Dan Steinberg (WaPo) devoted his Sports Blog to this the other day. I think it only comes by email (not blogged online), and I think it’s worth sharing here since she’s not known nationally, just Nationally. I wouldn’t normally post something in its entirety, but this is very good:
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Chelsea Janes, as you’ve heard, is leaving both the Nats beat and the Sports department to help The Post cover the 2020 presidential election. She wrote a “
Goodbye, for now” post, which ended like this:
It’s just a game — a heartbreaking, heartwarming, life-changing game that can mean as much to you as you let it. And please, never be shy to let it mean something to you.
The full post says pretty much everything that needs to be said. (
Read it.) But that's never stopped me from trying to say more. So here's a quick Q&A we did, before she jets off to Iowa Friday afternoon. (Really.) (This isn't a W.P. Kinsella bit; she's going there for political reasons.)
Chelsea was great in a million ways, but here’s the most important one: You never want to feel like the fans care more about a team than the beat writer does. And with Chelsea, that was impossible. Needless to say, our section, and our readers, will miss the heck out of her.
This is a kind of serious question to start with, but your farewell post — and a lot of your writing — doesn’t shy away from some of the sentimentality and earnestness that baseball prompts. “Never be shy to let it mean something to you,” and all that. How did you maintain those feelings after four years of such a grind? I feel like a lot of ball writers turn pretty cynical pretty quickly.
I think there were times in the last year when I had more trouble seeing the positives in everything. It was a tough year all around, as it always is when the team has high expectations and doesn’t meet them. In fact, the frequency with which I lacked my normal enthusiasm convinced me it was probably time to move on. I never wanted to get sick of baseball, and I didn’t.
But more generally, I think a lot of the sentimentality and earnestness was less a choice and more me realizing that I’m at my best when I’m being myself, and that includes tending toward the joy and appreciating the little things. I'm sure it didn’t always seem like it (cough, rain delays, cough), but I really do just love being around the field. I think that helped. And so did Boz. For generations, he’s told and shown people it’s okay to be excited, to just enjoy things for what they are. I know everyone has their personal preferences on writers and their approach to their work, but a good rule of thumb for me has always been, if Tom Boswell does it, it’s never a terrible idea.
What's the hardest part about being a beat writer?
The Grind (TM). It's grueling. The day-to-day, always-at-the-park stuff is tough, but I think where it really takes a toll is being on constant alert at all times, even when you’re not there. Other beats are like that, too, but I think the sheer number of moves and injuries and machinations that happen with a baseball team leaves you spinning your wheels constantly about what is happening or why something isn’t happening. I’ve written stories on my phone in the car, in the air, at restaurants, at a friend’s wedding, and so on. Constant vigilance.
Unfair question, but if I asked you what one moment from your time on the beat will stick with you the most . . . first thought?
The no-hitters. But that’s my initial thought and I might be wrong. Ugh. Also when the section below the press box sang to me. That was insane.
Favorite baseball player to interview? C’mon, they won’t read this.
Max Scherzer and Sean Doolittle. Scherzer legitimately would say to me “you can do better than that” on a question, or tell me when I had dropped below Dan Kolko in his beat reporter rankings, or listen to my theories and just point blank tell me I was wrong. It was great! And Doolittle is just a truly thoughtful human being who understands his role and navigates it well. I also loved interviewing Wilmer Difo. He’s hilarious.
How would you describe Nats fans, and why do you think you hit it off so well with them?
I think Nationals fans get it a whole lot more than people think they do. I think they understand the game. I think they're evolving. And I think they're tremendously loyal. Any former National that comes back gets roars, not even just cheers. Desmond and Zimmermann and Ramos and on and on and on — all of them came back to great receptions. I'm sure that loyalty will be tested if, say, hypothetically, that Harper guy signs with Philly. But I do think their loyalty is an underrated characteristic in a world where we often judge “good fan bases” by how willing they are to boo people when they do poorly, by how hard they can be on their own (See Philly, Boston, New York, etc.). Kind of a strange metric, no?
I'm not sure why I hit it off with Nationals fans so well, but I'm so glad I did. I think that probably says a lot more about them than it does about me. They're open-minded. They put up with my puns. And I hope they could tell I genuinely cared about what I was doing. I'll always think so fondly of that community.
What do you think you’ll miss most?
I’m not sure. I’m hours from a flight to Omaha, which apparently is 10 minutes from Iowa, not packed, not showered, and largely overwhelmed by the quick turnaround. But I think when the dust settles I’ll miss that community most, the knowing everyone and sharing experiences year after year with people in the team and out. The bonds of a shared emotional history like that are pretty strong. Everyone who follows a baseball team regularly is sort of in the chaos together. And I was lucky enough to be in the chaos with some special people, inside the press box and out.
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I think that's a good way to put it. I imagine you can get a similar feeling from spending a campaign with other reporters and aides who are in that even grander chaos together, but I imagine the connection to readers must be at least a little bit different on the political side, for obvious reasons. Either way, we’ll all be following her work. Starting tonight, apparently.
Anyhow, you all remain stuck with the rest of us, for now, but you can send your farewells to Chelsea
via here and your mean messages to me
via here, and I’ll be back here and not in Iowa on Monday.
— Dan Steinberg