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Yaqub Talib, Brother of Former N.F.L. Star, Killed Youth Coach, Police Say

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Yaqub Talib, Brother of Former N.F.L. Star, Killed Youth Coach, Police Say

A brother of the previous N.F.L. cornerback Aqib Talib is dealing with a homicide cost after he fatally shot a youth soccer coach throughout an argument at a recreation in Lancaster, Texas, final weekend, the authorities mentioned.

Mr. Talib’s brother Yaqub S. Talib, 39, turned himself in on the Dallas County Jail on Monday, after a warrant charging him with homicide was issued, in accordance an announcement from the Lancaster Police Division.

The police mentioned that at 8:50 p.m. Saturday, officers responded to a capturing at a neighborhood park in Lancaster, which is lower than 20 miles south of downtown Dallas. There, they discovered Michael Hickmon, of Lancaster, the coach of the Dragons Elite Academy, who had been shot in his chest, again and forearm, they mentioned.

Mr. Hickmon, 43, was taken to Methodist Central Hospital the place he was pronounced useless, the police mentioned.

It’s unclear what particularly led to the capturing, however based on the police, a number of witnesses mentioned that there had been a disagreement between the opposing teaching staffs of the Dragons Elite Academy and the staff it was taking part in, the North Dallas United Bobcats, “over calls made by the officiating crew.”

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In line with the police, witnesses mentioned that the disagreement became a combat, and Mr. Talib pulled out a black semiautomatic handgun and shot Mr. Hickmon “a number of occasions.” Mr. Talib then acquired in an unidentified automobile and fled, the police mentioned.

Credit score…Dallas County Sheriff’s Division, by way of Related Press

No different accidents had been reported, they mentioned, including that the circumstances main as much as the capturing remained below investigation. The police declined to remark additional.

On the day of the capturing, Mr. Hickmon had been teaching a staff of 9-year-olds, mentioned Michael Freeman, the president of the 9U division of the Dragons staff. Mr. Freeman mentioned that following a disagreement between the Bobcats and the referees, the sport had been referred to as off.

Mr. Hickmon had crossed the sphere to retrieve the soccer, which somebody kicked, resulting in a “scuffle,” based on Mr. Freeman. “That’s when the younger man pulled his weapon out,” he mentioned, including that he believed he had heard about 5 pictures.

“I used to be previous shocked; it simply didn’t make sense to me why or how it will escalate that quick,” Mr. Freeman mentioned.

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He mentioned that most of the youngsters who had witnessed the capturing had been now receiving counseling. “All people is attempting to remain collectively and assist one another.”

Mr. Freeman mentioned that Aqib Talib, the retired N.F.L. participant, additionally coaches for the Bobcats and was current at Saturday’s recreation. The 36-year-old retired cornerback is a five-time Professional Bowler and Tremendous Bowl champion with the Denver Broncos who retired in 2020 after 12 seasons. He just lately joined Amazon TV’s “Thursday Evening Soccer” as an analyst.

On Thursday, Yaqub Talib’s lawyer, Clark Birdsall, mentioned that his shopper remained in jail, awaiting a bond listening to. He mentioned that he had interviewed greater than 10 witnesses, and believed that the argument had been instigated by Mr. Hickmon.

“Yaqub Talib acted in self-defense and protection of others,” Mr. Birdsall mentioned. “My shopper will not be responsible. He seems to be ahead to the day when he can have his day in courtroom.”

Efforts to achieve Aqib Talib for touch upon Thursday weren’t instantly profitable.

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Tevar Watson, the proprietor of the Bobcats, mentioned that he had not witnessed the capturing. “He was father and he was an actual get up man,” Mr. Watson mentioned of Mr. Hickmon. “There’s no place in youth sports activities for anybody to lose their life.”

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Koreen: Let's make NBA teams defend without fouling to finish a game

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Koreen: Let's make NBA teams defend without fouling to finish a game

On Monday night, Oklahoma City Thunder center Chet Holmgren knocked down two free throws with 9.4 seconds remaining in Game 4 against the Dallas Mavericks. They were huge makes, bringing the Thunder closer to evening the series.

The Mavericks had no timeouts left. They had to rush up the court to get themselves back in the game. At that point, fans should have been wondering if they were about to witness a signature playoff moment. Would Luka Dončić shake off a rough night and lift his team? Would Kyrie Irving add to his formidable highlight reel of awesome playoff moments? Would Shai Gilgeous-Alexander strip someone in the backcourt, wrapping up a huge night for him? Would Holmgren come charging out to the 3-point arc off a switch and send a shot into the Dallas night?

Instead, as the Mavericks moved the ball around to create a good look, Gilgeous-Alexander intentionally fouled P.J. Washington. The Thunder were leading by three points. It was the right move. Giving up a maximum of two points when leading by three made sense with so little time remaining. The Dallas forward split a pair of free throws with 3.2 seconds left, Gilgeous-Alexander hit both of his at the other end and that was that. Thunder win.

Pretty anticlimactic, no?


