Coupeville Sports

They call me Mr. Graves!!

The Man (left), back in the days of the ‘stache.

Well sweet son of a goat-lickin’ whore, what am I supposed to do now?

Since I launched this web site, I have taken great delight in being snarky about the Whidbey Island newspapers as they languish in captivity, held prisoner by Canadian Corporate Overlords who sit in Moosejaw eatin’ gold-plated truffles and merrily erasing three years of my bylines and not givin’ a crap.

And today?

Today I still feel the same way. Mostly.

I am still not Vincent Nattress and I still want my bylines back. I still believe I am doing a better job covering Central Whidbey sports than all three papers combined.

I am faster. My coverage goes deeper. I not only drink your milkshake — your glass was drained empty four months back.

I am still irrationally, sanctimoniously ticked that the Examiner, the last independent, truly local paper, was sold to a media Godzilla to just be another cog in a 250-paper portfolio.

But today, the Canadian Corporate Overlords went and hired Keven R. Graves, one of my mentors, to return to Whidbey and run the News-Times, Examiner and Record as Publisher.

This is a giant of a man. A man who shot me in the head with rubber bands in the News-Times newsroom until I couldn’t feel my forehead. A man who pulled my not-going-to-college butt through the frequent fires I lit as I explored professional journalism as a slack-jawed yokel.

The man who founded the Examiner and let me write a weekly video column for 15 years.

The man, who, with former News-Times editor Fred Obee and photographer/EMT/rumored swimsuit model Geoff Newton, forms a part of the holy trio of men who represent what a newspaperman is supposed to be.

How can I be snarky to him?

Frankly, it was easier, much easier, to chafe Kasia Pierzga all these years, first at the Examiner, then in the months since I threw a hissy fit and took my words to a new location.

Kasia is a true professional and she put up with way too much whining, bitching, and assorted David-being-an-idiot antics over the years. And it’s not that I don’t respect her, because I do, and I wish her well in her new job.

But Kev, Kevvy, the Kevster, Mr. Graves, was and is, one of my idols.

As an 18-year old freelancer who somehow became a 21-year old sports editor of a twice-weekly paper — back when that paper still mattered (ooh, rib shot!) — Keven was larger-than-life to me. Easy to approach, a fountain of info and a man deeply committed to the belief that newspapers were more than just ink and paper, he presented, without trying too hard, an image of the writer I wanted to be.

Of course, along the way, I learned to be a royal pain in the ass to editors, the guy who chafed editorial but they put up with because I never, ever missed a deadline. I left the News-Times and came back and then left again.

I have never trod the straight journalism path that Keven and Kasia have. I have opted more for the Hunter S. Thompson route, minus most of the notoriety, drugs and alcohol and all the money.

It is what is.

But I like what I’m doing right now, publishing at 2 AM and writing features about the kids who never see their names in the Canadian-funded papers and never again having an argument over whether I can use the word stud.

Underneath it all, I still firmly believe I am at war with the Canucks and their filthy money. They need to give us our papers back and return to Manitoba or Saskatchewan or wherever their home is (I did not do well at geography…) and I intend to keep kicking their fannies.

But, with all my snarkiness, it has never been personal (though I’m sure some people read it that way) against Kasia, or Jim Waller (my high school journalism teacher, for crying out loud! I don’t have a bad word to say about the man!) or the other people who write for the Whidbey papers.

It’s a fine line, I realize. One I crash over every day.

And now The Man returns and how can I be snarky to one of my idols?

Oh, I’ll find a way, I’m sure. He wouldn’t expect anything less.