Goalies on a hockey team stand apart from everyone else. They prepare, dress, and fulfill their roles in ways that are uniquely their own. The pressure they face is unparalleled; a single mistake can cost a game or even jeopardize an entire season.
They are solitary figures on the ice, often without anyone to talk to, only venturing to the bench in moments of desperation—when time is running out or trust has faltered. Their uniqueness sets them apart, much like other distinct roles in various teams: the kicker in football, the catcher in baseball, the drummer in a band, or the editorial cartoonist at a newspaper.
Other journalists often overlook our presence when inviting colleagues for a drink. They swing between treating us with excessive reverence and barely acknowledging us at all. Mostly, they just find us strange—and that’s true. We are strange. As Madge would say, “We’re soaking in it.”
We are the soul of the paper. At least we were at one time, when newspapers were giants that walked they earth.
Now, we’ve become scapegoats—fragile reeds barely rising above the bottom line. We’re considered a luxury, and the least-paid one at that. The same people who once insisted that our passion was part of the job now ask, “Why are you so angry?”
Yet, the readers haven’t forgotten us, even if those in charge of newspapers wish they would.
Howard Beale’s iconic cry, “I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore!” from the 1976 film Network, may have felt groundbreaking, but we’ve been “mad as hell” since William Hogarth wielded his burin, Thomas Nast picked up his pencil, and Honoré Daumier took to his brush.
That fire served us well once, but times have changed.
Above all, if we are one thing, we are the canary in the coal mine for democracy. We are that lonely voice in a cage warning us of what is to come. What happens when that canary falls silent?
I don’t want to find out.
[The American Association of Editorial Cartoonists/ The Association of Canadian Cartoonists in Montreal this past weekend.]
Newspapers are causing their own demise. When you no longer work for your readers you might as well close up shop. I’m so sorry to hear this, Michael. You are one of the best. I hope another paper scoops you up pronto! All the best.
When the newspaper drops the best political cartoonist out there, you know they’ve just tossed the baby out and left the bath water. Sorry you’re going through this right now. Better days lie ahead for you, I’m sure.