Packers announcer Ray Scott was known for his exceptional brevity in calling the game, telling you just what you needed to know and not making the call about him or his ego. We need more media folk like Ray Scott.
When it comes to perfect writing for media, I tend to love the Associated Press and its approach to sports. Here’s a look at a game I cared about:
KANSAS CITY, Mo. — — No. 9 hitter Brayan Rocchio drove in four runs and the Cleveland Guardians beat Kansas City 7-1 Tuesday night, extending the Royals’ losing streak to a season-high seven.
Kansas City was held to two runs or fewer for the fifth straight game and managed just four hits. The Royals’ losing streak is its longest since a 10-game skid from June 5-16 last year.
Since tying Cleveland for the AL Central lead on Aug. 27, the Royals (76-65) have dropped 5 1/2 games behind the Guardians (80-59), who have won five of six. Kansas City maintained a 4 1/2-game lead for the final AL wild card.
The lead is both simple and yet multi-faceted: I know who won (Guardians), when they won (Tuesday night), how they won (7-1), the crucial reason why the won (Brayan Rocchio drove in four runs) and the overall impact of the event (Royals lost seven in a row, which isn’t great if you’re making a run at the playoffs).
The second paragraph covers the losing streak and its historical sense of perspective. The third tells me what the impact on the playoffs is (Guardians up 5.5 games thanks to a winning streak; Royals still in the mix with a 4.5 lead for the last wildcard.)
Here’s a look at how MLB.com went after the same story:
KANSAS CITY — Tanner Bibee has proven time and time again he can pitch in the biggest moments — it’s why he’d be Cleveland’s ace for this postseason. Tuesday was no different.
The Royals loaded the bases with nobody out in the sixth trailing by two runs, but the Guardians stuck with the 25-year-old right hander to get out of the jam in this crucial AL Central matchup — and he did just that.
The lead drops me in the middle of a weird, unattributed moment. Who says he’s “proven time and time again” how great he is? He’s 11-6, which is fine, but we’re not talking Dennis McLain or Bob Gibson in 1968. We also get a weird em-dash thing, followed by an empty phrase used by poor writers: “X was no different.” (If it’s all the same, why are we writing about it? If it’s different, you don’t have to tell me that, as oddity is an interest element.)
The second paragraph again relies on weird punctuation and another empty phrase: “He did just that.”
Then there’s the third paragraph, which has the feeling of a sugared up 4-year-old telling me about his day:
Bibee kept Cleveland’s lead, allowing just one run to come home on a sac fly, to squash Kansas City’s best scoring chance of the game and lead the Guardians to a 7-1 win on Tuesday at Kauffman Stadium. Cleveland, now just a half-game behind Baltimore for the best record in the American League, moved to 4 1/2 games over Minnesota, which lost to the Rays on Tuesday, and 5 1/2 games over the Royals for first place in the division.
You get 80 words (38 and 42 word sentences) of everything you’d want to know in a pile. The second sentence has TEN prepositions, which makes it read like we’re singing this.
This isn’t to pick on anyone or say that one way of doing this is always right and the other is always wrong. In the comparative, you can see a few things that will improve your writing overall:
WRITE FOR THE AUDIENCE, NOT FOR YOURSELF: One of the things that most writers have difficulty with is considering the needs of the audience over their own interest in writing. Sometimes, it’s because we fall in love with the sound of our own voice, while in other cases, we forget that the audience doesn’t know what we know.
In the case of a ballgame, it’s pretty easy to blow off the score or the “where/when” stuff because you just experienced it. You know where you are, what time you were there and who won. That’s great for you, but your readers are still in the dark on the thing they most want to know. I know that when I go online to grab info about games, the first thing I’m thinking is, “I hope the Guardians won.” I’m definitely not thinking, “I wonder what gimmicky approach the writer is going to take this time.”
Think about it this way: If you didn’t know anything about the game, and you only had 20 seconds to live, what would you hope someone would tell you about it before you die.
NOUN-VERB-OBJECT IS YOUR HOLY TRINITY: As is the case with most overwritten sentences, we lack for a strong noun-verb-object core at its center. Each sentence should have a basic premise that starts with “Who did what to whom/what?” If we can nail that down, we end up in great shape. If not, we end up building our sentences on a foundation of sand rather than concrete.
Look at the lead of the first sentence and you see two sets of almost perfect NVO constructions:
- Rocchio drove in runs
- Guardians beat Kansas City
Now look at the lead of the second sentence and try to find that same NVO core. Go ahead… I’ll wait… (finishes laundry, grocery shopping, resurfacing the driveway…) Got it yet? OK… I’ll check back tomorrow.
If you can’t nail down the main assertion of a sentence in an NVO core, you probably have both structural and focal problems.
SHOW, DON’T TELL: In the case of the first chunk of text, I get a lot of clarity because the writer SHOWS me how things happened (Rocchio drove in four runs, Royals drop in the standings due to seven-game losing streak).
In the case of the second chunk of text, I get a lot more TELLING (vague telling at that) in terms of what’s going on with the pitcher. I have no idea how he got out of that bases-loaded jam or how many runs scored while the writer is waxing poetic in the second paragraph. I also have no idea what makes Bibee that “go-to guy.” Instead I get punch-phrases like “he did just that” and “Tuesday was no different.”
If you find yourself resorting to cliches, empty phrases or other “Boom Goes the Dynamite” moments, step away from the keyboard and let your adrenal gland relax a bit. Then, show me what’s going on without telling me.