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Could MLB nationalize its media rights? Why some clubs are pushing to end local TV deals

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Could MLB nationalize its media rights? Why some clubs are pushing to end local TV deals

Sixty years ago, baseball commissioner Ford Frick received a telegram from a Wisconsin congressman. Rep. Henry Reuss was worried the Milwaukee Braves would defect to Atlanta for the promise of a richer television contract, and proposed a fix: if all the Major League Baseball teams would share their television money, then the Braves might stay.

According to the Associated Press, Frick replied in that summer of 1964 that “… a plan to pool all television receipts would not be feasible or acceptable at this time,” but would be “worthy of future consideration.”

Now, in 2024, that conversation has arrived. Commissioner Rob Manfred and some of the sport’s owners are more seriously talking about nationalizing baseball’s TV rights than ever before. Not because of relocation, but because of cord-cutting, the failure of some traditional regional sports networks, and the simultaneous battle for streaming supremacy waged by Netflix, Amazon and other streamers that has left sports leagues and rights holders in a chaotic reformation.

Some baseball owners and executives, mostly in smaller markets, believe the best way to grow media revenues over the long haul is to centralize the deal-making, and from there, to potentially sell all 30 teams’ regular-season broadcasts as one streaming package. Others in the game, particularly those whose teams make the most money, are vehemently opposed to surrendering their power over their rights.

The hurdles to such a change are massive, but that it is even being contemplated is remarkable. The end of local media rights in baseball would be one of the most radical alterations imaginable in the tumultuous world of sports television. Unsurprisingly, the possibility is also controversial.

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“As the local media situation evolves, we will continue to evaluate the best model for us moving forward,” Manfred said in a statement to The Athletic. “Our course of action will be determined by the clubs, who are the ultimate decision makers under our constitution.”

While MLB has long arranged various national media deals — including for the postseason, with networks such as FOX and TBS, and for Sunday night games during the regular season, with ESPN — individual teams have always controlled most of their regular-season inventory, as well as the choice of television stations they partner with inside their home markets. (The central office already controls each team’s “out-of-market” rights, which is why fans in New York can sign up for MLB.tv and watch any game besides the Mets’ or Yankees’.)

Doing away with local rights could eliminate many of the blackout restrictions that frustrate fans. But not all clubs believe Manfred’s office could utilize the rights better than they do individually.

The most divisive matter, though, is the dollars. Regardless of how a commissioner deployed the rights, the question would be: How is the revenue distributed, by equal split or otherwise? The New York Yankees received an estimated $143 million as a rights fee in 2022, much greater than a team like the Colorado Rockies, which received $57 million that same year, according to Forbes. It is ultimately, then, a rekindling of baseball’s classic drama, big market vs. small.

“Everything is on the table for the future, because it’s so unknown,” Sam Kennedy, president of the big-market Boston Red Sox, said during spring training. “Look, there’s always issues that come up where large-market teams have a different view than the small-market teams. In the end, the greater good of the industry is what we have to also focus on.”

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A new era is just beginning in sports broadcasting, and the changes are happening quickly. On Wednesday, Netflix and the NFL announced that the streamer would newly carry Christmas Day games. Netflix is paying in the neighborhood of $75 million per game.

Elsewhere Wednesday, the other three major men’s sports leagues in the U.S., MLB, the NBA and the NHL, were in court arguing that one of their most significant broadcast partners, Diamond Sports Group, was bumbling its way through bankruptcy and a carriage dispute with a prominent cable company, Comcast. This month, a dozen MLB teams carried on Diamond’s Bally-branded channels cannot be viewed by Comcast’s roughly 13.6 million television customers.


The Diamond Sports Group bankruptcy has been an ongoing problem for MLB. (David Berding / Getty Images)

Then on Thursday, FOX, Warner Bros. Discovery and Hulu announced the name of their upcoming sports package: “venu.”

The prospect of a big payout from a streaming company is naturally alluring in baseball circles. Regional sports networks have traditionally committed a lot of money to teams upfront. Streamers might act differently, preferring a risk-reward model — the more people who flock to the content, the more money that is paid. But in the long run, as the streamers jockey for position, Manfred could bet that Amazon and its ilk will pay more in aggregate than the traditional RSNs do today for fragmented content.