(Tim Heitman / Getty Images)

Casual NBA viewers often criticize the ends of games for taking too long. Those complaints are justified, and the league has addressed them in part. Before the 2017-18 season, the NBA changed its rules to limit teams to two timeouts in the final three minutes of games instead of three timeouts in the final two minutes, as it had been previously.

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Well, here’s another problem: In the situation the Thunder faced Monday night, teams are not encouraged to defend without fouling. Free throws are among the least interesting and most time-consuming parts of basketball, and the nature of the rule is leading to more of them, not fewer. Worst of all, it is robbing viewers of potentially iconic moments.

Let’s change the rules, then. Here are two proposals.

1. If your opponent is in the bonus and you are winning by three points or more and you foul your opponent beyond the 3-point arc, your opponent gets three free throws.

2. In the same scenario, there is an extension of the current “take foul” rule, with the trailing/fouled team getting an automatic free throw and possession. This is my preferred option.

It might seem counter-intuitive to use the threat of more free throws to cut down on the number of free throws late in a game, but the free throw is the most efficient shot in the game. In the first proposal, a team would give the opponent a chance to tie the game at the free-throw line. In the second, it could set up a scenario in which the opponent could win with a made free throw followed by a made 3 (or tying it with a made free throw and a 2). No team is going to pursue those options purposefully.

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There are potential loopholes, which I will get to in a moment. The current rules encourage players and coaches to consider three scenarios that all defy the spirit of the game.

1. Prioritizing fouling over playing defense without fouling. It makes for an interesting philosophical debate, but anything that moves away from settling the game while the clock is running is not optimal.

2. If the trailing team thinks an opponent is trying to foul, its players might try to rise up for an unnatural shot while the leading team attempts to deploy the strategy. That is just another way of trying to bait the referees into a foul call with unnatural shot attempts, an activity the league is actively trying to curb.

3. If, when trailing by three in the final seconds, a player hits the first of two free throws, he is then encouraged to try to miss the next one in a way that maximizes the possibility of an offensive rebound that produces another field goal attempt. Why do we have a system that promotes missing a shot on purpose? (On Monday, Washington missed the first free throw. Instead of trying to miss the second one to generate an offensive rebound and potential game-tying 3-point attempt, he made it.)

There are counters here, and I am not claiming that either of the above proposals would be a perfect solution. Most notably, teams have 47 minutes and 36 seconds to avoid trailing by three points with the shot clock turned off. Speaking of free throws, the Mavericks missed 11 of their 23 attempts on Monday. The Thunder fouling Washington was not the primary reason Dallas lost.

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Additionally, what about the team that is leading? That team is intentionally fouled more often than the trailing team to extend the competitive portion of the game. Well, the second part of that sentence is the crucial bit, isn’t it? I have no problem with a rule that applies to one team but not the other given the specificity of the scenario.

Finally, such a rule could encourage another type of grifting: a player for the trailing team creating unnatural contact to obtain the advantage afforded by yet another rule designed to help the team with the ball. That would just be exchanging one form of grifting for another, though. It is not a net gain in referee deception.

There would naturally be other unintended consequences of any such rule change. I’m all for sniffing them out and trying to make the best rule possible. What I do know: Every basketball fan has a few buzzer-beating or last-second shots they will never forget. If anyone has a similar list of “best uses of a take foul to maintain a lead,” I’ve yet to meet them. I don’t really want to, either.

(Top Photo of Luka Dončić after a late-game foul: Tim Heitman / Getty Images)

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Can MLB save the starting pitcher? The search for solutions to baseball's 'existential crisis'

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Can MLB save the starting pitcher? The search for solutions to baseball's 'existential crisis'

Who’s pitching tonight?

For 100 years, that wasn’t just a casual question. It was the question that defined baseball.

The answer always had a chance to give you goosebumps. Maybe it was Tom Seaver versus Steve Carlton. Maybe it was Sandy Koufax versus Bob Gibson. Maybe it was Pedro Martinez versus Randy Johnson.

They weren’t just a reason to watch. They were the reason to watch. They threw the first pitch of the game. They often stuck around to throw the last pitch of the game. When the stars hold the ball in their hands 100 times a game, from the first minute of a game to the last, that’s where so much of the magic comes from. But now, those nights of pitchers’ duel magic are slipping away.

Ten active major-league starting pitchers have won a Cy Young Award — and nine of them have spent time on the injured list in 2024. The only exception: Baltimore’s Corbin Burnes. But no need to remind you of all the aces who aren’t healthy enough to ace. There are larger forces at work here that are just as big a concern for the people who chart the future of this sport.

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The issue is not only the health of the modern starting pitcher, but the role those starters play in the sport these days. Those two things are also connected. Here’s only one recent example:

May 6, Wrigley Field. San Diego Padres versus Chicago Cubs. Theoretically, this was one of those pitching matchups to savor: Yu Darvish, onetime Cubs ace, starting for the Padres versus Justin Steele, a 2023 All-Star and the Cubs’ 2024 Opening Day starter. But was it the stuff of goosebumps? No. The score at the end of five innings was 0-0. Both starting pitchers had allowed only three hits apiece … and, naturally, neither of them was still in the game. Seven relievers ate up the last 25 outs. Just another slice of baseball life in 2024.

