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By Myles Gilbert

When Christine Brennan was 10, her father would often find her in their living room, school books pushed aside, intently listening to the Toledo Mud Hens broadcast on public radio. Brennan followed the entire 1968 season of the Detroit Tigers Triple-A affiliate in a scorebook she received for her birthday.

“Not only were many 10-year-old girls in America not doing that,” Brennan said. “I dare to say very few 10-year-old boys were doing that.”

That’s who Christine was, and is. Infatuated with scores, stat sheets, and storylines.

Now, at age 64, Brennan has spent more than 40 years covering professional sports and the Olympics for the Miami Herald, The Washington Post and now USA Today. She is also a commentator for ABC News and CNN. Brennan became the Miami Herald’s first female sports reporter in 1981, the Post’s first woman assigned to the Washington Football Team beat in 1985, and the first president of the Association for Women in Sports Media in 1988. A trailblazer in the industry, Brennan is dedicated to help blaze a trail for the next generation of female sports reporters.

“I would be mad at myself if I didn’t give back,” Brennan said.

Growing up in Toledo, Ohio, sports surrounded Brennan, and it became her passion. She and her father dedicated fall Saturdays to college football, attending University of Toledo games just across the street from their home.

Brennan was enthralled by the action. Growing up, she wrote game previews for NBC’s nationally televised baseball games with information she gathered from her own bank of baseball knowledge and her hometown newspaper, the Toledo Blade. She scanned the headlines and box scores of the night before, craving the scoop.

On April 6, 1981, after receiving her bachelor’s and master’s degrees from Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism, Brennan became the first female sports reporter at the Miami Herald and covered the University of Florida Gators football program, a coveted beat in South Florida.

Brennan attributes her early success in a male-dominated profession to her editors at the Herald and coaches in South Florida, including legendary Miami Dolphins head coach Don Shula, because they brought her into the newsroom and locker room and allowed her to thrive.

In 1984, Brennan moved to The Washington Post, where then-sports editor George Solomon was inspired by her presence on his team.

“I was impressed with her professionalism and how she cultivated sources,” Solomon said. “She knew it wasn’t easy, but she was respected.”

Grateful for the opportunities she was given to live out her dream, Brennan was inspired to give back, recalling a saying her father often quoted from the New Testament: “To whom much is given, much is expected.”

In 1988, Brennan was elected president of the Association for Women in Sports Media, beginning her mentorship and support of female journalists. She helped found a scholarship-internship program, which has impacted almost 200 women, according to Brennan.

Michele Himmelberg, one of the organization’s founders, commends Brennan for championing women’s rights in her reporting.

“She is a strong, fair and righteous voice on important issues that need to be called out,” Himmelberg said. “She forces all of us to think about how wrong these issues are outside sports.”

For 13 years, beginning in 1999, Brennan pressed officials at the Masters Tournament, hosted at the Augusta National Golf Club, about the club’s lack of female members, returning every spring to ask the same question.

“I was public enemy number one of Augusta National,” she said. “But you can ask tough questions and still admire the event.”

Finally, in 2012, Brennan broke the news that Augusta National had admitted its first two female members, a scoop she credited to her friendly relationship with Billy Payne, then chairman of Augusta National, dating back to his days as the head of the 1996 Atlanta Olympics.

“You treat people right and they treat you right,” she said.

Brennan said she wants to be remembered for looking to the future and helping others, especially those without the same opportunities she had.

“Christine is incredibly generous with her time,” said Charles Whitaker, who was a classmate of Brennan’s at Medill and now serves as dean. “Whether it’s for career advice or just to find a mentor, I always direct students to Christine.”

Himmelberg recalled crowds of young female reporters huddled around Brennan at Association for Women in Sports Media conventions to introduce themselves.

“They flock around Christine because she’s so positive and they soak it all in,” Himmelberg said. “She’s always ready to actively mentor young women and give them hope, direction and guidance.”

What has been most gratifying for Brennan is her activism and compassionate reporting.

“If I were remembered at all,” she said, “I would want to be remembered as someone who gave back, and someone who had an unquenchable thirst to motivate and encourage those coming after me.”

By Marc Zarefsky (BSJ07) for Spotlight on Storytelling

Robert Samuels watched footage of George Floyd’s murder like millions of people around the world, but when Samuels, a journalist for the Washington Post, first traveled to Minneapolis in the summer of 2020, he wasn’t interested in Floyd’s death. He wanted to write about Floyd’s life.

“As much as I read about him, I had no sense of his soul,” Samuels told me. “That’s what I wanted to show the world.”