The heart of the discussion, then, is really whether baseball could thrive as a “national” sport. Ironically, the national pastime is often regarded as a local game.

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“Like almost everything in American life, it’s all about money,” former baseball commissioner Fay Vincent said in a phone interview. “The money is so enormously tilted locally. You know, trying to get yourself, if you’re living in New York, interested in a game where Seattle is flying to San Diego or something — it just doesn’t work.”

MLB just sold a package of Sunday-morning games to Roku, which The Athletic reported Thursday was for $10 million per year. Previously, Peacock had paid $30 million per season for the same package. Roku, unlike Peacock, does not require a paid subscription, but MLB’s lessened fee was nonetheless discouraging to some officials.

“It just goes to show, there’s no national package,” said an executive in the sport granted anonymity to speak candidly. “People want to pay only for the premium teams.”

One sport has long thrived on a national rights model: the National Football League. At the time that Frick made his comments in 1964, the NFL was already negotiating deals as one entity.

But the sports were in different places then, as they are now. The once-a-week NFL schedule has always delivered a much smaller number of games compared to baseball’s nightly cadence.

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“The local television contract in football simply never had that much value in the early days, because of the small inventory,” said James Walker, professor emeritus of communication at Saint Xavier University in Chicago, who has authored books about baseball’s broadcasting history. “What that meant is that the (football) teams, when they established their television policy, were much closer in parity. The notion of big-market team versus small-market team simply didn’t have the same meaning in the NFL, as it always did in Major League Baseball.”

Football’s move to nationalize rights is an achievement often credited to a titan among sports commissioners, Pete Rozelle, who took over in 1960. Walker said that a predecessor of Rozelle’s, Bert Bell, actually deserves attention to that end as well.

Whether Manfred wants to be remembered as the Rozelle of baseball, or the Bell, is one of the more interesting questions as Manfred marches toward his planned retirement in 2029.

Manfred’s mission is likely simple: make the most money with the most certainty possible, be it by going into the local media business headlong or outsourcing it, as has long been the norm. But any substantive change is going to require him to corral his 30 bosses, and a rights-structure change might be a bridge too far.

“In baseball, it’s very difficult for a commissioner to get owners to work for the collective good,” Walker said. “The idea that at this stage, the Yankees would suddenly agree to pool their local rights, in some kind of shared configuration — it’s not impossible that that could happen.

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“But it would basically mean you’d have to figure out a way that the Yankees receive what they consider to be their fair compensation. And you’d be going against the grain. If you go back to the radio era, you’re really talking about 90 years of history.”

Existing contracts between teams and regional sports networks are a huge predicament. Some teams have deals with RSNs that run into the 2030s. These deals have often promised exclusivity to the RSN, such that MLB couldn’t just turn around and bundle the games as it saw fit with a simulcast.

Hence, even if the teams agreed to nationalize local rights tomorrow, and assigned their current deals over to the league office, MLB would have to wait until some expire to use the rights in new ways — or it would have to otherwise negotiate an early end to those deals. The Dodgers’ TV contract, for example, goes through 2038.

The league also might have to negotiate changes with the players’ union, because revenue sharing between teams is collectively bargained. That means the next CBA negotiations, in 2026, could bring these issues to a head. The MLBPA declined comment.

Alternative theories exist as to the direction baseball or any sport should go. Perhaps greater revenue exists in developing packages grouped together by market, rather than by sport: a New York bundle across various leagues, and so forth.

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A three-quarters vote typically allows the owners to modify the sport’s constitution. But support anywhere short of 100 percent for a shift in the rights setup could leave MLB in perilous territory. If any owner felt the league was improperly assuming something of value, lawsuits could fly.

In a nuanced distinction: MLB could launch some sort of smaller national streaming package, one with perhaps half the teams, without changing its actual rights system. Some teams today are not in exclusive deals with RSNs, freeing them up for the league to roll up into a bundle immediately. Manfred has expressed interest in doing this as soon as 2025, but he doesn’t have enough teams he could pool together at this point for a viable product. That could change later this year, however, if Diamond Sports Group fails to emerge from bankruptcy.

