Vol. 1, Issue No. 5: Will Bjarnar?
The most valuable personality in sports media just left the Empire. It's their loss. Her openness was (and will continue to be) our gain.
Hi there. Will here. Remember me? I missed you last week (I’m sorry) and I feel like I owe an explanation as to why: I can’t even begin to adequately describe how burnt out I’ve felt lately. It’s curious that in my last newsletter, I wrote at length about my battles with depression, anxiety, and mental health, and in the days following its publication curled up into a ball where I was unable to tap words into this blank prompt because I didn’t know what, if anything, I had worthwhile to say. I blame Bo Burnham, sort of. I just watched Inside after putting it off for far too long, and I was immediately wrecked. It inspired introspection I wasn’t aware I was capable of accessing but was certainly uncomfortable experiencing. Unlike Burnham, who poured his quarantine thoughts into a gutsy, 87-minute feelings fest, I was wordless, barren of creativity. Like Burnham, I felt like I was close to eclipsing an ATL. No, not Atlanta.
I desperately need to digress here. I guess these thoughts could’ve used an outlet last week. If only… Hey, click that button below, why dontcha!
Well, never mind. The good thing, with which I hope you agree, is that I’m back! I’m feeling a bit better. I’m writing a lot and working on some things that I hope to share with you very, very soon, and yeah, I’m aiming to get outside more. My roommate and I play catch almost every day; neither of us is a dog, at least we’re close to certain that we aren’t. I suppose it’s a bit more ambiguous than a definitive “NOT A DOG” label hanging from a beaded necklace around our necks, given the fact that we literally announce to the apartment each afternoon, “We’re gonna go have a catch,” and wag our tails as we bob down the street in anticipation. But it’s just something to escape the mundanity, to break away from our work for an hour.
Which I’ve desperately needed. Because I think — I think — I’ve been letting my work become my life a little too much for my own good of late. I’ll expand on that by the time this entry is finished, but this feels like the proper time for me to bring up the subject of this week’s newsletter: Katie Nolan, who left ESPN recently, a good thing for her, a bad thing for sports media. (Yanno, until she signs elsewhere, like The Ringer or Meadowlark Media or any number of booming outlets where she’ll have more freedom to be herself.) She announced her departure from the Empire last week in a Twitter thread I’d categorize as emotional, but she obviously made light and pointed, much like all of the original and imaginative content she created at the company. The comments on her thread are littered with variations of “that’s their loss” and “can’t wait to see whatever it is you do next.” I didn’t comment but had I elected to, my message would’ve read similarly.
Here’s the entry that really got me:
I listened to Nolan’s podcast somewhat regularly, and if not every episode in full, I’d skim in an effort to hit the topics that piqued my specific interests on that day or during that week. Aptly, its name was “Sports?”. Her crew — the “Union” — would join her in banter about etiquette in grocery stores, favorite one-hit wonder songs, being alone with your thoughts, and how best one should decorate a bathroom, among other topics (like Ben Simmons and Carson Wentz, with an emphasis on those topics being the “other”). The question mark at the end of her podcast’s name always spoke far more volumes than the word in front of it.
Had she recorded an episode this week, I certainly imagine Urban Meyer would’ve been discussed, but not in the way you’d expect his recent escapades(?) to be discussed on ESPN in a typical format. Criticism would’ve been lobbed, deservedly, but in addition, jokes would have been told, or stories about seeing a friend’s parent or significant other out where/when they shouldn’t have been out, or tales of bumping into drunk coaches at bars unexpectedly. She would’ve turned a disgusting moment into something relatable or digestible at the least.
She has a knack for that, one that will be missed on a network that failed to utilize her to the degree she should have and easily could have been. That Nolan’s journey into this space started with hysterical, infinitely watchable YouTube videos that grew in popularity over time thanks to her quick wit and indelible sports knowledge is a fascinating thing, considering that this is what content creation is nowadays — one’s expertise being broadcast on YouTube. They played a part in her landing at FOX Sports, which gave her a show — the brilliant, Emmy-winning “Garbage Time,” that the network would go onto ruin via a garbage time slot (fitting) and eventual cancellation. Then came ESPN, a home that seemed to be moving in a direction more aware of how best to use talents like Nolan’s. Michael and Jemele, Dan Le Batard and co., and Nolan, Sarah Spain, Kenny Mayne, Cari Champion, Michelle Beadle, and later, Mina Kimes — just to name a few — all made us dorks feel a bit more at home watching sports, listening to minds like theirs pick them apart, delivering thoughts that sounded like mine. That they failed so many of them shouldn’t be a knock on the talents themselves, not in the least.
Some of those names are still at ESPN, where I first encountered them, while others have moved on to try new things at new places. Until Katie Nolan finds a new home to continue making journalists like me feel at home again, I’ll miss, in particular, the kinds of podcast episodes where she unpacked this great mystery we call life. My favorite of them all is probably the shortest of all. “Katie Nolan?” is the title; it’s 36 minutes long, as opposed to her average runtime of closer to 110 minutes. I recommend them all, but this is one I’d call a must-listen in particular.
