Smutty tweet, then wife’s retreat
NEW YORK— Oh, to be a fly on the wall inside the home of Scot and Jessica McCloughan.
I’m thinking that fly might be squashed by some flying crockery.
Scot McCloughan, the general manager of the Washington Redskins, has been hailed as a scouting-savant rebuilder who will turn around the fortunes of a sad-sack club that has become an object of ridicule on and off the field.
She is his newlywed-ish wife and a mighty ticked-off woman.
A spouse who clearly believes her husband — on union No. 2, having admitted that heavy drinking helped spike his first marriage (back when he was drinking vodka out of a Gatorade bottle all the live-long day) — has been too upfront and leg-over personal with an ESPN reporter.
Mrs. McCloughan banged off a tweet recently that slimed ESPN summer addition Dianna Russini but also — this part has been underemphasized — kicked hubby in the goolies. Let us say she threw her fella under the team bus. One suspects she might have wished that to be more literal than metaphorical.
It’s difficult to believe that Jessica McCloughan is social-media stupid, like that huge constituency of taptap twits who apparently fail to appreciate that what goes out there into the cyberworld can’t ever be taken back. Then they’re all like, duh, I didn’t mean to hurt anybody.
So I’m assuming the missus knew exactly what she was doing, the scandal she was about to provoke, when tweeting last weekend about stories Russini had filed wondering if the Redskins had soured on their (possibly concussed) starting quarterback Robert Griffin III, who has in fact since been dropped. Great scoop, Russini.
But Mrs. McCloughan, either a paranoid spouse or a woman with her eyes wide open, read between the lines and came up with a hoary old slam — girl scoop covering men’s sport equals insider shagging.
“Please tell us how many BJs u had to give to get this story,” she snarked.
Then: “I’m pretty sure this info is coming from my husband to his new side chick (Dianna). It’s confirmed.”
On her Twitter profile, Mrs. McCloughan offers this professional opinion, from her perch as a WAG: “I’m trying to master the patience to deal with second rate reporters who are only 5.5 (at best). Keep grinding it out for that 5 figure salary.”
Unlike, say, marrying into that 7-figure salary.
The Redskins’ damage control spun widely out of whack. Their initial reaction was to deny any such tweet had been sent, then that it came from a fake Twitter account and the NFL’s security office would be investigating, before finally admitting, yup, real thing and sprayed out there by their GM’s wife.
Wednesday, McCloughan was forced — clearly, forced — into an embarrassing comedown, or walkback.
I can just envision McCloughan grinding her teeth as she typed (actually the statement was released through the club, so let’s say she signed off on it, but still teeth-gnashing): “I deeply apologize for the disparaging remarks about an ESPN reporter on my personal Twitter account.” Notice she couldn’t bring herself to mention her target’s name. “The comment was unfounded and inappropriate and I have the utmost respect for both the reporter and ESPN.” Here, pull the other one, Jessica. More disingenuous apologias right and left, to team, to fans, blah-blahblah. Not specifically to her husband, though, who was equally tweet-smeared.
Wisely, Russini hasn’t counter- punched. The statement put out by ESPN, in her defence, was surprisingly restrained. Could that be because ESPN enjoys a multi-billiondollar broadcasting deal with the National Football League and why sour that relationship over one slandered employee? Just asking. Mum also was the NFL. Not a peep from Commissioner Roger Goodell. Of course he’s had his hands full with Tom Brady’s balls — a judge here overturning his four-game suspension in the matter of “Deflategate.”
Here I thought the bad old days of slagging and harassing female sports writers were dead and buried. Although, personally, I have little patience with women who run crying to management or ownership: the big, bad jock said nasty things to me. It’s just not the way I’ve ever handled it.
Also, I won’t pretend that relationships — or flings, whatever term you wish — don’t arise between reporters and athletes. Which isn’t to suggest Russini did get low-down to get the low-down on the Redskins; there’s zero evidence of that.
But it does sometimes happen and that’s no crime, as long as the reporter backs off the team’s coverage. Frankly, such intimacy strikes me as a lot less acceptable than, say, reporters going on a golfing holiday with Paul Beeston.
We’ve seen how all the acolytes have come out of the woodwork over Rogers’ (unseemly and hamfisted) attempts to dump Beeston over the winter.
In yet another tweet aimed at Russini, Mrs. McCloughan snarled about the recipients of those alleged oral sex acts: “Did they laugh at you before or after?”
Honey, you’re the one we’re all laughing at now. Rosie DiManno usually appears Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday.