Welcome to The A Block, Awful Announcing’s daily newsletter, where you’ll always find the latest sports media news, commentary, and analysis.

Did someone share this newsletter with you? Sign up for free to make sure you never miss it.

📸 Camera perfection. An NBC camera operator nailed the national anthem flyover shot during Charlie Puth's performance, smoothly panning from Puth to the jets, back to Puth, catching a second flyover, then returning to Puth all in one take.

🌍 Expansion talk. Roger Goodell told Westwood One's Scott Graham that international expansion is "very possible someday.” Goodell also announced the NFL plans to play nine games outside the United States in 2026, with a long-term goal of all 32 teams playing one overseas game each season.

🎙️ Hot mic mea culpa. NBC snowboarding announcer Todd Richards apologized after getting caught calling the Men's Big Air final "boring" on a hot mic, clarifying his comments had "nothing to do with the athletes" but rather the format compared to qualifiers.

📊 Ratings patience. Super Bowl LX ratings won't be released until Tuesday, despite clickbait sources claiming otherwise. Nielsen's final number will include expanded Big Data viewership from additional smart TVs and streaming boxes, and represents U.S.-only average minute audience — meaning comparisons to YouTube views, global audiences, or reach numbers are apples-to-oranges.

😢 Emotional moment. ESPN Deportes reporter John Sutcliffe got emotional on air after Bad Bunny's Spanish-language halftime show, telling viewers, in what can roughly be translated to, "It's OK to have a tear in your eye and feel proud that Benito sang in Spanish at America's biggest celebration."

📺 Skinny bundle breakdown. YouTube TV rolled out four new genre-specific packages ranging from $54.99 to $71.99 per month, including a Sports Plan ($64.99) with every major sports network, a Sports + News Plan ($71.99), an Entertainment Plan ($54.99), and a News + Entertainment + Family Plan ($69.99). The Sports Plan includes ESPN, FS1, NBC, CBS, Fox, ABC, and all major cable sports networks but excludes Prime Video, Netflix, and Paramount+.

⚾ Blackout. MLB Network went dark on Optimum after the two sides failed to reach a distribution deal by the Jan. 31 deadline, impacting approximately one million subscribers in the New York metropolitan area.

Tony Dungy has spent the past week proving that NBC is paying him to be silent at precisely the moments when his voice matters most.

The Hall of Fame coach-turned-analyst was part of the 50-person committee that kept Bill Belichick from being a first-ballot inductee, a stunning decision that dominated sports media coverage for days. Dungy had a unique perspective as both a voter and an NBC analyst covering the NFL. He was positioned to provide insight no one else could, to explain his reasoning and defend a controversial decision.

Instead, he hid behind an oath that doesn't exist.

Twice, Dungy declined to reveal his vote when asked directly. First, he told reporters he wouldn't discuss it until after the Hall of Fame class was officially announced. Then came Sunday's Super Bowl pregame show, with the Hall class already revealed and the controversy still raging. Jac Collinsworth asked Dungy directly whether he voted for Belichick.

"I'm not going to disclose that," Dungy said. "When you come on the committee, you take an oath that you're not going to discuss any of the debates, anything that happened there. I'm not going to put any of my teammates under the bus who they voted for, who I voted for."

The problem with Dungy's explanation is that the oath he described doesn't actually require his silence. The Pro Football Hall of Fame's bylaws mandate that voters “[h]old in strictest confidence all opinions expressed by Selectors during the annual selection meeting regarding the qualifications of the nominees." That language specifically refers to keeping other voters' opinions confidential during deliberations. Nothing in the bylaws prevents Dungy from disclosing his own vote. Nothing requires him to protect information about his personal decision-making process.

Multiple Hall of Fame voters have confirmed this publicly since Belichick's exclusion became a story. Some have revealed their votes. Others have explained their reasoning without invoking imaginary oaths. Dungy is choosing silence rather than honoring an obligation.

Which raises an obvious question about his value to NBC.

"Tony Dungy, again, who's getting paid by NBC, was asked on the never-ending pregame show whether or not he voted for Bill Belichick," Michael Kay said. "First of all, if I'm NBC, I'd fire him on the spot. We're paying you whatever amount of money we're paying you. You are discussing it. What's your value to us if you're making news and you're not discussing it with us?"

NBC employs Dungy to provide insight into the NFL. The network pays him for his perspective, his expertise, and his ability to explain the game to viewers. Being a Hall of Fame voter is part of that expertise. It's a credential that enhances his value as an analyst. The voting process itself is newsworthy, and Dungy's participation in it makes him more relevant to NBC's coverage.

But when the moment arrives for him to actually use that platform to provide unique insight, he claims he can't discuss it. He's leveraging his Hall of Fame voting position to enhance his credibility while refusing to discuss the votes he's required to cast.

