JOHN FEINSTEIN WAS HATED AND LOVED, NOT CARING WHEN HIS JOURNALISM THRIVED
The craft hasn’t progressed because of fanboys who became Dave Portnoy or countless others, ignoring the all-time works of a bold sportswriter who unmasked Bob Knight and functioned on a higher level
Your John Feinstein is my Rick Reilly. Choose one, recite a book, scrutinize a column. They are the leading sportswriters of our days, one known for unmasking character and the other for cutting wit, when we are swarmed by Stephen A. Smith and a $100 million contract that should be split in half and given to the real masters.
Feinstein is dead at 69. He was polarizing beyond a cultural sphere, as acclaimed by Mike Krzyzewski, and it’s a path followed by authors who don’t care if they’re loved or loathed by mad readers. Only he sought the hide of Robert Montgomery Knight, the ogre who might have devoured him — by lips, tongue and brains — in some version of college basketball conflict. Feinstein wrote the best-selling book, “A Season on the Brink,” that defined how the media should examine coaches and athletes.
When the Hoosiers lost to Cleveland State in the first round of the NCAA tournament, he captured the ills of a man who had lost credence: “There were no tears in the Indiana locker room. People don’t cry when they are in shock. Knight didn’t rant. It would take a while for his anger to escalate, though it surely would. He told them he was disappointed, that they had backed down — again. No screams. But it would get worse.”
Too many fanboys have disregarded Feinstein’s lessons and mind storms. Too many have become social media buffoons and radio jackasses and gambling fools. Often, I’ll stop at book stores and scan the shelves. Where are the classic sports stories? There aren’t many, other than repeats of matters we’ve already read. Or you might see a title on Stephen A. Why does Dave Portnoy exist in the industry when Feinstein has written 40 books of nonfiction and fiction? After he described Knight as “an almost Shakespearean character: brilliant, thoughtful and tragically flawed” — capturing him years before his tragic career death?
The last man he wrote about, Tom Izzo, was asked about Feinstein’s passing on the same day his final column appeared in the Washington Post. “He was strong with his opinions, but very interesting to talk to,” said the Michigan State coach.
His brother made a similar comment. Feinstein died in Robert’s house in McLean, Va. “He was very passionate about things. People either loved him or hated him — and equally strongly,” he said.
According to Robert, Feinstein may have died of a heart attack. This is my takeaway. He was still writing — and performing on radio and TV, when necessary — when he had accomplished all reporting dreams. Was it necessary to carry on? Reilly still writes, also for the Post, but not on a regular basis. When he does? “Please. Stop. Spreading. Human. Ash. In. Public,” said a headline this week. Online, he occasionally goes after his current boss at a troubled paper where big writers are quitting. Jeff Bezos has turned his political chops toward Donald Trump and might give up the Post.
Wrote Reilly, described by USA Today as “the closest thing sportswriting ever has to a rock star” and the riot of any party or bar: “Hey @JeffBezos. I write op-ed columns for the @washingtonpost where you specifically ordered us to ‘support’ ‘free markets.’ That's great! I can now rip Trump a new one on these cheese-brained tariffs, yes? Cuz tariffs are the exact opposite of free markets. So we're cool, right?
He lives in Hermosa Beach, Calif., where he rides the wave, and in Sedona, Ariz. He will live well without ESPN and Sports Illustrated checks. Still, some of us keep writing because we’re compelled. Was Feinstein compelled? Was it great for his mind? Why can’t writers be backroom guitarists and painters without the internal media frill, so evil when it never has to be?
Feinstein’s craft exceeded the sports he wrote about. Does anyone see another in the youthful ranks, at a time when billionaires and their backers can stop journalism? John was the writer who could have handled intense working elements — fame, breakdown, tragedy — and produced the best sports book of his generation.
Tiger Woods must find someone else.
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Jay Mariotti, called “without question the most impacting Chicago sportswriter of the past quarter-century,’’ writes general sports columns for Substack while appearing on some of the 1,678,498 podcasts and shows in production today. He is an accomplished columnist, TV panelist and talk/podcast host. Living in Los Angeles, he gravitated by osmosis to film projects.