Asked in February if the idea of moving away from local rights would have been unthinkable just a few years ago, Kennedy said, “The world is changing fast.”

“Consumers need to have the ability to access our product, our games, whenever they want, wherever they want, quickly,” Kennedy said. “We can’t make it difficult.”

(Top photo of Manfred: Mike Carlson / MLB Photos via Getty Images)

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What Happens When We Die? This Wallace Stevens Poem Has Thoughts.

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What Happens When We Die? This Wallace Stevens Poem Has Thoughts.

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Whatever you do, don’t think of a bird.

Now: What kind of bird are you not thinking about? A pigeon? A bald eagle? Something more poetic, like a skylark or a nightingale? In any case, would you say that this bird you aren’t thinking about is real?

Before you answer, read this poem, which is quite literally about not thinking of a bird.

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Human consciousness is full of riddles. Neuroscientists, philosophers and dorm-room stoners argue continually about what it is and whether it even exists. For Wallace Stevens, the experience of having a mind was a perpetual source of wonder, puzzlement and delight — perfectly ordinary and utterly transcendent at the same time. He explored the mysteries and pleasures of consciousness in countless poems over the course of his long poetic career. It was arguably his great theme.

Stevens was born in 1879 and published his first book, “Harmonium,” in 1923, making him something of a late bloomer among American modernists. For much of his adult life, he worked as an executive for the Hartford Accident and Indemnity Company, rising to the rank of vice president. He viewed insurance less as a day job to support his poetry than as a parallel vocation. He pursued both activities with quiet diligence, spending his days at the office and composing poems in his head as he walked to and from work.

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Wallace Stevens in 1950.

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Walter Sanders/The LIFE Picture Collection, via Shutterstock

As a young man, Stevens dreamed of traveling to Europe, though he never crossed the Atlantic. In middle age he made regular trips to Florida, and his poems are frequently infused with ideas of Paris and Rome and memories of Key West. Others partake of the stringent beauty of New England. But the landscapes he explores, wintry or tropical, provincial or cosmopolitan, are above all mental landscapes, created by and in the imagination.

Are those worlds real?

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Let’s return to the palm tree and its avian inhabitant, in that tranquil Key West sunset of the mind.

Until then, we find consolation in fangles.

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Wil Wheaton Discusses ‘Stand By Me’ and Narrating ‘The Body’ Audiobook

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Wil Wheaton Discusses ‘Stand By Me’ and Narrating ‘The Body’ Audiobook

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When the director Rob Reiner cast his leads in the 1986 film “Stand by Me,” he looked for young actors who were as close as possible to the personalities of the four children they’d be playing. There was the wise beyond his years kid from a rough family (River Phoenix), the slightly dim worrywart (Jerry O’Connell), the cutup with a temper (Corey Feldman) and the sensitive, bookish boy.

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Wil Wheaton was perfect for that last one, Gordie Lachance, a doe-eyed child who is ignored by his family in favor of his late older brother. Now, 40 years later, he’s traveling the country to attend anniversary screenings of the film, alongside O’Connell and Feldman, which has thrown him back into the turmoil that he felt as an adolescent.

Wheaton has channeled those emotions and his on-set memories into his latest project: narrating a new audiobook version of “The Body,” the 1982 Stephen King novella on which the film was based.

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“I like there to be a freshness, a discovery and an immediacy to my narration,” Wheaton said. He recorded “The Body” in his home studio in California. Alex Welsh for The New York Times

A few years ago, Wheaton started to float the idea of returning to the story that gave him his big break — that of a quartet of boys in 1959 Oregon, in their last days before high school, setting out to find a classmate’s dead body. “I’ve been telling the story of ‘Stand By Me’ since I was 12 years old,” he said.

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But this time was different. Wheaton, who has narrated dozens of audiobooks, including Andy Weir’s “The Martian” and Ernest Cline’s “Ready Player One,” says he has come to enjoy narration more than screen acting. “I’m safe, I’m in the booth, nobody’s looking at me and I can just tell you a story.”

The fact that he, an older man looking back on his younger years, is narrating a story about an older man looking back on his younger years, is not lost on Wheaton. King’s original story is bathed in nostalgia. Coming to terms with death and loss is one of its primary themes.

