Culture
Why was a beloved hockey broadcaster pulled off the air?
As 18-year-old Montreal Canadiens draft pick Michael Hage searched for words to honor his father, who had died in a swimming pool accident a year earlier, Sportsnet broadcaster Jeff Marek placed his hand on Hage’s arm, helped him move his microphone up so he could be heard and then put a reassuring hand on Hage’s back as he held back tears.
“The whole hockey world is cheering for you,” Marek said. “You know that, right?”
That moment from Sportsnet’s live broadcast of the 2024 NHL Draft in Las Vegas was widely praised for its tenderness — a warm, empathetic gesture by Marek, 55, a veteran broadcaster who over a 30-year career had endeared himself to television and radio audiences.
Marek’s affable, beer-with-a-buddy demeanor and encyclopedic knowledge of hockey made him one of the sport’s most beloved and widely respected voices. He had worked his way up from an entry-level radio station gig to hosting the “The Jeff Marek Show” every day at noon on the same station where he got his start and for the last 13 years was one of Sportsnet’s signature talents.
He ran against type in the usually staid broadcast culture, with full-arm tattoos, and he wore jeans and T-shirts when he wasn’t wearing a suit for Sportsnet broadcasts. Before landing as a full-time hockey analyst, Marek hosted a popular professional wrestling radio show in Toronto. Yet he was so talented, so beloved, that former Sportsnet president Scott Moore, who hired Marek in 2011, viewed him as a potential future host of “Hockey Night in Canada,” the sport’s iconic Saturday night broadcast.
But draft night — June 28, 2024 — would be Marek’s last appearance for Sportsnet. He was absent from the post-draft taping of “32 Thoughts,” the popular hockey podcast he hosts with Elliotte Friedman. Then the following week, Marek missed the final two episodes of his daily radio show, before a summer hiatus.
Those absences didn’t garner significant attention, but Marek also went dark on social media. On July 9, one fan wished the broadcaster happy birthday on X but got no response from Marek, known for his friendly engagement. Another user commented on Marek’s unusual silence. “Jeff Marek of 32 Thoughts has completely disappeared from the face of the earth since the evening of the draft,” wrote @NHLJackManning on July 23.
A few Marek fans had intuited something was amiss, and they were correct. In July, Sportsnet quietly parted ways with Marek.
It was the kind of move that normally would have warranted a public statement, but the reason behind it led both parties to choose silence. Marek had come under scrutiny from the NHL during the first round of the draft for allegedly revealing to a friend which players teams were drafting moments before those picks were publicly announced, according to league and media industry sources. The NHL shared concerns about the situation with the Nevada Gaming Control Board, which probed further, according to multiple sources briefed on that investigation.
A spokesperson for the Nevada Gaming Control Board, when asked about the matter, said in a statement provided to The Athletic:
“As a law enforcement and regulatory agency, the Nevada Gaming Control Board does not comment on whether it is, or isn’t, investigating particular persons or entities.”
The NHL and Sportsnet both declined to comment on the matter. Marek did not respond to requests for comment.
Jeff Marek’s disappearance from the Sportsnet air after the NHL Draft wasn’t noticed by many at first. (Courtesy of Sportsnet)
The draft has long been an event where Marek stood out given his decades of experience reporting on junior hockey. In Las Vegas, Marek was a key part of Sportsnet’s live broadcast and its pre-draft coverage, possessing a keen understanding of how to balance informing the audience while keeping them entertained. In one pre-draft podcast with Friedman, he was ebullient, ribbing his podcasting partner about a fashion mishap earlier in the week, sharing stories about cheekily named “hockey dogs” and predicting (incorrectly it would turn out) that the Anaheim Ducks would select prospect Zeev Buium with the third overall pick.
The NHL’s decision to host its annual draft at the Sphere — a futuristic orb-like arena at the Venetian resort in Las Vegas — made the 2024 draft seem bigger, the spectacle of it ramped up. It was also slated to be the last centralized NHL Draft, with the league allowing teams to draft from their home bases next year.
On the first night of the draft, Marek sat at a clear desk next to the main floor, where team executives and scouts conferred before making their picks. Throughout the broadcast, he interviewed each newly drafted player.
