Sosa: Tribune's Frankenstein
Two days ago we revealed a startling statistic: a search of the Chicago Tribune archive shows that since Oct. 1, the Tribune has published 35 stories with references to Sammy Sosa, but only one story with a reference to Derek Lee, an actual, current, legitimate Cubs superstar whose life, lately, has been no less dramatic than Sosa's.
Yesterday, as if to explain this bizarre fact, Tribune columnist Rick Morrissey wrote, "What we're seeing is a major public-relations push by His Samminess to get people to forget all the messy details of his past."
If so, Sosa's public-relations push has a full partner in the Tribune. Among those 35 Sosa stories, we find Paul Sullivan absurdly holding Sosa up as an example to which Albert Pujols should aspire. And we have an entire series of stories by company-man Fred Mitchell covering Sosa's birthday party in the Dominican Republic. A public relations push indeed. Where does the public relations push by Sosa end and the public-relations push by the Tribune begin? It's not so clear.
If Sosa is orchestrating a public-relations push, only the Tribune seems to have fallen into its grip. During the same period, the Sun-Times published only two stories mentioning Sosa. The Daily Herald, only five. (We note that Comcast Sportsnet just broadcast a special about Sosa. We further note that Comcast Sportsnet is partly owned by Tribune).
So what is going on here? We've often criticized the Tribune for failing to investigate alleged steroid use by Sosa with even a smidgen of the vigor with which two San Francisco Chronicle reporters have investigated Barry Bonds. The truth is, the Tribune can't investigate Sosa without investigating itself.
Remember, the Tribune built this monster. The Tribune loosed it upon our village. Tribune hired Sosa. The Tribune turned him into a legend. Tribune gave Sosa more than $100 million that it collected from the pockets of Chicagoans. It was under Tribune's tutelage that Sosa blossomed from a skinny, mediocre outfielder to an inflated, records-chasing superstar, only to shrink back to a skinny, mediocre outfielder as soon as MLB began testing for steroids. When testing began, it was Tribune that paid $7 million to the Orioles to hustle Sosa out of town. Recently, former Sosa teammate Turk Wendell had this to say: "Everybody in Chicago knew what was going on, just like everybody in baseball knows about Bonds. The coaches knew. So did the managers and owners. How could they not know?"
So did the owners, huh? Just who inside the Tribune Tower knew what was going on? We can be certain the Tribune won't tell us. So ask yourself: how would a marketing empire like Tribune handle a public-relations disaster of Sosa-like proportions? How about a major public-relations push to resurrect the man and his reputation? (Apparently they've never seen "Son of Frankenstein.") If Tribune can rebuild Sosa, return him to baseball, show that he can perform in the post-steroids era, it not only reduces pressure on Sosa's legacy, it also reduces pressure on the Tribune to tell the truth.
Yet another reason a newspaper company should not own a baseball team.
Yesterday, as if to explain this bizarre fact, Tribune columnist Rick Morrissey wrote, "What we're seeing is a major public-relations push by His Samminess to get people to forget all the messy details of his past."
If so, Sosa's public-relations push has a full partner in the Tribune. Among those 35 Sosa stories, we find Paul Sullivan absurdly holding Sosa up as an example to which Albert Pujols should aspire. And we have an entire series of stories by company-man Fred Mitchell covering Sosa's birthday party in the Dominican Republic. A public relations push indeed. Where does the public relations push by Sosa end and the public-relations push by the Tribune begin? It's not so clear.
If Sosa is orchestrating a public-relations push, only the Tribune seems to have fallen into its grip. During the same period, the Sun-Times published only two stories mentioning Sosa. The Daily Herald, only five. (We note that Comcast Sportsnet just broadcast a special about Sosa. We further note that Comcast Sportsnet is partly owned by Tribune).
So what is going on here? We've often criticized the Tribune for failing to investigate alleged steroid use by Sosa with even a smidgen of the vigor with which two San Francisco Chronicle reporters have investigated Barry Bonds. The truth is, the Tribune can't investigate Sosa without investigating itself.
Remember, the Tribune built this monster. The Tribune loosed it upon our village. Tribune hired Sosa. The Tribune turned him into a legend. Tribune gave Sosa more than $100 million that it collected from the pockets of Chicagoans. It was under Tribune's tutelage that Sosa blossomed from a skinny, mediocre outfielder to an inflated, records-chasing superstar, only to shrink back to a skinny, mediocre outfielder as soon as MLB began testing for steroids. When testing began, it was Tribune that paid $7 million to the Orioles to hustle Sosa out of town. Recently, former Sosa teammate Turk Wendell had this to say: "Everybody in Chicago knew what was going on, just like everybody in baseball knows about Bonds. The coaches knew. So did the managers and owners. How could they not know?"
So did the owners, huh? Just who inside the Tribune Tower knew what was going on? We can be certain the Tribune won't tell us. So ask yourself: how would a marketing empire like Tribune handle a public-relations disaster of Sosa-like proportions? How about a major public-relations push to resurrect the man and his reputation? (Apparently they've never seen "Son of Frankenstein.") If Tribune can rebuild Sosa, return him to baseball, show that he can perform in the post-steroids era, it not only reduces pressure on Sosa's legacy, it also reduces pressure on the Tribune to tell the truth.
Yet another reason a newspaper company should not own a baseball team.
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