The Moose is Loose Again

This week, the Tribune unveiled its new look. Paid media analysts could describe it better, but the "World's Greatest Newspaper" has moved off into a View-Master direction: Bigger pictures, less words.

Knowing the Tribune the way you do, that should undoubtedly be a good thing, right? Fewer words mean less smarminess, bias, and factual flubs. Jury's still out on that, though.

On page one of Saturday's Tribune sports sits Rick Morrissey, all by his lonesome. See, that's the way the Trib does it now; one supersized picture tells the "story," and then some copy at the bottom expounds on it for those of us who don't think a newspaper should be a series of flash cards.

Anyhow, Moose is writing about the White Sox, stuck in a two-game hole in the ALDS. Unlike Phil Rogers' page two story, which effectively dresses down the team's homer-or-nothing offense and highlights the astounding fact that on Friday, the White Sox had 12 hits, on which not a single runner advanced more than one base, the Moose wastes his lede on an old, tired tune. You know, the one that goes something like: White Sox fans hate the Cubbies more than they like the White Sox.

The way things are going, White Sox fans soon will be able to fall back on their natural pastime: the intense enjoyment of watching the Cubs fall apart.

Good one, Rick. See, a lede like that is rubber-stamped forward at the Trib copy desk because it's a twofold insult. First, dis White Sox fans (representing a huge percentage of Tribune readership in spite of themselves, by the way) by insulting their devotion and intelligence. Second, perpetuate the Tribune myth that The Shrine is the center of the universe by positing that White Sox fans, even on the heels of a thrilling and gutsy run into the postseason and in the midst of losses and offensive ineptitude in the ALDS, could give a flip about the North Side Bumblers.

Sure, Moose is the Trib's designated comedian, wedging one-liners into his copy so awkwardly you wish one day he had been booed off the stage at a Zanies amateur night just to spare him the future embarrassment of trying to be funny in print. But good lord, he had upwards of three hours to come up with a good joke lede--and you didn't have to watch every pitch Friday to know there were plenty available--and the best he can muster is a retread insult to White Sox fans?

With every outing, Morrissey seems more like that doofus you knew in school: well-meaning, not a kid you wanted to see picked on, but someone you hoped would grow up and get a clue.

Well Rick, you're in your fifth decade now. Time is running out for you to do so.

--Brett Ballantini

Today's Lesson: Sincerity

As much as there is to applaud over Rick Morrissey turning his Friday column about Steve Bartman being entitled to "sincere apologies" for all the abuse he has suffered in the past four-plus years into a detailed diatribe against the Sun-Times' little engine that could, Jay Mariotti, one thing seems awfully disingenuous about Moose's attack.

Forget the juxtaposition of mercy for Bartman/gallows for Mariotti. No, it's simply the irony of chiding the Blue Jay for mentioning Bartman in a column every two and a half weeks in a column about...Steve Bartman.

The column, of course, tugged at the heartstrings on the level of Bill Plaschke of the Los Angeles Times, who routinely wins national column-writing awards despite offering all the poetry and insight of an old Comiskey Park brick.

However it serves you on a slow news day, eh, Rick?

--Brett Ballantini