As part of Sportsnet’s crew that night, Marek was privy to the draft selections before they were publicly announced. This is common practice for broadcast rightsholders. The production truck is notified of the pick approximately one or two minutes before it’s made so that graphics can be prepared, video clips readied and cameras trained on the player about to find out he has been selected.
That was why Sportsnet cameras were in the perfect position to capture the memorable reaction from Beckett Sennecke, whose stunning selection at No. 3 by the Anaheim Ducks prompted him to stand up, bewildered, before uttering “Holy f—.”
Moments later, Marek spoke to Sennecke about his teary-eyed parents, overwhelmed by his selection.
When Hage went No. 21 to Montreal, Marek delivered one of the night’s signature moments and it highlighted his ability to make interview subjects comfortable.
Also under the Sphere that evening working the draft was Mark Seidel, a former NHL scout with the Minnesota Wild who for the past five years worked in scouting and player personnel roles with the Ontario Hockey League’s Barrie Colts. He also runs his own scouting service, branded the North American Central Scouting Independent Bureau (not to be confused with the NHL’s Central Scouting Bureau) and has occasionally provided draft content for ESPN.
Seidel and Marek have known each other for years, according to two people with knowledge of their relationship. Seidel has made multiple appearances on podcasts with Marek, including to talk about prospects in advance of the annual draft.
In Las Vegas, Seidel correctly predicted several picks on X, which prompted concerns that Marek had informed Seidel who those teams were picking.
The nearly five-hour broadcast ended around 8:15 p.m. local time, and Marek was scheduled to leave Las Vegas that night on a red-eye flight. But before he left, at least one NHL official approached Marek about wanting to speak with him.
The league was concerned about the potential misuse or dissemination of insider information, league and media sources said. Gaming industry experts said that draft “leakage” and “tipping” is relatively common. Possessing what’s deemed “insider information” is not inherently problematic; only if that information is used as a means of financial gain does it become an integrity issue. According to a publicly available document from the Nevada Gaming Control Board on requirements licensed books must adhere to regarding wagers on the NHL Draft, “acceptance of wagers which involve a specific player must cease 24 hours prior to the start of the first round. Acceptance of all other wagers must cease prior to the start of their respective round.”
League and media sources said that Marek gave Seidel a heads up on the picks so that Seidel could better prepare and offer analysis of those selections on social media. Professional sports leagues are known to monitor social media during live events such as drafts; it is also common for leagues to partner with external integrity and compliance firms to monitor social media activity.
When contacted by The Athletic, Seidel declined to answer questions on the situation, including why he deleted a number of social media posts he made on the night of the draft.
During prior drafts, Seidel showed a knack for predicting picks just before they happened, delivering those scoops on his X account. The wording in those posts were often couched, appearing to be an insider’s intuition. “Philadelphia and Cutter Gauthier were made for each other … I’d lay money on him,” he tweeted during the 2022 draft, nailing the Flyers’ pick just before it was announced.
In the 2020 draft, he predicted or heavily insinuated the first 12 picks correctly. Leading up to the event, he sent out a tweet highlighting that he had correctly predicted the top of the first round in other drafts.
Asked about picks he predicted at earlier drafts, Seidel did not answer.
Four people close to Marek, who declined to speak on the record because of the legal sensitivity of the situation, said he is not known to gamble. Two of those four said he has, on multiple occasions, expressed an aversion to promoting gambling on air. On his eponymous radio show, his producer generally handles the betting segments.
One source briefed on the draft night situation said that no gambling impropriety was discovered or any intent for Marek to gain financially from what happened.
However, because Marek was alleged to have shared proprietary information with someone outside the company, and given the company’s partnership with the NHL — Sportsnet has two years left on a 12-year deal as the league’s national rightsholder — the network was in a difficult position involving one of its most prominent broadcasters.
As speculation about his prolonged absence from the airwaves persisted, Canadian sports media commentator Jonah Sigel broke news of Marek’s departure last week. That same day, a Sportsnet spokesperson confirmed he was no longer with the company.
