Pablo Torre Credit: Pablo Torre Finds Out
By Brendon Kleen on

When Pablo Torre left ESPN two years ago to launch a new project that would become Pablo Torre Finds Out, he had an odd pitch. The show was basically for all the things Torre was curious about, the implicit suggestion being that his taste was worth going along with. That he could cook up content so compelling it could not be ignored.

More specifically, Torre’s pitch for PTFO was that he would approach serious topics with levity and silly topics seriously. Torre roped curious sports fans in with episodes on the weed stench at the U.S. Open and the origins of the NFL’s Wonderlic Test. He found out whether Troy Aikman had ever heard that he looked like Jay-Z, and unearthed the cringe video compilation that the New York Knicks put together for LeBron James in 2010. But lately, Torre has risen to extraordinary heights — hundreds of thousands of viewers and a seven-figure deal with The Athletic — by dropping bombshells.

Whether covering the NFLPA, Bill Belichick, or the Los Angeles Clippers, Torre has generated a passionate following by practicing old-fashioned journalism while adhering to the rules of the internet. Torre is the sports muckraker of our times: a tireless poster and pissant to power who more than happily flexes a big scoop.

Listen to most media executives or cultural prognosticators, and they would tell you this shouldn’t be possible anymore. Few people with an ESPN host’s cache and sports betting budget try to walk the path of Woodward and Bernstein rather than Pat McAfee and Stephen A Smith. Yet by crafting his show and public persona around what works online, Pablo Torre is arguably as big as any new host in recent memory.

Compared with most investigative reporters, Torre is everywhere. He jokes with followers online about his scoops and the fallout from them. He serves not as a correspondent or special contributor to his show, but as its face, host, and namesake. His bombshells are now memes: When the Trump administration refused to release the Epstein list this summer, my corner of social media was littered with posts calling on Torre to find it. At a time when audiences say they want authenticity from journalists and value individuals more than outlets, Torre gladly checks both boxes.

Starting most prominently with his standout appearance on The Bill Simmons Podcast, Torre has proven to be a gleeful participant in the response to his own work. He doesn’t back down to challengers or turn down publicity.

To some, this is off-putting. In response to Torre’s revelation that the NFLPA hid a ruling that showed evidence of collusion among NFL owners, Fox Sports Radio host Doug Gottlieb’s response was to question whether Torre understood the definition of the word collusion. In the days since Torre’s latest news on potential salary cap circumvention by the Los Angeles Clippers, former NBA player Channing Frye teased Torre for even bothering to look into the affair at all, calling him a snitch.

From my view, Pablo Torre does this for a few key reasons. The Bible warns against worshipping idols, but the algorithms see it differently. To cut through, Torre had to develop a brand. His intense adherence to the craft of journalism and a sense of humor about what he covers. Audiences are responding, even if those caught in the crossfire of his coverage do not.

There is also a necessary contentification in Torre’s constant self-defense. YouTubers stir up drama for sport; rappers are always up for a beef. By always being willing to spar over his work, Torre proves to audiences, especially the ones that are harder to convince, that he’s legit. Up for a fight if it means his work and his name stay strong.

Dishing out massive stories apart from a corporate newsroom, Torre is an easy target for his subjects or any skeptic. When he takes a gif-powered victory lap or corrects weak takes on his work, Torre not only builds the narrative around his work but also strengthens his credibility. The ESPN bottom line listing a podcast as a source feels empty, but audiences are learning that when “Pablo Torre” is a source, pay attention.

I suspect that Torre also works the sports media carousel because of how he reports on his show. The mystery-box unveilings on PTFO create tension around the content, but they also dance around the hard-hitting facts. Torre also plays a little looser with his output than the average 60 Minutes or newspaper piece. As his sometime foe Nick Wright put it recently, Torre’s recent piece on Kawhi Leonard receiving potentially illicit benefits from a Clippers sponsor may not have been tight enough for a mainstream outlet. It works in Torre’s format. When reporting on the NFLPA ruling, Torre threw around the word collusion more plainly than a typical reporter. Wanting to connect with his audience, Torre reports information the way people will digest it. The interviews that hit the next day are like footnotes or follow-ups in a series.

