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媒体人的奥运会

媒体人的奥运会

Douglas Alden Warshaw 2012-07-31
自美国全国广播公司(NBC)斥巨资购得奥运独家转播权以来,其制片人等待奥运会开幕这一天已经等了好几年了。然而,无论准备得再充分,面对意外事件时,能帮助他们的或许只有自己的肾上腺素。

    奥运圣火距离伦敦奥林匹克体育场越来越近,在那里,奥运圣火将在圣火盆中连续燃烧17天。“圣火盆”真是个美妙的字眼,回响着中世纪城堡、国王、魔法与巫术的余韵,对于伦敦奥运会来说,真是再合适不过。现在,我们很期待谁将最后一个跑进体育场,谁又将代表英国,在全球数十亿观众面前点燃圣火(本人郑重声明,自从伦敦赢得奥运会主办权那天起,我就打赌点燃圣火的将是罗杰斯•班尼斯特爵士。很明显,伦敦那些业余的赌客现在终于同意我的观点)。我们将拭目以待。奥运前期报道的大部分内容都是有关美国国家广播环球公司(NBC Universal)将播出海量奥运节目,数量足以令人惊愕:通过美国全国广播公司(NBC)、美国国家广播环球公司有线电视网,以及在手机与平板电脑网络上播放的视频节目总计长达5,535小时;而在1996年亚特兰大奥运会期间,该公司制作和播放的节目长度只有170小时,足足增加了3,156%。(是的,你没看错:就是3,156%。但似乎并没有人觉得NBC对亚特兰大奥运会的报道不够充分。)

    不过,过去几天,通过与康卡斯特(Comcast)/NBCU的体育记者发送邮件或者手机短信(通常只有一个字符)进行交流,我一直在考虑一个问题:NBC制片、节目制作和工程团队的血管里到底流淌着多少肾上腺素和激情?

    对于运动员来说,奥运会只关乎个人成就,毕竟冷战早已结束,金牌榜不过是一个毫无意义的幌子而已,但奥运会转播却是一项受到情绪驱动的团队工作。

    而且这种情绪非常奇怪,因为不论是有意识或是下意识地,你的思维已经为这17天准备了至少两年时间。

    还记得你经历过最重要的求职面试吗?现在想象一下,你有三年的时间来为这次面试做准备。卧室天花板上还悬挂着倒计时钟,每晚都在提醒你。

    如果你在2012年的2月13日问NBC奥运记者,他们正在想什么,他们或许或说:“明天是情人节,我得给老公买点什么。”然而在他们内心深处,他们实际上可能在想:“距离伦敦奥运会还有165天。”(千真万确!)

    这不仅因为他们办公室里到处都悬挂着奥运倒计时钟。其实,从接到奥运报道任务起,他们马上就会学会了以365天为基础开始倒计时。(过后回顾自己的职业生涯时,如果你曾参与过多届奥运会,那么你可以从730开始倒计时。)

    从很多方面来看,与作为国家代表队参加奥运会的经历相比,报道奥运会的经历更加紧张激烈。因为,在真正走上奥运会赛场之前,体育团队并不确定自己是否有资格参赛。他们不会提前一年半就体会到那种焚心蚀骨的终极压力。当然,比赛的过程同样激烈,但很快就会过去——“如果我们赢得这场比赛,就能去超级碗了!”体育比赛是肾上腺素的一次激烈爆发(就像是大剂量的肾上腺素瞬间击中了某样东西)。而对于奥运记者来说,它却是漫长的折磨,类似于打点滴。

    然后,奥运会终于开幕了。

    意外情况也接踵而至。

    意外大多发生在赛场上,但有时候场外也难幸免——比如未得到允许的默哀。其次,你正在“报道”奥运会,同时也是在“制作”奥运会,包装奥运会。这背后涉及数以亿计的利益冲突,不过这就是奥运报道团队必须遵守的游戏规则。因此,随着万众期待的明星的表演,新的体育明星被发掘出来(有时其实是被制造出来的),还有不可避免的争议的爆发。无论是从技术层面,还是作为编辑的身份,你从头到尾都只能寄望于自己的肾上腺素来帮助自己做出正确的决定。

