The last call I took as an employee of The Baltimore Sun was from a gentleman who was bugged because hearing "Alfonso Soriano" was making him think of a former Orioles pitcher with sort of a similar name, but he just couldn’t figure out who it was.After thumbing through some old media guides, I finally determined he was thinking of Armando Benitez.
So, at least on my last day of work, I made one person happy.
No doubt, my involuntary departure from The Sun Tuesday will make some other people happy, too. Over the years, through a couple of stints of writing a sports media column and, more recently, a blog, I often have been told what a moron I am and how I’ve wasted a reader’s time with my drivel. (I did like hearing from one commenter about how it was my "dribble" that was so offending. If this guy had ever seen me play basketball, he would have known just how right he was.)
There was even the occasional local media personality who found it much easier to dole out criticism of those in the sports world than to receive some critical words himself.
Unlike Mark McGwire, I am here to talk about the past. This layoff came on roughly my 24th anniversary of arriving at The Sun.
I was originally hired as a sports desk slot man, a job in which one serves as the last editing eyes on type before it is printed in the newspaper, before being promoted to different editing duties. Since getting into the newspaper business in 1979, most of my time has been spent as a sports editor of one kind or another. It was always my goal to make the game stories, columns and features that went through my hands as clear, informative and accurate as possible. I wanted headlines and captions to reflect the tone of articles to which they were attached. And though there were times I had to take a writer’s prose and turn it into English, I never thought it was my job to make his or her story read as if I had written it.
I hope, even as the world of journalism -- sports journalism in particular -- continues to shake out, that there continues to be a place for those who take care of the words.
I also hope there is still a spot for those who have a sense of place, who understand what is important to the readers. Despite 20-plus years as a Baltimore area resident, I was told by a native colleague how I would never understand what "Baltimore" on the Orioles road jerseys meant because "you’re not from here." Ah, but he is, and so I would listen to him and others who grew up here when it came time to make judgments on things such as story play and photo choices. He is still at The Sun. I hope they keep listening to him and others like him, who are unwavering in their devotion to the old Colts and the pizza at Squire’s in Dundalk.
I leave with no real regrets except that I am leaving. Well, OK, I regret that higher-ups nixed my headline suggestion for Cal Ripken’s 2,131 night, "Cal touches home," in favor of the correction-in-waiting "Immortal Cal."
It has been an honor to work with a collection of talented writers and editors and to help produce sports coverage for the passionate, dedicated fans of Baltimore. I hope to pop up soon with a new sports media blog and would love to continue wasting your time. You can reach me at rfrager@gmail.com.
Oh, and one more thing for those who might care: I was Mr. Flip.
-- Ray Frager
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