...and the agony of defeat

It was 11 o'clock at night and I had nothing else to do. So I flipped on ESPN. To my delight, game two of the College World Series Finals was on, and drawing to a finish. College baseball. Only slightly more intriguing to me than the WNBA, but seeing that college baseball's champion was potentially just six outs away from being crowned, I decided to stick around.

I've always loved watching the ending of major sports championships. Actually, it doesn't even have to be a major sport. Just as long as it's the final game of sport's postseason, you can find me glued to the TV. Just the other day, I watched the XFL's Super Bowl, titled the Million Dollar Game, from its first and only season back in 2001.

Of course, it's no surprise that I would love watching these types of games. They're what every athlete in his or her respective sport plays for. What might be surprising though is my favorite part of those games. To me, the most interesting part about championships isn't the dogpile that ensues after the final out, point, or when the clock hits triple zeroes. It's not the passing out of t-shirts and caps, and the spraying of champagne in the locker room. It's not even the cliche one-word headlines with oversized photos in the next day's newspaper (although I really do love those).

My favorite part is the loser.

Sadistic much? Maybe a little. There's just something about watching the team that finished second. The blank stares. The towels over heads. The tears. Nobody remembers second place, so those tears are the last we will ever see of you. My first memory of this was Kevin Dyson kneeling on the one yard line in Super Bowl XXXIV. One yard short. Ever since then I have always been willing to trade the images of celebratory mobs on the pitcher's mound or the fifty yard line for those of a heartbroken veteran who watches that final play on the jumbotron, hoping for a different ending.

Nobody remembers second place. Except of course, for the ones who were unfortunate enough to finish there. For them, it's a gut-wrenching experience that is impossible to forget. For me, it's the images of their downfall; the look of sheer defeat on their faces, that I can't- and don't want to-block from my memory.

Another Dimension

I'm typing this left-handed. It's not very easy. I injured my right wrist a few days ago, and as the stubborn, red-blooded American male that I am, I didn't do anything about it. Actually, that's not entirely true. I did do something about it: I played several intense games of volleyball with a chip on my shoulder because I was told that I wouldn't be able to play hurt.

Sure showed them.

I also showed myself. And over the next few days or weeks that I have to wear this brace on my wrist, I hope to show myself something I'm good at other than writing. In a bored stupor this morning, I wondered what life would be like if I couldn't type anymore. And I realized that I might be in trouble if that's ever the case. So here we go, an adventure of unprecedented proportions. Rest assured, there won't be any career changes made. I'll be sure to write about it when I'm done.

Learning to Live

I was leaving Circle K, filling up on gas station food at 11pm just because it's only a three-minute walk from my summer dorm room. After paying for my Mt. Dew and Hot Pockets (a college student's dinner if I've ever eaten one) I picked up my things and headed for the door. It wasn't until I had started to step out into the mild night air that I heard the cashier say in a loud voice, "Do you want your receipt?" It was obviously the second time he had said it, but the first I had heard it.

As I politely declined his offer, I turned away and left the store feeling like I had been rude. I really didn't hear him the first time, but for all he knew I was just another ungrateful customer. It was on the short walk back that I realized for the first time: for all intents and purposes, I've been hearing impaired my entire life.

How many situations like this have happened that have gone unnoticed by me? I try not to let my disability ever become an issue; it's just a medically-certified card that I have to keep in my wallet. Unfortunately, not being able to hear very well comes up more in everyday life more than you'd think.

These thoughts took up the first minute of my walk back.

Crossing the street back onto campus, I started to realize that maybe my passion for writing has deeper roots than I thought. Maybe even since I was a child, turning the right side of my head towards the TV just so I could hear it, I valued the written word over the audible simply because I could understand it better. Maybe the reason I abuse the art of the secret handshake and overdo high fives is because physical communication is so much easier for me than verbal.

Two minutes.

It's hard not to think about what kind of effects this will have on my career in the long run. Who wants to hire a hearing-impaired journalist. This might be something I should abstain from headlining my resume. Then again, I was hired to work at a radio station when the person in charge of hiring know full well of my special situation.

I made it back to my dorm, threw my Hot Pockets in the microwave and turned ESPN on. Darn Closed Captioning on live shows is never very good. The words finally scroll onto the screen a good ten seconds after they've passed their usefulness. Try it sometime. Fine, I'll just turn the volume up a little bit. I smiled as I turned the volume bar to an even number. OCD. Not a disability. More of a quirk.