Two days after appearing on stage at the Academy Awards as part of a tribute to Reiner — who was murdered in 2025 alongside his wife, Michele — Wheaton got on the phone to talk about recording the audiobook, reliving his favorite scenes from the film and reexamining a quintessential story of childhood loss through the lens of his own.

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This interview has been edited and condensed.

“I felt really close to him, and my memory of him.”

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Wheaton on channeling a co-star’s performance.

There’s this wonderful scene in “Stand By Me.” Gordie and Chris are walking down the tracks talking about junior high. Chris is telling Gordie, “I wish to hell I was your dad, because I care about you, and he obviously doesn’t.”

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It’s just so honest and direct, in a way that kids talk to each other that adults don’t. And I think that one of the reasons that really sticks with people, and that piece really lands on a lot of audiences, and has for 40 years, is, just too many people have been Gordie in that scene.

That scene is virtually word for word taken from the text of the book. And when I was narrating that, I made a deliberate choice to do my best to recreate what River did in that scene.

“The Body” Read by Wil Wheaton

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“You’re just a kid,

Gordie–”

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“I wish to fuck

I was your father!”

he said angrily.

“You wouldn’t go around

talking about takin those stupid shop courses

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if I was!

It’s like

God gave you something,

all those stories

you can make up,

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and He said:

This is what we got for you, kid.

Try not to lose it.

But kids lose everything

unless somebody looks out for them

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and if your folks

are too fucked up to do it

then maybe I ought to.”

I watched that scene a couple of times because I really wanted — I don’t know why it was so important to me to — well, I know: because I loved him, and I miss him. And I wanted to bring him into this as best as I could, right?

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So I was reading that scene, and the words are identical to the script. And I had this very powerful flashback to being on the train tracks that day in Cottage Grove, Oregon. And I could see River standing next to them. They’re shooting my side of the scene and there’s River, right next to the camera, doing his off-camera dialogue, and there’s the sound guy, and there’s the boom operator. There’s my key light.

I could hear and feel it. It was the weirdest thing. It’s like I was right back there.

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I was able to really take in the emotional memory of being Gordie in all of those scenes. So when I was narrating him and I’m me and I’m old with all of this experience, I just drew on what I remembered from being that little boy and what I remember of those friendships and what they meant to me and what they mean to me today.

“Rob gave me a gift. Rob gave me a career.”

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Wheaton recalls the “Stand By Me” director’s way with kids on set, as well as his recent Oscars tribute.

Rob really encouraged us to be kids.

Jerry tells the most amazing story about that scene, where we were all sitting around, and doing our bit, and he improvised. He was just goofing around — we were just playing — and he said something about spitting water at the fat kid.

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We get to the end of the scene, and he hears Rob. Rob comes around from behind the thing, and he goes, “Jerry!” And Jerry thinks, “Oh no, I’m in trouble. I’m in trouble because I improvised, and I’m not supposed to improvise.”

The context for Jerry is that he had been told by the adults in his life, “Sit on your hands and shut up. Stop trying to be a cutup. Stop trying to be funny. Stop disrupting people. Just be quiet.” And Jerry thinks, “Oh my God. I didn’t shut up. I’m in trouble. I’m gonna get fired.”

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Rob leans in to all of us, and Rob says, “Hey, guys, do you see that? More of that. Do that!”

Rob Reiner in 1985, directing the child actors of “Stand By Me,” including Wil Wheaton, at left. Columbia/Kobal, via Shutterstock

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The whole time when you’re a kid actor, you’re just around all these adults who are constantly telling you to grow up. They’re mad that you’re being a kid. Rob just created an environment where not only was it supported that we would be kids — and have fun, and follow those kid instincts and do what was natural — it was expected. It was encouraged. We were supposed to do it.

“The Body” Read by Wil Wheaton

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They chanted together:

“I don’t shut up,

I grow up.

And when I look at you

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I throw up.”

“Then your mother goes around the corner

and licks it up,”

I said,

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and hauled ass out of there,

giving them the finger over my shoulder as I went.

I never had any friends later on

like the ones I had when I was twelve.

Jesus,

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did you?

