Afternoon sports radio, on the whole, should be rocketed into the sun. The grand success of a personality like PFT Commenter
thrives on searing lampoons of the atavism and inflated masculinity
tossed around in FM Man Caves and FOX Sports Facebook threads every day.
American sports generally -- and professional football especially --
have too long constituted Men's Space, so that American sports
commentary has too long constituted Men's Talk.
Enter, then, 92.9/The Game host and sentient lard disposal Mike Bell, who has some very nuanced opinions regarding MLB Playoffs coverage, women, and women covering the MLB Playoffs. Last Tuesday, Olympic softball player and ESPN baseball commentator Jessica Mendoza became the first woman to sit as broadcast analyst for a MLB postseason game, a historical moment of televised sport that inevitably drew the most hackneyed of mansplaining criticisms. That Bell should join in on this bro-iest of exercises is frankly unsurprising, given his history of misogyny and chauvinism and ogling and homophobia.
Bell's most recent attack,
however, rings all the more stridently in terms of both vitriol and
tone-deafness, and it's a damning example of just how noxious
professional football's brand of male dullardry stands with respect to contemporary discourse on gender, sport, and who can speak about what. He has since apologized -- calling this episode an "eye-opening experience" -- but Bell-type takes are nothing new, nor are condemnations
of Bell-type attitudes. Still, though, with each new case of public
sexism, there attends a new wave of nauseating disgust, and Bell's
meltdown is instructive as a case of the Everyman Sexist that inhabits all levels of sports media:
Jessica Mendoza is no gimmick. She's not some "cute" prop in a ham-fisted ploy at ESPN progressivism. Bristol is far too retrograde and dense to be a thought leader in this conversation. Bell needs only to glance at the NFL's drunken attempts at breast cancer and domestic violence
awareness campaigns for real sledgehammer approaches to sensitive
issues. No, Bell's "cute" descriptor instead betrays a paternalistic
view of women in sports media: this is, generously speaking, nothing
more than a backhanded pat on the head and swift dismissal. Yet Bell's
comments are merely the loudest and most recent in a swath of like-minded slobberers.
But do go on, Mike. Care to offer up some objectification wrapped in Anchorman references? Sure you do:
Good to know that Bell finds
Ron Burgundy jokes funny for all the wrong reasons. The name-calling is
offensive on its face, and the line of argument -- is there an argument
here? -- crops up consistently in other arenas as well: "You never
played the sport, therefore you're not qualified to speak about the
sport." Just like being a shock-jock radio brayer makes Mike Bell
supremely qualified to speak on women in sports. Never mind that
softball pitchers ascend consistently into the high 60s mph range
when they throw heat, or never mind the jarringly hilarious notion that
Mike Bell expects doctoral-level dissertations from his baseball
analysts. Examining the minutiae of pitching and hitting mechanics is
the provenance of pitching and hitting coaches, not network analysts,
and certainly not drive-time shock-jocks.
But perhaps the Mike Bells of
the world have some faux-political terminology to throw around. There's a
revolution afoot, and only those in the know can recognize conspiracy:
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