It was nice and quiet, except for the suits on the screen talking about the top plays of the day. I enjoyed it. Being able to focus my hearing on one thing is key for my coherence. Just a few hours earlier I had been in a crowded dining hall, but I felt completely alone because there were so many loud conversations going on, and I couldn't understand one of them.

I'm still learning to deal with my disability. I've only been fully aware of it for a couple years now; it's a process. But rest assured, I'll figure it out. And I'll be a better person for it. It will get to the point where I'll go through every day, and no one will even wonder if there's anything wrong with me. Why? Not because I'm going to have more surgeries to fix it. Not because I'm going to use a hearing aid as a Band-Aid. But for no other reason than I have to learn.

A Hard Lesson to Learn

If you're friends with me on Facebook, first of all- I'm sorry. I tend to post a lot, usually it's meaningless stuff that only I care about, but sometimes I like to think that I do something constructive with my social media outlet of choice. But second of all, my online acquaintances might know that I've been dealing with a struggle of patience lately. I'll be the first to admit that I'm a control freak- a trait I've been working hard to improve on this summer- I get really nervous when a situation is out of my hands.

For the past couple weeks there has been a situation which is completely out of my hands, but I care about as much as anything. A tough combination if I've ever heard one. But you know me, I always try to make the most of tough situations, learn from it, and then blog about it.

So what's the sports journalist's interpretation of learning patience and dealing with difficulty you can do nothing about?

When (if?) I graduate college, I am going to do everything I can to secure a good job in this field. I'll write my tail off and always do the best I can, just like I'm doing now. But to a certain extent, it's not all up to me. Hard work, dedication, talent, and creativity only go so far. Getting a good job as a sports writer takes two very important and uncontrollable things: connections and luck. If I don't learn this lesson now, then waiting and hoping and praying for that gig at Sports Illustrated at 21 years old will be even more frustrating. Especially if I don't get it.

So what can I learn from these last two weeks? Not everything is up to me. Some situations are simply out of my control. What should I do in those instances?

That, my Facebook friends, is a blogpost for another day.

No Earthly Good

Sleep is an interesting concept. It's one of those things that we all love, but can't really enjoy. Think about it. While you're sleeping, you don't even really know it, so you can't truly enjoy it. For me, the best part is those last few seconds before I drift off. Complete relaxation. I've even taken this concept so far as to set alarms in the middle of the night, hours before I have to get up, just so I can wake up and experience that glorious feeling of drifting off once again.

Then comes the day. The long, tiring, stressful day. Most days at about 2 o'clock we start thinking about sleep again; thinking about that night when we'll get to rest once again. Sometimes those thoughts creep in before noon. Sometimes it's mere minutes after we get out of bed. But it's bound to happen. We long for that feeling, the one that we can't really enjoy.

Thinking about this, I realized that the best part about sleep is the anticipation, not the act itself. And I fear that this line of thinking has crept into the way I live my life. Sometimes I get so focused on the future, planning it, thinking about it, and even trying to enjoy it years before I actually get there, that I don't enjoy what's happening right now. I forget about today because I'm so wrapped up in tomorrow.

Someone close to me brought this reality to my attention a few months ago, "We can worry about the future later," she said. "I try not to get too wrapped up in what might happen and try to enjoy what is happening. Live in the moment."

I really need to live in the moment more. Because I realize now that I may have missed out on some great experiences because I was thinking about what they could lead up to. I didn't appreciate what was going on; I took opportunities and even people for granted.

Hopefully now I can change that. Hopefully now I can enjoy today and not think so much about tomorrow. Hopefully now I can enjoy some great things in my life that I wasn't fully appreciating before.

Hopefully I get that chance.

A Humbling Experience

It's been quite a long while since my last post. You could say I've been busy. I've never worked a full time job before. Three part time jobs at the same time, yes. But one full time job, no. It's an entirely new experience for me. I'm used to jobs that are mostly just sitting at a desk and letting my creative juices flow. While there are definitely some desk-sitting aspects of this job, most of it is general custodial work. Eight hours of general custodial work every day.

In the time I've been working this job, I've grown to appreciate my jobs in the communication field even more. I'm so blessed to be in this line of work and to have positions doing things that I am very passionate about and really enjoy.

However, I've also matured in the sense that I now believe that at some point in everyone's life, we should all have a job like this. Whether a custodian, fast food service, or anything in that realm, it's a great and humbling experience to have. These jobs can be tough, no one is above them, and you can learn a lot from them. I am so glad I've done this, I have a whole new respect for the people in these professions. But that doesn't mean I don't look forward to getting back to work in my chosen field, I can't wait to get back to writing (and now editing) everyday, but I will be sure to take this as a valuable learning experience, and become a better person because of it.