The Real Chad

Ochocinco [written 8/20/10]


I just read the rules on broadcasting NFL games on TV.

Why? What are the cool kids doing on a Friday night?

As I sit here, cursed with the knowledge I have just obtained, one thing stands out in my mind. NFL really does stand for No Fun League. Yes, business is business, and I'll probably understand when I join the rat race myself, but it was still a sobering experience to see just how much business there is to the game I love so much. Wouldn't football be so much better if we didn't have to worry about contracts, blackouts, union deals, player lockouts, and uncapped seasons? Of course, all of these things are necessary evils for the NFL we know and love to function normally. But they just make me appreciate the lighthearted fun in the league even more.

Enter Chad Ochocinco.

I know a lot of people dislike him for his flashy style, endzone celebrations, and trash talk, but why do you think he does it? Because it's fun. Many people try to paint the artist formerly known as Chad Johnson as an arrogant, selfish crybaby who only cares that everyone is watching him. However, this is simply not the case. Chad Ochocinco does the things he does for the love of the game, but at the same time he cares about winning.

Think about it. When were the Cincinnati Bengals at their best? The answer is arguably 2005, when “eighty-five” was setting records and incurring fines left and right. When Chad stopped being Chad, everything seemed to fall apart
. For his, and the team's sake, I hope Ochocinco is back up to his old tricks, and we get to enjoy a successful, entertaining season.

Seven months later...

Today, Chad Ochocinco (Johnson? No? Ok, Ochocinco) will set foot on the field for practice. But it wont be at Paul Brown Stadium. The field will not be 120 yards long and 50 yards wide. The goals wont be marked by the Bengals logo. It wont even be a football field.

At least not an American football field.

Chad will be tweeting about this all day, telling of his practices with the Kansas City Red Devils, using the term "pitch" like there's no tomorrow. But he won't be doing it because he knows people are watching (although I'm sure that doesn't hurt). He'll be doing it because he loves the game; he loves sports and competition in general. And he doesn't even know if he'll get that from the NFL this fall.

Fans shouldn't complain about what some call a "sideshow," this is just Chad being Chad. And besides, wont this keep him in shape and more ready than anyone to play *cough* real *cough* football whenever the next season kicks off? I think so. Who knows? Ochocinco may even turn out to be the next Deion "Primetime" Sanders.

He certainly has the personality for it.

Every-one Went Home

3. 4. 8. 11.

These are the seeds of the teams in the 2011 NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament Final Four. Notice anything peculiar about them? You got it. There are no one-seeds in the picture.

I was called crazy (I even called myself crazy) for constructing my bracket without any top teams in the semi finals of the dance. But the way I saw it, the gap between the one seeds and four seeds wasn't that big, so it only made sense that each of them would fall before the finals. Especially with teams like Connecticut going into the tournament red hot instead of lukewarm like some of the top seeds.

Last year's final four consisting of Michigan State (5), Duke (1), Butler (5), and West Virgina (2) wasn't too unpredictable. While only one top seed made it to the Final Four, no one was surprised that the Mountaineers and Spartans made it. Add up those seed numbers. They total 13.

This year, it's a different story. The 2011 edition of the Final Four have a collective seed total of 26.

To me, Connecticut dancing through the West Region and Kentucky upsetting Ohio State in the East seemed obvious. Although I admitted taking the Huskies to go all the way was either going to make me or break me. Granted, I had VCU losing in the first round and Butler getting bounced two days later, but for my first time, I don't think I did too terribly.

Next year, I'll definitely do some more research on the matchups I'm less sure of, but overall, I think the best way to go is to just stick with my gut and avoid overthinking the games. Because hey, right now I rank in the top 1% of brackets on Facebook... and that's good enough for me.

Yep, We Live in Indiana

This week, two small Indiana colleges will be buzzing. The schools are Butler and Indiana Wesleyan University, and both have great reasons to be excited. For the Butler Bulldogs, their excitement comes from a trip to the Final Four in the NCAA Tournament. For the IWU Wildcats, students have a much bigger reason to be excited.

