Columnist's long journey finally comes to an end

here comes a time in a sportswriter's life when he or she comes upon one of the greatest realizations in life - that he or she will never become a great athlete.

I realized this at age 9 while playing football, when I was leveled by a fullback disguised as a freight train.

Although I was wearing shoulder pads and a mouthpiece, the searing sting of helmet-to-helmet contact sent a pain through me that even made my hair hurt.

When I got home, my knees creaked so often that my grandfather's old rocking chair seemed brand new in comparison.

And I won't even say how I felt the next morning.

But there have been numerous events like these in which I've spent more time on the sidelines watching a player in awe rather than being the awe-inspiring person.

Which brings me to my experiences here at USC.

I came my freshman year as a skinny 18-year old who probably shouldn't have gotten into a junior college much less USC. When the school year was over, I had doubled the "freshman 15 " and walked out 30 pounds heavier.

But hey, they say that to be a sportswriter, you must meet the following prerequisites: fat, extremely lazy, divorced a few times and constantly fighting the evil battles of hemorrhoids from sitting all day.

Well, two out of four isn't that bad. Maybe I'll work on the divorces later in my career.

Nevertheless, I've learned many lessons in my three years in this hot and stuffy sports office in Student Union 421 that often resembles the locker rooms we cover everyday.

I remember working on my first story - a women's golf preview - and realized I had not learned a thing in my high school journalism classes. As I sat across from Associate Head Coach Andrea Gaston, I did some of the worst things that can be done at an interview: I sweated. I also stuttered. I may have even mispronounced her name a few times.

I'll never forget walking into women's volleyball practice and getting a glimpse of girls who were head and shoulders taller than me.

What made me even more embarrassed was asking who Jasmina Marinkovic was to a player standing off to the side. Not being able to understand her heavy accent, I asked someone else who pointed me right back to her.

Covering football was an interesting experience that I thought might cost me my life. USC was playing Washington State, and I boarded a plane to Pullman, Wash. But I didn't realize that the plane would be so small that I could touch both sides when I stood up and that we would be staying in a city called Moscow in Idaho. Moscow, Idaho? Well, at least it had a Wal-Mart.

But as I look back, I realize it was all about the personalities. And I'm not talking about just the athletes.

My job is simply to watch sports - and get paid for it. That's the basic job description for a sportswriter.

Sure, you always remember sitting and staring at a blank computer screen at 9:30 p.m. when your story is due at 10 p.m.

It was horrible transcribing three people's stories over the phone after a USC-UCLA men's basketball game.

And I hated sitting on the phone while somebody chewed me out because I had a few mistakes in my women's volleyball story.

But I wouldn't trade any of those experiences for the world.

I think one of the things sportswriters hope for is to be remembered.

I hope through all the columns I've written and all the stories I've produced, there's a few people who will say, "Yeah, I remember reading his stuff."

Even if no one ever remembers me, I'll always remember them.

And if no one ever remembers my writing, I'll always know that two people will read me for eternity - my mom and dad.

Because like everyone knows, moms are supposed to like everything their kids do.

So, as my second year as a column writer comes to an end, I'll end with a song lyric that applies a lot to me because sportswriting is a dream from which I hope I never wake.

The dream is over, what can I say?

The dream is over, yesterday.

I hope someday I'll be able to fall back asleep.

Copyright 1999 by the Daily Trojan. All rights reserved.
This article was published in Vol. 136, No. 64 (Wednesday, April 28, 1999), beginning on page 20 and ending on page 18.