Why I Still Write: When Newsrooms Shrink, Independent Voices Step Up

First off, welcome to the start of the 2026 MLB season!

This offseason has been nothing short of wild and eventful, filled with major changes around the Washington Nationals. From the hiring of a new President of Baseball Operations to the arrival of a new manager, Nationals fans are heading into a season that promises to be interesting—to say the least.

This year won’t just be transformational for the team on the field. It’s also shaping up to be a defining year for The Nats Report.

You might be asking yourself: Why haven’t I written much this offseason?
The answer is simple—rest.

After a long season, I intentionally stepped back. I used this offseason to recharge, reflect, and prepare for what’s ahead. Now, with pitchers and catchers just days away from reporting, it’s time to get back into the groove.

And I wanted my first article of 2026 to tackle something bigger than projections or spring training storylines: the recent layoffs in The Washington Post sports department—and what they say about where sports journalism is headed.

Let’s start here, because it matters.

No matter how you spin it, it’s painful when people lose their jobs. Careers are disrupted. Families are affected. Stability disappears overnight.

I’ve been there. I’ve been laid off. I know what it’s like to worry about how long savings will last and where the next paycheck is coming from. That stress is real, and it never gets easier.

Because of that, I want to extend a genuine invitation: if any Washington Post writers want to continue covering the Washington Nationals, reach out to us. Let’s talk. We would love to have you contribute to The Nats Report. While we can’t offer financial compensation, we can offer a consistent platform, real readership, and a community hungry for quality Nationals coverage while you figure out what’s next.

The Nats Report is entirely volunteer-driven—built by people who love baseball, care deeply about the Nationals, and want to contribute to something meaningful. If that sounds like you, this door is open.

Now, the uncomfortable truth.

Back in 2024, I wrote about what I believed was coming for sports journalism. After re-reading that article and reflecting on the last few weeks, I’m more convinced than ever that—even though layoffs are never good—this moment was unavoidable.

Ask yourself one simple question:
When was the last time you bought a physical newspaper?

Ad revenue is down. Print readership is shrinking. Digital subscriptions haven’t scaled fast enough to sustain the massive sports departments of the past. That’s not a failure of reporters—it’s a broken business model colliding with modern consumption habits.

This shift isn’t personal. It’s structural.

One of the most frustrating reactions I’ve seen online goes something like this:
*“If the Washington Post sports department is shrinking, who will cover our local teams?”*

Seriously?

The answer is obvious: independent outlets have been doing it for years.

There are countless bloggers, newsletters, and websites—especially us at The Nats Report—who have consistently covered the Nationals without the backing of a legacy institution. The real issue isn’t coverage. It’s credibility gatekeeping.

Independent writers are routinely shut out of press conferences, denied access, and dismissed as “bloggers” or “fans with phones.” That tired, lazy characterization ignores the real work involved in writing, editing, reporting, publishing, and growing a media outlet from scratch.

We’re not pretending to be journalists.
We are journalists—just without the corporate logo.

Let’s be honest: very few independent outlets ever “make it.”

But a lack of brand recognition doesn’t mean a lack of talent.

There are exceptional writers producing meaningful coverage every day—often read by thousands—without the megaphone of a major newspaper. Even well-known writers acknowledge this reality. Barry Svrluga himself noted that The Washington Post “took a chance on me and gave me the opportunity to cover local sports teams.”

That’s the key: opportunity.

Independent outlets create those opportunities every single day—without guarantees, without job security, and often without pay.

If you truly care about local journalism, here’s the hard truth:

Buying a Washington Post subscription does not automatically mean you’re supporting local journalism.

You’re supporting a national newspaper headquartered in Washington, D.C.—one that happens to cover local teams. That doesn’t diminish the importance of its investigative work. It’s essential and valuable.

But real local journalism often starts much smaller.

Look at Minnesota: the Somali fraud scandal was broken by a local, independent journalist—not a national newsroom. National coverage followed after the groundwork was laid. That’s how meaningful journalism still works.

From the ground up.
From people embedded in their communities.
From those willing to build without a safety net.

This moment matters for The Nats Report.

We’re not here to replace traditional media. We’re here to push it forward, fill the gaps, and serve fans who want authentic, consistent Nationals coverage—without nostalgia or gatekeeping.

We exist because fans want voices that aren’t tied to budgets or shrinking newsroom mandates.

We exist because independent coverage isn’t optional anymore.
And we exist because the next generation of sports journalism isn’t waiting for permission.

This isn’t theoretical.

Sports journalism is changing in real time—and what survives depends on who shows up.

So here’s the direct ask:

If you say you care about local journalism but don’t support independent coverage with your time, attention, and sharing, then you’re not protecting journalism—you’re watching it fade.

We’re not asking for sympathy.
We’re asking for participation.

Because the future of covering the Washington Nationals doesn’t belong to a printing press, a boardroom, or a legacy brand.

It belongs to the people willing to keep writing—
even when it’s hard,
even when it’s unpaid,
and even when no one is supposed to be watching.

And we’ll be right here when the season starts.