We're getting a Chick-Fil-A.

According to IWU's school newspaper, The Sojourn, and its Twitter, the school will open the restaurant as soon as the fall semester of 2011. It will be located inside of the existing student center, in an existing food venue. Students will be able to use a meal swipe for the famous chicken dinner. This announcement will come as the university is set to induct Chick-Fil-A owner S. Truett Cathy into its society of "World Changers" on Wednesday.

I may only be a freshman, but from what I hear, rumors have been going around for a few years now that we would be shouting "Eat Mor Chikin" from rooftops all over campus. I also heard that IWU and the chain had been in talks before, but there were a couple sticking points that prevented a deal form getting done. I don't know, that's just speculation, I'll be reading The Sojourn for the real facts about the issue.

But for now, I'm just going to celebrate the coming attraction that is one of the best fast food restaurants I've ever eaten at. And now I'll have the chance to eat there daily. You can bet that there will be dancing in the streets here at IWU (we can do that now), because after years of just talking and dreaming about it, this is arguably one of the coolest things to hit this campus in a while.

Take that, Butler ;)

Useless

I couldn't even begin to tell you how many times I've heard students complaining about classes. I'm sure you've heard it too: "Why do I have to take math? I'm not going to be an engineer." Or something like, "I shouldn't have to take biology, I'm not going to be a doctor." And of course, my personal favorite: "Why do I have to take French? I'm never going to be... French."

I was tempted to think this way for a couple of my classes so far in my young college career (and by young I mean almost a quarter finished). A couple of these classes were things like speech, mass communication, and World Changers.

So yes, for a while I wasn't sure why I was taking this classes, and what I could get out of them. Then came semester number two, which I think is going to end up being the semester where I learn the most.

This semester, I took a class called Media Scriptwriting. In my mind, I had it confused with Scriptwriting, so naturally I was afraid I was going to be stuck with a bunch of weird theatre people who want to write the next Macbeth. After a few classes, I realized a few things. First, that it was a class about how to write commercials for TV and radio. Second, that I did not want to write commercials for TV and radio. And third, that it was going to be the greatest academic challenge I have faced thus far.

I found myself at the point of just taking the class to earn a good grade (or at least as good as I could get) so I could keep my GPA high enough to keep taking the journalism and writing classes that I actually wanted to take. But that was proving to be a challenge early on.

I really don't want to write commercials. Nothing against the career field (I have nothing but respect for what those people do after trying to do it myself), that's just not my personal goal. So I went to class, took notes, and did the least I could to get by.

But then I started noticing all the things that I could get out of the class, and actually trying to see how it could help me in my preferred career. Guess what happened. I started doing better and understanding assignments more clearly. I noticed some things about the way I write and work in other aspects of my career and applied principles from Media Scriptwriting to them, and I think I'm better for it. My grades went up, and I'm just generally enjoying the class more.

If absolutely nothing else, this class has taught me how to study for exams.

Keep on Keepin' on

Sometimes, I sit down and open up my blog and just start typing. I don't necessarily know where I'm going with it, I just go and see where the words take me. It's not always the most effective means of blogging, but it's what works for me.

But today, I sat down and started at an empty page for a while, not knowing what words would come to mind... none did. It was so bad that I turned to the person beside me and asked, "what should I blog about today?"

That's honestly never happened to me before. Ever since my 9th grade homeschool curriculum made me write a full page every day about whatever topic I wanted, I've learned to come up with something to say. I always have words.

I know why it's different today, I have a lot on my mind (but not the kind of stuff one can blog about) and I'm getting into the part of the semester where things are really heating up. So I'm busy. But still, I should be able to magically come up with words out of thin air like I always do, right?

Well, 194 words in... I guess things could be going worse.