True, both starters had spent time on the injured list this season, so they were being handled carefully. But those injuries — and how teams respond to them — are part of a crisis that seems to loom larger over baseball every year.

Should Major League Baseball sit back and let starting pitchers practically disappear? Should it let them recede in prominence, giving  away the essential entertainment value they’ve provided for the last century? Or should it act? Should the league step in to halt this trend the way it stepped in only one year ago, when it introduced a pitch clock before the sport arrived at a place where every game dragged toward a midnight finish?

“I think everybody agrees,” says Texas Rangers ace Max Scherzer, a three-time Cy Young winner currently working his way back from (what else?) another injury. “You’ve got to get the starting pitcher back. From an entertainment standpoint, people watch the matchups. That’s a big part of baseball. If you don’t have that matchup, every day is the same.”

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Once every day becomes the same, is that when your sport is officially in trouble? Maybe that feels like a question for another day, another season. Except that in reporting this story, The Athletic talked with three longtime baseball executives who used the term “existential crisis” to describe the state of starting pitching.

When one of those executives was asked, as a follow-up question, if he honestly believed that term reflected the depth of this problem, he replied, pointedly: “I do. I think the game is totally broken from that standpoint.”

What could baseball do?

Let’s draw a football analogy. Suppose the analytics gurus in the NFL suddenly decided the best way to win a game was Quarterback by Committee … so every team rolled out four quarterbacks and Patrick Mahomes might never throw a pass in the fourth quarter of any game. How fast do you think that league would change its rules?

“It would outlaw that in about six minutes,” said one of the baseball executives interviewed for this story. All of them were granted anonymity so they could speak candidly about an issue viewed as especially sensitive in their sport.

But in baseball, the league has largely stayed out of the way as teams’ analytics departments took the sport down a similar road: Overload the roster with eight relief pitchers who can throw a baseball 98 miles per hour. Then stop waiting around for the starting pitcher to get tired. Get him out of the game and cue the parade of fireballers out of the bullpen.

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The data may show that approach is the most efficient way to get outs. But the best baseball strategy isn’t always the best entertainment strategy. Inside most front offices, that’s not a major concern. But in reporting this story, The Athletic did find a few executives willing to ask why more of their front-office peers weren’t more worried about this trend.

“For the industry, it doesn’t have to be that way,” said one of them. “Can we take a step back and look at our sport from 20,000 feet?”

The league proved, with its rule changes a year ago, that it can act when it sees a crisis approaching. But has the starting pitcher crisis risen to that level? MLB officials declined to comment for this story. However, industry sources tell The Athletic that while the league views  this issue as a priority, it is still gathering information, via an extensive study of pitching injuries. So it is likely years away from taking action. And even then, some of those changes would need to be phased in over several years, because the repercussions would trickle down all the way to youth baseball, where the health of young arms is also a growing concern.

In the meantime, however, the brainstorming has already  begun. What rule changes could the league consider to help keep pitchers healthier and restore the prominence of the starter? The Athletic has spent the past few months collecting ideas proposed by executives, players and coaching staffs.

They all would address this issue. But they also were all met by so much fierce debate that it illustrated the challenge the league would face to get everyone on board with any of them.

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“I think that’s why it’s hard,” said one American League exec. “There are no easy answers. If it were just one thing that we could easily turn a dial … there wouldn’t be a lot of really smart people at the club and league level trying to work on this. But it’s very complicated.”

Here are four potential rule changes you could see someday.

New rule idea: Every starter has to go six innings

Last year, the length of the average major-league start plunged to an all-time low: 15 outs (or five innings) per start. Not even starting pitchers themselves think that’s anything to brag about. So here’s a goal some in the sport would love to shoot for:

How about the starter goes six (or more) in almost every game — barring extenuating circumstances? Is that doable? Why not? That used to happen, you know, and not 100 years ago.

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Even 10 years ago, as you can see in the graph above, the percentage of starters who made it through six innings wasn’t that dramatically different from what we saw  in the 1970s, a pitching era so golden that it produced 10 Hall of Fame starting pitchers. It’s only in the last five or six seasons that it began to change so significantly. So would it be outrageous to require that every starter get back to that six-inning standard — barring injuries, 10-run blowups, inflated pitch counts or other exceptions that could be negotiated later?

Why “require” it? Ultimately, the league might not push in this direction. But here’s why it might: The best rule changes are the simplest. So instead of a more subtle rule that the league might hope would lead to longer starts, it would take its best, simplest shot and just say: This is now the rule.

What would the penalty be? What would happen if a manager hooked their starter before six — and that starter didn’t meet any of those extenuating  circumstances? Good question. The league could say that pitcher had to be placed on the injured list. It could also impose discipline, via fines or suspensions.

