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.