This essay, or a form of it, was supposed to air in its usual time slot on Tuesday, but events conspired to change it. That is one of the perils of talking about current events; changing facts being the essence of journalism. And here is another aspect of journalism—the eternal give and take between access and objectivity.
The constant battle to report accurately and fairly about subjects whom you may know personally. Which brings us to the headline-grabbing saga of Dianna Russini, a journalist for The Athletic (well, now a former journalist), and Mike Vrabel, the head coach of the New England Patriots. Right before my pre-recorded segment was to air on Tuesday, Russini resigned her position with the publication, which is owned by the New York Times.
In case you don't know what happened, here it is in a nut shell. Around the time of the NFL meetings in Arizona—Russini reports on the NFL for The Athletic—she and Coach Vrabel were caught kanoodling at an adults-only resort. That was the word most often used to describe what was happening, presenting an interesting side question: how in the hell did anyone come up with the word 'kanoodle.' Well, it turns out that kanoodle is an alternation of the word noodle, which in Old English meant a foolish person. That somehow became attached to the idea that foolish people engage in embarrassingly public displays of affection.
What was captured on camera between Russini and Vrabel was classic kanoodling—hand-holding, hugging. No one saw them in flagrante dilecto, a Latin phrase meaning...well, you know what it means.
Okay, so why did it become a story, and one so dramatic that Russini had to resign?
Well, one of the first things you learn in the journalism game is to try to separate the personal from the professional. But there's an inherent conundrum in that, which is another aspect of journalism is to get as close to the subject as you can. The magic word is 'access.' In my years at Sports Illustrated, access was the whole ballgame. Get close. But the closer you get to someone, the harder it is to be objective. I spent a season following the Phoenix Suns for a book and drew close to a couple of the players and especially their coaching staff. Getting close to them was the essence of the exercise, and when it came time for me to write stories for the magazine about this team, one newspaper in Phoenix filed an objection with the league office that I was getting unusual and unfair access and learning things that no one else could learn. And they were 100% correct.
As far as Russini's resignation goes, I get it. Things have gotten better for female journalists over the years, but it is much more difficult for a woman to do her job in the male-dominated sports field than it is for a man. Her credibility and judgement would've been tabloid fodder going forward.
In her resignation statement, Russini kinda sorta denied wrongdoing and said, "I have decided to step aside now. I do so not because I accept the narrative that has been constructed around this episode, but because I refuse to lend it further oxygen or to let it define me or my career." She knew in today's gossipy world, her credibility was fatally damaged.
The major reason the Russini Vrabel story had legs, of course, is the salacious angle; the two married people cheating aspect. But there are much more serious examples of this access objectivity conundrum, starting with our 24-hour "news shows." There's no shortage of media types who sold out to get close to Obama, and we all know that conservative stations long ago leaned into the idea that getting close to our President was more important than actually covering him.
Yes, when it comes to ethics in journalism, there is more than one way to kanoodle.