Writing is like anything else, there are just some days where you're not as good at it as usual. Even Derek Jeter goes 0-for-3 on the occasional Tuesday afternoon game. Peyton Manning throws three interceptions once in a blue moon. And LeBron James misses a buzzer beater every now and then (although for a while there, it seemed as nightly as David Letterman).

But guess what? They all show up to practice the next day; they start the game the next week; they push through and keep on working. Why is writing any different? It's not. So I think for a while. I try to come up with a topic. And sometimes, in the end, the very thing that kept me from typing that first word of the post is what I write the entire thing about.

When I Grow Up

When I was 14 years old, I listened to a pair of AM sports talk shows every morning. Since I was homeschooled, it was easy for me to sit at the dinning room table and do my work while the radio was on. 1360 Homer The Sports Animal (now ESPN 1530) was my station. And you can bet every day at 7am my radio was tuned in to hear "The Two Angry Guys" give their take on sports around Cincinnati, and the rest of the country as well.

But my favorite show came on afterward. At 9am, Gregg Doyle and Mo Egger graced the airwaves with their show... I don't think it had a name... but it was really good. It was during these formative years that I began to really enjoy and appreciate the radio business, especially the sports talk side of it. I called in once or twice, but as a 14 year-old it was a very nerve-racking experience.

As my interest in the overall field of sports journalism grew, I decided I wanted to to learn more about it, so I began emailing both Gregg and Mo, asking advice and gaining insight to their chosen fields. Then, Gregg mentioned the idea of having me on the show as a scheduled guest to talk about the NFL Draft, which was what I enjoyed most at the time. Long story short (wow, that's a journalistic cop out if I've ever written one), I appeared on the station a while later as a guest, pegged "The 16 year-old draft expert."

I was still 15.

Part of me loved the title. I mean, really? What red-blooded American man doesn't want to be called an expert at anything, let alone sports? And to my 15 year-old self it was just that much more special. But a big part of me didn't care for the title at all. Partially because I knew I didn't deserve the term "expert" (and my mock drafts proved it) and partially because I sensed a hint of sarcasm in my newfound nickname.

But that's exactly why I was on the show in the first place, because it was a cute little gimmick. Nobody would have cared about a 30 year-old living with his parents, talking incessantly about sports, enough people fit that bill already. But I was different, I wasn't even old enough to drive. That's the reason I got noticed. That's the reason writers like Jason Whitlock responded to my emails. That's why I got the attention that I did.

But I'm not "cute" anymore. There's nothing too unique about a freshman in college working for his school newspaper and aspiring to be a sports writer one day. I've lost that special aspect to my writing. I tried to hold on to it for as long as I could (maybe a little too long), but as the years passed, I realized I had to give it up and try a new approach. So now I'm growing up. I'm stepping up my game.

I'm letting my writing speak for itself.

*sigh*

It's starting already. Three words into this blog post (four if you count the title) and I've already started down a dangerous path.

Here's the thing about writers: We're emotional people. And no, I'm not talking about the cry-at-Sandra-Bullock-movies-that-aren't-even-that-sad type of emotional. And of course, there is the occasional heartless cynical type of writer who loves covering events like the disasters in Haiti and Japan because it can produce some "good writing."

There, disclaimers aside, now I will proceed.

Maybe this is just me, but everything I put into a story, every interview, every word, every keystroke, is an emotional experience for me. I thrive off of it. I pour my heart and soul into it.

But what happens when my heart is heavy and my soul is weak? How can I write when the very thing I need to draw from in order to write has nothing in it?

I asked my mentor, a national sports writer, a question about how to deal with situations like this a few weeks ago when I was going through a rough patch. His answer was just what I needed. He told me that writers aren't that much different than anyone else in that respect. We all have days when we don't want to go to work, or work is tough for us. The trick is that we have to push through and just do it. It'll be hard, yes, but it's just something you HAVE to do.

So I sit here right now, not wanting to write. Not even wanting to write this. I just want to go to sleep for a long time. Not because I'm tired, but because I just do. But that's not an option. I have to keep going, keep typing; keep writing.