Or what about a case like that Yu Darvish-Justin Steele game, in which both starters were being handled more cautiously as they built back from a previous injury? Sorry. The league probably would say that pitcher should still be on the IL working his way back on a minor-league rehab option.

Who would complain? Relief pitchers, obviously, would grumble about almost all of these ideas because this would dramatically change their job description — even if that’s the whole point. But almost every analytically inclined front office would complain just as loudly.

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Why, they’d ask, should their teams be forced to push their fifth starter through the sixth inning when they have five unhittable relievers who could rescue him? And how can anyone be sure, they’d wonder, that even those fifth starters would be on board with this?

“It’s really hard to force pitchers to start and go (six innings),” said one exec, “because in my opinion, you’re going to get into all sorts of situations where you ask: Is someone faking an injury? How do they feel? Even if they’re not hurt, they might think: ‘They forced me to stay out there when I wasn’t effective and then I got hurt.’”

So it’s possible, even likely, that a rule requiring six-inning starts would be so harsh, it would gain very little support. If that’s the case, the league could pivot to rules that simply incentivize teams to push their starters deeper into a game. There are several options. Here’s one we’ve written about before.

New rule idea: The “Double Hook”

Unlike most of these ideas, the Double Hook already exists. The independent Atlantic League, a longtime testing ground for MLB rule changes, first experimented with this rule in 2018. Back then, here’s how it worked: When your starting pitcher leaves the game, your designated hitter also has to leave the game (or, at least, go play a position).

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But after teams complained, the Atlantic League began tinkering. So by 2023, it used this version: If your starting pitcher leaves the game before the end of the fifth inning, only then does your DH have to leave with him.

What was wrong with the original rule? Would any team really prefer a rule that would keep its best hitter from ever coming to the plate late in a game? Think about all those dramatic walk-off October home runs David Ortiz once hit as the Red Sox DH. It will answer that question.

Why might the Double Hook actually work? You would be surprised by how many people in baseball like this rule. If the idea is to incentivize (but not require) keeping a starting pitcher in the game, what works better than this? Leave your pitcher out there or bench one of your most dangerous hitters? The concept is brilliantly simple.

Who likes it? Some of the most prominent starting pitchers in baseball — Scherzer, Justin Verlander and Adam Wainwright, among others — have been the Double Hook’s biggest public fans. But more front-office minds also seem open to this concept than many others they’ve heard.

“I have been in favor of the Double Hook for a while,” a National League executive said. “I think it would be interesting to have. It adds an extra element of strategy into the game for managers to think about, gives them another decision they have to make in-game, which I don’t think is a bad thing in general.”

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Who hates it? The Designated Hitters of North America aren’t sold, for one thing. And one AL executive spoke for his fellow front-office critics when he called it “one of the worst ideas I’ve ever heard.”

“We want close games, right?” that exec said. “We don’t want blowouts. And if you’ve got the Double Hook, you’re going to have a boatload of blowouts. (If you lose your DH) you’re playing a man short, basically, like a soccer team with a player on a red card. Or you attempt to not play a man short, and the game gets out of hand because you’re trying to leave the starter in there for that extra hitter. Then that turns into three or four or five runs, and now you’re done.”

So is there an alternative to the alternative? At this point, everything is on the table. Scherzer, for one, sees no limit to possible incentives you could dangle to keep starters in the game.

“You could sit there and say: You get a free substitution,” Scherzer said. “You could pinch run for a catcher. You could make an instantaneous defensive replacement for an inning, you know what I mean? Keep upping the ante, if the starter goes out and does his job, how much extra stuff would you get as a benefit? So the idea would be if you pull your starter, you’re going to lose a ball game because you pulled your starter early.”


Of the ten active major-league starting pitchers who have won a Cy Young Award, all but the Orioles’ Corbin Burnes have spent time on the injured list in 2024. (Patrick Smith / Getty Images)

New rule idea: No more than 11 pitchers on the roster

Roster limits are another idea that has been tossed out there publicly, even by commissioner Rob Manfred. Two decades ago, teams got along fine with five- or six-man bullpens. So if those in-game rule changes don’t catch on, roster limits might move to the front of MLB’s line.

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How would roster limits help starters? With eight relievers hanging out in your bullpen, what would stop a team from using four, five or even six a night? But if the league gradually drops the maximum number of relievers to seven, then six, then possibly even five, the value of a six-inning start — or longer — would skyrocket.

Why do front offices hate this? Many front offices think forcing fewer pitchers to bear the burden of so many innings is a recipe for even more injuries. And this furious debate sums up why there is so much disagreement over how to address this entire pitching crisis.

“There are people on one side of this,” one skeptical executive said, “who want to have less pitchers, make them pitch more … and I just don’t understand how that’s going to work. To me, rested pitchers are probably healthier pitchers. So our positions are totally misaligned with each other. And I’m not sure how to resolve this because we’re not seeing eye to eye at all.”

So why might it still make sense? The small group on the other side sees this so differently. Too many teams, one of those executives said, are ignoring the ripple effects of regularly pulling starters for a fresh reliever at the first opportunity, then mixing and matching relievers every time the data says so.

