“Science advances, technology advances, the only thing that doesn’t improve is man,” said that exemplary citizen and respected writer Ernesto Sábato, who died before inclusive language was invented. The phrase is perfectly applicable to journalism. In these last fifty years, in which we live, the profession is being modernized and degraded in equal measure.

I started in this sector at the end of 1973. From an operational point of view, everything was manual, artisanal, with old Olivetti olive green typewriters or black Remingtons, gentlemen in white shirts, thin ties and cigarette smoke pervading the whole place. room atmosphere. And on some tables there is also a bottle of reed. There wasn’t even a stack of papers. The huge rolls of paper used to print newspapers were guillotined to the size of the letters, and we wrote with that. But it wasn’t just the accumulation of letters, it was necessary to know… You raised your head and admired what each classmate was writing. There were many of them cracks. That’s what he demanded. You had to play the ball in your feet, without hitting the ball. None of them studied journalism, they were from the state school, but they were writers by race, who socialized with great writers. They were made in the forge of the practice. The director was a distinguished person who exuded wisdom. My first assignment was to cover the members’ meeting in Boca. I don’t know anything about that, I said. I liked the ball. “Go, write everything down, then come here and write it down,” was the simple instruction. A scratch, but I passed the test.

We ended up closing at twelve in the evening, if there was an important Copa Libertadores match, at half past twelve. And yet the newspaper came out on time and as required by the code: the match sheet, a thoughtful commentary, two photos, notes from the dressing room and a separate box with news from the match. Now that everything is satellite, the blinds must be lowered at five in the afternoon “because that is the order of the administrative administration”. Soon we will have to comment on the matches before they are played. Newspapers are dominated by personnel, advertising, distribution, marketing, workshops… Before, journalism and news ruled. When the shift was over, we’d go for a coffee to pass the time, then go to the foot of the printing press to wait for the paper to be printed at three in the morning. We walked through the early morning with a copy in hand. It is dictated by passion. A journalist does not have a schedule in his soul.

The newspaper industry was basically mechanical, then came electronic and finally digital. We saw telex and fax go through. Doing journalism today is Disneyland, everything is at your fingertips, you go to Germany, press a button and Beckenbauer appears. One can write a column on their laptop, tablet or even phone. No drama with wifi. Write from the stadium, while traveling, above the Obelisk or the Eiffel Tower. The point is to do it well. It’s the same on radio or television. The guys who were building the playground (Tinelli was one of them) dragged tons of cables to get, sweating, to where the shooter was. And the recorder devoted himself to them. Zoom, WhatsApp, Twitter, cell phones, everything is made easy. Go to Google and get precise information that must have been in a book before. If you had it… application which currently informs news and goals. It is even better to watch the match on television, with twenty cameras, than to go to the stadium. It also created office journalism. No one wants to move their bones to go to training, to the club or to the association.

There are new ways of doing journalism. And every time someone in Silicon Valley invents a new app, another way to deliver news is created.

Mutual respect. Before, a football player would be asked for an interview, and he would gladly approve it, even in his own home. And the time that the chronicler needed was given. If you wanted a message with Pelé, there was no problem, you went to the Santos field one morning and from the edge of the field, while the genius was training, you called out to him: “Edson, can we talking with vocé…?”. And the athlete of the century answered: “Sim, depois do treino.” And one sat with about the king to talk to him in the club canteen. That is lost. Now, to talk to someone who scored two goals, it is necessary to negotiate with the president of the club.

In 2014, I asked Real Madrid for a meeting with James Rodríguez. I went to Spain with just that goal in mind, to get a book. The Communications Department of the White Club said yes. But only ten minutes. It was a table for five. You had to sit with James, a press officer from Gestifute (the company of his representative Jorge Mendes), another from Adidas, the brand he modeled for, a Madrid official and me. The questions had to be submitted in advance for review. And several topics were not allowed, talking about Messi, for example. Stupid, superficial questions. No Thanks.

It might have been more formal in the past, true. But, in general, no code was broken. He unofficially It was sacred. The protagonist clarified: “I’m telling you this for myself, please don’t publish it” or “don’t put it in my mouth”, and it was true. Today, it is possible that a tweet will appear after ten minutes. The scandal is more important than the concept. On TV, panelism is fashionable, programs in which five or six individuals shout, attack each other and compete for the most bombastic phrase, the one that can raise the networks and bring us a few pieces of fame. You can see the director of a major media outlet shouting on television: “Don’t come, Messi, don’t come anymore…” In Spain, another director of a sports newspaper linked to Real Madrid says on camera: “Messi must be stopped civilly or criminally.” And nothing happens. We are witnessing the era of militant journalism, one of the shamelessness of the profession.

The opinion is lost on televised matches, the TV journalist is “made aware” that he is selling a product and that he must take care of it. Selling matches is the same as selling shoes, you can’t say that shoes are ugly. They also take into account the president of the Association because he grants them television rights. The analysis of the game focuses too much on tactical speculation and statistics, dozens of North American data, on ball possession, passes, shots, recoveries, which partly illustrate but do not say everything, observation remains the queen of the game commentary. Football must be described as a world spectacle, it will always be like that, not only if the formation is 4-4-2 or 4-3-3.

The written journalist has become versatile: he writes, takes photos, records, he just needs to sweep and serve coffee, but it’s good, he learned.

What does not change are the essential values ​​of the profession: ethics must be sacred. He who has passion, arrives; whoever is ready, arrives. Training, empirical, academic, and personal, is critical to brilliance, excellence, and longevity. Every freedom has limits, even freedom of expression. Whoever has objectivity stands out. Whoever delivers a noble product wins. Not being friends with a football player or coach compromises one’s opinion. Always be calm. Never make a concession. Never lose your rigor. Don’t give in to cronyism.

When the great Colombian referee Óscar Julián Ruiz was about to start officiating, his father, also a first division referee, gave him a brief piece of advice: “Take what you see.” It’s fine for journalism: say what you saw. (OR)