Otterblog

You never really get used to writing about death. Or maybe it’s that you hope you never get used to it. I watched our newsroom with an incredible amount of pride rise to the occasion yesterday to cover the tragic death of Skip Prosser. Didn’t know him. Never met him. But I liked what I knew about him. Good winner. Good loser. Among other things, he was a big reader: Emerson, Pat Conroy, Tom Clancy. Pretty good list. And he had respect for the written word and journalists. My sense is that he understood they had a job to do, just like him. I realize that a coach’s contract isn’t dependent on the stuff on his nightstand, but all things being equal, readers are a community of seekers and I stand with them.

A newsroom is like any other organism when something unexpected happens. It first tries to figure out the importance of what’s happened. After assessing, it kicks into gear. Amidst the sadness of the story line, there was some humor and sharing and recollection and also a fine group of journalists doing what they needed to do, cover the story.

At about 4 p.m. yesterday, the phone lines for our sports department nearly shut down because of the volume we were getting from folks who wanted to know what was going on. There was a lot of exceptional work by our crew today, but if I had to recommend one piece, it would be Lenox Rawlings’ column. A great read.

So enjoy that.

The other bittersweet occasion in our community also is this weekend, with the beginning of the National Black Theatre Festival, minus its founder and guiding force, Larry Leon Hamlin. We have a special report this Sunday, which lays out why this event is bigger than many of us realize and so important to the city.