“You’re not just playing one game,” that exec said. “And you’re not just playing one inning. There are consequences. And the consequences are that you’re going to fry your bullpen by mid-summer, let alone September and October.”

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New rule idea: Outlaw the sweeper 

Why are so many aces getting hurt? It’s a complicated problem, but let’s think it through.

If you’re a dominating starting pitcher in this era, it probably means you throw harder than the average pitcher. You create more spin and movement than the average pitcher. And you probably have some dominant pitch — or more than one — that most other pitchers can’t throw, or you just added one.

Now draw up the factors most injury experts point to as most likely to cause catastrophic arm injuries: Velocity … check. Spin … check. Throwing pitches that cause the most stress on the human arm … check.

So would MLB be out of line to make it illegal to throw one of those pitches it viewed as hazardous to pitchers’ health? Could it possibly act to ban a pitch like the sweeper, which has been identified as a source of undue stress on the elbow? That may sound radical, but what if MLB’s study of pitcher health recommends the league wipe out dangerous pitches the way it banned home-plate collisions a few years back?

Why a sweeper ban isn’t as extreme as it sounds: One executive said he wouldn’t be shocked if the league actually did ban a pitch or two someday.

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“What if they came to the conclusion, empirically, that the sweeper is a dangerous pitch, and it’s leading to a lot of pitching injuries?” he mused. “To me, it’s not crazy that (MLB) would consider outlawing it, because there’s lots of dangerous behavior that is not allowed on the field because it leads to injuries.”

Could the league even target high velocity? If the league is so concerned with pitches it views as dangerous, could it even look to tone down velocity itself? If it can’t agree on other changes that would force pitchers to take their foot off the gas in order to go deeper into games, one idea that has made the rounds is this shocker: Make it illegal to throw any pitch over 94 mph.

Don’t bet on that one happening. But a subtle element of many of these ideas is to motivate pitchers to pitch at less than max velocity. And that’s a volatile topic unto itself.

We mentioned to one pitcher we spoke with that rule changes are being discussed that would incentivize, or even require, pitchers not to throw every pitch at max velocity. He was borderline livid at that whole idea.

“That would be like telling an NFL running back not to run as fast as he can on every run,” he said. “That’s ignoring the competitive side of it.”

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He’ll be heartened to know that many baseball executives agree.

“I don’t know what incentive structure we can create,” said one of those execs, “that’s going to actually convince athletes to not try and throw as hard as they can. Because they know with certainty that they will be better pitchers, even for a short amount of time, if they do throw hard.”

He’s not wrong. But is it time for MLB to step in anyway? Is it time for Manfred to tell all those pitchers: We feel your pain — literally. But we can’t let you do it that way anymore because this injury rate is just not sustainable?

In a sport that has always been slow to change, it’s easy to find people who would tell the commissioner: Please stay out of this. But remember that term, “existential crisis”? One executive who used those words says it’s time to heed them. This latest rash of pitching injuries represents more than just bad luck, he said.  It’s a warning siren begging everyone to act.

“What if it gets worse?” that exec wondered. “It’s easy to say everything’s fine, and it’s all fun and games, until you look up and the product is truly horrible because no one has enough pitching. So it’s going to take someone to say, ‘All right, listen, guys. We can keep lying to ourselves, but this sport is broken. And we have to change it.’”

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Additional reading

  • People in the industry came up with solutions for baseball’s starting pitching “existential crisis.” Some of them are extreme.
  • Justin Verlander and Max Scherzer, two of the sport’s most prominent pitchers, weigh in on the crisis.

 (Top image: Eamonn Dalton / The Athletic; Photos: J. Conrad Williams, Jr./Newsday RM via Getty Images; Matthew Grimes Jr. / Atlanta Braves via Getty Images)

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Remembering ESPN's Chris Mortensen, who changed how the NFL is covered

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Remembering ESPN's Chris Mortensen, who changed how the NFL is covered

The phone call Adam Schefter always feared came on his first Sunday at home in five months. It was early March, and ESPN’s senior NFL reporter had recently flown back from Indianapolis after a week at the scouting combine. He was about to sit down for breakfast with his family when his cell buzzed.

It was his boss, Seth Markman.

“We lost him,” was all Markman could muster.

For years, Schefter had known the call might come — when your close friend and colleague is diagnosed with Stage 4 throat cancer at age 64, you prepare for the worst. There were a few times in 2020, and a few more in 2022, when Schefter thought to himself, This might be it. But Chris Mortensen always pulled though.

“A tough son of a bitch,” Markman said.

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“He fought for every single day he got,” adds Daniel Jeremiah of NFL Network.

When Mort first revealed his diagnosis to Schefter, over email in 2016, he begged his pal to keep it quiet for a few days — Mort’s son, Alex, was about to coach in college football’s national championship game, and he didn’t want to spoil his moment. Mort was always more worried about what this would do to his wife, Micki, than the grueling treatment ahead. “Micki is really struggling,” he closed the email. “I’m still going to be a jackass.”

