THE TIMBERWOLVES LOST TO
the Sacramento Kings here on Saturday, 100-95. I
can't tell you much more about the game than that, and not for lack of
trying. I did get to sit courtside with the real sportswriters, and they
shared this interesting bit of trivia: On these promotional games in Japan,
the two imported NBA teams take turns being the "home" team. I guess having
both teams play as the "visitors" would screw up the season statistics. So
the Wolves were considered visitors for this first game. On Sunday, they
enjoy the home-court advantage.
That's all I have to write about basketball.
It finally happened. This morning, when a talking ATM machine thanked me for
my business, I bowed.
Sound-producing computers have been a very important part of this trip. Our
listeners probably don't usually stop to wonder how we get audio back to
Minnesota from places like Japan, but you should. It's really kind of cool.
I mix my stories on a laptop computer -- that part is not really new, as
we've been mixing our stories this way at MPR for almost five years. But the
computer audio file has now made it possible to take the next step:
dispensing with the studio-links. Instead of crossing town every day to the
local NPR bureau to feed the audio, I simply dial up an Internet service from
my hotel room. A cheap piece of software on the laptop compresses the story
into one of those "MP3" files you hear so much about, and then I send the
finished file to a computer in Minnesota. A five-minute story takes about
half-an-hour to feed. I can do it any time of day or night, and then go to
bed secure in the knowledge that the engineers at MPR will find my file,
decompress it, and set it up to play on Morning Edition.
I send the electronic snapshots a similar way; you Web-browsers sometimes see
the results within the hour.
The globe-shrinking realities of the Internet are affecting the way my
colleagues in other media do their jobs, too. Print reporters are almost
constantly phoning in "refreshers" for their newspapers' Web sites. The
Governor will say something interesting, and they step to the back of bus
with their cell phones and call it in. What's interesting is how the Web has
made the newspapers an "immediate" medium -- a distinction we've always
assumed belonged to broadcast. In some cases, they're almost more immediate,
because they can update constantly, and we in radio usually wait for the top
of the hour with new stuff, and local TV holds it until the evening.
In fact, it turns out TV is the slowest medium covering this trip. They're
knocking themselves out, running around Tokyo with all their bulky equipment,
and it can take them hours to edit and feed their video tape from a local
network bureau.
Also, TV is not part of the "echo-chamber effect" as much as the rest of us
are. By "echo-chamber," I mean the fact that the Governor's staff constantly
checks the Web pages of the newspapers (and MPR, it turns out!) to see what
we're saying about Ventura.
At one point, a colleague cringed as he sent a mildly-controversial bit of
news from the computer in his hotel room, because he half expected someone
from the governor's staff to show up at his door within minutes to complain.
No one showed up, but he knew that they knew that he knew they were reading
him on the Web. That's the "echo-chamber."