Do you ever bother with mainstream football media? I ask because last week, they were at their ghoulish worst, obsessing over Jack Grealish. Their grip might be slipping—print sales are fading—but millions still shell out for newspapers. Surely they don’t think they’re buying some twisted dystopian fantasy. They must assume there’s truth in there somewhere. Who pays to be fed lies?
Soon, we’re in for a deluge of brain-dead sports media nonsense when Thomas Tuchel takes charge of his first game. Expect World War II references to be dredged up, ignoring the real rivalries, while the press churns out absurd questions from their own grimy echo chamber. We’ve already seen their xenophobic streak—echoed only by the wildest corners of talk radio, where outrage fuels the machine. Tuchel will likely stare in disbelief, as many have before him, at the sheer idiocy of these sports media hogs scrambling for scraps.
Last week, it was all about Grealish and his day off—specifically, a few pub visits. It’s a nothing story, yet his manager, Pep Guardiola, was grilled about it, his face a familiar mask of bewilderment. Any rational person would see it for the non-event it is, but the press? They’re lost in their own bubble, snuffling around in a cloud of their own making, surrounded only by fellow hogs.
This is par for the course. Tiny details balloon into multi-day sagas, all to feed their endless hunger for *content*—not truth, not quality, just something to shovel out. I can’t be alone in marveling that anyone still engages with this drivel, caught between reality and a warped funhouse mirror.
We all know the game: traffic drives ad revenue, so coverage narrows to a handful of big clubs while the rest gets ignored. You could criticize that—it’s not ideal—but it’s basic economics. Still, if you’re posing as a serious outlet, shouldn’t you aim higher than fabricating tales like “star footballer seen at restaurant after loss”?
*Mediawatch* nails it daily: football coverage has a bizarre relationship with language. Words twist into half-truths, wild guesses masquerade as insight, and trivialities get hyped as earth-shattering—like the Grealish fiasco. They’ll list “five things we learned,” four of which are obvious, tout fake records, and spin yarns in a jargon that barely holds meaning. Imagine being the ones concocting this mess? Look at what these sports media hogs have sunk to.
Fifty years ago, tabloids thrived on sensationalism, but they still delivered real news. A footballer in a pub wouldn’t have rated a line—nobody cared. Reporters back then shielded players, not exploited them. Today’s output? It’s just sludge. Why bother reading it? You’d have to believe there’s some kernel of truth in there, but their words are hollow—tools for crafting weird fictions, not conveying meaning. Their track record as distorters is legendary, so why clog your brain with it?
Ironically, this is why they’re fading. The shallow focus, the dishonesty—it’s all backfiring. Sure, their websites snag clicks, and that’s their lifeline, but why bother clicking? It’s free, but it costs you in brain cells, dragging us into a dystopia where reality drowns in clickbait. Truth doesn’t matter—just get the click. Standards? Old news. Clicks, clicks, clicks. Why do brands still advertise on these dumb, deceitful platforms? Are they chasing the gullible?
Raw numbers mean little if nobody’s really paying attention. Wouldn’t papers do better with smart, engaging content that keeps readers hooked and flatters the brands alongside it? Am I naive? Do they keep churning this out because people keep clicking? If so, stop clicking—it’ll die, I promise. Are we in an idiocracy?
Is there more cash in witless speculation and pointless fluff? Maybe there’s an audience for it. If so, heaven help us—we’re surrounded by minds surrendered to trash. Where’s this headed? A race to the bottom, pandering to the lazy and incurious, with intelligence relegated to a few “elite” corners while the news hogs lead the charge? Or are we already there?
