The Most Hated Man in Boston
What is it about The Globe’s Dan Shaughnessy that makes ordinary, peaceable people want to kick his ass?
To understand the tortured tango that binds Boston Globe columnist Dan Shaughnessy and his detractors, consider his March 25 item about Red Sox ace Curt Schilling’s personal blog, 38 Pitches. The conceit was simple: Shaughnessy, who’s also a Globe associate editor, fabricated an exchange between Schilling and six pathetic, ass-kissing bloggers. (“Loser38”: “I used to go to Star Trek conventions and comic-book trade shows. No more. Now this blog is my life.”) Schilling didn’t fare much better: in Shaughnessy’s rendering, the Sox ace was an egotistical, self-pitying hypocrite. Near the end — just in case the gist wasn’t clear — a Shaughnessy surrogate materialized and asked “Schilling”: “What do you say to those media morons who contend that you are a self-important blowhard with an ill-informed opinion about everything and an insatiable need to be worshiped by sheep-like fans and late-night blog boys who live in Ma’s basement?”
Since Shaughnessy’s alleged crimes include relying on clichés and hating the Red Sox, this column had a little something special for all his detractors. “It makes me wonder what might be spewed forth from his whiney
, bitchy little mind in the near future,” read one comment at Dan Shaughnessy Watch, a blog devoted to Shaughnessy deconstruction. A BarstoolSports.com reader offered this: “Saying all bloggers live at home with Mom and Dad . . . is like saying every newspaper writer is a self-absorbed, sensitive, out-of-touch-with-the-times piece of garbage like .” And a member of Sons of Sam Horn, the invite-only Red Sox site, made the following suggestion: “If you see him, punch him in the face and keep on walking.”
Whatever you may think of Shaughnessy — as a journalist or as a human being — that’s pretty nasty stuff. But when I asked him about this particular piece, he couldn’t stifle a smirk. “I thought the column was hilarious,” he said. “I was very happy with it.”
All of which raises two questions: why, exactly, do Shaughnessy’s critics loathe him as much as they do? And why does the man in the fright wig seem to enjoy egging them on?
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