He never let on how draining it was: the chemo, the radiation that left burns all over his neck, the IV regimen that sapped his strength but not his spirit. He dropped weight. He lost hair. His voice faded. When friends would ask how he was doing, he’d shrug them off. “I’m fine, I’m good,” Mort would tell them. “I’m dealing with it.”

He worked about as long as he could. At the 2023 draft, Mort’s last at ESPN, he had to use a spray bottle to wet his mouth between segments. His saliva glands had stopped working.

He retired. He spent last fall watching Alex call plays as UAB’s offensive coordinator. His friends thought he was doing fine, all things considered. Schefter called him from the combine this year after finding out one of Schefter’s five dogs, Benny, had been diagnosed with lung cancer. Mort consoled him, never mentioning how he was feeling. It was the last time the two spoke.

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“He sounded better, like things were going the right way,” Schefter says.

Adds ESPN colleague Mel Kiper, Jr., “Nobody was prepared for it to happen now.”

Mort spent the night before he died at home on his horse farm in Arkansas watching football drills and TV coverage of the combine, cracking jokes on text threads.

Jeremiah got the news during a commercial break the next day, then broke down when Rich Eisen asked him about it on the air. The man who’d jumpstarted his career — “None of it happens without him,” he says — was gone. With tears in his eyes, Jeremiah tried to settle himself.

“Mort would’ve punched me in the face if I didn’t finish that broadcast right,” he says.

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A few hours later, Schefter’s phone buzzed again. It was John Walsh, a longtime ESPN executive. “I want you to know how much Mort pushed you for this job,” Walsh told him.

“I know, John, I know,” Schefter said.

“No, I don’t think you really do,” Walsh followed. “You wouldn’t be at ESPN if not for Mort.”

Two months later, Schefter is in his office, staring at a picture of him and Mort from a Super Bowl a few years back.

“I miss him making me laugh,” Schefter says. “I don’t laugh as much without him.

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“I just …”

He pauses. He sighs.

“I just cannot believe he’s not here.”


Adam Schefter (left) was hired at ESPN in large part because of Chris Mortensen, and the two grew close over the years. (Courtesy of ESPN)

They didn’t come for the reporter. They came for the man.

Former head coaches. Current general managers. Hundreds of ESPN colleagues who overlapped with Mortensen during his 32-year run at the network — Adrian Wojnarowski even flew in during the NBA playoffs — descended on a small Arkansas town last week to remember one of the most influential reporters in NFL history.

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But they didn’t tell stories about what he did. They told stories about who he was.

Mort was a prankster, the coworker who always made the room feel lighter. In all his years at ESPN, nobody gave Chris Berman more grief. Once, when the network’s new fantasy football expert, Matthew Berry, walked into the room to watch his first Sunday slate of games with the group, Mort piped up. “Why don’t you sit here, Matthew?” he said, guiding Berry to a spot in the front row. What Berry didn’t know: The seat belonged to Berman, every Sunday, no questions asked. And Berman hated fantasy football. “Still does,” Schefter says.

A minute later, Berman entered, looked around the room and saw the fantasy football guy parked in his seat.

“You’re in the wrong chair,” he bellowed.

Mort and the rest of the room burst into laughter.

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(For years, Berry named his fantasy team “The Wrong Chair.”)

After Berman’s daughter, Meredith, was diagnosed with tongue cancer a few years back, Mort became her sounding board. A rapport developed, two patients slogging through treatment, venting for hours on the phone. One would make it. One wouldn’t. “He was a rock for her,” Berman says, “and probably on some days when he was suffering terribly.”

He was selfless. When Markman was recruiting Schefter to ESPN in 2009, his bosses were on board — as long as Mort was on board. At the time, Mort was ESPN’s chief NFL reporter, the face of the network’s coverage for two decades running.

One Sunday morning, Markman nervously made his way to the green room, worried that Mort might squash the idea entirely. “He had that kind of power,” Markman remembers.

“I’m gonna be honest,” he told Mort, “it’s gonna cut into your screen time quite a bit.”

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Mort didn’t hesitate.

“Seth, if we can get Adam Schefter, you get him,” he said. “Less of me on TV is a good thing.”

Markman laughs, reliving the story 15 years later.

“Are you kidding me?” he says. “Less of me is a good thing? Nobody in this industry says that.”

Mort and Schefter grew incredibly tight. And as Mort’s health deteriorated following his diagnosis, and as Schefter climbed into the top chair, Mort coached him behind the scenes.

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“That sort of thing never happens,” says Bryan Curtis, who writes about sports media for The Ringer. “People who get to that level are very, very competitive, and in almost every instance, it doesn’t work. This did. And it allowed ESPN to own NFL scoops for 10 years.”

Mort was the best kind of mentor. When Jeremiah was still in college, he walked into his parents’ living room one afternoon and wondered why the guy from ESPN was sitting on the couch. It was January 1998, a week before the Broncos played the Packers in the Super Bowl in San Diego, and Mort was in town to cover the game. He’d attended a church service hosted by Jeremiah’s father, David, and stopped by for lunch afterward.