The next day, Marek addressed his departure on X, though he did not publicly share the reasons behind it. (Multiple sources said Marek signed a confidentiality agreement prior to exiting the company.)
“After 13 great years at Sportsnet, I’m moving on,” he wrote. “It’s been an incredible journey and I’m thankful to have worked alongside so many great people and played a role in bringing sports and hockey news to fans across Canada and the world. More to come soon.”
The news of his departure prompted an outpouring of support from within the hockey and sports media community, with many lamenting Marek’s departure and sharing anecdotes of how he’d endeared himself to his audience — including encouraging messages he’d sent to one listener as they battled cancer — and mentored young journalists and others starting their careers in hockey.
Nick Alberga, who now hosts the “Leafs Morning Take” on The Nation Network, said he didn’t know Marek well when Marek offered up his name as a potential host for Sportsnet’s “Hockey Central Saturday” in 2017, helping him land a spot on the weekly syndicated show.
“That essentially got my foot in the door,” said Alberga.
At Sportsnet, Marek’s absence is already being felt. He had a reputation for championing producers and technical staff, and for welcoming new voices onto his many shows.
“Jeff is a great advocate of diversifying the voices that talk about the sport,” said Dave Cadeau, the former director of programming at Sportsnet Radio. “He really appreciated the value that it can bring to the conversation.”
Moore recalled meeting Marek for breakfast in Toronto before hiring him for the first time while Moore was an executive at CBC.
“As soon as I met him, I thought this guy is going to be a quirky star,” Moore said. “He wasn’t your standard ‘Hockey Night in Canada’ anchor type. He’s got a little bit of an edge to him, a little bit of character to him.”
Moore later hired Marek at Sportsnet and made him one of the network’s marquee talents.
“I know he’ll do well in whatever his next triumph is,” said Moore, who is now chairman of Uninterrupted Canada and CEO of the 2025 Invictus Games.
After Marek addressed his departure on Friday, Friedman, his longtime podcast partner, wrote on X: “Life throws curveballs at you. I will miss being his teammate, and thank him for being a tremendous co-pilot to our 32 thoughts podcasting voyage — which will continue.”
Friedman, when contacted about the details of Marek’s departure, declined to comment.
Sportsnet has yet to name Marek’s replacement on the podcast or who might fill his roles on television and radio.
In a 2012 newspaper profile, Marek noted the odd trajectory of his career. His first job was working at a graveyard. He postponed a planned Ph.D. in English to take an entry-level job at TheFan 590 — the network that would become Sportsnet radio.
“It’s been kind of an accidental career,” Marek told the Stouffville Examiner, shortly after being hired by Sportsnet. “It’s been a little surreal and bizarre. … And I’m thankful for that.”
— The Athletic’s Corey Pronman contributed to this story.
(Illustration: Dan Goldfarb / The Athletic)
Now that we’ve memorized the first half of our poem, let’s learn a little more about the man who wrote it. (Haven’t memorized anything yet? Click here to start at the beginning.)
For most of his life, Wystan Hugh Auden (1907-73) was a star. He was widely read, quoted, argued over and gossiped about, achieving a level of fame that few writers now — and not many then — could contemplate. His New York Times obituary did not hesitate to call him “the foremost poet of his generation.”
Celebrity of that kind is ephemeral, but Auden’s words have continued to circulate in the half century since his death. Maybe you’ve heard some of them before. In the 1994 film “Four Weddings and a Funeral,” his poem “Funeral Blues” is recited by Matthew (John Hannah) over the casket of his lover, Gareth (Simon Callow).
In the Gen-X touchstone “Before Sunrise” (1995), Jesse (Ethan Hawke) regales Celine (Julie Delpy) with an impression of Dylan Thomas reading Auden’s “As I Walked Out One Evening.”
In both these scenes, the characters use Auden’s poetry to give voice to a longing for which they otherwise might not have words. Auden’s poetry is often useful in that way. It speaks to recognizable human occasions, and it isn’t always all about him.
“The More Loving One” might not be something you’d quote at a funeral or on a date, but it is almost effortlessly quotable — the perfect expression of a thought you never knew you had:
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Ken Burns, filmmaker
The word “I” occurs five times in this stanza, but we don’t know much about the person speaking. His personality is camouflaged and revealed by craft.