When we were at the Oscars, I looked at Jerry. And we looked at this remarkable assemblage of the most amazingly talented, beautiful artists and storytellers. We looked around, and Jerry leans down, and he said, “We all got our start with Rob Reiner. He trusted every single one of us.”

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Jerry O’Connell and Wheaton joined more than a dozen actors from Reiner’s films to honor the slain director at the Academy Awards on March 15, 2026. Kevin Winter/Getty Images

And to stand there for him, when I really thought that I would be standing with him to talk about this stuff — it was a lot.

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“I was really really really excited — like jumping up and down.”

The scene Wheaton was most looking forward to narrating: the tale of Lard Ass Hogan.

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I was so excited to narrate it. It’s a great story! It’s a funny story. It’s such a lovely break — it’s an emotional and tonal shift from what’s happening in the movie.

I know this as a writer: You work to increase and release tension throughout a narrative, and Stephen King uses humor really effectively to release that tension. But it also raises the stakes, because we have these moments of joy and these moments of things being very silly in the midst of a lot of intensity. ​​

That’s why the story of Lard Ass Hogan is so fun for me to tell. Because in the middle of that, we stop to do something that’s very, very fun, and very silly and very celebratory.

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“The Body” Read by Wil Wheaton

“Will you shut up

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and let him tell it?”

Teddy hollered.

Vern blinked.

“Sure.

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Yeah.

Okay.”

“Go on, Gordie,”

Chris said.

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“It’s not really much—”

“Naw,

we don’t expect much

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from a wet end like you,”

Teddy said,

“but tell it anyway.”

I cleared my throat.

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“So anyway.

It’s Pioneer Days,

and on the last night

they have these three big events.

There’s an egg-roll for the little kids

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and a sack-race for kids that are like eight or nine,

and then there’s the pie-eating contest.

And the main guy of the story

is this fat kid nobody likes

named Davie Hogan.”

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When I narrate this story — whenever there is a moment of levity or humor, whenever there are those brief little moments that are the seasoning of the meal that makes it all so real and relatable — yes, it was very important to me to capture those moments.

I’m shifting in my chair, so I can feel each of those characters. It’s something that doesn’t exist in live action. It doesn’t exist in any other media.

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“I feel the loss.”

Wheaton remembers River Phoenix.

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The novella “The Body” is very much about Gordie remembering Chris. It’s darker, and it’s more painful, than the movie is.

I’ve been watching the movie on this tour and seeing River a lot. I remember him as a 14- and 15-year-old kid who just seemed so much older, and so much more experienced and so much wiser than me, and I’m only a year younger than him.

What hurts me now, and what I really felt when I was narrating this, is knowing what River was going through then. We didn’t know. I still don’t know the extent of how he was mistreated, but I know that he was. I know that adults failed him. That he should have been protected in every way that matters. And he just wasn’t.

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And I, like Gordie, remember a boy who was loving. So loving, and generous and cared deeply about everyone around him, all the time. Who deserved to live a full life. Who had so much to offer the world. And it’s so unfair that he’s gone and taken from us. I had to go through a decades-long grieving process to come to terms with him dying.

“The Body” Read by Wil Wheaton

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Near the end

of 1971,

Chris

went into a Chicken Delight

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in Portland

to get a three-piece Snack Bucket.

Just ahead of him,

two men started arguing

about which one had been first in line.

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One of them pulled a knife.

Chris,

who had always been the best of us

at making peace,

stepped between them

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and was stabbed in the throat.

The man with the knife had spent time in four different institutions;

he had been released from Shawshank State Prison

only the week before.

Chris died almost instantly.

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It is a privilege that I was allowed to tell this story. I get to tell Gordie Lachance’s story as originally imagined by Stephen King, with all of the experience of having lived my whole adult life with the memory of spending three months in Gordie Lachance’s skin.

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Do You Know the Comics That Inspired These TV Adventures?

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Do You Know the Comics That Inspired These TV Adventures?

Welcome to Great Adaptations, the Book Review’s regular multiple-choice quiz about printed works that have gone on to find new life as movies, television shows, theatrical productions and more. This week’s challenge highlights offbeat television shows that began as comic books. Just tap or click your answers to the five questions below. And scroll down after you finish the last question for links to the comics and their screen versions.

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