This is why people dislike the media. This Michael Vick story. This Michael Vick infatuation.
It's creepy. We're creepy. And if we in the media are devoting this much time to Vick only because you want the information ... then you're creepy, too.
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| Oh, my God, there's Vick and a federal agent out on the deck. (AP) |
Anything would be better than what we're doing with Michael Vick. This fascination. This obsession.
Check out this link. It's a video of the media presence outside Vick's home in Hampton, Va., after he was released last week from prison. It's disgusting. There's the media van with the 30-foot tower popping out through the roof, transmitting live from Vick's cul-de-sac. There's the litany of other media cars. There's even a makeshift tent to provide the media some shade, because it gets hot.
Standing in the sun.
Outside Vick's house.
For hours.
We're losers. All of us. And if it's your fault that we're there, well, sorry. But you're losers, too.
Forgive me for not knowing who to blame for this whole travesty. There's a chicken-or-egg thing going on here. Is the media stalking Michael Vick because we think it's a huge story? Or are we stalking Vick because you think it's a huge story?
Whatever the case, it's embarrassing. It's actually as embarrassing as the typical scene in the typical movie that portrays the media, in large groups, as a bunch of dumb cows in bad clothes asking bad questions. In real life our clothes are bad, I'll give you that. But we're never as dumb as those clichéd Hollywood scenes make us out to be.
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Except for times like this. Like this Michael Vick stakeout.
When we're even dumber.
Vick walks out of his house in Hampton, maybe for a breath of fresh air -- Vick breathes! -- and pictures are taken. Because that's what passes for a photo opportunity: Michael Vick, breathing. Imagine if he walked outside and held his breath for 30 seconds. In the right hands, that's Pulitzer material.
Vick rides in a Range Rover to visit his probation officer, and it's news. He gets out of the Range Rover at the federal courthouse in Norfolk, Va., and it's news. There is a gauntlet of reporters between Vick's car and the courthouse, and as he walks past, reporters shout over each other to ask their questions -- and I'll be damned. Maybe Hollywood nails it. Maybe the media is as stupid as movies make us out to be.
Because we're shouting questions at Vick, knowing full well he won't answer. Hell, he can't. Because he's on house arrest and being monitored electronically for two more months, Vick is technically still a federal prisoner, according to his attorney. And that means Vick cannot do interviews without federal approval. So as Vick walks into the courthouse, we're asking questions with the understanding that he won't answer them. In lieu of comments from Vick, we provide fashion updates. He wore jeans, a blue shirt and a blue blazer. The blazer was darker than the shirt.
An hour later he walks out of the courthouse, and we do it again. Another gauntlet. More questions. This is no longer stupid. Now, it's insane.
But the insanity is contagious. Vick returns home, where reporters are waiting to shout more unanswered questions at him -- and where non-reporters are now waiting, too. A few days ago, two different people walked up to Vick's house and knocked on the door. One wanted to pray for Vick. The other just wanted to say hi, saying he was a friend of a friend. Both were turned away.
A third guy -- not a reporter, just a guy -- spent a few hours standing outside Vick's home with his dog. That's a clever message, except for this part: The guy's dog was a pit bull. Even in the best of hands, those dogs can be killers. Ask the Steelers' Harrison, whose son was hospitalized last week after being attacked by the family pit bull.
Anyway, that's three complete strangers who knew where Vick lived. And how do you suppose they knew where he lived? Because the media told them.
My Lord, we're idiots.
But you're idiots, too. You want the story, so we're giving it to you. In the process, all of us standing outside his home do the unforgivable:
We construct a bizarro reality where the only sympathetic figure is Michael Vick.