Auden, born in the northern English cathedral city of York, began practicing that craft as a schoolboy, and honed it at Oxford. Not long after graduating in 1928, he was anointed by critics and readers as the great hope of modern English poetry. A charismatic, divisive figure, he gathered acolytes, imitators and haters.
He swam in the intellectual and ideological crosscurrents of the 1930s, drawing Marxism, psychoanalysis and mystical nationalism into his writing. Assimilating a daunting array of literary influences — Old English and Ancient Greek, French chansons and Icelandic sagas — he forged a poetic personality that was bold, confiding and seductive.
His love poems of that era were candid, discreet dispatches from a calendar of feverish entanglements, wrenching breakups and one-night stands, usually with other men. He also wrote about the feverish politics of the time — class conflict; the rise of fascism; the Spanish Civil War — in ringing rhetoric he later disavowed.
In 1939 Auden moved to America, acquiring U.S. citizenship after World War II. In New York he fell in love with Chester Kallman, a young American writer who became his life partner.
It was a complicated relationship, starting as a passionate affair and enduring through decades of domestic companionship and creative collaboration. Kallman’s refusal to be sexually exclusive wounded Auden, a dynamic that poignantly shades this poem’s most memorable couplet:
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Yiyun Li, writer
In America, Auden distanced himself from the radical politics of his earlier career and embraced Anglican Christianity. His intellectual preoccupations shifted toward religion and existentialism — to the kinds of big questions we think about late at night, or when we look to the sky.
Making the leap from wunderkind to grand old man without seeming to stop in middle age, he became a mentor for several generations of younger poets. He was a prolific and punctual contributor of reviews and essays to various publications, including this one, for which he wrote a rave of J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Fellowship of the Ring” in 1954.
Through it all, Auden devoted fanatical attention to the finer points of poetic technique. His notebooks are full of numbers, word lists and markings that show just how deep this commitment went. He counted every syllable, measured every stress.
He gathered rhymes and other words with a lexicographer’s zeal and a crossword puzzler’s precision.
The third stanza of “The More Loving One” is a miniature showcase of Auden’s skill. Of the four epigrams arrayed before us, it may be the most technically perfect.
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
W.H. Auden, poet
The rhythm is flawless, without an extra syllable or an accent out of place. The grammar is also fastidious. Here is a single sentence, springloaded with equivocation, beginning with one idea and sliding toward its opposite.
This quatrain is the poem’s ideal formal representation of itself, a kind of proof of concept: four lines of impeccable iambic tetrameter in an AABB rhyme scheme. The by-the-book regularity of this stanza should give you a leg up in memorizing it, and you can test yourself below!
But the rest of the poem is an argument against perfection, just as it is a celebration of uncertainty and humility — as we’ll see tomorrow.
Play a game to learn it by heart. Need more practice? Listen to Ada Limón, Matthew McConaughey, W.H. Auden and others recite our poem.
Question 1/6
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
Tap a word above to fill in the highlighted blank.Your first task: Learn the first two lines!
Let’s start with the first couplet in this stanza. Fill in the rhyming words.
Ready for another round? Try your hand at the 2025 Poetry Challenge.
Edited by Gregory Cowles, Alicia DeSantis and Nick Donofrio. Additional editing by Emily Eakin,
Joumana Khatib, Emma Lumeij and Miguel Salazar. Design and development by Umi Syam. Additional
game design by Eden Weingart. Video editing by Meg Felling. Photo editing by Erica Ackerberg.
Illustration art direction by Tala Safie.
Illustrations by Daniel Barreto.
Text and audio recording of “The More Loving One,” by W.H. Auden, copyright © by the Estate of
W.H. Auden. Reprinted by permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd. Photograph accompanying Auden recording
from Imagno/Getty Images.
PERMANENCE, by Sophie Mackintosh
Sophie Mackintosh’s novels are always speculative in some way, with either the author or her characters forging a world governed by its own logic and rules. In their boldness and their ability to convey the violence of patriarchy, they recall the work of Jacqueline Harpman — not only the cherished “I Who Have Never Known Men,” but also “Orlanda,” her wild riff on Virginia Woolf’s “Orlando.”
