Inside... But Out!: A Black Man’s Journey into the Life, Times, and Trials of Big Time Sports Television

By Eric Clemons

Inside…but Out! encapsulates the personal experiences of Eric Clemons, who grew up in inner-city Chicago, Illinois, and found his way into the upper echelon of network and regional sports television, including ESPN Sports Center, Fox NFL Sunday, and other stops along the way. With much of today's conversation around how people from different backgrounds "code switch," Clemons had to deal with all those "unwritten rules" African Americans and others might come up against in the corporate world, having to find his own way in the '80s and '90s, which was totally uncharted territory for him. Clemons ran into plenty of the game's biggest stars and has covered more than his share of big moments, including Mike Tyson's first career loss at the hands of James Buster Douglas in Tokyo and Michael Jordan's first NBA title with the Chicago Bulls. With that excitement came the constant and often covert obstacles that seemed to show up at nearly every career stop!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Nov 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781645367901

Eric Clemons

Eric Clemons still enjoys using his broadcasting skills as an on-camera talent. He is a freelancer for corporate entities and now produces documentary films and educational projects, especially concerning African history and culture. Clemons enjoys spending time with his wife of over 30 years, Renita, and their children, Kyndal and Robert. He has closed the door on his pursuit to enter the realm of network TV play-by-play, and is very happy with his body of work, the professionalism and dedication he gave to his endeavors, and the light of hope his efforts may have given others who dream of chasing a career in this crazy business! He has happily and finally moved on to other callings.

Book preview

Circle

About The Author

Eric Clemons still enjoys using his broadcasting skills as an on-camera talent. He is a freelancer for corporate entities and now produces documentary films and educational projects, especially concerning African history and culture. Clemons enjoys spending time with his wife of over 30 years, Renita, and their children, Kyndal and Robert. He has closed the door on his pursuit to enter the realm of network TV play-by-play, and is very happy with his body of work, the professionalism and dedication he gave to his endeavors, and the light of hope his efforts may have given others who dream of chasing a career in this crazy business! He has happily and finally moved on to other callings.

Copyright Information ©

Eric Clemons (2019)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

Ordering Information:

Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Clemons, Eric

Inside…but Out!

A Black Man’s Journey into the Life, Times, and Trials of Big Time Sports Television

ISBN 9781643784731 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781647500436 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781645367901 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019953166

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published (2019)

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 28th Floor

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Dedication & Acknowledgement

Thanks to all my influences, especially the Almighty and the ancestors for seeing me through to this point in my life. I never thought I would be in the position to write a book about a huge portion of my life: 40-plus years to be exact. I’ve had more than my share of ups and downs, but I truly believe I am led down a better, more spiritual, and productive path, and for that, I am grateful. Thanks to my father, Robert H. Clemons. He worked nights but often allowed me to lay on the floor with him and listen to the music of greats like Wes Montgomery, Jimmy Smith, and Lou Rawls. As a result, my ear was tuned from a very young age, and that has helped me immensely.

My mother, Julia, was always in my corner, kicking my butt when I needed it but providing me encouragement as well. I love and miss you both so much. My sister, Demetria, and my brother, Ronnie, also kicked my butt. Today, my older siblings are my dearest friends. Thank you both for being there for me when I need you and even when I don’t. To my childhood ‘boys,’ Randall and Tyrone, thanks to the both of you for helping me revel in being a childhood sports nerd. You both developed my love for sports and my attention to detail.

To my wife and true love, Renita ­­– you followed me to whatever corner of the country where work called me and never once complained about my being away from home so much. The encouragement, love, and joy you have brought me are immeasurable. To my daughter, Kyndal, and son, Robert – thanks for allowing me a place in your lives as adults. I was gone so much when you were young. I hope you don’t hold it against me.

To those who helped me ‘break in,’ like Kenny McReynolds, Chet Coppock, and Bill Slater, I have nothing but thanks and praise! Kenny would boldly go into WUIC’s studios and say, We’re doing a game tonight, even though it wasn’t on the schedule. He gave me a mic and said, Let’s do it! Thanks for the push and advice! To all the athletes, coaches, managers, and entertainers I have had the privilege to be around – you have made much of my experience fun and memorable. Yes, I’m even going to take the time out to thank my foes, even those of you who didn’t know how much of a nemesis you were to me. While many of you had the power and actually did exercise control over my life and career in both a positive and negative way, you were just a part of an elaborate universal plan that is unfolding for me and me only. Thanks for the experiences that developed and prepared me to know exactly what my purpose in this life is and how to accomplish it!

