The Kyle Shanahan reporting controversy became a much bigger sports story than the accident itself. Not because of the crash, but because it wasn’t reported for nearly two weeks. The conversation quickly shifted from what happened to who knew, when they knew and why nobody said anything.
If the head coach of one of the NFL’s flagship franchises is involved in an accident, should the public know? Should it have been reported sooner? If 49ers quarterback Brock Purdy had been behind the wheel instead of Kyle Shanahan, does anyone believe that story would have stayed quiet for days? I don’t.
The standard must be the standard, whether you’re the franchise quarterback, the head coach or the last player on the roster.
While everyone else debated the Shanahan story, I found myself thinking about something entirely different.
Delicate Balance
After more than 30 years in sports media, I’ve learned the hardest part of this business isn’t getting information. It’s deciding what to do with it. Every reporter knows things the audience doesn’t. That’s the easy part. The difficult part isn’t deciding whether people want to know. It’s deciding whether they need to know.
Those aren’t always the same thing.
I’ve been fortunate enough to spend my career where most fans never get to go. I’ve flown on team charters, stayed in team hotels, covered Super Bowls and spent enough nights around professional sports teams that, eventually, the curtain gets pulled back. Athletes stop being superheroes. Coaches stop being larger than life. Executives stop sounding polished.
You simply see people, and people are messy. That’s also when you learn things the audience never will.
Over the years, I’ve seen players miss curfew, coaches blow off steam after ugly losses and executives behave in ways they’d never want repeated on the air. I’ve seen players with women who weren’t their wives on road trips, then watched those same players hug their families as they stepped off the charter flight the next afternoon.
Making A Choice
Every one of those moments would have made compelling talk radio. Today, every one becomes a viral post before lunch. None of them ever made one of my shows, not because I was protecting anyone, but because I never believed they were my stories to tell.
One experience has stayed with me because it reminded me how dangerous assumptions can be. During one Super Bowl week, I noticed several players outside the team hotel well after midnight the night before the game. My first reaction was probably the same as yours.
What are they doing? The next day after the game, I asked one of the players about it, and he laughed.
“We couldn’t sleep. The adrenaline was overwhelming. The coaches knew exactly where we were. We just went outside to walk.”
Imagine if I’d snapped a picture and posted it online with the caption: “Several players spotted outside the team hotel after midnight before the Super Bowl.”
Within an hour, television would’ve questioned their commitment. Sports talk radio would’ve debated their leadership. Social media would’ve convicted them before kickoff. Every one of those conclusions would’ve been wrong. The story wasn’t that they were outside. The story was why they were outside.
Context changed everything. That’s also why relationships still matter.
A Changing Expectation
Somewhere along the way, we’ve convinced ourselves that having relationships with players, coaches and executives means you’re compromised. I disagree.
Relationships aren’t about protecting people. They’re about protecting the truth and mean making one more phone call before you hit publish. They also mean asking one more question instead of assuming you already know the answer. The player outside that Super Bowl hotel changed the entire story because I asked instead of assumed.
Today’s media world doesn’t always reward that. Every platform rewards speed. Every algorithm rewards engagement and every viral post creates pressure to be first, louder and more provocative than the next person. We’ve become conditioned to fire from the hip. Report everything. Rip a player after every bad game. Question every coaching decision. Turn every disagreement into a controversy. Convict people in the court of public opinion before all the facts are in.
This isn’t A Few Good Men. Athletes, coaches and executives aren’t on trial. That’s why the Shanahan story resonated with me.
Yes, I believe it should have been reported much sooner. But it also reminded me how many stories never become public because someone decided they shouldn’t. Fans judge reporters by the stories they publish. They never see the ones that stay in a notebook because they don’t affect the game, the team or the public.
Those decisions don’t trend. They don’t generate clicks. Most of the time, nobody even knows they were made.
The Shanahan story should have been reported. I don’t think that’s much of a debate. Long after everyone forgets the details of Kyle Shanahan’s accident, another reporter will know something the public doesn’t. Another editor will have to decide. Another host will debate whether to go with it, and another insider will hover over the “send” button.
Every day, someone in this business faces the same choice.
To report or not report? That is the question.
Barrett Media produces daily content on the music, news, and sports media industries. Sign up for our newsletters to stay updated and get the latest information right in your inbox.
With decades of experience behind the mic, John Lund is more than a sports commentator and weekly columnist for Barrett Media—he’s a storyteller, humorist, and true fan. He’s hosted shows in mid sized markets like Pittsburgh and Salt Lake City to larger cities like San Francisco, Detroit and Dallas. John has even hosted nationally on ESPN Radio. Known for his sharp wit and deep sports knowledge, John welcomes your feedback. Reach him on X @JohnLundRadio or by email at John@JohnLundRadio.com.