Decisions, decisions...

I'm a sportswriter. Let's get that out of the way to start with. But I struggle a lot with sticking to just one thing. I was hired on to write sports for my college's newspaper, but often drifted into the news section where some of my favorite (and most popular) articles came from. This year, I'm the sports editor on that same paper, but I have several ideas for non-sports stories. And a blog that was intended to be just about sports occasionally drifts into other, more serious conversations.

This is going to be a little of both.

As much as I love sports, I realize not to take them (or myself) too seriously. Believe me, I used to be that guy everyone hates. The one who eats, sleeps, and breathes sports. But not anymore. I still have that love, but I don't let it define who I am. And I'm a better journalist for it. Keeping a safe (but still close) distance has helped me to overcome biases which crept into my writing before. And now, I can enjoy sports more, because a football game doesn't seem like as much work when it's not everything you do. I can still be a fan.

Above all, using this blog as a personal journal as much as a public forum has helped return me to the reason I love writing; the reason I started in the first place: it's therapeutic to me; it calms my very soul. The first time I really sat down at a computer to write was in January of a very bad year. The Bengals and Broncos (my two favorite teams at the time) had both missed the playoffs by a game. But Denver suffered a far greater loss. Star cornerback Darrent Williams was shot to death outside a club on New Years. The Michigan Wolverines former head football coach Bo Schembechler passed away around the same time. So much stuff like this just kept piling on.

Looking back, I realize how small these "difficulties" were. I would give anything for my heaviest burdens to revolve around people I've never met. But at the time it really mattered. And writing about it was the best way I found to deal with it.

The problems have gotten worse over time; the burdens harder to bear. But I've never stopped writing, and I'm glad I haven't. Because when the going gets tough, I can always flip open my red laptop and start typing what's on my mind. My keyboard has never let me down. I can tell it everything. From the greatest dreams of my heart, to the worst fears of my mind, and even how I really think the Bengals will do this season.

I am, after all, still a sportswriter.

My Midnight Thoughts (in 512 characters or less)

Ok, my midnight thoughts are a little late today. Sue me. All you'll get from this broke college student is next week's laundry money.

Tonight, I have regret on the mind. Both my own personal regrets and the matter in general. I always tell myself not to worry about the past because I can't change it (no matter how hard I try), but here I go- worrying about mistakes I've made.

I think the only way to beat that is by living in a way that I won't regret later. Go all out. Because then I can say I tried.

My Midnight Thoughts (in 512 characters or less)

Here's the deal: It's midnight and I'm updating my blog from my phone, which has a 512 character limit. Now that you understand (and I only have 354 characters left), here we go.

I get excited easily. For those who are around me often, this excitement usually comes with a side of crazy. Right now, I'm excited to go back to my job as a writer, one that I've dreamed of for as long as I can remember. I'm glad it has me excited, because I know I'll enjoy it more. Now all I have to do is get my life in order.

The Write Time

It's a quarter after six o'clock... In. The. Morning. Given the choice, I would never be up this early. But a little thing called work draws me up and out of bed at 5 am occasionally, so I must cope. Today, I sit at a desk, scanning people into a building while it's still dark outside. But who knows? Someday I might have to get up this early for a job that's more in my field. And I might even have to write at such a time as this.

Oh boy.

Don't get me wrong. Writing is still one of my favorite things to do. But when it comes to this time of "mourning," I'm not even sure how interested I would be if the Rose Bowl was on. That's something I might have to work on in the future, as I'm well aware of journalism's frequent nontraditional office setting. At any given time, my office might be a locker room, a row of bleachers, a hotel room, or even an airplane.

I begrudgingly admit that this is a little unnerving to me. I've never been one to take a lot of risks or go outside my comfort zone. Being out on the road and traveling and is certainly out of my comfort zone, especially for someone who's never gone outside Ohio, Kentucky, Indiana, and Michigan.Yet I'm still heading on a crash-course for a career that will almost certainly (and hopefully) take me all over the country, doing things I've never done before.

Is this not adding up for anyone else?

While I know that I've lived a rather boring life so far, I don't want to keep it that way. Getting out of my comfort zone may make me choke like LeBron James in the fourth quarter (as if there weren't enough of those), but that doesn't mean I'm not going to try. Because without taking the small risks that I have, I wouldn't even be at this point in my career. So maybe it's time I start stepping out and doing hard things. And hopefully, with great risk will come great reward.

Antics and All...

Randy Moss, the guy who started my career, has retired.

I slowly typed this sentence on the day that one of the greatest, most electrifying players in NFL history called it quits. It took me a while to realize it. I had gone all day just thinking about the career Moss had, the things he said; the things he did (almost more off the field than on it). But I never really remembered that it was Moss who helped pique my interest in sports journalism oh so many years ago.

I've never been bashful about telling the story. I was around 12 years old when I got my hands on an old copy of Sports Illustrated (a rare commodity in my house). For some reason, I couldn't put it down. I was never one to read much, but this was different- this was reading about sports. One article especially caught my attention.

"How Good Can Randy Moss Be?" was a multiple-page article in that issue by Michael Silver. It was about the controversially good player that was Randy Moss. One thing that really intrigued me was that the article, in essence, was about Silver writing the article. It delved into the interview process, how Moss spoke, what he said, and what he wanted to take back. Best of all, it gave fantastic insight into the type of person Moss was.

While I never was a big fan of his, I've always had respect for Randy Moss. For no other reason than if Michael Silver hadn't written that article about him, I might not have written every day afterward. I might not have gotten a job at my town's newspaper. I might not have worked for my college's newspaper as a freshman. I might not be the person I am today.

I'm not nearly as saddened by Moss' retirement as I am by the trading of Chad Ochocinco, but it was a nice reminder of how I got my humble start as a boy with a magazine, a pencil, and a spiral bound notebook. So today, I honor the career of Randy Moss, and I thank him for everything he's done. For the highlights, the antics, the fines, the catches, the celebrations, the trash talking, and everything that came with being one of the best the NFL has ever seen, and one of the most unique personalities as well.

If he hadn't have done those things then, I wouldn't be doing this right now.