Writer's Block

I have a tradition. My school newspaper, The Sojourn, comes out every Thursday. Ever since first semester, I've brought a copy to a friend of mine here on campus. Last semester, it just worked out well because I had a class with my friend. So as soon as I would sit down next to her, I plopped a Sojourn down on her seat.

It was fun, I liked doing it. But when this semester came, things changed a little bit. First of all, my friend now works for The Sojourn with me. And second, we no longer have class together on Thursdays. But I'm a very sentimental, tradition-loving kinda guy. So I kept it going. Even though she now works across campus during the time I normally give her the paper, I make the trek out and walk up to her desk with a paper in my hand, and a smile on my face.

This Thursday, there was no paper. But out of the blue, I felt the need to go over and bring a paper anyway. So I went and brought a copy of the issue that came out with my friend's first article in it... my friend's front page article... the headline story.

I handed her the paper.

"Remember your first story?" I asked her. "Remember how amazing that felt to see it on the front page? Remember how fun it was? This business has a nasty little habit of dragging people down; making them cynical. Things are gonna get tough; things are gonna be stressful. But you can't let it get you. Whenever you start feeling like that, just look at that paper and remember how great it was that first time."

I told her this because she's a gifted writer, probably better than I'll ever be. But I've had more experience working at a newspaper than her, so I felt able to give this advice. Because I wish somebody would have warned me. I still love writing, it's my passion. But it's not as fun as it used to be. It's just work. I don't want this to happen to my friend.

Maybe this talk wont be something my friend remembers. But I think it's a lesson that all journalists need to remember: Writing is fun. It's what we love to do. But when we let it consume us with the work aspect of it, that's when we get cynical, that's when it becomes a job, that's when we start to lose that passion. That's when we forget why we're journalists.

And when that happens, you can close your legal pad, turn off your recorder, shut down your computer, and burn your AP Style book.

Because then it's all over.

Taking Charge

I was always the first one off the bus. Back in high school, there were unspoken (and maybe even unnoticed) groups of people. I was in a normal city, with wealthier and poorer parts just like everyplace else. But it wasn't until senior year that I noticed a simple way to tell who was from what part; the rich kids and the poor kids.

It was actually amusing when I first noticed it, then when I realized what group I was in, it became a little depressing.

Here's how my school worked in the mornings. Students were allowed to drive to school. When the buses got to school in the morning, students were allowed to get off and go into the cafeteria to eat breakfast, but ONLY go to the cafeteria and eat breakfast. No going to the locker, no roaming the halls, and absolutely no going into the cafeteria and not eating breakfast. This period was only a few minutes, depending on when your bus arrived at school, but then the bell would ring and everyone else would get off the bus and all students would head to class.

Here's how I mentally divided up the social classes. First, the kids that drove to school. Of course, most of them were from B***** ****. Duh. Any 17 year-old in that part of Ohio with their own car had to be from there. The place where they gave out full-sized candy bars at Halloween. The place where houses had two stories AND a two-car garage. Yeah, those were the rich kids.

Next up were the kids that got off as soon as the buses to go inside and eat breakfast. They didn't have enough money for a car, but they could swing a buck and a half for breakfast everyday. These were the kids from in town; the general M**** **** area. The place where you still got full candy bars at Halloween, but they were the fun size kind. These kids weren't rich, but they certainly weren't in the next group.

My group.

We were the kids that stayed on the bus until the bell rang. The kids that couldn't afford a car. Heck, we couldn't even afford to buy breakfast everyday. We were the kids from H*** **** and H***********. The kids who went Trick-or-Treating at the houses of the first two groups to get the "good candy." I was one of those kids.

But, every single day, that bell for the rejects to get off the bus rang at the same time. And it was custom for all the remaining high schoolers to go to the door of the bus to make a quit exit to get into school. I made a point to always be the first one off the bus. At least of my group anyway.

