I'll Defend My Guy Nick Wright Against My Guy Freddie deBoer

First Things First is a fantastic show

It’s already a busy football week at HoS LLC. I start off by defending 49ers quarterback Brock Purdy against the slights of people like Nick Wright. Then I shift over to defending Friend of Pod Nick Wright from the criticism delivered by Friend of Pod Freddie deBoer. Freddie is brutally critical of Nick, which is his right as a sports fan. He’s got his own perspective, and I doubt I can talk him into liking Nick or sports debate shows in general.

But I don’t just like Nick Wright’s FS1 show, First Things First. I love that goddamn show. I completely disagree with Freddie’s characterization of it as well, but I didn’t arrive here to try and take down Freddie’s takedown. Instead I’d prefer to just explain my interest in daytime sports television, since a few of you Subscribers are mystified by it. As I write the rough draft of this, I’m attempting to time up being finished with my lunch break so I can listen to the FTF opening on my way to the cafe.

Yes, this is my routine. Make fun of me if you’d like. I’m sure it’s better for my reputation to suggest I’m spending my lunch reading Russian literature or even working the phone about NBA goings on, like the firing of now ex-Bucks coach Adrian Griffin. Nope, I’m watching TV like an unemployed guy. Why? Because it’s good.

Let’s start with the general before we get into the specifics of FTF. I’m fascinated by connection. Why does a show work? What alchemy is involved in captivating an audience? How does a person take something we all saw and discuss it in a way that’s more compelling than anyone else can? I think the talent for doing this well is under appreciated in part because it seems like something anyone could do. But it’s precisely those conditions, doing something anyone could do, that makes a field impossibly competitive. The lower the barrier of entry, the harder it is to differentiate yourself. I’m inclined to look closely at a person who makes it and wonder about how they did it.

One school of thought is that it only happens due to one’s shameless willingness to appeal to the lowest common denominator. That’s not true, though, and it took me a long time to appreciate what resonates. Success is not an accident. It’s not just a matter of being willing to stoop so low.

Successful sports talk isn’t just about shouting or acting crazy. Human beings, of all stripes, love a story above all else. We understand nearly everything through narrative. The job of a sports talker isn’t all that dissimilar from the job of a writer. Take the audience on a journey.

I also think the reflexive dismissal of this ability might be a conflation of “low stakes” with “low brow.” Because sports are fundamentally, at their core, sort of silly, it’s easy to look down on people who talk about them for a living.

I can’t really contest that perspective either. I get it. All I can say is that much of television is dead, and First Things First feels alive. It has no right to be so alive, either. Cable is waning, if not collapsing in on itself. The three co-hosts of FTF (Wright, Chris Broussard and Kevin Wildes) never played professional sports and, though their name ID might be growing, aren’t exactly famous. There’s too much noise in the culture; Non famous non athletes shouldn’t be able to break through. And yet, as Awful Announcing has noted, FTF is growing an audience. People are showing up for the daily hijinks:

First Things First has consistently become the most popular show on FS1’s daily rundown, which also consists of Undisputed, The Herd, and Speak. And perhaps most significantly, First Things First both outdraws its lead-in (Herd) and program that follows (Speak) showing that there is an audience that is showing up for just that program.

What’s going on here? Is it simply that Nick Wright is a cynical troll, whose utterly shameless insults of teams like the Buffalo Bills draw viewers into rage watching? That’s not really how the show works, though his strong opinions provide something of a structure. Nick, a serious poker player, loves hanging onto his Bayesian priors. Most of us react to what we just saw, frequently updating our opinions. He is more inclined to hold out, never ceding an inch until those instances where his position becomes obviously indefensible. And, while that’s easy to criticize as a tendency, the Royal We make a lot of errors due to being prisoners of the moment. Sometimes Nick holds on and is swallowed up by a trend’s undeniability. Other times, he holds on, is doubted for weeks by his co-hosts, and then experiences sweet, loud validation.

Nick explains his takes approach as “Three Categories of Opinions,” which the show, in some ways, rhetorically structures itself around:

1. Immediately Correct

2. Eventually Correct

3. Dead wrong

Some would argue that “Immediately Wrong,” should be a category, but I’m inclined to let it slide. Nick’s past persistent doubting of reigning NBA champion Nikola Jokic counts as an admitted Classic 3, now the most oft referenced Category 3 on the show.

And that’s part of what makes the show enjoyable. Positions are staked out, not just by Nick, but by the entire cast and its recurring guests, and you get your nose rubbed in it when wrong. The dramatic tension is in wondering whether a take goes Category 2 or Category 3. Other sports shows just mirror the latest moment, which can only be so interesting. FTF always measures the moment against the Bayesian prior heading into that moment, and holds panelists accountable to past opinions. In this way, the show somehow straddles both ephemera and permanence, marrying past to present as so rarely happens on cable. I’d say it’s almost anchoring in an entertainment ecosystem that feels disembodied and disconnected. I’ve little sense of where I am in time when watching a Netflix spinoff of something that was popular in the 80s. On FTF, and really in so much of sports talk, I feel connected to right now, just as it’s evolving.

A good example of the show’s whimsical long memory would be Nick’s Monday segment on discourse magnet Brock Purdy. Wright had said he’d only believe in Purdy if the 49er quarterback managed a late comeback in suboptimal circumstances, as happened exactly on Saturday. The show ambushes Nick with footage of his past statements, with Chris Broussard playing prosecutor. Then, as Wright tries to maintain his Bayesian prior about Purdy not being Super Bowl worthy, Broussard silently takes out a model goal post to move around the table, before shouting, “I’m Nick Wright! I’m moving the goal posts!"

Belly laughs disrupt the case and the segment. Dumb? Maybe. But it’s a reminder that, while everyone should argue their points vigorously, nobody on FTF can take themselves that seriously. It’s sports. It’s supposed to be fun. 

And I do think that’s what Freddie’s missing in his piece. This is fairly light hearted entertainment, performed by people who open themselves up to the sorts of criticisms they apply to others. I can be sympathetic to the idea that Nick is hard to take on social media. I can understand this perspective that, there’s something wrong about kicking fans when they’re down, how even if sports only matter symbolically, the emotional scars are real. I get it, but I’m more forgiving of it all in part because Nick allows himself to get hilariously upbraided for his failures. He dishes it out, he takes it, and lives to fight another day regardless of outcome like a happy warrior. I respect it, and aspire to such an ethos in a somewhat different arena.

I could get into a more detailed breakdown of why First Things First works, the roles Wildes and Broussard play, and the clever recurring segments that draw in repeat viewership, but I’ll stop for now. It’s time for my lunch break, meaning it’s time for the show.