One of my goals is this very book. I am writing it to share my experiences as a black man who found his way into the upper echelons of TV sports. I hope you enjoy it and take a few notes that might help you avoid some of the pitfalls that befell me and prepare to experience excitement and joy like nothing else in broadcasting can provide. I truly enjoyed most of my magical ride into this often cutthroat and always crazy business.

Chapter 1

I Needed to Write This Story

It’s late December 2015. It’s a just-above-freezing, rainy evening, and I’m enjoying the rhythm of my windshield wipers as I feel a bit of trepidation making the 15-minute drive from my house to my destination. I am driving up to a gathering I’ve been invited to at the reputable Aqua Turf club in South Central Connecticut. Long-time ESPN employees, past and present, have gathered thanks to the efforts of a few people who decided to get the word out on social media that ‘on our own,’ and not company sponsored, we were going to come together and share memories as family and friends. What began as an event that was planned for a small room in the back of the huge segmented club, ballooned into an event in a huge, chandelier-decorated hall with over 300 people in attendance, many of whom came from all over the country just to be here!

It was truly awesome to see some of the faces, albeit older faces, that I last saw 25 years ago when I left ESPN SportsCenter. Talent, secretaries, production people, upper managers, and everyone in between seemed to be there. I couldn’t walk 20 feet without stopping and greeting someone. Tears flowed for some. Others had a look of truly mixed emotions. Many had, within the past three months and up to over two years earlier, been victimized by huge layoffs undertaken by ABC/Disney, the current owners of the corporation.

Some of these people had devoted 25 or more years of their lives to seeing that ESPN grew from a start-up that few thought would last more than a few years when it hit the air back in 1979 to what it has become today: The Worldwide Leader in Sports and a giant among broadcast networks. Many shook their heads in disbelief that the company could just discard them after their life-long devotion. It was hard to see their faces, but I could certainly empathize with their emotional state.

For me, there was only so much greeting I could do. I wondered why a few people were ‘surprised’ to see me. When you learn my story, perhaps you would feel the same as they may have had, save the physical appearance changes to almost everyone who is 25 years older. I walked around and greeted old friends. I exchanged a few stories and learned that many of my former colleagues didn’t even know I lived in the area! I was indeed, Outta sight, outta mind!

I saw dear old friends like Robin Roberts and John Saunders, the latter whose life would end suddenly less than a year later. And I also saw old producers who were now executives, old directors and managers who were now senior executives. Some remembered me. Others searched the vaults of their memories but had to take a quick peek at my name tag to ‘put two and two together,’ as did I. (I was older and fatter than when they last laid eyes on me 25 years ago.) After a few hours had passed, I started to ‘see’ my surroundings and came to a sobering realization: most of this, for me, had been an illusion. All of us in the room—those who had been fired long ago, like me, to those who still feel the sting of being laid off just months ago—really felt more of a connection to what we were doing, and to the people we worked with along the way, than we did to the corporation which utilized our skills for whatever time we worked for them. We knew exactly what the corporation’s view of most of us was! That’s what the gathering was all about. We were celebrating each other, not the company!

No matter how long we were a part of building and maintaining ESPN, our individual roles are very small and mean little to those who ‘run’ the corporation. Their bottom line is ‘profit.’ Each person down the chain plays a very small role in the ultimate goal. That’s why it is so easy and emotionless when ‘word comes down’ that ties need to be severed. For some, this fact drives them to extreme (sometimes violent) behavior. Nobody like that at this gathering, thank God!

I saw people who talked about my role in covering the Tyson-Douglas upset. One person even said, If we had the budget, we were going to find you and include you in the 25th anniversary of the fight show, which aired in 2015. Really! A multi-billion-dollar network didn’t have the capacity to find the reporter WHO WAS ACTUALLY THERE COVERING THE STORY FOR THE NETWORK to include in a 25th anniversary look back at one of the biggest upsets in sports history? I also was told on another occasion by this person that the network was looking for me but couldn’t find me. (I freelance in local TV market that includes Bristol, CT, the home city of ESPN!) Peculiar! But whatever the reasons, I got the strong feeling that they didn’t look too hard for me.

