Dear Ronn Owens and Gary Radnich: A Love Letter from Rich, (Sort of)

Many of you assume I hate Gary Radnich and Ronn Owens. I do not. While I have been overly critical and continue to call them out when I see fit over their professional work, it never gets personal. There are other individuals too, but since Owens and Radnich are two of the biggest media people in the market, they make for convenient targets--none of it personal.

In Owen's case, sometimes, because I feel, (as do many), that his uber-annoying habit of making guests read the mattress ads borders on tacky, I'll refer to him as mattress man. I'm not the only one who feels that way but even if I were, I'd still chastise him. It's particularly painful when the guest might be a past cabinet official or someone like that.

By the same token I'd still listen to Owens do thirty minutes with Alan Dershowitz and John Bolton. Wolf Blitzer too. Why? Because even in the twilight of his career he can still do a damn good interview. It's called entertaining radio. Better yet, it's on terrestrial radio too--what a bargain. That doesn't mean I have to fall in love with Owens over his recent professional transgressions which I took personal because I feel, still do, that he sold out his colleagues and damaged his own legacy. My own personal opinion. I'm got going into detail because most of you who come here regularly know the story.

Hate is a strong word. I don't hate Owens. He probably despises me but that's his deal--not mine. My conscience is clear and I know in my heart of hearts that's how I feel and how I reacted to his act on the air the day after will never disappear. That said, even at his worst, Owens is the top dog in the radio market here which says a lot about SF talk- radio. Michael Krasny over at KQED is a sort of 1 or 1A depending on guest, but when on his game--minus gadget minutiae, Owens can turn it up a notch. He's nowhere near where he once was but who is? 'Nuff said.

With regard to Gary, much the same way. I'm critical of Radnich because he makes it easy. When he continues to mail it in each and every day, I'll nail him on it. I don't listen to him much anymore because he's become much too insecure and has a nasty habit of taking personal shots--this, from a guy who rails at people who take personal shots at him "and my family." The irony.

That said, every now and then, especially on TV, the old Gary is still good. Funny too, especially when interviewing a sports personality. The two-shot on TV of Raddy essentially calling out some coach a few years back remains ingrained in my mind. It was vintage good Gary--the kind of raw content that not only made for compelling and candid local TV content, but resonated well with viewers alike. Better yet, the fact that a former co-anchor who sat next to Radnich the early evening it occurred and made a point of figuratively high-fiving him made it even better.

Good Gary on radio lacks. When he's alone, solo, without the X's and o's guy, and tackles an occasional sports talk-radio subject, he can still move the needle. Problem is when he tries to convey to the "younger demo" that he's still hip and can recite a Kanye West lyric is when he gets into trouble. First off, it's, again, insecurity. I can relate. I'm insecure myself. Pretty much anyone in this business, even the greatest, have their moments.

Radnich takes it further. It's almost as if he wants to have it both ways. His faux mocks of local media people are not always appreciated by some. How do I know? Because I asked. He tries to laugh off the frequent digs but those on the receiving end are not always endeared to him. Most don't care because he's lost a lot of his cachet. He can still belt out the three-run homer but he's batting seventh, not third. That's OK, Eric Byrnes stole $30M from the Arizona Diamondbacks.

I've never been personal with Raddy. I've heard all the stories. I believe in the word, karma. And as I get older and wiser, really, what's the purpose? Life is too short and considering what's taking place in our world today, the mess, the mayhem, this and that, why bother.  (Yes, I'm now getting overly philosophical but it's a damn blog--what were you expecting, a Philip Roth piece in The New Yorker?)

As I have repeated ad-nauseum here many a time, this place isn't about gossip. Rumors, thoughts, make-the-round lunch talk and water cooler material, sure. You want to call that gossip, go ahead. Perez Hilton, I'm not, which could probably rev up the $$-worth of this site and temporarily help me pay my medical bills and lousy habits.

Mostly, this site is a go-to for people who are interested in the goings-on in local SF Bay Area and South Bay media. Do I have some disdain for some of the content providers? Of course. Hate? That's too strong a word. Clearly, there are people who hate me. Fine. It goes with the territory and when you delve into the inner sanctum of people with bigger egos than the size of Jupiter, it's to be expected. I get it.

I also get the fact that some people take it real, real, personal, which, frankly when you're dealing with a business that is personal in nature is reasonable enough. As long as nobody gets hurt, as they say, it's OK.

I don't want to give off the perception that I'm suddenly on an Alan Alda crusade. Look, I have my favorites and there's people that I don't care for and vice-versa. Funny thing is that, not surprisingly, some of the people who have been subject to some of my most lethal shots, are good friends, which is fine even though this is not about making friends. They tend to look at the big picture and understand what all of this is about. That's not to say I'm the gospel and have never regretted some of the things I've said or opined. Life is a series of chapters--we all make mistakes. I'm no different in that respect.


So let us get it on the record. I don't hate anybody other than Terry Bradshaw, the Pittsburgh Steelers, the Tuck rule and Tom Brady. Toss in Donald Trump , Walt Coleman, Tom LaSorda and Chris Wallace, yeah, then utter the H word. Wait, I left out Ann Coulter.

Everone else? Don't have to love 'em, but hate? Hell no.


Let's go to Tadich and have lunch and break bread. Life is too short.




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