Like Harpman, Mackintosh has a spare and confident hand. Her work is sometimes described as dreamlike; certainly, its contours are sketched with rapidity and confidence and relatively little detail. Her prose operates according to the same principle, at once lyrical and precise, like this from her second novel, “Blue Ticket”: “On the ground was a dead rabbit, disemboweled. Still fresh, the dark loops of its insides glistening like jam.”
When Mackintosh writes about masculine power, she does so in a way that articulates both its seductions and its terrors. Her newest novel, “Permanence,” is less explicitly concerned with the structure of patriarchy, but it has the same erotic charge as her earlier work, the same preoccupation with social prohibitions and the thrill that comes from breaking them.
Like “Blue Ticket,” “Permanence” turns on a highly pronounced binary. In “Blue Ticket,” adolescent girls are issued either a blue or white ticket on the day of their first period. A white ticket denotes a future of marriage and children, a blue ticket one of work — even, it seems, a career. The divide is stark and self-evidently faulty, its coarseness an expression of the brutalizing regime the characters are trapped in.
“Permanence” features a similar opposition, neatly delineated. Clara and Francis are conducting an illicit affair. One morning, they wake up in an alternate reality where they are openly living together. The novel shuttles between these two worlds, one ordinary and familiar, the other a curdled paradise for adulterers.
The thinness of this “city of impermanence” — “fluid, cohesive and yet disparate” — emerges at once. The sky is “uncannily blue,” the newspaper bears no date, the edge of the city is marked by “a slick ring of water, as far as the eye could see.”
Still, a boundary cannot keep the other world from seeping in. Initially, elegantly, this is a problem in the structure of desire. Having been provided the life they dreamed of, in which their longing for each other is fully met, Clara and Francis begin to experience, to their uneasy surprise, boredom and discontent.
Without absence, the intensity of their desire for each other wanes. They even begin, or at least Francis does, to long for the relief of their ordinary life: “Another day ahead of them of petting, giggling, lying around. It seemed insubstantial suddenly, though only the day before he had felt he could do it forever.”
Soon enough, it becomes clear that the problem between Francis and Clara doesn’t lie in the outside impediments of the world they live in, but in their relationship itself. Francis remains troublingly himself — a married father of a small child, reluctant to leave his family, however much he is in love with Clara: “He did love her, and he did want to be with her. … But he already had reality elsewhere, reality which he sometimes felt trapped by, he would admit, but which he could not truly imagine cutting loose.”
“Permanence” might seem like an outlier in the current array of articles and books about open marriages and polyamory, and at first glance the line of distinction between the two worlds, much like the division between blue and white tickets, seems almost old-fashioned. But as Mackintosh persuasively illustrates, the familiar emotions of jealousy, infatuation and eventually indifference — these persist and can flourish in any relationship, however free of prohibition.
“You want this,” Clara tells herself, and then, “You no longer want this,” as it occurs to her that “maybe it was in absence that they loved each other best, and most honestly.”
In her work, Mackintosh devises scenarios that are bold and almost aggressively simplified. But her terrain is complexity and contradiction, and in her hands these oppositions twist and turn in on themselves.
It’s hardly a surprise when the central character in “Blue Ticket” decides to eschew her designation and have a child, declaring, “True and false were no longer opposing binaries. My body was speaking to me in a language I had not heard before.” Nor is it especially startling when discontent chases Clara and Francis from one world to the other, unraveling their relationship.
What is more disquieting is the surreptitious ease with which Mackintosh’s speculative worlds start to align with our own, allowing the reader to see how so many of the old prohibitions and conventions — around choice, around marriage — remain, somehow, firmly in place.
That moment of recognition, in a landscape that is startlingly alien, is the source of Mackintosh’s power as a writer.
PERMANENCE | By Sophie Mackintosh | Avid Reader Press | 240 pp. | $28
Maybe you woke up this morning haunted by the first four lines of W.H. Auden’s “The More Loving One” — or tickled by its tongue-in-cheek handling of existential dread. (Not ringing any bells? Click here to begin the Poetry Challenge).
