The Legacy of the Press Box

Sometimes it feels like sporting events are just for rich people. Buying tickets to college games is a privilege not even the middle class can afford anymore, but, admittedly, not something that has been a priority of mine over the years.

I’ve been among those fortunate few paid observers who have gotten in free. Okay — that’s just a nicer way to say “freeloaders.”

There have been those times, however, that I’ve had to pony up for a relative. One of those was two years ago for the Florida-Ohio State game when I tried to purchase a ticket for my son, who was taking a few days off from his TV job in Denver. We pooled our piggy banks, came up with $800 and Brenden roamed the parking lot for two hours before kickoff. And he struck out.

Eight hundred bucks wasn’t even enough to get into a college football game! That’s when I realized this was out of my league. And so this year I didn’t even bother. Ironically, prices seem to have come down this week and tickets are far more plentiful. That’s the upside of this lousy economy, if there is one.

Besides, nobody in my family is planning to attend the game except for those of us who are working. Brenden and I will be covering the BCS title game this season for Gator Country — he on the field shooting hi-definition highlights that have been such a big hit this season; me in the press box.

And by the way, I look upon that as a privilege and not a right. Proper credentials are not always easily obtained. Not everybody who applies gets in.

The thought crossed my mind the other day that I’ve been working in press boxes through the reign of 10 U.S. presidents, two wars and seven full-time Gator football head coaches.

I know what you’re thinking: Man, that guy has eaten a lot of free food, gotten a lot of free seats for sporting events. And you would be correct. I would have gladly paid my way, but that is not possible — which is one reason it was such a great honor. I have had access to events only because of the clout of my newspaper or media company, not that of my own.

Upon arrival, I’ve always loved the feeling of anticipation that abounded in a press box on game day and have appreciated the friendly spirit of inhabitants. To be honest, there used to be a fraternal order and even a certain snob appeal about the rarified air and the pecking order that went with it. As a young writer, rubbing shoulders with the giants of sports pages was downright exhilarating.

The heroes of my day were Edwin Pope of the Miami Herald and Furman Bisher of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution and Dan Jenkins of the Sports Illustrated and Fred Russell of the Nashville Banner and Jimmy Cannon of several New York newspapers. Later I got to meet and know all of them and I’m now proud to call Pope, Bisher and Jenkins my friends.

All but Russell are alive. When I was a sports writing rookie, I was ecstatic when Russell gave me a copy of his book entitled, “Bury Me in an Old Press Box.” In Fred’s case they didn’t; he went out in a casket, but I totally get the sentiment behind the title and share Fred’s appreciation for the sacred nature of the place and the heritage that goes with it.

Russell and his peers were like giant oaks and no seedlings planted will ever match their imposing stature. Since that generation, the swagger of the press boxer has been diminished.  The culture has totally changed. The newspaper business is on the endangered species list and the press box cast is rapidly being morphed into electronic media.

My favorite press box of all has always been the one at Florida Field, even though it lacked — and still does — some of the better amenities available at other SEC venues. The UF press box has changed dramatically. And that got me to thinking how the environment is now different, some of it for the better.

So I made this list on how it’s different:

1. There are no smokers, thankfully, and, even if there were, they would be forced to butt out.

2. You never see alcohol as contraband, something the old-timers of my youth would often brandish on a particularly cold day.

3. Long gone is the clacking sound of typewriters, unfortunately.

4. There is far more casual attire. Not sure about that. Ties are out of the question (Mick Elliott of the Tampa Tribune being the exception.)

5. The food is far superior — full-course meals versus cold, rubbery hot dogs back in the day.

6. The view has changed, not for the better, in order to accommodate skyboxes. The Norm Carlson Press Deck was built on the South side of the West stands — a ways down from the 50-yard line — which is not hard to understand: Free loaders vs.high-paying Bull Gators? Who gets preference?

7. There are more TV sets for watching replay.

8. There is far less fraternization among media people, perhaps due in part to the preponderance of night games which induce more deadline pressure.

9.  The presence of more women and minorities. I can remember the day when there were none of either.

10. Very little laughter now.

Some of those are changes for the better — except perhaps for the last. I hope the young generation brings back the laughter.

There are a lot of bright, talented journalists in our midst, many of whom work for broadcast media or the Internet. But this is not the press box of Furman Bisher and Edwin Pope and Dan Jenkins and Fred Russell anymore. And I’m not sure many of the inhabitants consider it much of a privilege to be there.

Recently I was talking to a University of Florida staff member about these changes and it was agreed that in the next five years as many as half of the press corps covering the Gators might not even be traditional sports writers.

The truth is that the clout of the media — most especially the printed word — has shrunk. Newspapers, in particular, just don’t have the impact they once did and even the media in general is regarded as a necessary evil by some of the subjects of coverage.

There are no doubt those of you saying, “Get rid of those free-loading bums — who needs them?” And perhaps there is some merit in that thinking.

However, I’d like to think that somewhere in our midst there is a story to be written or photo to be taken by a newspaper or a web site that will have a profound impact for a greater good in the sports universe, although I realize that may be a stretch. But we keep going back there, hoping to see things that we’ve never seen before. And on that count, these past 12 years have been rich in rewards.

For as long as they allow me to, I will continue to take my seat there on the second row about 10 spots deep, eternally grateful to those who paved the way — and to those in the new media who will carry forward.