Note: I can think of 413 outlets off the top of my head that would kill for content like this, especially when coupled with riotous, searing sports commentary like Nolan has to offer. Her break from commentary will conclude the moment she’s ready for it to end, not unlike a hypothetical scenario that would see Tom Brady become a free agent tomorrow.
Here’s the aforementioned episode’s description, as it was published:
Oh, I don't know. I was upset and I had to do a podcast, so I recorded myself working through it. It's not the greatest listen of all time, but it's incredibly transparent, and I only edited out one part (I was sobbing), and if I opened up like this on someone else's podcast it would've been called a "great interview" so can't we just pretend this is an interview? and that it's good actually? let's try.
I disagree. It might just be the greatest listen of all time, at least for someone who needed it, someone like me.
To Katie’s immense credit, she recorded the podcast despite the fact that she was going through it. I took the week off from this newsletter last week instead of doing what I’m doing right now: unloading every single tear and emotion in a longwinded passage that I pray connects back to Nolan’s exit. (Now do you see why I called this thing “Will Bjarnar?”.) I took that break because I couldn’t get the words out. I probably could’ve if I tried, right? But I chose not to, retreated into a shell, and stuffed the words down until they couldn’t help but unspool out of me nonsensically. I hope that’s not the case, but if it is, chalk it up to my week on the IR. I’m rounding into postseason form, I swear.
I’ll give Katie some more credit: for acknowledging that she wasn’t just leaving ESPN because of a contract dispute or a new opportunity at a fresher face. She hinted that she exited due to feeling burnt out to the point that the work she was doing was suffering, but even more so, that she was suffering mentally (or, as she put it, cellularly). A few weeks ago, she appeared on my other favorite podcast, “Spinsters,” and chatted with host Haley O’Shaughnessy about exactly that; about feeling perpetually exhausted when not working, energized while working, but feeling like there wasn’t much more to life when work wasn’t actively happening at all times. She summed everything up in a couple of tweets on Thursday, noting that she thinks she made her life her job, “and now I can’t tell them apart?”
Confession time, since this all connects in the end anyway: I suffered the worst panic attack of my life last weekend because I started feeling the same way Katie outlines above. On top of my five-days-and-three-columns-a-week job(s), I do freelance work weekly, working in an office every Sunday and from home every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I left the office on Sunday feeling as though I was bottoming out, like my work wasn’t at the level I’d hoped it would be after a few weeks on the job. I felt like every inch of me was being criticized, albeit constructively, but that every one of my changes simply made something worse. On the drive home, my mind began to perpetuate this insecurity, and suddenly all I saw was the static on an old box TV. Given that I was driving my roommate’s car and, you know, typically try to avoid inserting myself into self-inflicted fiery car wrecks, I pulled over.
I began to shake, possibly because the car’s air conditioning is oddly powerful, but likely out of fear that something terrible might happen, that something related to my work would impact my life to the point of implosion. As it turns out, I was right: believing that my work had that power was what nearly caused the implosion. When I pulled the car over, I wept, shook incessantly, spilled a teensy bit of seltzer water on my jeans, and turned the engine off, though not necessarily in that order. I was so scared about my work on Monday falling as flat as I felt my work on Sunday had that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get home, or that I wanted to. You know what they say, best to avoid your problems, amirite?
Time passed. I’m not even sure how many minutes I spent on that highway shoulder. Eventually, I could breathe again, and using some tips from past therapy sessions, I was able to piece together what I was going through enough to pose a rational question: is this all you’re making it out to be? I was anticipating something unrealistically horrible coming from my unfinished, soon-to-be due work. And my assignment that Monday was a project I knew I would finish and turn in by morning, but given that I had allowed my work to become my life at that point, I had let it infiltrate to the point of consuming anything in its path. I felt like Eddie Brock, and my mental health was my Venom, screaming asinine rubbish from deep inside my conscience. Every emotion, magnified. Every insecurity, on display. I lost my way in real-time as my vision blurred and a ringing introduced itself to my eardrums.
I’m feeling okay now, really — I’m not found, but I’m not necessarily lost, either. It’s not a secret, even though I had shared this story with only two other people before sharing it with all of you. Yeah, I feel the furthest thing from brave admitting that. Well, I felt the furthest thing from brave.
