The Boldest Conference Expansion Column Yet: I Don't Know Anything

Sit down and shut up, y'all. I'm the biggest sports fan I've ever known, so you're all in for a treat.

I know the reason you clicked on this column. You're doing a little soul searching and you need my once-in-a-generation skills to lead you through the newest American pastime: striving to look like the most important and well-connected person in the world (not new) by never leaving the house (say what?).

In the time it took you read the first two paragraphs, four more newspapers were infected with bankruptcy. By the time you finish reading this column, three will have lost their lives to this deadly disease. Scientists estimate that by 2015, every species of newspapers in the world will be extinct.

The same scientists estimate that 15 percent of this page's viewers will do a Google search sometime in the next 2 minutes in attempt of finding this study's full results.

If there's ever been a dangerous thing for humans to become involved in, it's news. News about your neighbors, news about your favorite celebrity or athlete and, for old time's sake, news about news. It all works the same way, by slowly engulfing you with the insatiable desire to not only know it, but to become the one telling others about it.

Back in the day, some people decided that if they made a profession out of this, they could have the ultimate power: the ability to make the news. Some people, even more obsessed with feeling important, became guidance counselors. 

But now, chances are you spend more time perfecting narcissism by managing your alter, digital persona every day than you spend reading a book for enjoyment in a month.

We do this because we're told, especially in journalism, if we don't, we'll hurt our career's potential and die alone and Facebook-friendless.

If you're still sidetracked trying to find that study I made up, it's possible you never noticed my failure thus far to even mention Conference Expansion. If you must know, it's because I can't think of anything new to say about it.

The ghosts of the newspaper sports columnist/reporter (the slash indicates how the old fogeys used to balance the responsibilities of the two) can't even haunt me because they never existed as far as the new world of sports reporting goes. Right now, we're to the point that if you haven't "reported" in the last 24 hours on what school is going to what conference and why you know it to be true in a day, you're already buried somewhere in Google's cellar, collecting dust. 

The weekly columnist that captivated Ward, Wally and the Beav in the morning paper comparatively would look like a lazy bum. 

"You mean to tell me he doesn't spend all day tweeting every stroke of inspiration just hoping someone will see it and decide they can't live without his writing in their life?"

Fogey Mcsportwriter's answer would be, "Of course not, who do you think I am? Some sort of amateur?"

The old man's right. Social media was inevitable, sure, but if there was one place we should have been kept it out of, sports was definitely it. Don't get me wrong, the sports section of old was filled with pompous, self important jerks, but we just read the results of their work; we didn't sit next to them at work every day. 

It's a simple truth: If you find your opinions on ball games to be so good that you think you could make a profession out of it, it's probable you spend a good portion of the day just thinking about how lucky the world is to have you aboard.

Take me for example. I'll watch a basketball game and proceed to write a 3,000+ word summary on what I took from it. Who do I think I am? A journalist, that's who. It's part of the job description to think that I'm really cool.

But, anymore, so is every other sports fan and thanks to new media, they can effectively cover sports without ever owning a fedora or stepping into a press box.

Some dead guy probably said once that a little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing. I'm guessing he said it after having a vision of post-Twitter America. 

Because we're all part of the media, which means standing out is near impossible, we made discussion on conference expansion completely unbearable. Everyone had a half-assed insider source or two (imagined or real) to fall back on (lie about) whenever credibility is called into question.

Since the media now includes the balding, college-dropout posing as an objective analyst whil still living vicariously through his schoo, and anyone can (and is encouraged to) let all of the sports "reporters" know just how much they suck, an attack on credibility was often met with more than a little insecurity.

And everyone knows the best way to mask insecurity is to pretend to be even more confident and dismissive—Old man, I introduce you to the message board reporter.

I've already stated that dedicating your time to reporting sports is a life-altering decision that condemns you to an eternity of self importance and delusion. But the fact that countless journalists, both of the traditional and digital breed, had "confirmed" so many conference moves that couldn't all happen might mean the worst nightmares of a self-Twitter-made man are true: Actually, we don't know what we're talking about  because we aren't actually that well-connected. 

So who's going to take the bold first step and admit that all of this was just a front put on by someone desperate for someone else to care about they wanted to talk about.

I would, but I need to go check my Twitter. 

On the bright side, we have nowhere to go but downhill. And sliding is always easier than climbing.