That, my friends, sums up my career in big time sports television: at least my career at ESPN. I thought I did my job and represented myself to the best of my personal abilities. But in the end, my efforts were meaningless to those who made the decisions about who was more valuable and who wasn’t valuable enough. The final confirmation came when I decided to look at a huge projection screen of some ESPN ‘moments’ of the past 36 years. There were probably 40 or more photos of anchors and reporters from old shows and old SportsCenter sets. They featured all the names and faces you’ve come to know, Chris Berman, Bob Ley, the late Tom Mees, George Grande, Gayle Gardner, and Larry Burnett. They even had a few shots of Karie Ross (who came and left in about the same time frame as me; though I admit, she is a lot better to look at)! Guess whose picture was nowhere to be found: good old Eric Clemons who worked hard for four years to do as instructed and show the world that he was competent in the roles he was asked to play. Not one single shot! Not even a picture from the Tyson coverage!

It probably went unnoticed by anyone else. There wasn’t an anchor or reporter there who didn’t have at least one picture in the slide show. Sometimes the universe will illuminate a situation for you. All you have to do is open your eyes and ‘see.’ Upon noticing this, I had to take my pick of the justifications for it:

I just wasn’t important enough.

Somebody there with an axe to grind made sure my face wasn’t included or didn’t take the extra time necessary to include me.

It was a simple oversight.

As I reflect, I would say the justification is a mix between numbers 1 and 3. Either way, I took a deep sigh and remained until the end of the event, satisfied in knowing I played a small role in helping the network become what it is today, even if those who make decisions upstairs didn’t really notice it.

I felt like I was appreciated by many of my colleagues on a personal level, but of the ones that counted, I wasn’t appreciated on a professional level. I realized at that moment that I really need to finish this book upon which I have been working for the better part of the past nine years. Looking back on such highs and lows from my career isn’t always easy, but I have reached a stage in my life now where I don’t dwell in the painful periods of the past. I still have trouble watching some of the shows on the networks and from places I used to reside, and it hasn’t been easy to recall some of the memories. Many of them still hurt, and the emotional scars are deep. No matter what logic one is given, it’s hard not to take circumstances and some of the actions taken against you ‘personally’ when they affected you in a deeply personal way! You might understand better as you read of my encounters, which brought me much excitement, and anguish, so much so that when many of the former employees told their stories of having been laid off after spending most of their adult lives in service of ESPN, I felt (perhaps selfishly) that their sadness was no greater than mine.

My emotions may be irrational. I served four years. Many of these people served 25, even 35 years! How could my feelings be equal? Here’s how. We were all discarded. We were told our effort, our energy, our commitment, and our professionalism were no longer desired by the entity to which we had given so much. Save time, which is fleeting for each and every one of us, how is my situation any different? This is how I felt. Right or wrong, it gave me the impetus to finish this story: a story of a young black man from the south side of Chicago, who made an improbable climb to the pinnacle of network sports television, only to have his wings clipped, it seems, at almost every turn. And looking back, I now realize that I made decisions, unknowingly, that may have contributed to my own demise.

They say to repeat the same action over and over and expect a different result is the definition of ‘insanity.’ Well, in my network sports television walk, I might qualify as certifiable! It seems everywhere I traveled, my end-result was inevitably the same; I would quietly be jettisoned into the atmosphere until, finally, I had drifted too far into space to come back. I felt that way for a very long time. In space, no one can hear you scream. (I quote the old Alien movie ad.) Now is my time to reflect and ‘scream’ just a little.

Chapter 2

The Quick Ascension

I stood staring out the front window of our South Side Chicago basement apartment. The sun was beaming through the trees onto my face as I stood there gazing out onto the street, which was level to my upper chest as I stood inside on the wooden floors of the apartment. Passersby, in the ever-bustling lifestyle that is a big city like Chicago, would never know anyone was standing at their basement window looking out, and occasionally, a pair of swiftly moving legs would walk by. I looked to my left at the curious gaze of my mother, Julia. We had, a few weeks earlier, scattered the ashes of my father, Robert Clemons, along the shores of Lake Michigan, as he had requested before he died of lung cancer and the damaging effects of alcoholism.

My mother was about to move into our apartment with us, and my sister, Demetria, and I were about to embark on moving into a three-bedroom apartment which would solidify my commitment to remaining in my hometown to look after the woman who brought me into this world. I learned a lot about my mother that day. I was quite willing to forgo a chance to begin a broadcast career and remain right by her side in Chicago, especially at this devastating time for her.

