For how long? Where did you get them? Did you lie to Katie Couric? — but that after getting Rodriguez’s opening admission of guilt, he did not press hard enough when Rodriguez gave evasive or self-serving answers to the what/where/when/why questions. I also think Gammons’ lack of follow-up was attributable, in large part, to his genuine sympathetic engagement in the human drama of what the viewer somewhat cynically called “Rodriguez’s first step toward personal redemption.”

The key phrase is “genuine sympathetic engagement”.  As a celebrity journalist, Gammons identifies with the front office and clubhouse.  As a real journalist, Hohler identifies with his readers.

Finn’s column of April 21:

The perception that Peter Gammons’s journalistic compass can go on the fritz when it comes to matters of the Red Sox is not a new one.

Most memorable was a moment in the immediate aftermath of the World Series-clinching victory in 2004. During a live interview on ESPN, outfielder Gabe Kapler gently kidded Gammons about how much the victory must have meant to him, saying something to the effect of, “Come on, Peter, we all know you’re a Red Sox fan.’’

Gammons smiled, wearing an expression that was equal parts bemusement and joy

Last week, however, Gammons’s affiliation with or affinity for the franchise he first covered for the Globe in the 1970s – en route to an iconic, trend-setting career at this newspaper, Sports Illustrated, ESPN, and now MLB Network and the Red Sox broadcast arm NESN – was not so amusing.

It led him in an irresponsible direction. His compass let him down.

 

(Peter Gammons, right, with ex-Red Sox GM Theo Epstein and WBZ Channel 4 anchor Lisa Hughes.)

During his weekly appearance on 98.5 The Sports Hub’s “Felger and Massarotti’’ show last Wednesday, Gammons asserted that Globe reporter Bob Hohler should reveal the anonymous sources from his bombshell story last October on the factors contributing to the Red Sox’ historic collapse. Those factors, according to Hohler’s sources, included manager Terry Francona’s personal issues and a fractured clubhouse in which a clique of pitchers were drinking beer and eating chicken during games.

It was an absurd suggestion. Betraying the trust of a confidential source would be journalistic suicide. The use of such sources in Hohler’s story was essential to provide answers to the question that hovered over the end of the season: How in the world did this collapse happen? Anyone with legitimate first-person knowledge likely had something to lose by going on the record. Anonymous sources are never a reporter’s ideal approach, but sometimes a story – particularly one of this magnitude – cannot be told in full without them. This was one of those instances.

(Gammons also said Hohler called the medical staff and tried to get information from them by using columnist Dan Shaughnessy’s name. Hohler said that did not happen.)

It should be acknowledged that Gammons himself has been liberal with the use of anonymous sources. They have long contributed to the insider feel of his notebooks and columns.

A search of the Globe electronic archives shows that Gammons has used them at least as far back as November 1979, when he reported that the Red Sox were going to sign free agent first baseman Tony Perez.

During his appearance on “Felger and Massarotti’’ this Wednesday, he was asked by hosts Michael Felger and Tony Massarotti whether he really believed what he had said the week before, that Hohler should reveal his sources.

“No, he can’t,’’ Gammons said. “I thoroughly understand that. I just think it would be better for everybody if he did, but he can’t do that. And I understand that.

“Again, he is someone I think we all really respect. You almost wish, OK, if it was somebody in the front office, fine, admit it. If it was a player or a retired player, come out and say, ‘Yeah, I leaked some of this.’ You wish that would happen so that people aren’t kind of looking around corners at one another.’’

Later, he added, “I didn’t really understand why the story was necessary. Because they were in first place for 4 1/2 months when he [Francona] had his personal situation. I don’t think that’s the reason they collapsed in September.

“I think that maybe I just overreacted to that. I also wish there was a way to know who was the main link and move forward from there so you don’t have players whispering about other players.’’

