The inspiration for this blog post came from an idle Tuesday night in the basement of my childhood home in Saginaw, Mich.
I’m watching the MLB Network (one of my new favorite channels) at around 2:30 a.m., trying to rework my biological clock to stay up until 5 a.m. since I’ll be working until that time in Arizona. During a commercial, an interesting short feature came on, focusing on a baseball game unlike any other that occurred 59 years ago Tuesday.
Bill Veeck, an ambitious owner of a St. Louis Browns ballclub that was dead last in the American League at 38-81 that year, decided to give fans control of all managerial decisions during a game against the Philadelphia Athletics (49-75):
A day before, Veeck held a contest in the St. Louis Globe-Democrat that would allow fans to vote on the Browns’ starting line-up. Everyone who mailed in their ballot would in return be given a ticket to the Browns-Athletics game; where they would be seated in a special section behind the Browns dugout. Veeck’s plan was for everyone seated in that particular spot in the bleachers, called the Grandstand Managers Section, to vote on what plays the Browns should do next.
Veeck took the concept further by electing two fans to be the first- and third-base coaches for the game, although they had to sit in a box beside the dugout, near manager Zach Taylor, who took in the sights on his night off from decision-making. This was armchair managing taken to a whole new level for the fans.
How did the system work? For each situation that called on the fans for help (the first one didn’t come until the Browns were down 3-0), a public relations employee would hold up a sign, asking the fans what the team should do in that particular situation. Each fan in the section had a sign with “Yes” on one side, “No” on the other, and would hold the sign up with their vote in front. The employee would then relay the call to Taylor, who then relayed the call to his players.
Was it successful? The first question posed was whether to bring the infield in or keep it in double-play position with men on first and third and one out in the top of the first inning. The fans voted to keep the team in double-play position. The result? A double play to end the inning. In fact, the only mistake the fans made was in the bottom half of that inning, with the game tied 3-3. They voted for the man on first to steal second with two outs, and he was caught to end the inning. (Read more about the Grandstand Managers Day)
The St. Louis Browns, who finished the season 52-102, won the game 5-3. They were 1-0 when the fans managed the team.
The idea was duplicated, in fact, on a much grander scale in 2006, when the Schaumburg Flyers, an independent ballclub in Schaumburg, Ill., turned over managerial controls to the fans for the entire second half of the season. This project, partnered with MSN, was dubbed Fan Club: Reality Baseball, and was chronicled over the period of 48 games. These fans had more control than those of the ‘51 Browns: They also had control of front-office moves such as trades. The result? Not as good. The Flyers, who finished the first half 31-17, went 15-33 under the fans’ control.
Translating grandstand managing to grandstand journalism
It doesn’t surprise me that this idea hasn’t been duplicated in any form in the major leagues again. In today’s age of magnified media scrutiny and multimillion-dollar contracts, a concept as outlandish as grandstand managing for what is essentially a true spectator event would spark major controversy, even if both teams involved were out of the playoff race.
But what about journalism?
Okay, this is by no means a new discussion. Many delegate the concept as “citizen journalism,” a term I loathe because of its misleading, stereotypical connotation. It is simply the idea of getting the public more involved in the news-gathering process. Many times, it has nothing to do with writing stories or shooting photos. And despite the efforts of startups such as Spot.Us, news companies in general aren’t doing enough to bring the community’s input into the equation.
What if newspapers routinely asked community members for story ideas? What if, before a reporter begins talking to sources for a story, an effort is made to reach out to community members via social media and inquire about what questions they want asked? What if readers were consulted on ideas and suggestions for the direction of a story? What if they could provide ideas on sources to talk to? What if they were given the opportunity to “complete” a story, a la TBD.com (see photo), via tidbits, photos and news tips?
This concept of “grandstand journalism” was unheard of around, say, the time of the St. Louis Browns. Not because the public didn’t want to be involved — but because they couldn’t. Technology and social media have changed that. It’s no longer as outlandish as it is with baseball now. People can reach out to the media easier than ever. They have a forum. They have a voice. And news organizations need to listen and at least take that into account — or a competitor will.
There are core concepts of journalism that may never change — those so far engrained into the industry’s roots, they will stay there until the end of time. But if a true spectator event such as baseball can break out of the traditional mold, even if it was only temporary, guess what? So can journalism.
I’ll end this entry with a video I linked to a few months ago, but deserves a repeat appearance given the topic. Jeff Jarvis, at TEDxNYED last March, on why “this is bullsh*t”:
Posted by Brian Manzullo at August 25, 2010
Journalism, Sports