Growing up in the tiny town of Tracy, my parents always taught
me that honesty was one of the most important things in this world.
And in that spirit, in this time of introduction I feel I need to
live up to my parents’ words.
Growing up in the tiny town of Tracy, my parents always taught me that honesty was one of the most important things in this world. And in that spirit, in this time of introduction I feel I need to live up to my parents’ words.
So here it goes:
I am not athletically gifted. In fact, I’m pretty awful at sports. You name the sport, I probably embarrassed myself more than once playing it.
From my days in Little League where I mustered maybe three hits a year – and yes, I never hit a home run. I was a walking machine, but mostly because I was just too afraid to swing.
In basketball, I received one of my many nicknames – “Conair.” It was right around the time when that terrible movie with Nicholas Cage – and his long hair – came out. During my first middle school basketball game, my first shot – from just outside the free throw line – missed the rim, net and backboard.
One of my great teammates screamed “Conair,” and it stuck.
When I tell that story I always try to say some shots went in as well, but honestly they didn’t.
Sadly that’s not the worst of it.
In high school, during my freshman year of football I broke my collarbone. It wasn’t from a bone-crushing hit or great block from yours truly. Instead it was from a dreaded somersault.
Yes, a somersault. It was during football practice, but it was during warm-ups with our pads resting on the sideline.
Despite all of those troubling sports stories, I still loved everything about sports.
And that’s why I’m here today writing about sports instead of being the top story on ESPN.
I was always honest with myself about my athletic ability – I was terrible and I didn’t care. I loved the feeling of accomplishment when I laced up my cleats and just tried. I never was the kid kicking the flowers and wishing I was somewhere else or even the kid who had three hits each game.
I knew I was bad, but I played for that cliche of fun.
To battle my awfulness, I dove into the words and stats of each game. I became a sports historian.
If I couldn’t play, I wanted to know more about each game than the next person. So I spent my free time wrestling my dad for the sports page, watching ESPN and reading every sports book I could.
From the moment I airmailed by first shot, missed my first ground ball or got cut from the football team, I wanted to be a sports writer.
In high school, I was the person other students and teachers turned to for sports trivia or scores of the week’s games. Because of my daily sports reading, I knew it all.
I became a student of sports – despite my lack of playing ability.
In my four years at California State University, Chico, I studied journalism in sports. I went to as many games as possible. I talked to as many people as I could.
When I graduated I freelanced in the surrounding region before I became a staff writer here in Hollister.
For the past year, I’ve worked in the newsroom becoming a better writer and investigative reporter. And I chose to do just that because of the qualities it would bring me when I would finally return to the sports page.
And finally, I have.
During that year, I’ve experienced the passion for sports in this community. From the pride of the Balers to the in-depth following of its youth leagues, Hollister loves its sports.
To me, sports are my passion. It was my first love.
And I hope both those things carry over to this section every Tuesday in the Free Lance and Friday in the Weekend Pinnacle.