Samuels earned the trust of Floyd’s family and closest friends — many who previously refused interview requests — and crafted a powerful tale of hope and horror as part of the Post’s six-part series on “George Floyd’s America.” But Samuels knew there was a far bigger story to tell, a story of systemic racism that ultimately left Floyd gasping to breathe.

“As time went on, his humanity risked being reduced into simply a face that was associated with pain,” Samuels said. “Fellow Post reporter Toluse Olorunnipa and I thought we could help restore it.”

Now, nearly two years to the day since Floyd was killed, the two are trying to do just that. Samuels and Olorunnipa co-authored “His Name is George Floyd: One Man’s Life and the Struggle for Racial Justice,” which is available for purchase today.

Samuels talked with me about the challenges of crafting such a complex story involving a person most people know of, but few know about.

As you were writing the book, who was the audience you were writing for?

The first person is my mom. Because she immigrated from Jamaica to this country, she had to learn about racism in America. She came to this country in 1973, the same year Floyd was born, and she wondered how her life would be different if her family experienced what Floyd’s had. So in my mom, I think of the person who might not have the complete depth of understanding of the issues, but enough of a baseline that you can’t take certain thoughts or feelings for granted.

Honestly, a part of me wrote it for the 16-year-old version of myself — the skinny, somewhat self-effacing kid who could not fully articulate why teachers underestimated him or why he could sometimes feel so out of place in the country he loved. I imagined him picking up this book in an airport and being empowered with the vocabulary and the historical knowledge about race and racism that he did not previously have. And I thought of how empowering it would be for him.

How, if at all, did your approach to interviews change depending on who you were attempting to speak with?

The pitch we made wasn’t that different for anyone — from any of Floyd’s loved ones to President Biden himself, who also answered our questions. We thought we had a great opportunity to help open people’s eyes to the invasive force of systemic racism, and we told everyone how humbling it would be if they could help join us on the journey. And so many people, including people who were with Floyd on the day he died who have not spoken publicly about the incident, said “yes.” More than 400 did. And every “yes” we received felt monumental.

Profile stories can sometimes have a formulaic pattern to them, yet the story you tell weaves George Floyd’s story into the larger story of systemic racism in this country. How challenging was it to piece those stories together?

Floyd’s presence actually helped us focus the story. We knew any issue we discussed had to relate to him and the movement that followed his death. The tentacles of systemic racism in this country are wide-ranging, so embedding these ideas inside the narrative allowed us to introduce them to the reader in a way that feels organic. A lot of biographies tell the “what happened” part; We wanted to put his life in the proper context and answer the “why” questions, too, because his death became such a symbol of how racism operates in America. But we wanted the reader to understand that systemic racism did not come pressing on Floyd solely because of his last interaction on earth.

What did you learn about storytelling from this project?

The benefit of planning ahead. We wrote a pretty big book — twice as many words as our publisher asked — that had many different threads and characters, so it had the potential to be a train wreck. There was no way we could have done the book and finished on time if we did not build the architecture for chapters before we started writing. We had to have a sense of building up to important scenes, make conscious decisions about when the narrative should begin to speed up and pray, pray, that we could get characters developed over the chapters. There was little about the structure that was happenstance.

What advice would you give someone looking to become a better storyteller?

Listen and learn. I think a lot of journalists go into stories with the wrong attitude that you are doing a community or a person a huge favor. No. They are giving you the privilege of trust and candor. So, listen to them. Let their answers breathe and try to interrupt them as little as possible. Ask smart follow-ups. And then, at the end, mirror back what you thought you heard them say.

What do you hope readers learn from your book?

That George Floyd’s battle to breathe in America started long before he met Derek Chauvin. He spent his life trying to navigate systems that carried the legacy of racist laws that rarely showed him any grace. I want readers to see how systemic racism works and how consuming it can be.

But ultimately, this story is about the persistence and optimism of black people in this country. Floyd, for example, never stopped trying to be a more productive member of society — and always believed it was possible. The activists who take up the fight for justice protest because they believe the country can have a better tomorrow. And even when legislation fails and their tactics get maligned, they seem to hold a brighter outlook for the country’s future than so many of the lawmakers who represent them. It is the black people of the country who are the holders of American hope in the book — and I found it to be a profound response to the structural issues in this country. When I asked why they refused to think things don’t get better, the answer was always the same: If we lose hope, the alternative is far too bleak.

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That’s it for this storytelling spotlight. If you know someone who might enjoy this newsletter, please pass it along. If you want to know more about “His Name is George Floyd: One Man’s Life and the Struggle for Racial Justice,” don’t miss these reviews:

• The New York Times
• The Atlantic
• The Washington Post