Apparently, it’s been since the last rapture prediction that this website was updated. And, if this sucker gets updates, it’s to show how Kelly Dwyer makes grammar mistakes.
It’s kind of fun to pick at someone and keep their grammar in check. But those grammar mistakes, silly misspellings and awfully awkward sentences KD puts up aren’t drastic enough to ensure the dude loses his job.
Because, in all honesty, Kelly Dwyer is the best basketball writer on the Internet or elsewhere. I don’t think there’s anyone who’s as obsessed with the NBA as KD is, and I don’t know if there are even as many coaches in the league who put in more time to sit down and pound through game tape like Dwyer does. Read a “Behind the Box Score” sometime, you’ll know what I’m talking about.
You can’t argue with the fact that KD is damn near right 100 percent of the time. And that’s frustrating because there’s nothing more that you want than to say, “This guy is a bozo.”
And those who have? Byron Scott? Commentors on Blog-a-Bull? They’ve wound up looking silly. If you want accuracy, and if you want to gauge how your team is doing from your the perspective of your fellow fans and everyone else, you read some Ball Don’t Lie with Kelly Dwyer at the helm.
Because it doesn’t stop at just the basketball side of it. The dude gets the managerial shit correctly, too. He knows the philosophy that damn near every front office in the NBA implements, and he knows the kind of culture those front offices and coaching staffs want to employ. Sure, we may know that much about our own teams, but I can guarantee you, no one knows that about all 30 NBA teams the way Dwyer does.
All that is accurate, his grammar be damned. But now this is where I let him have it.
The dude’s a jerk. An ass. And, in his own words, a “prat.”
Since I was around 16, I’ve been in love with Dwyer’s writing. Sure, his tone suggests he should be put on a pedestal, but it’s brash, it’s smart, it’s bold and it’s accurate. If I had to pick one blogger or writer — just one — to emulate and to call my “idol,” it’s KD.
Until, of course, I realized what a jerk the dude was.
I’ve attempted to ask him for some guidance, some help, the way a high school student would ask his local newspaper editor about the correct path someone should take to fill his seat in a decade or so.
And I did that, growing up. I lived in Las Vegas and wrote the sports editor, Joe Hawk, and the dude replied back in a detailed manner. I’m serious: This guy was the reason I didn’t make the mistake of majoring in Journalism/Communications. He had given me valuable advice about how the media is shifting gears, moving away from print towards web journalism. This was back in 2003, right at the beginning of the rise of weblogs (now called “blogs”), so naturally, I wanted to play it safe but still pursue my dream of sportswriting.
That editor also told me this: “Read and write. Just keep reading and reading. Read a sports article, and write one of your own. It’s okay to emulate other writers and incorporate some of their voice because, over time, you’ll develop one of your own. So keep reading and writing ’til your eyes bleed.”
That’s some deep stuff. Want to know what KD gave me as advice? Shit. Absolute shit.
I don’t mean the advice he gave me was not credible or not worthy of my time. No, I mean, the dude didn’t give me a damn thing. No reply. Twitter, e-mail, Facebook (through Ball Don’t Lie’s Facebook page), you name it, I’ve tried it. That included an e-mail when I had started my NFL blog, asking what he thought of it and what I could do better. Obviously, I didn’t expect him to read everything. Hell, with the stuff he does, I didn’t even expect more than three sentences.
But one sentence. One damn sentence. After I had told him my goals, how I was enamored with BDL, how I aspired to be a blogger, and everything. Three paragraphs I wrote, asking for criticism, or whatever he can give me with whatever time he had.
Want to know what the dude sent me? “sure, looks good.”
That’s it. Three lousy words. The one dude who I had — at the time — begun emulating voraciously because I couldn’t get enough of the stuff, gave me three words, which basically said, to me, “Fuck off.”
Obviously, bloggers, writers and columnists aren’t obligated to give you anything. But it almost seems like they should, just out of civic duty.
“Hey, someone loves your work, wants to be you some day. Some kid wants to be you some day. Want to give him some advice?”
Most writers wouldn’t mind. In fact, it seems as if he’s the only one who did. I went to MJD of Y!’s NFL blog, some guys from another newspaper, a content manager at About.com, and perhaps a few other small-time writers writing online that seemed to get a good amount of traffic. Every single one gave me something I can go off of, save for Dwyer.
And that’s why I wrote here in the first place. Out of anger. Because when the person you look up to in a specific profession tells you to, in Dwyer-ism, “bugger off,” it’s frustrating.
Did I realize back then that writing this stuff probably would close my doors of ever writing for Yahoo!, ever? No. Do I realize that writing this post, right here, could hurt those chances further? Hell yes.
Because I’m done. I’ll no longer bother “aspiring” to be a blogger, and that’s mostly my fault, but I know KD’s constant shafting of anything I ask him played a large role.
This sports blogging gig is a hobby to me, now. Whenever I feel like it, however I feel like it. I don’t want to work in this profession anymore. I give up. I’ll stick to Psychology — my current major at UCLA — and probably close the book on sports blogging save for a few fun projects here or there.
And that’s a shame, because a year ago, I couldn’t have been more hopeful of breaking into this insanely-tough industry. But that’s just how things go, isn’t it, KD?