Dungy has never hesitated to take public stances on controversial topics when they align with his personal convictions. He spoke at the March for Life anti-abortion rally in 2023, where he cited Damar Hamlin's cardiac arrest while arguing against abortion rights. He tweeted and later deleted a debunked urban myth about schools placing litter boxes in bathrooms for students who identify as cats. He's appeared as a featured speaker at events hosted by anti-LGBTQ+ figures and organizations for years.

None of this is meant to litigate Dungy's political positions. He's entitled to his beliefs and to advocate for the causes he supports. The point is that Dungy clearly feels comfortable using his platform and reputation to speak out on divisive social and political issues that have nothing to do with football. He doesn't claim to be bound by professional obligations when discussing abortion policy or gender identity. He doesn't hide behind imaginary oaths when advocating for legislation he supports.

But when it comes to a Hall of Fame vote that directly intersects with his professional responsibilities at NBC and involves one of the most accomplished coaches in NFL history, he suddenly discovers a vow of silence he must uphold.

The inconsistency is glaring.

Dungy will discuss whatever he wants, regardless of controversy or backlash. But when asked to explain a professional decision he made in his role in football media, he claims his hands are tied.

Even Rodney Harrison, standing next to Dungy during Sunday's pregame segment, couldn't pretend his colleague's reasoning made sense. After Dungy blamed the Hall of Fame's voting rules for Belichick's exclusion, Harrison offered a response that felt like a public rebuke.

"What I would say, coach, is any list that doesn't include Bill Belichick at the top is absolutely wrong," Harrison said. "When I look throughout the Hall of Fame, and even a guy like Tom Brady, Tom Brady wouldn't be Tom Brady without Bill Belichick. That's the disappointing part of it, Coach, and you guys got it wrong."

The former New England Patriots safety didn't accept Dungy's deflection about voting procedures or committee structure. He made it clear that — regardless of the rules — the outcome was indefensible. And he said it while standing on the same set, wearing the same NBC credentials, working for the same network that pays Dungy to provide football analysis.

Harrison took a clear stance. He explained his position. He was willing to criticize the Hall of Fame's decision, even though doing so implicitly criticized his NBC colleague who participated in it. He provided substantive analysis rather than hiding behind procedural technicalities.

That's what NBC is presumably paying both of them to do. Yet only one of them actually did it.

Dungy's refusal to discuss his vote becomes even more difficult to defend when you consider what he did choose to discuss during that same segment. He spent considerable time criticizing the Hall of Fame’s voting procedures, explaining how rule changes implemented two years ago created the situation that kept Belichick out. He detailed the voting mechanics. He named other deserving candidates. He argued passionately that the system failed.

So Dungy can analyze the Hall of Fame’s procedures. He can critique the institution's decision-making process. He can advocate for rule changes. He just can't tell us how he personally voted or explain his personal reasoning.

NBC has every right to expect more from someone they're paying handsomely to be an analyst. The network is paying for his perspective, drawn from his experience as a Super Bowl-winning coach and his ongoing involvement in the sport at the highest levels.

Dungy built a media career on his coaching credentials and his reputation as a thoughtful, principled leader. Those qualities should make him a valuable analyst. But being thoughtful and principled also means being willing to explain your decisions, especially when those decisions become part of major sports stories.

If Dungy genuinely believes Belichick deserved to be a first-ballot Hall of Famer, he should say that and explain how the voting system prevented that outcome despite his support. If he voted against Belichick, he should explain why and defend his reasoning. Either position would be defensible. Either stance would demonstrate the kind of principled analysis that NBC presumably values.

NBC has plenty of former coaches and players who can describe what's happening on the field. It has numerous analysts who can break down schemes and predict outcomes. What separates a truly valuable analyst from someone just filling airtime is their willingness to take positions, explain controversial decisions, and offer a perspective viewers can't get anywhere else.

Dungy had the opportunity to do exactly that last Sunday. He had unique insight into one of the biggest stories in football. He had a massive platform and an eager audience. And he chose to hide behind an oath that doesn't require his silence rather than do the job NBC pays him to do.

On the latest edition of The Play-By-Play, Drew Lerner and Brendon Kleen go over whether the Turning Point USA All-American halftime show can compete with the NFL going forward, as well as a review of Mike Tirico’s first-ever Super Bowl for NBC.

"I don't know what happened, and I'm sorry that it did." - Ryen Russillo explaining how an explicit photo ended up on his Instagram story during Super Bowl week, claiming he opened a DM, looked at it, then went to sleep doom-scrolling medieval video games without realizing anything posted. The photo disappeared before he woke up to over 100 calls and texts.

