I know that it’s really become sort of a cliche for bloggers to take shots at the mainstream scribes, but living in Chicago really makes it hard to ignore the stunning breadth of clueless writers, grasping for sapience and relevance, whose writings appear on the pages of the Chicago and suburban dailies. It’s painful, really, and quite embarrassing. The top two columnists at the Chicago Tribune and Chicago Sun-Times and the top columnist at the Daily Herald comprise a “who’s who” in local mediocre-to-lousy writing.

Some of them–like Moronotti–never had it, never grasped it, never fit in with the local color from Day 1. Rozner, sadly, has gone from a bright light to someone who has, for whatever reason, lost his way. Rick Telander used to write outstanding feature pieces at Sports Illustrated in the 1980′s, but his writing has never translated to the short form of a daily 1,500 word column, and he consequently comes off as a severely out-of-touch schlock-monger whose “innocence is lost” simplicity reminds one of the syrupy swamp of pseudo-sentimentality that was a Bob Greene article. Meanwhile, 6 blocks east along the river from the “New” Sun-Times sit Tweedledee and Tweedledum, Mike Downey and Rick Morrisey, who collectively manage to write thousands of people to sleep each day.

I’m not making this up–I have long been a Tribune subscriber, a move which I question every two months when I write a $12.95 check for my delivery subscription; this, considering I can get it for free on-line, and yet I swear I am not making up the fact that while I enjoy reading Steven Chapman, John Kass, Clarence Page, Garrison Keilor and Kathleen Parker in the editorial section, and Eric Zorn and Mary Schmich in the Metro while riding the El to work each day, I have not read a single Morissey or Downey article from start to finish in at least six months. And I’m paying for it. I know Sam Zell’s not going to miss my $12.95 when I wake up one day and just stop getting the paper version, but I’m certain I’m not alone when all I need to do is look at Downey or Morrisey’s mug, read the headline, the first sentence, and then move on, while shaking my head.

And that’s the A-list. Go further down the roster and, well, you can just go to yesterday’s post by Kerm.

Gosh and I just realized that I haven’t even mentioned Phildo.

I mean, take the emerging Chicago Blackhawks. Like many Chicago sports fans, I have been largely unaware of the Hawks for the past decade. And then the old bastard died, the former Cubs’ Carnival Barker gets a plum gig to pump the club back into relavance, while any hockey fan can attest to the fact that they have a bright future. The Hawks had just come home from a grueling mid-season road trip on a high note, taking 5 points in their last three games to rally into playoff contention before dropping the puck against a team–Colorado–with which they can expect to be fighting for a possible spot, which would only be their second playoff appearance in over a decade, should they make it. They come home to the United Center which, unlike the old Chicago Stadium, has pretty much no history with Hawks, having been built (1994) at around the same time that the Hawks entered their malaise. Then yesterday’s crowd of 21,715, representing, the first “complete” sellout for a Hawks game in the history of the UC, rallied behind them and in the process witnessed a thrilling 2-1 Hawks victory.

This is a great story. This is the type of story that sports fans want to read when they actually purchase an old-fashioned newspaper. This is a great opportunity to capture the imagination of the casual fans who are no doubt growing increasingly interested in what is happening on the West Side. And even though this game was in town, and even though the puck dropped at noon on a Sunday, not a single columnist elected to take in the game and publish an article that would have written itself, and long ahead of deadline. A no-brainer, right?

So what did Telander and Mariotti write about?

Are you ready? Sitting down?

Steroids.

For the 1,556th time.

So I picked up a Sun-Times today to read about the Hawks and will confess to not having bothered to read either of these articles which–it bears repeating–are on the same topic. But I’ve read enough of these guys in the past to summarize. So allow me to recap an article I didn’t read.

Telander: “Something is truly wrong with the world. In the world I grew up in, men wore suits to church and neighbors shovelled each other’s driveways. Well, now we have college football being played on Friday nights for crying out loud and ballplayers have now invented ways to cheat, cheating being an activity that well may have been allowed in the past but, because it’s in the past, was cute and undertsood and full of puppy love. But the world’s going to hell and steroids is emblematic as to why. Shame.”

Mariotti: “OH MY GOD I CANNOT BELIEVE PEOPLE ARE NOT MORE UPSET ABOUT THIS. I BELIEVE THAT IF I KEEP TYPING IN THIS LOUD, OBNOXIOUS “LOOK AT ME” STYLE AS IF I WERE ON MY INSUFFERABLY AWFUL ESPN SHOW THAT I WILL BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY. AND IT MUST BE WORKING SINCE THAT AFORMENTIONED BASTION OF ENLIGHTENED SPORTS JOURNALISM LETS ME JUMP ON MY AIRHORN OF INDIGNATION IN THE FIRST PLACE SO I CAN EMBARRASS ALL 6 MILLION PEOPLE IN THE CHICAGOLAND AREA BY LETTING THE WORLD KNOW I SUPPOSEDLY REPRESENT CHICAGO. DA BEARS! SEE?”

But like I said–douchebag blogger hatin ‘on the newspaper writers–what else is new? Well, change of pace now–I’m here to throw out some rose petals. Sadly, it’s for a writer who used to, in fact, write several days a week like the knob-jobs we have now but is now only relegated to weekly pieces that appear in Sunday’s Tribune. I thought of titling this entry “Where have you gone, Bob Verdi?” but Bob is still alive and well. And instead of bemoaning the fact that he’s no longer a regular columnist, I suppose I should celebrate the fact that he’s at least still, in fact, writing, and that he really hasn’t lost much off his fastball.

This article that he wrote on Sunday–a fond recollection of Harry Caray who has now been gone 10 years this week– hit all of the right notes, something that Verdi was accustomed to doing when he was a regular columnist. When Harry died, Bob was still doing 8 minute radio spots on WXRT in the morning called “Athletes’ Feats”. Being Bob Verdi, these weren’t your run-of-the-mill sports updates. Bob would pick a topic, and then simply read his thoughtfully written essay on said topic. What typically followed was some pretty intelligent back-and-forth with DJ Lin Brehmer, no slouch when it comes to sports himself. And so on that sad morning ten years ago after Harry had died, I was on my way to my job in the southwest suburbs, and I can still recall listening to Verdi’s eulogy as I drove south on the Stevenson. And I’ll be damned if Bob Verdi didn’t cause me to cry like a little girl that morning as I barrelled down I-55. In fairness, though, it sounded like Brehmer was also a little choked up as well. That’s how effective an intelligent, stimulating writer can be. And that’s Bob Verdi–intelligent and stimulating, and those are qualities that are almost entirely absent with today’s writers. So while everyone will tip one back in honor of Harry this week, think of taking another slug in honor of another individual whose style is sorely missed.