There is something sad about watching someone who is truly great losing their way before your eyes. Often, this happens in the entertainment arena, when a magnificent athlete or captivating singer gets distracted by celebrity and fortune. The trappings of fame are a very real danger, and all too often, a consuming one.
On Friday, ESPN and Bill Simmons officially parted ways. The news had broke last week that ESPN would be moving on without the Sports Guy when his contract expired at the conclusion of September. For many in the know, this came as little shock. Simmons constantly tested the patience of the higher-ups in Bristol. He famously called NFL commissioner a liar on his B.S. Report podcast last fall, then defiantly challenged ESPN to suspend him. The Worldwide Leader did exactly that, to the tune of three weeks.
In retrospect, the contempt for Simmons must have run deep. Britt McHenry, an ESPN reporter who recently treated a woman in a towing garage with unimaginable cruelty, only got sidelined for a week.
Simmons should take this change of scenery as a moment for retrospection and reflection. Once, Simmons was a promising young writer from Boston who penned every word with humor and anguish all in one stroke. He rose through the ranks of Page 2 on ESPN.com before blasting off into mega-stardom with his podcast, followed by the brilliant idea of creating ESPN’s 30-for-30 documentary series. In 2011, Grantland.com came to be with Simmons as the Editor-in-Chief, making him perhaps the most well-known sports writer in the country.
Except Simmons was, and is, no longer a sports writer. He is a personality and a caricature. Nothing more.
Simmons lost who he was years ago. Maybe it was the move from his hometown of Boston to the sunny skies of Los Angeles. Perhaps it was the money and fame, rubbing elbows with celebrities at every turn. It is hard to maintain a creative edge when the fear of failure is long gone.
Simmons accrued legions of followers because he was authentic. He made the casual sports fan feel like there was a voice in the mainstream media who understood him or her. Connecting with people, making them feel like they want to have a beer at the bar with you; that’s a special talent. It seems so easy, but it is impossibly hard. Simmons was an expert at that craft, but he left it behind in his latter days at ESPN for glitz and glamor.
Back in 2009, Simmons released The Book of Basketball: The NBA according to the Sports Guy. It was phenomenal. The work hit on many topics, highlighted by the ranking of the top 100 players of all-time, all while sprinkling in a cavalcade of footnotes that made you tear in laughter. It was a crowning achievement, a 736-page masterpiece which deservedly wound up on the New York Times Bestseller List for six weeks, debuting in its top spot.
Simmons should go back and read through those pages. He should comb the Page 2 archives and reconnect with an art form he left in his vapor trail to stardom.
He should remember what made him successful in the first place. Being the Sports Guy.