For his avid fans (see: r/PabloTorreFindsOut, with more than 4,000 weekly visitors), they are snacks between meals. No one can become an online folk hero with just three hour-long episodes a week. Even the most exciting creator would get lost in the scroll.

Torre doesn’t just defend his work. Recently, he has taken to mocking his detractors. To those who refuted his Clippers stories, his message was to question their IQ. Maybe this is unprofessional, obnoxious. It also is necessary these days to remain in the public eye and pay the bills. Every person who traffics in internet popularity knows this.

Torre has drawn predictable enemies, from Gottlieb to Mark Cuban. Audiences see that he is doing well, but people who drink at the well of big-time sports and, it seems, the status quo of conniving owners and duplicitous management and B.S. everywhere — they want a fight.

Most of my other favorite journalists are gone. They retired to Substack or a teaching job or took a buyout or they only write books now. Some of what has replaced them is misinformation or soulless TikTok aggregators, but also incredible reporters who help explain Torre’s popularity. Andrew Callaghan and Channel 5 have a real, crowdfunded newsroom covering big stories on the ground. In sports, the folks at Defector operate in a similar space: independent and beloved to a core audience, uninhibited by overlords or partners.

What sharp audiences hate about media today is its naiveté and lack of transparency. The first hosts to figure this out were comedians and entertainers, credited for swaying the presidency last year. Torre and those like him have managed to draw these same people in by speaking the lingua franca of the internet and prioritizing the audience more than the people they cover. The spirit of journalism, the way a Hunter S. Thompson or a Michael Moore did it, is just as popular as ever. Torre has recaptured it better than any of his contemporaries in sports.

If you are a Tar Heel or a Clippers fan or a member of J.C. Tretter’s family, you probably don’t appreciate Torre much. Tons of other people seem to see that the long arc of journalism bends toward progress.

Down in Miami, where Torre’s checks are cut, the Dan Le Batard Show crew has a word for people like Torre. They use it on him whenever he comes on: Look At Me Louie. We all grow up learning to keep our heads down and be humble. The way Torre handles himself after a big newsbreak can feel like the opposite.

I can’t imagine Torre doesn’t realize all this. While he may have insulated himself from full-on failure a bit by finding a fanbase, the bar is higher for a loudmouth.

Plus, plenty of the crap he takes is also inevitably a result of who he is. You wouldn’t defend yourself? Peter Schrager can’t sit at a table and talk about wide receivers without drawing the ire of the jock across from him; Torre stands no chance. An eloquent, Ivy League-educated, coastal elite from an immigrant family, Torre is exactly the type of guy the so-called average sports fan loves to hate. The generation at ESPN that he arrived with under John Skipper is still held up as some sort of overly “woke” scolds who actually hate sports. Unable to shove him in a locker, sports guys fulfill their fantasy, unsatisfied by untold millions of dollars, by undermining his work whenever they can. Even better if it can prop up their buddies still in the biz.

Two years in, Pablo Torre has proven his sensibilities are worth following. PTFO is a success. A small win for journalism and the truth, and anyone who loves sports and doesn’t have billions of dollars. Also, a charter for how to get through to these people, which requires more than affability or big news.

When Awful Announcing posted a recent pan of the latest season of Hard Knocks, legendary ESPN investigative reporter Don Van Natta Jr. chimed in on X to kick the series while it was down.

“Fans tune out blatant, shill-happy infomercials,” he wrote. “But they do respond in enormous numbers to kick-ass investigative reporting! Imagine that.”

Assuming he was referencing Torre’s latest scoop, I don’t mind Van Natta taking a victory lap for his side. The correction I would make is that audiences do not simply respond to kick-ass investigative reporting. They respond to magnetic individuals whom they trust, who deliver them compelling content and are willing to cut through the weeds of internet nonsense for what they believe.

About Brendon Kleen

Brendon is a Media Commentary staff writer at Awful Announcing. He has also covered basketball and sports business at Front Office Sports, SB Nation, Uproxx and more.

View all posts by Brendon Kleen