"When I say fool's gold and everybody get to saying certain things, 'Oh, you hating, you're bitter, you this, you that.' But it was inevitable." - Cam Newton taking a victory lap on First Take after the Patriots lost the Super Bowl, claiming vindication for calling them "fool's gold" last November despite the fact they rode that supposedly easy schedule all the way to the championship game.

"If you didn't understand Spanish, you were lost. And most Americans don't understand Spanish." - Stephen A. Smith criticizing Bad Bunny's halftime show while also praising it, saying he would have enjoyed it more if some songs were in English and agreeing with Donald Trump's complaint that it was "primarily in Spanish" and therefore a "legitimate point."

"I represent my family, I represent Sierra Leone, Bo, Freetown. It's an honor just to even say that." - Jaxon Smith-Njigba explaining the origin of his family name after Druski's joke at NFL Honors, noting the second portion of his last name comes from a grandfather who migrated from Sierra Leone and brought family to the U.S.

The Washington Post eliminated its entire sports department on Wednesday as part of layoffs that cut one-third of the newspaper's staff. One of the most prestigious sports sections in American journalism — home to John Feinstein, Michael Wilbon, Sally Jenkins, and Tony Kornheiser over the decades — ceased to exist with an email and a Zoom call.

Executive editor Matt Murray told staff the paper would retain "some reporters" on a new team to cover sports as a "cultural and societal phenomenon. Essentially, a skeleton crew will remain to assemble the print sports section from wire copy and freelance work, just as your local paper already does.

This isn't just about the Post. This is about what happens when one of the country's most prominent newspapers decides sports coverage isn't worth the investment, and what that decision signals to every other struggling outlet watching from the sidelines.

If Jeff Bezos — the fourth-richest person in the world with a net worth of around $260 billion — won't fund a sports desk at the Washington Post, who will?

The Post's sports section didn't fail because of poor journalism. It failed because sports journalism costs money, and media companies have decided they'd rather not spend it.

As local newspapers have disappeared or been gutted by hedge fund ownership, sports journalism has shifted away from expensive reporting toward talk shows, gambling advice, and hot takes. The business model rewards people yelling at each other on podcasts, not reporters spending six months investigating how college football programs funnel money to players.

Which brings us to the real problem. If the Washington Post can't make sports work, what chance does your local paper have?

The Post has name recognition, a massive national audience, and an owner who could fund the entire operation out of pocket change without noticing. It has infrastructure, legacy subscribers, and enough institutional credibility that eliminating the sports desk generated national headlines and congressional condemnation from Nancy Pelosi.

Your local paper has none of that. It's probably owned by a hedge fund that's been systematically stripping assets for years. Its circulation has collapsed. Its advertising revenue disappeared to Google and Facebook a decade ago. And now the one newspaper that still had the resources to maintain quality local sports coverage just decided it wasn't worth the investment.

If you're reading this in a mid-sized city, wondering when your paper will stop sending reporters on the road with your local baseball team, the answer is probably sooner than you think. If you're wondering when high school sports coverage will shift from game stories to scores and box scores, that's already happening in most markets.

The Post's decision doesn't just eliminate jobs. It eliminates the argument that quality sports journalism is sustainable even with resources and institutional support. If Bezos won't fund it at the Washington Post, no hedge fund manager is going to fund it at your regional daily.

This matters beyond sports fans losing game recaps. Sports intersect with politics, culture, business, and society in ways that require actual journalism to cover properly. College athlete compensation, brain injury litigation, ownership malfeasance, sexual assault scandals, gambling addiction, doping investigations — these are stories that need reporters with expertise and institutional backing to uncover and explain.

The Athletic exists, and outlets like Front Office Sports and Sports Business Journal focus on the business side of sports. But those are national publications covering major markets and big-name teams. They're not sending reporters to cover local high schools or minor league baseball. They're not investigating what happened to your city's stadium funding deal or why the local university is cutting Olympic sports.

That coverage disappears when local newspapers eliminate sports departments. And once it's gone, it's not coming back.

The Washington Post will continue publishing. It will still break political stories and cover national affairs. But it won't be the same newspaper, and sports coverage will be the most visible casualty of that transformation.

For readers in Washington, that means the Commanders, Nationals, Wizards, and Capitals will still be covered by national outlets and beat reporters employed by those teams' broadcast partners. Games will still be recapped. Transactions will still be reported. But the investigative work, the long-form features, the accountability journalism that made the Post's sports section distinctive — that's gone.

For readers everywhere else, it means your local paper is next. Maybe not this year, maybe not next year. But the trajectory is clear, and the Washington Post just accelerated it.

The canary died in the coal mine last Wednesday morning. The miners can pretend they didn't notice, but the air's already getting thinner.