With all due respect to Gammons – from someone who grew up devouring his work – that is something one would expect to hear from a disappointed fan, not a legendary Ford C. Frick Award winner.

Whether or not people are “looking around the corners at one another’’ or whether or not Josh Beckett spends his off-days dressed in camouflage conducting a full-scale clubhouse snitch hunt, the media should not care whether it stops. The duty is singular: to report on how it affects the team.

What happened to cause a team that roared to an 83-52 record to go 7-20 in September is a question that demanded an answer. Of course the story was necessary.

Gammons hasn’t come around to seeing it that way. In an e-mail Thursday afternoon, he elaborated on his viewpoint:

“In case you haven’t heard, the 2012 season has begun,’’ he wrote. “Now, I have never quite understood the journalistic relevance of Francona’s family relationship, and because it caused him so much harm – including essentially eliminating him from any chance at the Cardinals job – I wonder why those who spoke anonymously cannot step forward and say they were among the sources because they felt this was more significant to the finish than the starting pitching. To harp on it and further smudge Terry personally a season after it all happened is something I do not understand.’’

It’s unclear who is harping on it beyond the usual sports-radio caterwaulers, who get paid to harp on everything. But it was essential to the story, because according to Hohler’s sources, Francona’s personal life affected how he did his job while the season was crumbling around him.

Shouldn’t it be telling that Francona, who is writing a book with columnist Dan Shaughnessy and has been a pleasure to deal with from a media writer’s perspective, still maintains a good relationship with the Globe?

Part of Gammons’s charm is his genuine love for the game, which shines through in his writing, still, to generations of admirers. But in this case, his affection for the game and those who play it has overwhelmed or numbed his journalistic instincts.

It’s the fan who pleads for last September to be forgotten and for the team to start winning again. A journalist wants to know why the collapse happened, and uses every ethical tactic in his or her reportorial arsenal to find the answer.

That’s what Hohler did. If Gammons can’t agree with it, he should at least recognize it. Even if it means recalibrating that compass.

To commemorate the anniversary, and to honor the brothers Petronelli – Pat and Goody – who passed away in . . . → Read More: Leonard-Hagler at 25]]> They fought on April 6,1987 before nearly 2 million closed-circuit viewers and 20,000 more in the open stadium behind Caesars Palace.  Now Leonard-Hagler is 25, and aficionados still argue about the split decision for Leonard.

To commemorate the anniversary, and to honor the brothers Petronelli – Pat and Goody – who passed away in 2011, following is the Epilogue to “Sorcery at Caesars: Sugar Ray’s Marvelous Fight”, published in 2008:

In the cocaine-addled, junk bond ‘80s, Leonard and Hagler gave us a fable, and themselves a permanent place in boxing lore.  Both are elevated among the all-time greats, Leonard a step higher.

As much as his career, Hagler is remembered for his exit.  He quit, at the age of 32, after losing to Leonard, and declined multi-million dollar offers to fight again.  He was one of a few champions – Rocky Marciano being another – to quit with his health intact and money on the table.

“Marvin Hagler did a lot of good things by walking away,” said Flip Homansky, a Nevada physician who worked the bout. “He walked away at the peak of his health, and I think a lot of our younger fighters could learn a lesson from him.”

Hagler’s abrupt exit was an oddity, to be sure, but also a natural outgrowth of his career.

“People say he shouldn’t be so bitter, but let me tell you something,” said Emanuel Steward.  “That chip on his shoulder is what made him a good fighter.”

Leonard was larger than life, and sometimes smaller.

In the summer of 1983 Leonard sailed to England on the QE II with a Canadian film crew at work on a documentary about him.   Princess Margaret and Bob Hope were aboard, and a formal black-tie dinner was thrown.  In tuxedoes, Leonard and his bodyguard, James Anderson, made their way to a sparkling men’s room, where an attendant handed out towels and accepted tips.   But a problem arose after Leonard and Anderson washed their hands – neither had money for the tip box.