No, I could never beat the kids with cars into the building. And I was doomed to let those well-off enough to eat breakfast pass me by. But when it came to the part I could control, I promised myself that I'd always be the first.

In case you hadn't figured it out yet, this has very little to do with trivial stories from my high school days, and even less (absolutely nothing) to do with Halloween candy.

But it has everything to do with my mindset when it comes to life. I can't control my background. I can't control what I'm naturally challenged at. I can't control that there are just some people who are better than me. Better writers, better students, better journalists, better people. But I can control what I do about it, and I will take charge of everything I can and make myself the best that I can be. And maybe that won't be the best overall, but I will learn to live with that. I won't like it, but I'll live with it.

That story has everything to do with how hard I'm going to work to make sure I put myself in the best possible position that I can. I WILL do well in this, my chosen field. I am going to do my very best. I'm going to succeed.

I'm going to be the first one off the bus.



NOTE: *The blocked words are names of local towns.

The Journey > The Destination

It's over.

No, I'm not talking about the drama between the NFL and the player's union (which, by the way is starting to me want to vomit) I'm talking about my Spring Break job. Today, I signed off the radio for the final time with what I hope might someday be my signature line: "Remember, don't forget to smile."

I've been smiling a lot this week, even though there's no else around. I think that this week I've decided beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is the kind of thing I want to do. I want to be a journalist, a writer, I want to be on the radio. I want to communicate with people. I want to make people think. Make people smile. Make laugh.

I really hope I did that this week. But I'll be honest, I didn't take a single phone call from someone who wasn't already a friend of mine. So I don't know if anyone was listening. But I do know that it doesn't really matter. Because I think this week was more for me than anything else, even though I wasn't expecting it to be that way. I thought I was doing the radio station a favor, but it was the station that was doing me a favor. Maybe I'm crazy, but I think that after this week, I can finally say proudly for the first time that I know what I am now. Scratch that. I know who I am now.

I'm a journalist.

The Business I've Chosen

I've successfully completed four days of Spring Break work for the radio station. One more to go. On Friday, I'll go about my normal day, or at least what I've called normal for the last week. My alarm will go off at 9, but I'll make deals with myself to stay in bed until 10. Then I'll get ready for the day and do some at-home show prep. Then it'll be lunch time, when I'll make my 13th cup of easy mac. And then it's off to the station.

At first, I thought I'd be really happy and relieved to be done with this week, and get to the weekend where I can get some school work done and relax. But now that's it's actually almost here, I think I'm going to be sad when I turn my microphone off for the final time. I've had such a great time and learned so much in just a few short days, and I don't really want that to end.

Maybe one of the reasons why is that I kind of felt like an adult this week. I got up, went to work, and lived by my schedule. No classes, just the regular work schedule. Of course, I think it would have been better to have other human beings in the same zip code, but I learned to live with it.

But that's the nature of the beast I work for, it could be something new every week, I might be working by myself a lot, especially if I'm on the radio, and lots of stays in strange hotels (or empty college dorm rooms) could be in my future.

There's a quote from the Godfather... I'm not sure which one (I think there's more than one, I've never seen it... them?) I actually just heard it on ESPN. But the quote goes something to this effect: "This is the business we've chosen." I think it means that people know what they're getting into when they're choosing a career. Whether that career is as a journalist or a mobster, you know what the pros and cons are of that job. I think I'm finding out some more of the cons of my chosen field, but here's the cool part: I still want to do it.

Oops

So I just realized that I didn't post anything on here yesterday about my character-building experiences here by myself at IWU. So I'll make up for it by posting something right now and tonight... hopefully.

If you know me well, or kinda well, or just a little bit, or at all, or even if you've just had a class with me... ever. Then you know I'm about as picky a perfectionist as there is. Some call this a character flaw... I think I'm one of those people.