This is a love poem. Perhaps that seems like an obvious thing to say about a poem with “Loving” in its title, but there isn’t much romance in the opening stanza.
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
Ada Limón, poet
Nonetheless, the poem soon makes clear that love is very much on its mind.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
David Sedaris, writer
The polished informality gives the impression of a decidedly cerebral speaker — someone who’s looking at love philosophically, thinking about how it works and what it means.
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Reginald Dwayne Betts, poet
Musing this way — arguing in this fashion — he stands in a long line of playful, thoughtful poetic lovers going back at least to the 16th century. He sounds a bit like Christopher Marlowe’s passionate shepherd:
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
Auden’s poem, like Marlowe’s, is written in four-beat lines:
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
Josh Radnor, actor
And it features strong end rhymes:
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Samantha Harvey, writer
These tetrameter couplets represent a long-established poetic love language. Not too serious or sappy, but with room for both earnestness and whimsy. And even for professions of the opposite of love, as in this nursery rhyme, adapted from a 17th-century epigram:
I do not like thee, Doctor Fell
The reason why I cannot tell.
But this I know and know full well
I do not like thee, Doctor Fell.
There is some of this anti-love spirit in Auden’s poem too, but it mainly follows a general rule of love poetry: The person speaking is usually the more loving one.
This makes sense. To write a poem requires effort, art, inspiration. To speak in verse is to tease, to cajole, to seduce, all actions that suggest an excess of desire. That’s why it’s conventional to refer to the “I” in a poem like this as the Lover and the “you” as the Beloved. The line “Let the more loving one be me” could summarize a lot of the love poetry of the last few thousand years.
But who, in this case, is the beloved? This isn’t a poem to the stars, but about them. Or maybe a poem that uses the stars as a conceit and our complicated feelings about them as a screen for other difficult emotions.
What the stars have to do with love is a tricky question. The answer may just be that the poem assumes a relationship and then plays with the implications of its assumption.
This kind of play also has a long history. Since love is both abstract and susceptible to cliché, poets are eager to liken it to everything else under the sun: birds, bees, planets, stars, the movement of the tides and the cycle of the seasons. Andrew Marvell’s “Definition of Love,” from the 1600s, wraps its ardor in math:
As lines, so loves oblique may well
Themselves in every angle greet;
But ours so truly parallel,
Though infinite, can never meet.
The literary term for this is wit. The formidable 18th-century English wordsmith Samuel Johnson defined a type of wit as “a combination of dissimilar images, or discovery of occult resemblances in things apparently unlike.” “The most heterogeneous ideas are yoked by violence together,” he wrote; that kind of conceptual discord defines “The More Loving One.”
The second stanza is, when you think about it, a perfect non sequitur. A hypothetical, general question is asked:
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
Mary Roach, writer
The answer is a personal declaration that is moving because it doesn’t seem to apply only or primarily to stars:
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Tim Egan, writer
Does this disjunction make it easier or harder to remember? Either way, these couplets start to reveal just how curious this poem is. We might find ourselves curious about who wrote them, and whom he might have loved. Tomorrow we’ll get to know Auden and his work a little better.
Play a game to learn it by heart. Need more practice? Listen to Ada Limón, Matthew McConaughey, W.H. Auden and others recite our poem.
Question 1/6
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
Tap a word above to fill in the highlighted blank.
Your task today: Learn the second stanza!
Let’s start with the first couplet in this stanza. Fill in the rhyming words.
Ready for another round? Try your hand at the 2025 Poetry Challenge.
Edited by Gregory Cowles, Alicia DeSantis and Nick Donofrio. Additional editing by Emily Eakin,
Joumana Khatib, Emma Lumeij and Miguel Salazar. Design and development by Umi Syam. Additional
game design by Eden Weingart. Video editing by Meg Felling. Photo editing by Erica Ackerberg.
Illustration art direction by Tala Safie.
Illustrations by Daniel Barreto.
Text and audio recording of “The More Loving One,” by W.H. Auden, copyright © by the Estate of
W.H. Auden. Reprinted by permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd. Photograph accompanying Auden recording
from Imagno/Getty Images.
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