    这就是全国广播公司每个人正在考虑的问题。

    这就是他们的奥运会。

    本文作者道格拉斯•埃尔顿•华沙为《财富》杂志(Fortune)撰稿人,广泛涉足媒体与娱乐领域。曾在美国广播公司(ABC)新闻频道、美国广播公司体育频道、ESPN和美国全国广播公司体育与奥运会频道担任制片人。

    译者:刘进龙/汪皓

    As the Olympic flame is carried closer and closer to its 17-day perch inside the cauldron at London's Olympic Stadium -- "cauldron," what a great word, with its echo of medieval castles, kings, magic and sorcery it's just perfect for an Olympics in England -- we wait to see who the final runner into the stadium will be, and who has been chosen to light the flame and represent Great Britain in front of a global audience of over a billion people (for the record, my money has been on Sir Roger Bannister since the day London won the Games, and apparently the London bookies are finally beginning to see it my way). And we watch. Much of the pre-Olympic coverage about NBCUniversal (CMCSA) by the media has been about the tonnage of programming that will be pumped out over the air. It's a staggering amount: 5,535 hours of video via NBC, the NBCU cable networks, and over the web onto mobile phones and tablet; a rise of over 3,156% compared to the 170 hours that were produced and delivered for the 1996 Atlanta Games. (Yeah, you read that right: 3,156%. And it's not like anyone felt the Atlanta Games were under-covered.)

    But what I've been thinking about over the past couple of days, as I've talked (briefly) and emailed or txt msg'd (usually just a graph) with Comcast/NBCU Sports staffers, is the amount of adrenaline and emotion that is pumping through the veins of the NBC production, programming and engineering teams.

    For the athletes, the Olympics is really about individual achievement -- now that the Cold War is over, the medal standings are a meaningless gimmick -- but for the broadcast group the Olympics is a team effort driven by emotion.

    And it's a strange sort of emotion because your mind, both consciously and subconsciously, has been planning for these 17 days for at least two years.

    Remember the most important job interview you ever had? Now imagine you had three years to prepare for it, and there was a countdown clock on your bedroom ceiling that you stared at every night.

    On February 13, 2012 if you had asked an NBC Olympics staffer what they were thinking about, they might have told you, "I need to get my husband something for Valentines Day," but deep down they actually would be thinking: "There's only 165 more days before the London Games." (Honest.)

    And that's not just because they keep countdown calendars hanging around the office. It's just that when you work on the Olympics you quickly learn to count backwards in base 365. (Later on in life, as you look back at your career, if you've done multiple Games you count in base 730.)

    In many ways it's a more intense experience than playing on a national championship sports team, because sports teams aren't certain that they'll be playing for the championship until they get there. They don't feel the ultimate pressure gnawing at them a year and a half in advance. For sports teams the experience is intense, but it's quick—"We win this game and we go to the Super Bowl!"—it's one big shot of adrenaline (adrenaline, adrenaline, adrenaline, hit something). But for an Olympic staffer, it's a slow drip.

    And then the Games start.

    And then the unexpected happens.

    Mostly it happens between the lines on the field of play, but inevitably something happens outside them—like a moment of silence that isn't allowed (or, worse, the one thing no one really wants to think about, the ultimate moment of silence, like '72). Then you're "covering" the Games, but you're also "producing" and packaging them, too—it's a multibillion conflict of interest, but that's how the game of the Games is played when you're on the broadcast team. So, as the expected stars perform, and as some new stars get discovered (or sometimes manufactured), and as the inevitable controversies erupt...the whole time you're hoping your adrenaline helps you make the right decisions, technically and editorially.

    That's what everyone at NBC is thinking about right now.

    That's life in the Olympic cauldron.

    Douglas Alden Warshaw is a contributing writer for Fortune covering media and entertainment. He's been a producer at ABC News, ABC Sports, ESPN and NBC Sports & Olympics.

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