When I do something, I HAVE to do it completely right, or I beat myself up for it. And that's not always bad, sometimes it's a very good thing. To a certain extent, it's one of the reasons why I've made it this far. But the problems occur when I beat myself up too much for something that I just have to let go: a typo on a paper or article, an oversight on a multiple choice question on a test, a bad jock talk; accidentally talking over a singer in a song... those last two may have just happened.

Sometimes, one of those things will happen and all I can do is focus on it and obsess over it. The good side of this is that I make for darn sure that it doesn't happen again (at least I try). But occasionally I take it too far and it consumes me, which isn't good, because then I lose sight of other things and more mistakes occur.

It's a pretty vicious circle.

Perfectionism is like a gun. Hear me out on this one. If you don't control it, learn how to use it, and get the proper permits, bad things happen. But if you wisely use it to your advantage, you can blow people away... in the good way.

I don't think my perfectionist ways are going to change anytime, so I have to learn how to make it my own, and figure out ways to make it translate into A's and promotions instead of sleepless nights and gray hairs.

Wish me luck.

Barber's Back

I'm going to be honest: The first thing I thought when I read (on Twitter) that former Giants running back Tiki Barber was coming out of retirement, I thought there was absolutely no way it was true. It was just a Twitter hoax like the deaths of Mick Jagger, Justin Beiber, or the the Sham-Wow guy... that was a hoax, right?

But then I found out it was true: Tiki Barber is back.

I know he's gotten a lot of criticism for it, and the comparisons to somebody named Brett have been abounding, even earning him the nickname "Tiki Farvber." This is totally uncalled for. I'm not a homer for Tiki, but if the man wants to come back after a three-year hiatus from the game, that's completely fine; there's nothing wrong with that. The only problem is that he's almost 35 years old, and he's a running back. The day most tailbacks turn 30 is the day that coaches and fans begin to question their worth and how much tread they have left on the tires.

Tiki's six years past that mark, what's worse is he's been out of the game for three years, and he didn't really pick the best time to enter the league... just saying.

So yes, this decision is kind of a puzzler. The kind of thing that would make you hashtag #smh on Twitter. But it was his decision to make, and he's not putting anyone through the drama that Favre did with his unretirement(s). You can bash on him all you want, but I say more power (and money) to him. If he does well, then great- he proved everyone wrong. But if he doesn't, which very well might be the case, then the embarrassment and humiliation of his failed attempt to come back to the league will be more than enough punishment.

Lessons Learned

It's Tuesday. I started my Spring Break job working at the radio station on Monday. But it feels like I've been doing it for a week. And I don't mean that in a bad way, really. I'm actually enjoying it for the most part. Even though I feel like it takes up the greater part of my day (because it kind of does) I really like what I'm doing here. Through much teaching, trial and error, and just going in there and doing it, I've learned so much and I feel so much more confident in myself.

Here's the crazy part: The confidence isn't just coming in terms of pushing buttons and flipping switches (actually, it's more of just buttons and levers, there's no switches really) I think I'm gaining confidence in more aspects than that.

When I step up to that microphone with only a sentence (at most) to go off of for a three-minute jock talk, I don't think that I'm going to fail for one second. I've gotten better at speaking on air, but I've also gotten better at writing for speaking on air. Overall, this experience is proving to be just as instrumental as what I expected it to be, if not even more.

And I'm not even halfway done.

And Now I Can Breathe

I just finished day one of my Spring Break job at the radio station. I got to work at 10 in the morning, learned how to do some new things on the behind-the-scenes side of radio, took a quick lunch break, then went right to work for my on-air duties. I finally just finished by doing the weather forecast for tomorrow. So now I can finally call it a day... just about 10 hours after it began.

*sigh*

Don't get me wrong. I love being on the radio, and today was a fun day, it really was. But it was also stressful and tiring. I'll be ok though. Because now I get to go back home (I refer to my entire residence hall as my "house" now) and relax for a couple hours. Then I'm going to bed. Then I'm getting up and doing it all over again. It's not like I have homework to do over spring break or anything...

