There are few, if any, better husbands in existence than yours truly. Why you may ask? Simple.
Four years ago this month my wife and I were on the verge of welcoming our first child into this world. Our son, Sawyer, was born at 11:14 p.m. on June 29, 2010. We checked into the hospital early that morning to begin the process of inducing Meagan.
Being the outstanding spouse that I am, I forced my wife to watch the knockout stage games of the World Cup in South Africa that were taking place that day while she was in labor.
Hey, you can't blame me. It only happens every four years! She understood...
All jokes aside, the month of June every fourth year truly is a special time for me. The memories that come flooding back are sometimes overwhelming and emotional, and I don't want to forget them.
The first morning home from the hospital, Sawyer being just 2 days old at the time, I was up nice and early, snuggling my little bundle of joy on the couch as we watched the World Cup. The event transformed into more than just sports for me. At that moment it became something I would always have with him.
As the World Cup in Brazil kicked off Thursday, I grabbed Sawyer, sat down on the couch and shared a quick snuggle with my now 4-year-old wiggly and energetic boy. He may not understand what those few seconds meant to me -- or what this soccer event signifies -- but I sure did.
My love for soccer began in 2006 while I was serving a Spanish-speaking LDS mission in San Bernardino, Calif. The excitement and emotion from the mainly Mexican people I served with was contagious. I caught on to the nuances and pageantry of the game as I watched match after match and saw Italy win the whole thing, beating France in penalties.
Fast forward four years and I was finally able to share my love for the greatest sporting event in the world, first with my wife and then with my newborn son.
Now in our second World Cup as a family, I love the significance it has for us. Well, at least for me and the wonderful feelings and thoughts it brings back. I can't help but smile.
(Note: I picked Argentina to win the World Cup, beating Germany in the final. Feel free to harass me when my prediction inevitably goes wrong.)
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
My story: The life and times of a former small-town sports journalist
Stepping out of my car, I quickly tightened my maroon and blue-striped tie up against my neck to the point if almost choking myself, made sure my shirt was tucked in evenly and advanced toward the door.
The brisk, January eastern Idaho wind made me shiver. I looked up and saw Jay Heater for the first time, a man who would become my boss in a matter of weeks.
"Go ahead and leave the tie in the car," Jay said, half joking. "We're pretty casual around here."
That anecdote was my first encounter with the newspaper business. I met Jay Heater in January of 2011. He, then the sports editor for the Idaho State Journal, was looking for a full-time desk person who would have opportunities to write as needed. I applied and Jay contacted me and wanted to do an interview.
I made the drive from Wendell, Idaho, to frigid Pocatello that day in January, with my wife and 8-month-old son in tow. Jay's first comments to me were just what I wanted to hear. What's better than a job that lets you wear shorts and a T-shirt everyday? Oh, and watching sports while doing it?
It wasn't as much of an interview with Jay as it was us discussing the logistics of when I would start and what was expected of me. I was eager to get to work.
I had grandiose plans of taking the world by storm, starting with Pocatello. I wanted to be wined and dined in press boxes and watch football. What I had in mind was taking over Stewart Mandel's job at Sports Illustrated someday. My goals were lofty.
When I finally started at the Journal on February 8, 2011, I was sent out to cover a high school boys basketball game. My "limited writing opportunities" turned into almost daily game coverage and writing.
I was a sports journalist. My dream was coming true.
My first opinion piece was about the Boise State football team getting screwed over by the NCAA because of "Couchgate." I found out later that mentioning the Broncos in Idaho State Bengal territory was a no-no; a jealousy-filled no-no, but a no-no nonetheless.
Six months later -- me being pretty green still -- Jay left for a job in California. I found myself in a great, albeit inexperienced position to take over. I had worked hard to learn the computer system and graphic design program as well as how to be a journalist.
I was ready.
In a matter of days I was named interim sports editor and a few months later the interim tag was removed. I was in hog heaven. Could this really be happening to me? I was eager to dig in.
