“Champions keep playing until they get it right”-Billie Jean King. Maybe that’s what kept me at The Chronicle for three years.
For someone who grew up loving writing almost as much as I loved Utah sports, being the U student newspaper’s sports editor was beyond a dream come true. I feel guilty, to the point that I have a confession to make. In a way, I’ve stolen from every single student at the U, because I will take more from The Chronicle than I’ve been able to give in my three years here.
I’ve flown to Athens, Ga., New Orleans, Ann Arbor, Mich., driven to San Diego (twice), Laramie, Wyo., and every city with a college town in Utah, and even taken a train to Berkeley, Calif., in the pursuit of reporting on the Utah basketball, football, gymnastics and volleyball teams. Nearly all of that was on The Chrony’s dime. I’ve taken life lessons, copied several impressions, conned a few people into being my friend, stolen at least a hundred memories and had the audacity to call this work.
Sure, I donated a few late nights and even a few days of lack of sleep working on gymnastic and football game guides, or a breaking story. I seriously compromised and eventually lost a marriage in large part because of my involvement at The Chrony. I even neglected my kids a few times and several college courses in the pursuit of journalism and a quality product, but this place has made me who I am, and I’m not sure I would recognize myself without it.
My kids know that Daddy works and goes to school at “Utah.” Hopefully they like me enough to walk in my footsteps and one day get the same quality education that I’ve received here.
The memories and friends I’ve gained have made up for the losses and trials a million times over8212;and that’s not just an exaggeration.
The 2008 football season was enough to make it all worth it. Being able to watch a group of men overcome all doubt and rally around themselves to do the impossible is a life lesson that extends well beyond the microcosm of sports.
Having my misconceptions of spoiled athletes dissolved and replaced with the friendliness and congeniality of the Utah gymnastics team was equally important to me. Being able to sit down with a man as genuine and enthusiastic as Jim Boylen is something I’ll be able to carry for the rest of my life. Being able to get a closer glance at what makes a champion, and also what makes a good sport in the face of defeat, has changed me forever. I’ve met several athletes who have opened themselves up to me and made me realize that whether you’re burying a school-record eight 3-pointers in a game, breaking the school’s all-time digs record, cheering on your brothers from the bench as a redshirt senior or simply bettering your life with a college education, we as humans share a common bond no matter what walk of life we come from.
I’m keeping the memories of the comeback wins against TCU and Oregon State with me, and the agonizing runner-up finish in the gymnastics national championships two years in a row. For some people, sports is a superfluous pastime for thousands of mindless Americans, but for me, it has become a microcosm and a thread in the fabric of my experience at the U. Sports also brought me to The Chronicle, where I have been in contact with some amazing people who I am forever indebted to, not only as friends, but as teachers and comrades.
Thank you to Connie Dangerfield. With the exception of BYU fans, I’ve never met such an eternal optimist. You’re a lifelong friend.
Thank you to Chris Bellamy, who took a chance on an unpolished wannabe sports writer and taught me everything I know about editing, steroids and how to take back the fact that you said the Josh Beckett trade was a disaster for our beloved Sox.
Thank you Rochelle McConkie, who never wavered in her standards among sports writer heathens.
Thank you to Rachel Hanson, who kept me in line and always let our friendship outweigh our disagreements.
Thank you to Cody Brunner, who made my first two years tolerable and taught me the secret of the Fillmore-Beaver area.
Thank you to Matt Piper, who trusted me with the sports section and helped me give birth to soon-to-be Olympic sports box ball, tray ball and whip your boss on that ass and balls.
Thank you to Ashley Freitas for being a friend and confidant and inspiring me to be a better Yankee-hater.
Thank you to Ty Cobb for helping me find the importance of spelling, invent new ways to block out snoring, being a great driver under adverse conditions (i.e. alcohol and I-80 ice storms) and being a good buddy in general.
Thank you to Chris Kamrani for keeping me honest, keeping the sports section afloat when I was ready to drown, for keeping me abreast on all sorts of rumors and gossip and for your emo-sexiness that has transpired into one of my best friends.
Thank you to the rest of The Chrony8212;past and present8212;for putting up with my immaturity and for being good moving Spring Mobile foam-ball targets. I’ve never been prouder of a group of mostly 18-to-23-year-old people in all my life, and that’s coming from a 28-year-old Marine Corps veteran.
