SEASON 6

Recent Game Recaps

Epilogue, The Ninth: Only Love Can Break Your Heart

Memories

So We Meet Again

Rte. 139 - End of the Line

Hanging On

A Championship in Pictures

This Time of Year

Dotson Leads Ducks to the Sweet Sixteen

Grizzlies Overwhelmed by Orangemen

Empire

Challenge 11: Final Four Memories

By George, UConn is Dead

Butler and Us

Donning the Black and Gold

Challenge 10: Tourney Memories

The Madness of the Horizon League

The Rare Ivy League Conference Tournament

MAC Madness

Anything Can Happen in the MAAC

Challenge 9: Shock The Neighborhood

A Youthful Surprise

From Worst to First

Peers and Seers

Mid-morphosis
January 31, 2010 9:13 am ET by Kyle Whelliston
The "meta-" prefix has its roots in Greek, and its etymological root just so happens to have sprung forth "mid-" as well. The original preposition meant, among other things, "with." In modern First World times, we have computers and the Internet. That proves that we're smarter than the ancient Greeks, and it also means we can tell them to ay gamisou, we'll use their words however we want. Now, "meta" has come to mean self-reference. In social terms, it's used to notate self-study to the point of indulgence. A percentage of what The Mid-Majority does is about The Mid-Majority, but that's because we're accountable to our readers.

And here we go again.

We have thousands of daily visitors. To most of them, this site is a consumer product, a service that comes free with their internet access. But we also raised $12,000 for this sixth season, have over 600 card-carrying Bally Club members, and over 1,000 people follow us on the Tweetertron. There are quite a few folks who've bought into mid-major hoops as an actual aesthetic -- shareholders of sorts -- and who believe that what this website is special, or even magic. Or at the very least, that it's superior to websites where people yell at their teevees over the web and call it "new journalism."

This post is for the old-hand true believers, or rather, you. And that's why it's buried on a Sunday morning, when only the true diehards are clicking by or checking the RSS feed. For all other purposes, it's a reference point, a future answer to questions like these:

Why isn't Kyle traveling any more?
Why are the game and mileage counters stalled out?
Why is Kyle doing the daily posts?
What happened to the West Coast trip/Red Line Lounge/that other guy?
How can I preorder the Bally kids' book? (while I have your attention)
I finally realized in 2008 that this is a two-person job. Perhaps you've been able to figure out the content model I've been trying to build here: one person to broadcast the headline news, and one to go out and file dispatches from the field. Anchorperson and reporter; fixed location and roving camera; big picture and little picture. That's the way news has worked forever, right? Someone at the desk telling you what you need to know about the world at large... and then live, via satellite, here's this guy in a logo-emblazoned jacket in some distant city, telling the audience what's going on there and why they might be bothered to care. I've really enjoyed the opportunity to take the travel side of TMM to the next level; perhaps you have too.

But now it's down to just me again. I hope that the past three months have shown how hard TMM's "anchor position" is, how much knowledge and insight and perspective one needs to do it well. There's a lot of sorting and prioritizing. It's keeping tabs on 240 teams, 24 conferences, and over 3,000 different players. For the most part, it's a thankless gig. Commentary is outdated and disposable after a day or two, and there isn't much positive reinforcement from the public -- it's mostly nasty letters about "screwing up" and being "biased." It's not a job just anyone can do. Heck, I invented the job, and I finally tried to get someone else to do it after five years. But I also know its potential rewards: after doing it for one season, I got a five-day-a-week gig from a big sportz media conglomerate.

There won't be much in the way of ghosts or pink houses or long corn-lined highways on this site for a while, because I have to return to anchor duties. I simply can't be both the anchor and reporter, because I am approaching middle age and both jobs just about killed me last year. Of course, I'd rather be writing 2,000-word essays and Doin' Work and other crazy stuff. But without the daily info-posts, this site will devolve into a series of random and unrelated vignettes, without the underlying structure and drumbeat of the Beautiful Season.

I'm disappointed it came to this (especially after one of the most dynamic weeks of experimental journalism in site history) and I'm frustrated that we can't seem to have a season during which things go smoothly. Most of all, I apologize. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I own this failure, because it all stemmed from my own decisions. I wish what's-his-name the best of luck on future projects. I wished this could have waited until the end of the season, but it's been clear for a while that the situation had become untenable. And by untenable, I mean, "Not as awesome as the guitar solos on Pearl Jam's classic grunge-rock album Ten."



My health is fine. The site's finances are okay. For now, I'm at TMM Facility 3 (Primary Storage) in Rhode Island. And I've never done this from a couch before, so I'm pleading your patience. Just give me a week or two to adjust, and then we'll figure out where to go from there. I'm going to listen to you and what you have to say about all this. I have faith that something truly excellent will happen, because it always does... as long as you keep going.

In the meantime, I have to return this car to Hartford airport, from where I was going to fly west today, and take a six-hour bus/train/bus ride back to Pawtucket. While I'm doing that, I have an optional multiple-choice question for you... a shareholder survey, if you will. Why are you here? What is the most important thing? Are my priorities in the wrong order? Please check the box that applies, and make sure to use black pen.



When you're done with your survey, please send it through The Form™. But Kyle, how am I supposed to get an inky JPEG image through a web form that doesn't allow attachments? This website is magic; you, of all people, should know that.