*sigh*

Seriously though, I'm loving it here. This is going to be great practice a real full time job and I know I'm going to have fun with it. At the very least, I'm getting paid [minimum wage] for all the hours I work this week. Getting paid to listen to music all day?

#nowthatswinning

Missing Out

I just watched an ESPN special on the Giants amazing Super Bowl run in 2007. It was a specifically a breakdown of their NFC Championsihp victory over the Packers, but it touched on the season as a whole, and of course, the historic Super Bowl win over New England. I watched this special glued to the TV, but the only thing I could think about was that there might not be any memories like that this year.

We fans may have to make it through this season by watching "best of"s and "instant classic"s, and I don't like that. I want to witness history being made for the first time, not reruns. I want to see Tom Brady push the bar for greatness even higher, doing something no one ever thought possible. I want to watch Chris Johnson shock the world with an unbreakable rushing record. I want Larry Fitzgerald to be the first wide out to reach 2,000 receiving yards in a single season.

Unfortunately, if owners and players don't swallow their pride (and maybe a couple zeros on a paycheck or two) we may not even have a chance to witness any of that happening. No chance to see a game-winning kick, a punt return for a touchdown, or a heart-wrenching interception. No chance to see the Vince Lombardi trophy hoisted by the greatest football team in the world.

And that my friends, is nothing short of a crime.

A Crazy Adventure This Will Be...

So here's the deal. I'm here on the beautiful campus of Indiana Wesleyan University. Here's the problem though: no one else is. Spring Break has sprung and all of my peers have gone the way of... something funny in history that left to go somewhere.

Dang, this solitary confinement is affecting my creativity already.

Why am I the only poor unfortunate soul stuck here at school while others are perfecting their tan lines in Florida and Mexico and Utah? I have the honorable distinction of working for Indiana Wesleyan University's radio station, 94.3 The Fortress all this week. I'll be working from 2-7pm Monday through Friday, playing music and talking and doing news and weather and all kinds of other good stuff for minimum wage. And would you believe I volunteered for this gig?

While this a great opportunity that I'm very excited about, there are a couple things that will make this an interesting experience to say the least. First of all is the obvious, oh-my-gosh-I'm-the-only-one-here-on-campus-I'm-going-to-go-insane thing (more on that in a second). But also the fact that I don't own a car. So getting around and finding (I don't know...) FOOD to eat might be an issue. Until further notice I'll be surviving on Easy Mac.

Here's the deal. Going crazy is no fun all by yourself. So I'm going to be updating my blog with at least a short paragraph or something every day to help track my insanity, so be sure to stick around for that. Also, follow me on Twitter (@jeremysharpie) and find me on Facebook (Jeremiah Sharp) there will be videos as well.

Stay tuned, and get 'cho popcorn ready, because this is gonna get interesting real quick.

Writing on the Run

I had my my final exam before spring break (SPRING BREAK!!!!!!!!!) yesterday. The first few pages were normal. Question one, answer this, question two, define that. You know the drill. Anyone who's been to college has seen it a thousand of those. But this test was just a touch different. Last page, almost done, I can finally breath.

Not quite.

I kinda knew it was coming (because the professor told us it was) but on that last page was two assignments. Yes assignments on a test. It doesn't get much better than that.

In the last hour of the test, I had to write two scripts. One TV commercial and one radio commercial. I was the first one done with the question and answer portion of the exam, which I think helped a lot, but I struggled with the script part. I mean, I got it done, and I was just the third to turn everything in, but I still felt too pressured to write well.

I'm not sure if this should worry me. In case you haven't noticed, writing is what I want to do for my career. And I'm pretty darn sure that during my career, I'm going to be required to write an article on a pretty tight schedule. Maybe there's a game that ends at 9 and I have to turn in my article by 10. I don't know. But I do know that in the most timely-pressured situation to write something a journalist would have to write, I almost caved.

Almost.

For now, I'm banking on the fact that I'm young and haven't been put in that situation much, and I'll just get better with time and experience. But it can't stay that way for long.