I was correct about the devastation but quite wrong about the character of my mother. I had been offered a position as weekend sports anchor/reporter at WALA-TV in Mobile, AL. It had taken long enough to secure it. I had graduated second in my class at Columbia College Chicago three years earlier, but a tough economy and (I believe) racism had played a part in my inability to land that initial small-to-medium market job to begin my career. When I graduated in 1981, blacks made up a large number of players in major sports arenas but very few of the anchors, reporters, and analysts who talked about their exploits on radio and TV. By the mid-80s, the ‘copy-cat’ broadcasting industry was buying into the ‘blacks on weekends’ trend, which seemed to be popping up in nearly every market, large or small.

I was perfectly willing (and scared as hell of this new opportunity) to give up my embarkation to a part of the country I knew little about, just to be there for my mom. I mentioned this to her, and I got a full dose of her character. She said to me, Son, do not give up your dreams just to take care of me. I have been grown a long time. I can take care of myself! I will not have you looking back one day and blaming me for not starting a career you have wanted for most of your life! She was devastated by the loss of her true love, Robert, but she wasn’t paralyzed by his death. She gave me the nod to move on with my life but did admit that a guy like me (who can be quite the agitator with a dissenting opinion) might go down to the Deep South and run his mouth a little too much! That’s the South my mother grew up in, the South that punished a black man, often with death when he spoke out and stood up against racial injustice.

I assured her that I would be careful and try not to get myself in legal trouble, or even killed. I know that might sound extreme in 1984, but trust me, in my mother’s mind, it wasn’t. I didn’t even know where Mobile, Alabama was when I got the news from a recruitment director in Chicago that the NBC station there was looking for a weekend sports anchor/reporter. I got the news in late April 1984, sent a demo tape, and was told the job was mine if I wanted. Even though it was three years since I graduated from Columbia College Chicago and countless resumes sent, tapes delivered, and rejection letters received, I almost passed on this opportunity! I assured her that I would be careful, and in May of that year, off to Mobile, AL I went.

Mobile was right down at the bottom of the state. If you drove any further south, you’d be in the Gulf of Mexico! The city had a very cozy, Southern feel and a definitive slower pace. For a city boy like me, the adjustment was welcome, and I did so very quickly. I worked at the TV station with an affable guy, who was the ‘good ole boy’ sports director, named Ron Gollnick. If the cartoon character Barney Rubble were brought to life, he could be played by Gollnick. Short in stature, with blonde hair and wide eyes that hinted of ‘air-headedness,’ he was firmly established in his TV home. I think he was born in Jersey, but you would have never known by listening to him speak. He had fully adopted the Southern drawl and the ‘laid-back’ ways of the Deep South. Mobile was actually a pretty decent place, especially weather-wise. It is on the Gulf Coast, and it was pretty warm year-round. It was very comfortable in the winter months: unbearably hot and humid in the summer, and always, yes, always, there was the threat of hurricanes barreling up the gulf and making landfall right in the heart of the city during that dreadful season (July through November). Mobile had the face of a very welcoming and open town, but there was some ‘Deep South’ racially tense stuff underneath, and every now and then, it reared its ugly head! I understand that in the 50s and 60s, under the table ‘deals’ may have been made to keep civil rights demonstrations away from this fair city. I certainly had a few ‘brushes with bigotry’ in my time there. I even lived in an apartment complex where a black boy had been hung by the KKK (allegedly) in the not-too-distant past!

As for Gollnick, he was a chain-smoking 40-something-year-old who exemplified Mobile. Warm and welcoming on the outside, something a little different deep underneath. As a young 24-year-old, I could have easily been fooled into thinking he was on my side because of his demeanor. The guy placed a few phone calls to help me get my gas and electricity in my apartment turned on quicker than normal. However, I would learn over time, the side he always represented was his own!

I arrived in Mobile in late May and reported to work during the high school baseball playoffs. I knew little about the Mobile, AL landscape, or even how this city’s high school playoffs and structure differed from Chicago’s (the only one I knew). As soon as I arrived on my first day of work, Gollnick sent me out to do a live hit from a state high school playoff game. Two teams I’d never seen with coaches and players I’d never met. A playoff system I had not studied. Of course, with only cable-TV experience coming in, I had never done a live shot from a remote location. I truly believe Gollnick sent me out on this assignment in hopes I would mess up and look bad on my first day!