It requires a ton of confidence and perhaps even a bit more bravery to do what Katie did; to put one’s business directly into the social media streets, particularly when your streets are populated by north of 620,300 people who multiply every minute. It’s not exactly appropriate of me to assume that Katie is endlessly confident, though — I can’t begin to know what Katie is specifically going through — so I’ll stress the courage element in particular. She laid it all bare, letting the world know that she “no longer [worked] at ESPN” as opposed to “I’m leaving” or “I’m taking my talents to South Beach.” On Thursday, she also quietly announced that she had interviewed for an HBO Show that ultimately went to her former colleague Bomani Jones. She didn't get it, but thought she might. “was crushed when I didn’t,” she tweeted, “BUT: the most important thing is that the show will exist, and bo is gonna knock it out of the park.” That last bit feels quite important to include. Disappointment, but delivered with the utmost grace, something I aspire to maintain in my future, no matter how many times my pitch is shot down while another writer’s is awarded.
Her bevy of announcements over the past few days likely come to the joys of @nick_R742 and @tyler15b_yuh — both of whom I can see now, wearing backward-facing New York Giants hats and unfortunate retro Karl Malone jerseys. As much as they piss me off, I find it best to be like Katie, and to either tune them out or invite them to kick 32-yard field goals on national television. Her revelations come to the much more appropriate (and affectionate) jeers of those who have loved her work at each of her stops thus far, though said jeers have subsequently evolved into butterfly-inducing suspense. That’s what comes with clamoring for whatever she offers us next. That, plus a slightly more barren podcast library.
I commend and thank Katie for her honesty. As she said, “if you listen to the podcast, this isn’t news to you.” It wasn’t news, but it was a welcome dose of reality. You know how people always say to check on your people, particularly those that seem the strongest? Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to subscribe to that. My amendment would say that it’s important to check on every last one of the people in your life, and perhaps to lend one additional check to the strong ones (see: Ted Lasso).
I would never pretend to know Katie, but I did have the pleasure of speaking with her once when she appeared on Zoom as a guest in a class of mine near the end of my senior year. I asked her some question she and I assuredly both forgot an hour after that class ended, but I remember that she responded with such certainty, such enthusiasm about her current place in the vast world of content creation. Because of this, I jumped to the assumption that she had never felt anything but confident in her work, anything but sure of her abilities and the balance she kept between the fun and the overtly intellectual.
She may be all of the above even while feeling that her spark goes out when she turns off the commentator of it all. Who are we kidding: she’s Katie f—ing Nolan, a foreground superstar in an industry that too often fails to care whether or not women fade into the background, or worse, pushes them there and denies all intention. I have no doubt that she knows what she brings to the table, but part of me is appreciative to know she also needs a second to breathe, just like the rest of us mortals. So, for that and everything else — from YouTube to Garbage Time to Always Late, Highly Questionable, guest interviews on Spinsters, and all the rest — I wish to express my gratitude to her. Thanks, Katie, 1) for inspiring those of us that are hoping to break into the business not to fear being our unique selves, and 2) for not shying away from your own truth, and thus helping 620,300+ acknowledge theirs.
I suppose this is where I say it: Your ESPN exit is their loss. But gosh, I can’t wait to see whatever it is that you do next. Take your time.
Consumption Corner
I (somehow) find time to read a lot, watch a lot, and listen to a lot throughout my weeks here on the internet. Consumption Corner is where I’ll recommend some of the things I appreciated the most. They may be old, or they may be new, but from shows to films to books, I figure the least I can do is lend some insight into the things that make me the cultured young man that I am.
The Reading List:
Who Is the Bad Art Friend? by Robert Kolker (The New York Times Magazine)
An Interview with Chuck Palahniuk by Kathryn Borel (The Believer)
Venom, Unleashed by Miles Surrey (The Ringer)
The Movable Feast by Navneet Alang (Columbia Journalism Review)
Ordinary People by Apoorva Tadepalli (Guernica)
Why so many of us are casual spider-murderers by Zaria Gorvett (BBC)
What We Lost When Gannett Came To Town by Elaine Godfrey (The Atlantic)
Dave Chappelle’s Endless Feedback Loop by Craig Jenkins (Vulture)
What shattered my heart into a trillion tiny pieces and then calmly, methodically assembled them back into a whole altogether superior to the prior ticker (or: a great movie I watched):
I had the great honor of seeing The Souvenir: Part II a little early. It’s glorious and perfect. I beg of you to give it a watch upon its release, however you can, and to watch The Souvenir in the meantime. Honesty is the theme of this newsletter, and there may not be a more honest, bare-it-all filmmaker working today than Joanna Hogg, who has turned the love and tragedy she suffered as a young woman into the most stirring, dynamic multi-part tale this side of The Godfather. See it — then believe it — for yourself when possible.
And finally… what else I’ve written lately:
Kemba Walkers’ health could determine how far the Knicks can go (The Knicks Wall)
Paul George is ready to be “the number one guy” in crucial bridge season for the Clippers (Clips Nation)
A goodbye tweet that doubles as a shameless plug, just for this week:
Thanks for stopping by, all. And seriously: thanks for sticking around. I hope I can make words about the worst feelings ignite a hopeful feeling in you due to how I elect to write about them. Even more so, I hope to see you here again next week.