Reality then set in. My work load doubled and I had to deal with angry readers and the business side of the business. It didn't help that we were down a person for almost a year before we could get a permanent solution on board.
I faced a very steep learning curve, but I adjusted and began to feel better in my new skin many months later.
That casual, wear-shorts-and-T-shirts feeling was gone. It was a grind. I embraced it and pushed forward. I loved a lot of what I did, but that grind wears on you. There's no way to avoid it. Some people manage it differently than others.
Fast forward a couple of years and I am no longer working for a newspaper. But, it was as much my choice as it was that of the business.
Here's why: My family.
You see, we added another child to the fold in October of 2012 and I wanted nothing more than to spend every waking second with my beautiful wife and two incredible, loving kids.
But that cut into my career, a profession that expects more than 40 hours a week. Try 50 or 60 during slow season. Oh, and you generally don't get paid for that extra time.
I tried to find a balance. It was difficult. Every time I would leave the house I could hear my kids crying and yelling, "Daddy!" Try going through that on Christmas Day. Yeah, it sucks.
And I kept having to leave earlier and earlier in the day and staying later and later into the night. A journalist is always on the clock. Your schedule is not set. It's constantly fluctuating and growing. It's like drinking from a hose that's on full blast.
The truth is I loved my daily interactions with the people I got to meet. I loved crafting game stories into living, breathing works of word art. I loved telling people's stories. I loved taking the ISU football beat and making it my own. I loved getting my hands dirty and pissing people off in order to write and create investigative pieces. I won awards for my writing. I was good at it.
But I hated the bureaucratic, red tape-laced politics of navigating a newsroom, especially under a boss looking to save his own butt at the expense of others. But, most of all, I hated not seeing my family. Fifteen-hour Saturdays will do that to you.
The truth is I eventually began sacrificing time at work to be with my family. I made a choice. I had seen too many people lose their families because journalism became their life. It wasn't going to happen to me.
And in the end, it cost me my job. A younger, hungrier person who was willing to work those extra, money-less hours took over.
The truth is I hung on too long. My wife and I wanted to make a change, but we weren't sure where to go or how to get out. The fun-loving days of working with Jay Heater were gone.
The truth is the newspaper business chewed me up and spit me back out. It wasn't for me. My family is for me. That is what's important.
Maybe I wasn't cut out for the newspaper business. On the other hand, maybe the newspaper business wasn't cut out for me.
Fortunately I was able to find a writing gig on the side thanks to
Kevin Hiatt at BroncoCountry.com. It's the fun part of being a sports journalist with none of the politics. It's the shorts-and-T-shirt portion.
I made a choice: My wife and kids mean more to me than reaching a Sports Illustrated-level goal. It might not be as glamorous, but it's certainly more fulfilling.
So there's the truth. My life is a product of the choices I make and the people I choose to be around. My quality of life depends on what I deem as the most crucial parts of it.
And, right now, life is good.
The brisk, January eastern Idaho wind made me shiver. I looked up and saw Jay Heater for the first time, a man who would become my boss in a matter of weeks.
"Go ahead and leave the tie in the car," Jay said, half joking. "We're pretty casual around here."
That anecdote was my first encounter with the newspaper business. I met Jay Heater in January of 2011. He, then the sports editor for the Idaho State Journal, was looking for a full-time desk person who would have opportunities to write as needed. I applied and Jay contacted me and wanted to do an interview.
I made the drive from Wendell, Idaho, to frigid Pocatello that day in January, with my wife and 8-month-old son in tow. Jay's first comments to me were just what I wanted to hear. What's better than a job that lets you wear shorts and a T-shirt everyday? Oh, and watching sports while doing it?
It wasn't as much of an interview with Jay as it was us discussing the logistics of when I would start and what was expected of me. I was eager to get to work.