Daniel was a 21-year-old quarterback at Appalachian State with dreams of getting into broadcasting.

“Well, I’ve got an interview with Reggie White tomorrow, would you wanna come with me?” Mort asked him.

“This was literally the first time I met him,” Jeremiah remembers. “I was like, ‘Reggie White! Are you kidding me?’”

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After that interview wrapped, Mort urged him to tag along at media day later in the week. A year later, he was sitting next to Mort at the NFL Draft in New York City, answering his phones and jotting down notes from GMs. A year later, Mort introduced him to Jay Rothman, who produced “Sunday Night Football.” Jeremiah had his first full-time job.

“All because of Mort,” he says.

A few years later, after Jeremiah spent time scouting for the Ravens and Browns, it was Mort who pushed him to jump on this new social media platform called Twitter and dissect draft prospects. Mort would routinely urge his followers to check out @MoveTheSticks, and each time he did Jeremiah would pick up thousands of new followers.

Jeremiah just wrapped his sixth draft as NFL Network’s lead analyst, and his first without a tradition he’d come to cherish: a meeting with Mort the morning before the first round. They’d done it every year dating to 2000, when he was just a grunt answering phones and scribbling down notes.

“It was so weird not having him there,” Jeremiah says. “That man is literally the reason I’m in the seat I am in.”

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Mortensen was a prankster, a coworker who always lightened the mood of a room. (Courtesy of ESPN)

Chris Mortensen wasn’t the first football scribe to make the jump to TV full-time — that distinction belongs to Will McDonough — but, after joining ESPN in 1991, he became the most prominent, a pioneer of what’s become ubiquitous today: the insider.

“If Will McDonough created the role of NFL insider,” Curtis says, “then Mort refined it, sped it up and brought it into the era of cable TV.”

Still, back then some saw it as a risky move. ESPN wasn’t yet a sports media juggernaut, and newspaper beat writers still carried considerable weight. So did Sports Illustrated.

“The other writers used to make fun of their brethren when they moved to TV,” says Chip Namias, a former PR director for the Dolphins, Oilers and Bucs. “They’d say, ‘Oh, you’re a pretty boy now? Being a newspaper guy isn’t good enough for you?’ When Mort made that jump, it was a gamble.”

It paid off — for him and ESPN. Mort brought with him the reporting chops he’d honed at The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, The Sporting News and The National. Suddenly, he was everywhere: on “NFL Game Day,” which became “NFL Countdown,” which became “Sunday NFL Countdown.” As the league’s popularity boomed, Mort became one of the faces of the network.

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More than that, he became the pulse of the NFL.

Peyton Manning used to carve out a few minutes on Sunday mornings before kickoff, hoping to catch “The Mort Report” in the locker room, Mortensen’s weekly segment in which he’d dish all the morsels of info he’d gathered during the week. “QBs watched, GMs watched, coaches watched,” Manning says. “You had to watch. Mort knew who was getting fired before the people who were actually getting fired knew.”

Back when he was a Broncos beat writer for The Rocky Mountain News and later The Denver Post, Schefter would make sure he was in his hotel room, or next to a TV at the stadium, whenever Mort was on the air.

Curtis says during his AJ-C days, Mort began every conversation with a source the same way: “Tell me something I don’t know.” But more than merely breaking news, he loved to uncover the why behind a firing or the release of a player or a trade. That took time. And trust.

“He never blindsided you with anything,” says a longtime NFL PR director, Dan Edwards, who worked for the Steelers and Jaguars. “Mort was like a boy scout.”

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He was also ahead of his time. Mort was working even when he wasn’t. An example: in the early 2000s, he grew close with Archie Manning, patriarch of the most famous family in football. That led to trips down to Louisiana for the Manning Passing Academy each summer, where Mort befriended Peyton and Eli and also dozens of the top quarterback prospects in the country. “Mort was always five steps ahead of everyone else,” longtime NFL writer Peter King says. “By the time those kids got to the NFL, Mort had known them for 10 years.”

One year at camp, after a few coaches flew home early, Mort volunteered to run some drills. It was the last practice of the week, the one all the parents watch before picking up their sons. “My dad pulls up in the golf cart and sees Mort teaching these kids the three-step drop,” Peyton says, trying not to laugh. “Then he sees all the parents watching. Dad goes, ‘Well, this is it. This is officially the end of the Manning Passing Academy.’”


Peyton Manning (right), like many QBs, coaches and executives around the NFL, regularly watched “The Mort Report.” (Courtesy of the Manning Passing Academy).

Of all the star players Mort covered, he grew closest with Peyton Manning. In the winter of 2012, it was Mort who first warned the quarterback, coming off a fourth neck surgery: “Be ready, the Colts might be moving on.” They were words that might’ve seemed obvious to everyone else at the time but stung Manning nonetheless.

“Oh, wow,” the QB responded.

