A wonderful sports journalist named Mike Downey left us Wednesday, passing from a heart attack at age 72 in his Rancho Mirage, Calif. home. Many in this business who were longtime colleagues of Mike’s knew him way better than I did, from his various stops in Detroit, Chicago, Los Angeles and Chicago again. This won’t stop me from writing a brief tribute to a man who coupled towering talent with a minuscule ego and deep humility, a combination that gets more rare by the day in the media orbit.
Growing up in Bloom Township outside Chicago, Mike had the smarts to get admitted to Northwestern, but didn’t have the money to attend. So he graduated high school and went to work covering high schools for a local newspaper chain. That seems about right.
Mike was a brilliant columnist and one of the funniest people you will ever meet, yet carried himself as if he were a copy boy running errands around a newsroom. I’d run into him at the Olympics or World Series or other major sports events and he was unfailingly sweet and gracious. He was the sort of guy you were always happy to see. Mike never wanted it to be about him, never wanted to be the story. For me, though, it was about him, because of his wit and gift for language. I don’t know how many times I picked up the L.A. Times or Chicago Tribune and read him, and came away thinking, “I wish I could do that.” But it was a lot.
Here's vintage Mike Downey . . . the opening of his column the day after the owner of the Los Angeles Ram, Georgia Frontiere, announced the venerable NFL franchise would be known going forward as the St. Louis Rams:
Georgia Frontiere officially sold the Rams down the river Tuesday, the river being the Mississippi. She stood in front of a room in St. Louis and said she couldn't remember ever being so happy, a few days after saying that she felt just awful about having to do this to the people of Southern California. I bet she can speak this stuff and drink a glass of water at the same time.
Actually, what the majority owner (and Mata Hari) of the late Los Angeles Rams said at her big coming-out party in Missouri was, "I don't know if I've been this happy since the last game we won." Funny, funny stuff. Roseanne, Ellen, Georgia . . . next fall's comedy lineup on ABC.
Management--and I use the word loosely--of the Rams tore down this team, piece by piece, pad by pad, then sold it like a chop-shop sells a Corvette. This team that has been so completely mismanaged is St. Louis' problem now, and wait until the suckers there get stuck paying the tab. You people think Orange County is broke, wait until you pay for those Ram season tickets.
Carroll Rosenbloom left Georgia Rosenbloom his football team in his will. This was the beginning of the end for the Rams, who were once such a prize. Carroll nourished them here, Georgia killed them here. She took one of the great organizations in sports, turned it into a national joke, then packed up her circus tent and hit the road. Thanks for dropping by.
I wish I could do that.
Here’s another sampling, the column he wrote after Cubs’ star Sammy Sosa was found to have corked his bat:
“It was as if someone had caught Superman using brass knuckles, or suspected Robin Hood of stealing from the poor, or accused King Arthur of rigging it so that the sword would slide easily out of the stone.
“However it happened, a hero’s shining-knight image has been tarnished. And those who believe in him can keep right on believing if they so please, but those who govern over him could have a very sad judgment to make as to his future.
“If the cork fits, they can’t acquit.”
Thanks for sharing your gifts, Mike. You made every pressroom you ever typed in a better place. RIP.
Growing up in Detroit and then moving Los Angeles, I knew I would miss Downey. When he eventually came west, all was right in the world. Thanks for the memories.
His writing reminds me a little of Jim Murray. Sorry for your loss, Wayne.