Journalism Sins

Cutter's Log - Special Entry

I am realizing that my arrogance is pushing me closer to self-destruction.

Self-destruction is something that certain people wish upon me.

I'm starting to get the feeling that there are people that don't want me doing what I do. They know what I'm capable of, and are trying to do everything in their power to stop me. Because they feel that my advancement halts their own advancement. I'm young, and this is what happens.

You either love me, or you hate me. There is no gray area.

Why am I writing these words?

High school sports is my only connection with the outside world. Most of the friends that I have are within the high school sports scene. If you try to take away my passion for high school sports, you therefore destroy what little social connections I have left. You don't want to know what comes after that. You don't.

The two worst moments of my journalism career came within a month from each other. Right now I am at my lowest point.

I can't help but think of why this has happened.

The following is something that I rarely share. I need to go back to August of 2004 for a moment ...

***

I was on the path to the career that I always wanted. I was a part-time writer for Sauk Valley Media. During the summer I was assigned to cover most of the little league stuff. At that time, covering state little league tournaments was a bold move - "opening a can of worms" was the phrase. Because I was familiar with Rock Falls Softball and its little league success, I was tapped to coordinate all of that.

That was also the summer of the Gazette's 150th Anniversary work. I still remember the sports staff meeting we had. We each had to pick a great prep sports team and write about it. I chose 1985 Newman Wrestling, the team that won state. I was also assigned to write about the origins of high school football in the area, and how the Gazette covered it.

Our sports editor wanted this to be a masterpiece. So I didn't want to let him down.

I spent countless hours on the microfilm machine looking for history for both stories. I spent countless hours tracking down the whereabouts of the wrestlers. I spent countless hours putting the story together. I spent countless hours editing and chopping both stories - which were around 75 inches when all was said and done.

Countless, countless hours. Some days I would spend more than 12 hours in the office working on these stories. I put in a lot of work. I did so because this was a special edition.

Along the way, I did something that I should not have done. I wasn't aware of it at the time, but when it was said and done it ended up being costly.

I wasn't supposed to be paid for all of those hours of research and phone calls. I wrote them down on the sheet, but technically I wasn't supposed to. I didn't know that, and it was an honest mistake.

One of those long days was when the RF little league junior girls won the Central Region in South Bend and were the first RF team to advance to the World Series. I remember the head of the local little league walking into the office in celebration. He walks over to the sports cubicles, where I'm all by myself doing more research. Both of the news editors follow him. The guy hands me his cell phone and I'm taking down information about the World Series pairings and such.

This was wonderful news for our area! Since I was already in the office, I embarked on trying to form something together for this. The first thing I had to do was call my sports editor and tell him the news.

He was extremely upset.

????????????

He complained about the fact that now we had to send someone over to Delaware to cover them to save our asses from complaints - right in the middle of football tab season. I heard cuss words. I couldn't quite understand why he was so upset. I was happy. I hold true to a line for a column I once read:  A longtime Rockford sportswriter once wrote that we can't root for teams, but we can certainly wish them well.

Pictures were coming back from South Bend later that night. When I got the call that they were 15 minutes away, I waited by the door. One of my co-workers had this bouncy ball and I took it with me to bounce off the wall while waiting for them.

Back to the pay sheets.

My editors were made aware of my "overblown" pay sheet and confronted me about it. My sports editor took me to a meeting room where we talked one-on-one about this.

I was 18 years old and frightened by what had just happened.

I was confronted about playing with the bouncy ball, and how I was "on the clock" when I was doing all of that.

My mind unraveled after that. The scared me went off trying to defend myself.

When it came to the many hours working on the anniversary stories, I declared my dedication to the project. He wanted it to be a masterpiece, and I wasn't letting him down. Then he said that it didn't take anyone else that long to put something together.

That's when I blew a fuse.

I don't remember the exact words I said. But frightened little me said something to the tune of "Maybe it's because I am more dedicated than you guys!"

We went straight from the meeting room to HR after that. My dreams were dashed. "Creative differences" is how I consider it, and how I write it on my resume.

I didn't know how to counter all of the things he was saying to me. The only thing I could do was get angry. Perhaps I got too angry. There was nothing I could to do change it. My dad even talked to him to no avail. So I spent the next few weeks trying to figure out how to move on from this suffocation.

I started Northern Illinois Sports Beat.

Technically, I've been a free agent from the print world since August of 2004, and have always wanted to get on somewhere. My biggest shot was last year at a three-day-a-week paper in the area, but was passed over.

I am still looking for that opening, and looking for all of the right pieces to fall in place.

***

That is the story of why I am not working for the Gazette anymore. Even 8 years after getting fired, people ask me if I'm still working there.

The guy that replaced me is the current sports editor.

***

Because I still considered myself a writer, and loved doing what I do, I needed to find a way to survive in this profession without the guidance that a newspaper gives you. (I am still going by a 2004 AP Stylebook for crying out loud).

Surviving on your own is tough, and I needed to be innovative with the website. At first I was doing well, but then I met my match: the new sports editor at the Gazette.

He was GOOD! Because of his talents, I struggled to find a way to keep up with him. I was angry. Did he have flaws? Certainly. And I let him know about it in my anger.

It was then when I became the root of all evil within those sports cubicles.

The "young kid" argument was null, according to them, because I was already an established presence in the northern Illinois prep sports scene. I questioned the way things were run (in particular the "awards" arguments), and this editor took it seriously.

During the grudge match, I didn't want to "be" him. I wanted to "beat" him. I ran the first few years of NISB as an angry son-of-a-bitch. That developed this "I want to be the very best" reputation that I've have had in me for all these years. All of a sudden I didn't want to beat just him. I wanted to beat everyone.

So much for that race. He is now one of the assistant SE's at the Trib.

That bridge was burned before it was even built. His "hello"s to me at State events are a mumble anymore.

Speaking of burning bridges ...

The day I was fired from the newspaper, the first co-worker to hear about it was the assistant sports editor. A nerve must have struck in him because he and I have not seen eye-to-eye to this day. My constant rattling at this editor made things worse. We even had a shouting match during an event.

While relations have improved in the past two sports editorships, I feel that the thing that's holding me back in this profession are the things that I may have done to make my former co-worker angry.

I don't know if saying "sorry" is going to help. I don't know what it's going to take.

***

This sports year has been extremely rocky, and I have had a lot to think about when it comes to running a website, and being a sportswriter.

I'm at a crossroads at the moment. But I know where I'm going. I have spent a decade doing this, and I have no plans to hang it up.

I could come up with new ideas to improve coverage of area high school sports, as there are still things on my workshop shelf. But I am very reluctant to use them right now, because I think it'll only lead to more bitterness and disaster - not to mention a nuclear war.

People would think of me more as a jerk than an inventor.

But I've spent the past half of that decade as a jerk. I know sportswriters say that about me behind my back, and thus I have developed this negative reputation. This "office rat" wants to change that.

I have heard of "Born Again Christians." I wonder if there are "Born Again Sportswriters"?

I don't want to be that jerk anymore.