Andy

Hobbs

You can read about the weather in a newspaper. You can read about the weather online, and maybe watch a video or live weather-cam.

But to see a TV reporter almost blowing horizontally like a flag in a hurricane’s wild winds, gripping a pole tight enough to leave impressions, the rain spanking his face raw – now that’s a visual treat, and I’m not too demented to admit it.

The recent snowstorms in Western Washington left us sliding on roads and staying close to home. And when Mother Nature decides to empty her freezer, everyone wants to see who or what gets knocked out cold – as it’s happening.

The newspaper excels at reporting the weather with more depth, such as exploring the impacts on local businesses and tickling the mind’s long-term memory through verbal imagery. The Internet is just as instant as TV, but with a certain cyborg disconnectedness we expect when interacting through a computer.

But on TV, the weather reporters trudge knee-deep in snow, narrating footage of cars spinning off the roads as they recommend you stay cozy in front of the boob tube or stare at your crackling fireplace instead of venturing outside.

Challenging story

In news industry jargon, “weather story” is fairly self-explanatory. People love weather stories. It’s one thing we all have in common, and reporters face a universal challenge to make each weather story different than the last.

In college, I interned as a features reporter for a daily community newspaper in a small Midwestern town. The first story assignment: The art of sledding. The night before, a snow storm draped a white sheet over the county. At a hill next to a water tower bearing the town’s namesake, I met a mother and three kids scooting across the makeshift slopes in their construction-orange plastic saucers. Though I had reached the hilltop easily with boots that crushed through a slick frozen skin that coated the surface, I ended up stranded with no easy way down. With a borrowed saucer, I slid safely toward the car.

Along with dodging a slip-sliding Ford Explorer on a local snowy street two years ago, that’s the most action I’ve encountered when reporting the weather. That’s pure child’s play compared to what TV reporters endure each time the skies throw a tantrum. This is more than just news or conveying information. This is real-time entertainment – that’s what television does best, and that’s what we expect with each channel change.

Let’s not undermine the value of TV weather reports. These stations simply own the niche, even with the Internet on TV’s heels. Remember that mom and dad went to bed after the weather report. Is it going to rain or snow? Better dress appropriately. Sunshine and clear skies? Let’s play hooky from work.

Save the newspaper’s weather epilogue, if there is one, for your morning coffee. Perhaps after you’ve caught today’s temperatures online, with the TV talking in the background and a weather reporter clutching an ice cream cone microphone, shivering in a winter hat, snow turning his eyebrows bushy white.

To those TV weather reporters who cruise the sloppy roads in the heated comfort of an SUV, listen up: Viewers like listening to you, but they want to see you suffer. The more the better.

Now that’s breaking news.

Reach Andy Hobbs

at editor@fedwaymirror.com