It’s Official: No One At The Post Likes Each Other

More recent chatter from the Post’s internal critique board:

Michael Powell:

    Re: Mike Wilbon’s on line chat today

    GAWWWWD I feel good that Mikey W. makes a lot & a lot & a lot of money (I sure hope he pays his union dues) and talks to a lot of really important Washington DC lawyers — a SENIOR partner, no less! — a pols of NOTE! (Can you imagine?) And it’s great that he’s managed to give his fellow power-brokers the lo-down on these mangy mutts in style and news who keep woofing at his pleated trousers. Not to mention poor Anthony Kornheiser, with his rarefied and Soprano-like sense of humor.

    I mean, Mikey W. almost sounds like an athlete, conflating bling and dough with brains. Almost.

    Here’s hoping that between television and radio and meeting with his financial advisor, Mikey can find time to tutor the rest of us about writing on deadline, and talking stupid, too.

    Shout out to you, Mikey & Tony.

Jennifer Frey:

    Gotta back up Powell on this one. I’ve spent a lot of time in locker rooms, and it sure sounds like Wilbon has been drinking the Kool Aid. One valuable lesson I did learn in those locker rooms: no amount of money can hide ignorance.

    And I have to say, I can’t remember the last time I hung around listening to my Style colleagues talk about who makes how much money–but I can relate for you about 2 billion of those conversations heard in sports press boxes over the years. Talk about a hotbed of insecurity complexes.

    BTW, that deadline thing? Hey, I’ll give you the enormous demand for copy, the brutal travel, the jerks you have to deal with on a day-to-day basis. Sportswriting is HARD. But I have to say, filing a deadline story on a live night event is the EASIEST part of my job these days.

Neely Tucker:

    …can we send wilbon and kornheiser into iraq, afghanistan, gaza, sudan, et al, for a week so they can (a) have a sense of what difficult reporting actually is (mr. tony’s mnf football bus was delayed for TWO whole hours last night, he informs us today. goodness! did the ice in the mini-bar melt?? how DO we pay him enough?) and (b) understand that a “hostile” reaction to a story is not a review of your work that fails to mention your undeniable brilliance but, you know, gunfire into your vehicle.

Darryl Fears:

    Mike Wilbon may be drinking the Kool-Aid. But some of you critics out there sound like you’re swilling the Haterade. Sports isn’t politics and it’s not war, in spite of the soundalike headlines about players locked in battle and throwing bombs. It’s entertainment, and it’s as out of control with the bling-bling as Hollywood.

    Granted, sometimes Wilbon seems a little cozy with the folks he covers. But is that so unusual in this business? It happens all the time with political reporters — national and local, war correspondents who run around asking soldiers who they “lit up” today, and bleeding heart social journalists.

    I don’t always like Wilbon, but often I do. Turning out some of that stuff on deadline looks damn hard to me. And face it, the reason he’s doing what he’s doing in all the arenas that he’s doing it, is that he’s better at it than you and me. Or is it you and I? Whatever, I think I made my point.