Dubuque Think Session

Cutter's Log - Supplemental


I was an angry mood last night.

Those in the sports world know what it's like when the Publisher of Northern Illinois Sports Beat gets angry. I feel like I have to withdraw from the world and take a breather. That breather was right smack in the middle of Friday. I was going to cover a football game, but I was just too pissed to cover something at the moment.

You see, I often get picked on for trying to keep up with journalism trends although I don't work for a newspaper, radio station or TV station. Who the hell does this "Cody kid" think he is, they say? It's like they - mostly print people - are trying hold me down whenever I try something different. It's like their mission is also to "Beat Cody" at all costs. I'm not saying all of print does this, but I have a feeling that there are certain people that enjoy making me look like an idiot and want to kick me out of the area sports scene.

I'm out-gunned. I'm out-resourced. I'm out-financed. I'm out-manned. I'm out-equipped. My conversation skills are far behind those. But I want to survive.

I don't do this for money. I don't get paid for what I do. It's all out of my own time and heart. And I don't do it for any awards.

What did I do to deserve this? I'm sick of it.

Now, granted, they aren't going to stop doing what they do, and they do a great job at it. They really do, and it's great work. What I just don't like are those who do it with making me look bad in mind.

This feeling made me sick, and I couldn't find myself to cover a football game.

So I ran away. Dubuque.

I ran up and down the hills of JoDaviess County and weaving through the valleys until crossing the bridge into Dubuque. I go to Dubuque maybe once or twice a month (a lot of those for blackjack at Diamond Jo) and it is a neat city.

I escaped what was troubling me and was soon staring at it from the other side. I was staring at the front corner gate to what I like to call my website "kingdom." I was staring at it in disgust while sitting at a bench along the Riverwalk.

I had hoped to find a solution, and eventually find that prayer booth (which is along the Riverwalk and looks like a phone booth) and pray for better things. I wound up not being able to find that booth.

My profession, my passion is being denied somehow. I try so hard, it's like they want to wipe me from the face of this area. What did I do wrong? I don't know. I'm sick of it. Absolutely sick of it. Pressure got to me and I retreated myself to another emergency "think session."

I'm so angry right now. I love my profession. Why do people want to take it away from me?

I know one thing: Telling them to stop is not an option. That would look foolish, and stupid. And it would look absolutely wrong to place a monopoly on high school sports coverage. I've had people suggest to me that it would happen one day, and I have told them absolutely not - as it would be disrespectful to the newspapers.

Remember in Star Wars when one of Darth Vader's generals stood up and declared that the Death Star is the most powerful thing in the universe? Then he got force choked? I actually had someone declare that the website is or will be the most powerful thing in the area when it comes to prep sports coverage. I had to kind of force choke this guy into getting him to shut up. Not gonna happen, people.

While trying to balance respect with trying to keep my career alive, I needed to think and think fast.

I found a drug store near one of the colleges and bought a spiral notebook. I didn't want to leave Dubuque until I took up every page of this notebook. I went back to the Riverwalk, and while staring at the area that I really do love, and scribbled notes on every one of the 70 pages (not taking up every line - which would take forever). These were website ideas that I could use one day. I'm not giving them out on here.

And if you're one of those people that's thinking about stealing this notebook, you're one of those people that I am angry at.

I spent several hours sitting at this bench, finally leaving around 2 a.m. I don't know anyone in Dubuque all that well and if I did (I just know of some college students at Dubuque, Loras and Clarke that I formerly covered in high school) I would probably make arrangements for a nap on a couch. (BTW the only 24-hour gas station closest to downtown is in a rough part of the city) My hand hurt like hell - and still does - but I had to get home.

So I crossed the moat on Route 20 back into the "kingdom."

Don't be scared of me. I'm not going to go on a violent spree of things. I just want to pick myself back up again.

Just quit picking on me. I'm sick and tired of being kicked to the curb.