The two traded emails during Manning’s free agency tour a few months later. “He’d give me the lay of the land with each team, an unbiased opinion I needed,” Manning says. “I could confide in Mort. Mort could confide in me.”

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Four years later, after Manning helped the Broncos win Super Bowl 50, Mort broke the news of the QB’s retirement from a hospital in Atlanta. Manning had told him the day before, asking for one last night as an NFL quarterback. Mort vowed to hold the story until morning. Markman was up all night, fearing they’d get scooped.

“We won’t get beat,” Mort kept telling him.

“He wouldn’t break his word,” Markman says now. “And of course, he was right.”

Today, Manning keeps a folder in his email of all the notes Mort sent him over the years.

One came after his first preseason game as a Bronco. Manning had sent a select few — family, friends, Mort, that’s it — a clip of him hitting a receiver on an out route, then taking a nasty hit in the pocket. It was the sequence that told him he could still play in the NFL.

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“Super proud to see this,” Mort wrote back. “Enjoy this. You deserve it.”

On the job, Mort was a disciplined reporter — “the last of the old school guys,” Schefter calls him. He’d bicker with Markman, agitated over some of the segments they’d run on ESPN. Mort loathed hot takes. He’d grumble each time one of the NFL shows ran its “Safe or Out” segment, a debate about which NFL coaches were about to get fired. “These are human beings,” Mort argued. “We’re talking about people’s lives here.”

Kiper says whenever he’d get some shaky intel from a source, Mort would reach out. “We should talk,” he’d warn. “That was code for, ‘I’m hearing different,’” Kiper says.

Andrea Kremer remembers the way Mort welcomed her when she became ESPN’s first female reporter in the early 1990s. “It was always support, courtesy and respect,” she says. “This was a different time for women in the business, and when a coach or a GM sees Chris Mortensen treat you that way — as an equal — that gives you instant credibility.”

Mort’s influence was so immense, his Rolodex so envied, that at one point an NFL team actually hired him.

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In 1994, the expansion Jacksonville Jaguars lured Mortensen away from ESPN for a role as vice president on the personnel side. They wanted him to help build their football team. Mort accepted the gig, only to emotionally back out a few days later, mainly because Micki didn’t want to move to Jacksonville.

“When you think about it on the surface, the job made no sense,” says Pete Prisco, a longtime NFL writer who was then covering the Jags for The Florida Times-Union. “They thought because Mort had access to all this information around the league, they could use that. But the reality was nobody was going to tell him anything now that he worked for a team.”

Plus, Kremer points out, “Mort was always a reporter at heart.”

The lone stain on Mort’s Hall of Fame résumé — he received the Dick McCann award in Canton in 2016 — arrived a few years later, after his initial report of the Patriots’ use of underinflated footballs during the early days of the Deflategate scandal later proved inaccurate. The ire of New England’s fan base trailed him for years, and Mort, by then undergoing treatment for cancer, said he received death threats. He later acknowledged errors in his reporting.

“Nothing really got to him, but when you hear vicious things about your family, things that got overtly personal, anybody would be bothered by that,” Markman says. “It got pretty bad.”

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The tributes poured in after Mort passed away on March 3 at 72.

On his show, Dan Patrick told a story from his “SportsCenter” days. Mort had a scoop, and before running the story, the bosses wanted confirmation from another source. “We don’t need another source,” Patrick told them. “It’s Mort.”

“A GOAT,” Eisen called him on his show. “A trailblazer.”

Like Jeremiah, it hit Schefter hardest on draft weekend. For 15 years, they’d covered the event side-by-side. Now Mort wasn’t there.

“It was my honor,” Schefter says, “to sit next to one of the legendary figures in sports journalism for as long as I did.”

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ESPN paid tribute. Booger McFarland remembered the nerves that accompanied one of his early appearances on TV and the encouraging words that came from Mort after he finished. “You don’t know how much that meant to a guy just starting in this business,” McFarland said. Louis Riddick remembered all the meetings they sat in together. “If you were talking football, and Mort was nodding his head, that was affirmation you knew what you were talking about,” he said.

On his way into Detroit for this year’s draft, Schefter was talking with his driver, Sean Malone, about how weird it would be covering the event without Mort.

“God, I loved that guy,” Malone told him.

“We all did,” Schefter replied.

Then Malone shared his own Mort story. He’d driven him to and from the airport dozens of times, mostly for the draft. And each year, after it was finished, Mort would hand him a $100 bill and tell him and the other drivers to go out and enjoy a few beers on him.

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“No, no, no, I can’t take this,” Malone told him at first.

Mort wouldn’t hear it.

“Take it,” he said. “And send me a picture in a few hours so I know you guys are having a good time.”

So they did, year after year. It became a tradition.

Schefter heard that story and took the lesson to heart, one more assist from his mentor and friend. When Malone dropped Schefter off at the airport after the draft finished, Schefter handed Malone a $100 bill.

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“This is from Mort,” Schefter told him.

(Photo illustration: Dan Goldfarb / The Athletic; top photo courtesy of ESPN) 

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