Most people like to go as far as calling themselves lucky.
I have never been one of those people.
My incessant knack for pessimism has summed up my five-year run in college. It’s always so much easier to look down than look up8212;looking onward and upward takes work and sunshine. It’s easy to just look back and reminisce about the things that you have accomplished and where you’ve been8212;it’s part of life, you experience and you then religiously aim to hit replay from there on.
I will have that gut feeling for the rest of my life when I think of my time at The Chronicle.
It will be that pesky itch in my throat that will reduce me to daydreams and recollections.
At first, there was no room for me at the University of Utah.
I had half-assed two years at Southern Utah University and spent one semester at Salt Lake Community College attempting to waltz my way back into the parents’ good graces by bloating the GPA. I had been rejected twice by the U. Finally, I mustered up the courage to refuse to take no for an answer.
I pleaded my way in. I promised, I changed.
I remember grabbing my first Daily Utah Chronicle, sitting in my Survey of Jazz class8212;my first day at the U8212;twisting and turning my way to the sports section. The first story I laid my eyes on was by Tony Pizza. I laughed. Tony Pizza? What an amateur call-sign. In the fall of 2007, I sent Tony, the sports editor, an e-mail about a potential job opening.
Of course, it went directly to his spam. I received an e-mail four weeks later.
“Tell me Chris, what is your year and major, first off? And do you have any writing samples?”
Writing samples? Major?
I was just a 19-year-old fool who was riding the heartbreak express8212;there was none of the sort.
God knows why, but I was given a shot and things kind of unexpectedly just took off from there.
Things progressed and in a few short months, I was pinning a digital recorder up to the likes of Carlos Boozer, Deron Williams and Jerry Sloan.
I covered Jim Boylen’s first official game as the coach of the Runnin’ Utes, witnessed the infamous Joe Glenn “salute” to Kyle Whittingham and chatted up David Beckham after he curled home two awe-inspiring goals at Rice-Eccles Stadium.
What did this place hold as an encore for me in my senior season? Thirteen-and-goose egg.
Take me back five years, three or even two for that matter, and I would serenade you with stories of self-cynicism and doubt. Granted, I still can hold my own with the best of them, but since Oct. 15, 2007, change was invoked.
I made friends. I made enemies. I evolved. I grew up.
Most who know me know I’m not chummy to the point where I would “leave” things to people. I never really understood that8212;it’s kind of like signing a yearbook, but more inconsequential, I don’t have anything to “leave.”
But a giant thanks to all the people who have befriended me during my time at The Chronicle. Thanks for taking in this formerly shy rookie and bringing out the best.
Thank you to my family for always feeding the fire, telling me to not give up, to strive to be what I want to be and nothing else.
A shout-out of indebtedness to all of my friends8212;if not for you, I would probably be playing “Edward 40 Hands” with a slew of fraternity bozos in this, the stretch run of my college career.
Praise and thanks to Kyle Whittingham8212;thanks for resurrecting the magic and allowing me to ride shotgun for 19 straight weeks.
Lastly, I thank you, Captain Midnight. Without you, I would probably be lost in purgatory somewhere in the ASUU office. With your guidance, friendship and rapport, I have become a better person and experienced things I previously would’ve figured to have a snowball’s chance in hell.
The term “grateful” is one that isn’t exactly synonymous with my name8212;I get “asshole” quite a bit, among a few select others, but grateful is what I am. Looking back now, I got lucky, plain and simple, but not everything is sheer fortune. Print journalism is circling the drain and with my ass-kissing skills not quite up to par, the future is hazy at the moment.
A supposed wise man once said that you make your own luck in life, but take it from this cynic8212;sometimes, luck finds you, and in the most inconspicuous ways.