“So the guy turned his back to hand another guy a towel,” Anderson recalled, “and Ray reached into the change thing, picked it up, and dropped it back in there.”

The attendant turned around as change cascaded into the tip box.

“Oh, thank you very much, Mr. Leonard.”

“No problem,” Leonard said, and returned to the dinner with Princess Margaret and Bob Hope.

This wasn’t about stinginess.  By most accounts Leonard was a generous man who once wrote a spur-of-the-moment $250,000 check to Grambling, supported relatives and friends, and helped strangers in need.

This was about Leonard feeding his inner con, if just a tiny hors d’oeuvre.  This was the same impulse that shaped his strategy against Hagler, and created a timeless classic.   As the bout is Leonard’s legacy, so is his devilish persona.

Steve Farhood was editor of KO Magazine from 1980 to 1997, and of The Ring Magazine from 1990 to 1997.   He oversaw coverage of hundreds of championship fights, but none stirred his readers as much as Leonard-Hagler.

“I got more mail on the fight and the decision than any fight in all my years of editing,” Farhood said. “I continued to receive mail on the decision years after the fight.”

Dave Moretti, the ‘swing’ vote, is never far from the fight.

“Twenty years after the fight it’s still the one most people ask me about,” Moretti said.  “Did Leonard really win?”

The same is true of Jo Jo Guerra, the judge who “wasn’t there”, yet never escaped from it.

“They made me famous,” said Guerra.  “Wherever I go, that’s the fight people want to know about.”

Leonard, in a 2005 interview, said he often is reminded of the bout by everyday fans.

“Even to this day, in New England or wherever I go, his fans will come up to me and say, ‘Ray, we like you, but Hagler beat you.’ To this very day.”

Its enduring appeal may stem from the potent alchemy of opposites.  Before the bout Promoter Bob Arum theorized that their personalities were reflected in other athletes, teams, places, politicians, and “ordinary” citizens.

“Everyone and everything is either Hagler or Leonard,” Arum wrote in the Las Vegas Sun.

Lawrence Taylor and the New York Giants were Hagler; John Elway and the Denver Broncos were Leonard.  Most quarterbacks were Leonard, while linebackers and defensive linemen were Hagler.

The Boston Celtics and Larry Bird were Hagler; the LA Lakers and Magic Johnson were Leonard.

California, Florida, Texas and Arizona were Leonard, while Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Alabama, Oklahoma and New Mexico were Hagler.   Nevada suffered from a “split personality”, Reno was Hagler, Las Vegas was Leonard.   New York City was too cosmopolitan to fit into either category, but the rest of New York was Hagler.

Democrats were Hagler and Republicans were Leonard, with exceptions.  Of the Republican presidential hopefuls, Sen. Robert Dole and former Sen. Paul Laxalt were Hagler, while Democratic candidates Gary Hart and Jesse Jackson were Leonard.

On fight night, Arum concluded, “The Haglers and Leonards in the vast audience will be rooting like mad for that fighter representing the personality category each fan identifies with.”

The metaphors of 1987…

Leonard was Hollywood, the catwalk, sushi, desktop computing, and the future.  Hagler was Main Street, a 30-year mortgage, a burger with fries, a factory that closed, and the past.

…are different today, but the same.

Leonard is an Internet search engine, a hedge fund, and high-definition plasma TV.  Hagler is bumper-to-bumper in the morning commute, a windowless cubicle, and late fees on a credit card that never is paid down.

Leonard was who we dreamed of being, Hagler was who we are.

No matter that Leonard was not who or what he appeared to be.   Leonard’s magic was in the seductive vision he represented.

Two judges voted for Leonard, one for Hagler.  The outcome said as much about our culture and desires as about the fight.

Leonard and Hagler gave us a ‘marvelous’ fight and something more – a looking glass.

“Every time I watch it,” said Richard Steele, the referee, “it gets closer.”