Oh, and by the way, I wrote this mediocre blog post in 30 minutes, right before an interview for an article I'm for The Sojourn. I changed "The Sojourn" to italics right as my interviewee walked up to my table. Just saying.

Sad Day...

Tomorrow's the big day. If the NFL player's union and the owners don't completely shut the gap between their respective views on what the new collective bargaining agreement should look like, all heck is gonna break loose.

I think the worst part is that I have absolutely no confidence that a deal with get done. Of course, it's not like if the papers aren't signed exactly on time the NFL will cease to exist. If that were actually the case I'm pretty sure there would be sharp increases in the population at the bottom of cliffs all over America. However, with each passing day void of a deal, we take one step closer to an NFL-less Fall, or at the very least a shortened season. And none of us want to see an asterisk in the history books beside the Super Bowl champion of a "lockout shortened year"

Asterisks are for baseball.

The Only Way I Can

I went to an intramural basketball game Monday night. The guys on my floor were taking on another residence hall in an epic battle which could only be matched in intensity and skill by a game seven of the NBA finals. If you've ever met me or been near me at a sporting event of any kind, you know that I like to cheer. Well, jeer might be more like it.

The bottom line is that at the game, I took my shots at the opposing team like any good red-blooded American man would. I wasn't vulgar; I wasn't offensive, I simply made it clear which team my friends were on, and which they were not.

We're not talking harsh stuff here. I distinctly remember yelling things about how the other team's shirts did not match their shorts. I whipped out my best sarcastic voice for a few "nice shots" (otherwise known as airballs). And my personal favorite was when a player on the other team got a little too rough and viscously pushed a player on my team. We're not talking a blocking foul or a moving screen. This was a blatant, two-handed shove that almost received a technical foul. This guy pushed my friend.

Excuse me for feeling a bit protective.

Towards the end of the game, I received a warning from the referee that I was no longer allowed to talk to the other team. Later, I would find out this warning was for a comment someone near me said, that the ref mistook for one of my jeers. But I also received comments from players on both sides about my actions during the game. Later, I was holding a door open for several people to walk through, and someone I didn't know from the other team made physical contact with me and sarcastically thanked me for "the negative cheers." "This isn't high school," another added.

Exactly. This isn't high school. So get over it.

This is the way I've always been. Sports are a big passion of mine, and watching them in person brings out a side of me that doesn't come out any other way. Some people are offended by this. And I can understand why, I just don't agree with it. It's just a game; don't take it too seriously. I don't say or yell anything offensive, so don't take it that way. It's all part of the game. And you know the best way to shut me up? Win. Beat my team. Then, I'll have no choice but to stop talking.

Or maybe that's not enough for you. Maybe the only way for some people to stop complaining about the way I act at sporting events is to know why I do it. Maybe it's because I wanted to play sports since I was a little boy. Maybe it's because I was a poor little homeschooled kid whose parents didn't let me get involved in athletics. Maybe it's because I'm a 6'3", 170-pound average white guy who can only play backyard football with any kind of skill level.

Maybe the whole time I'm yelling and screaming and supporting my team, I'm wishing I was one of the players I was yelling at. Maybe I've wished my entire life to have the opportunity the play competitive sports. Maybe I'm just yelling because I'm jealous.

Huh... I think I just figured out why I'm a sports writer.

So if I've ever offended you at a sporting event, or if my type just makes you sick to your stomach, I'm sorry. Really. It's not my intention to viciously attack people or offend anyone in any way. Just consider the possibility that it's not me who is taking the game too seriously. I'm just having fun, supporting my team; participating in athletics the only way I can.

Just For Fun... and a grade

I recently wrote, directed, and shot a commercial for my Media Scriptwriting class. It was a lot of fun, and I think it turned out ok, the product is the shoes, which we called McJ's after Mike and Jeremy. Thanks to Mike Bruce and Jeremy Tormey for doing an amazing job. Let me know what you think...