I had grandiose plans of taking the world by storm, starting with Pocatello. I wanted to be wined and dined in press boxes and watch football. What I had in mind was taking over Stewart Mandel's job at Sports Illustrated someday. My goals were lofty.
When I finally started at the Journal on February 8, 2011, I was sent out to cover a high school boys basketball game. My "limited writing opportunities" turned into almost daily game coverage and writing.
I was a sports journalist. My dream was coming true.
My first opinion piece was about the Boise State football team getting screwed over by the NCAA because of "Couchgate." I found out later that mentioning the Broncos in Idaho State Bengal territory was a no-no; a jealousy-filled no-no, but a no-no nonetheless.
Six months later -- me being pretty green still -- Jay left for a job in California. I found myself in a great, albeit inexperienced position to take over. I had worked hard to learn the computer system and graphic design program as well as how to be a journalist.
I was ready.
In a matter of days I was named interim sports editor and a few months later the interim tag was removed. I was in hog heaven. Could this really be happening to me? I was eager to dig in.
Reality then set in. My work load doubled and I had to deal with angry readers and the business side of the business. It didn't help that we were down a person for almost a year before we could get a permanent solution on board.
I faced a very steep learning curve, but I adjusted and began to feel better in my new skin many months later.
That casual, wear-shorts-and-T-shirts feeling was gone. It was a grind. I embraced it and pushed forward. I loved a lot of what I did, but that grind wears on you. There's no way to avoid it. Some people manage it differently than others.
Fast forward a couple of years and I am no longer working for a newspaper. But, it was as much my choice as it was that of the business.
Here's why: My family.
You see, we added another child to the fold in October of 2012 and I wanted nothing more than to spend every waking second with my beautiful wife and two incredible, loving kids.
But that cut into my career, a profession that expects more than 40 hours a week. Try 50 or 60 during slow season. Oh, and you generally don't get paid for that extra time.
I tried to find a balance. It was difficult. Every time I would leave the house I could hear my kids crying and yelling, "Daddy!" Try going through that on Christmas Day. Yeah, it sucks.
And I kept having to leave earlier and earlier in the day and staying later and later into the night. A journalist is always on the clock. Your schedule is not set. It's constantly fluctuating and growing. It's like drinking from a hose that's on full blast.
The truth is I loved my daily interactions with the people I got to meet. I loved crafting game stories into living, breathing works of word art. I loved telling people's stories. I loved taking the ISU football beat and making it my own. I loved getting my hands dirty and pissing people off in order to write and create investigative pieces. I won awards for my writing. I was good at it.
But I hated the bureaucratic, red tape-laced politics of navigating a newsroom, especially under a boss looking to save his own butt at the expense of others. But, most of all, I hated not seeing my family. Fifteen-hour Saturdays will do that to you.
The truth is I eventually began sacrificing time at work to be with my family. I made a choice. I had seen too many people lose their families because journalism became their life. It wasn't going to happen to me.
And in the end, it cost me my job. A younger, hungrier person who was willing to work those extra, money-less hours took over.
The truth is I hung on too long. My wife and I wanted to make a change, but we weren't sure where to go or how to get out. The fun-loving days of working with Jay Heater were gone.
The truth is the newspaper business chewed me up and spit me back out. It wasn't for me. My family is for me. That is what's important.
Maybe I wasn't cut out for the newspaper business. On the other hand, maybe the newspaper business wasn't cut out for me.
Fortunately I was able to find a writing gig on the side thanks to
Kevin Hiatt at BroncoCountry.com. It's the fun part of being a sports journalist with none of the politics. It's the shorts-and-T-shirt portion.
I made a choice: My wife and kids mean more to me than reaching a Sports Illustrated-level goal. It might not be as glamorous, but it's certainly more fulfilling.
So there's the truth. My life is a product of the choices I make and the people I choose to be around. My quality of life depends on what I deem as the most crucial parts of it.
And, right now, life is good.
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