When you say nothing at all
Naomi Osaka's decision to boycott press conferences at the French Open tells us that sports media is broken - but how do we fix it?
I can’t have been the only sports reporter to stand up and applaud this week when Naomi Osaka announced that she’s going to be skipping press conferences at the French Open in tennis to preserve her mental health, which will have the knock-on effect of improving the mental health of dozens, maybe thousands, of journalists as well.
I can’t remember the last time I heard someone say something interesting at one of these events.
For the most part, it consists of a person who doesn’t want to be there answering questions from people who are desperate for others to see that they are there, at least one of whom will be signing off on their subsequent expense claim.
The queries posed are fall into some loose categories - the blatantly sycophantic (“what makes you so brilliant?”), the self-indulgently masturbatory (“I think this and this and this and this, and I like to think of myself as something as an expert, do you agree?”) and the frankly bonkers (anything ever asked of a Brazilian footballer).
No matter what is asked, the straight bat is played. “I think we did well as a team”/”I was feeling good out there”/”It was important for us to respect the opponent”/”Grateful that it went my/our way”.
If the responses sound like they are learned off by rote, it’s because that’s exactly what they are. Play safe, steer clear of areas of controversy and get out of there having said as little as possible.
There’s a good reason for this.
Many of those waving a microphone or a dictaphone possess an uncanny ability to pick up the most innocuous of comments and blow it up into an “ATTACK!”. An athlete expressing mild disappointment is all of a sudden “DEVASTATED!”, while someone smiling wanly after a victory is “OVERJOYED!”.
The relationship between sports journalists, athletes and fans is broken, and it needs to be fixed.
Journalists need to accept that not every athlete wants to share their innermost feelings five minutes after getting knocked out in front of 18,000 people, or missing a penalty in a shoot-out.
Athletes need to realise that what they get paid is directly in relation to their profile, and that while a self-built profile via social media is of huge value, the real payoff comes from crossing over into the mainstream.
For fans, it’s the insight that not everything our favourite players say or do is of interest, no mater how much we convince ourselves otherwise. They are just people - talented, gifted, often beautiful people, but people nonetheless.
A lot is made of the idea of the press conference being an open forum where we get to pose our questions and “tell the truth to power”, and all that other self-important guff. In truth, hard questions are very seldom asked, and when they are the press conference is either cut short or the atmosphere turns frosty very quickly.
In some cases when the public is present, such as at UFC events, fans will boo, no matter how valid the question. It’s a farce, a performative dance masquerading as journalism, and it no longer serves a purpose.
I have a personal rule - for the most part, I don’t want to talk to people who don’t want to talk to me. I make exceptions for that, of course - sometimes someone in a position of power or someone who has cheated is going to get it in the neck, whether they like it or not.
But in general, the only people who should be interviewing people against their will are the police.
For the most part if I’m interviewing someone, I want them to be an active participant. If a soccer player or a swimmer or a runner doesn’t want to talk to me, that’s fair enough. I don’t care. There’s plenty more where they came from.
I’ll write about the sport. I’ll sometimes quote the things they say. But I’m not going to go charging after someone who doesn’t have any interest in talking.
The ones who do are a different kettle of fish altogether, and they are invariably prepared to talk because of a relationship built up over time. Certain footballers will almost always give me some insight into what is happening in their clubs or national teams, and many Olympic athletes are only too happy for the face time as it gives their sponsors a bit of bang for their buck.
You feel the difference when someone that an athlete or a coach respects and trusts asks a question. There’s a different dynamic, a fleeting honesty that is quickly hidden again when some mewling moron grabs the microphone to ask about some tactical nuance he learned about on Twitter a mere five minutes beforehand.
These are people that I can have a relationship with long after they retire and move on to other things, built on mutual respect and a love of sport.
I have the height of regard for those people, and they know that they can trust me; not only will I not betray that trust, I will not take what they say and twist it into a juicier headline or make it into something that they never intended it to be.
The funniest ones though are the athletes who, after years of ignoring me in a mixed zone or not returning my calls, suddenly find themselves entering the twilight of their careers and who have opened a hotel or a restaurant or a gambling venture that they are more than happy to break their omerta for, at long last.
Those messages go straight in the trash. This works both ways.
If athletes don’t want to talk, then there are plenty of others who will - coaches, friends, enemies, family members, training partners. And if you don’t get out there and own your own story, then you don’t get to complain when others start to fill the vacuum you leave with your version of events.
I’ve no interest in tennis. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Naomi Osaka speak, and I’m not likely to hear her do so during the French Open either.
But it might be good if we could all take the time to decide what we want from our interactions with attitudes. If fans - who are the audience we both rely on - want to hear the platitudes after every game, then that is their prerogative. After all, they’re the ones paying for all of us to be there in the end.
But that does not mean that we all have to ask the same questions, or that we should use press events as a platform to build our brands or our egos, whether we be athletes or journalists.
Sometimes less is more.
Sometimes we say it best when we say nothing at all.
The Podcast
…. didn’t happen this week. A family member has been diagnosed with a serious illness and I just never got around to it. That said, there will be plenty of chat in the run-up to the Euros, which are starting on June 11, so keep your ears peeled.
The Signoff
Like I said, someone close to me is not well. Hug your nearest and dearest that little bit extra, for we know neither the day nor the hour.
And hug yourself as well. You’re worth it.
Have a great week, wherever you may be in the world.