Saturday, January 13, 2007

Beeswax, Not Yours Inc.
Time to fulfill the resolution I got via Tony!

So, yeah, I've been quiet for a while. Mostly bad scheduling (I stay at school late Monday-Thursday, awesome!!) and plenty of studying have kept me from updating. This weekend will probably be the only relatively work-free weekend I'll have for the next couple of months. I'd like to say that I will spend my free time doing something noble and worthwhile, but you all know me, so I won't insult you with any of that dribble.

Anyway, first order of business: I'm a sports reporter! Not just any sports reporter, however... a sports reporter for a college newspaper whose readership cares about athletic programs almost as much as it cares about cockroaches with rare heart disease. Yes, my friends, I have hit the big time.

I know what you're thinking: How did I manage to score such a prestigious position? It went a little something like this...

I was sitting in the newspaper meeting room, looking over the budget listing, wondering what assignment I would take. To be honest, none of the stories looked interesting to me at all; most of them were the types of assignments that you know students only take so that they can get enough submitted stories to pass the class. Being the absolute professional journalist that I am, I washed my hands of all of those stories, and proceeded to look confused while wondering why I was being such a dope my first day on the job. The answer, of course, is that it comes naturally.

A few moments later, Daniel, the paper's editor-in-chief, snapped me out of my dream world by noting aloud that I was the only reporter without a story left in the room. The pressure mounted; I had to think fast, and do it without sweating bullets, because, unfortunately, I wouldn't be sweating actual bullets, unlike in the cartoons, so I wouldn't be able to kill anyone and make a swift exit. I then stole a quick look to the far left of the room where Mike, the sports editor, was sitting. Earlier in the meeting he had tried, to no avail, to get someone, anyone, to be a sportswriter. Nobody bit, because, once again, nobody cares about cockroaches with rare heart disease, unless he or she enjoys giving cockroaches heart attacks by jumping around corners and scaring the living daylights out of them. Those sick sadists.

I looked down at the budget. There were essentially two stories left: Women's basketball and the Cal Poly Federal Credit Union winning an award. Tell me, my amigos, which one would YOU take? The choice was easy for me. I decided to be vaguely noncommittal in the hopes that the delaying tactic would give me time to think. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Credit = boring. Unions = boring. Credit + unions = very boring. The simple math of my youth once again pulled me through a sticky situation, whereas Calculus still proves to be completely useless to anyone other than sick mental patients.

So, obviously, I took the women's basketball job. And what a job it is! Because women's basketball is now my beat, I have a guaranteed story each week, so I don't have to fish through all of the crap like wondering what the hell snowboarders are up to or getting the same canned answers about the unfinished parking structure week in and week out. Research is also nice and simple thanks to the California Collegiate Athletics Association website, which lists the major stats of every game so that I'm never at a loss for random statements to make in my game recaps, such as "Monterey Bay went on a 7-0 run to take the lead, 26-20, with 2:34 left in the half." Look at all of the numbers! It makes me all happy and glowy inside.

My first assignment was last week. The team was on the road, in San Francisco, no less, so I got to sit on my lazy ass and report from home instead of going to the game and sitting on my lazy ass there. The information gathering went smoothly, but the interview I had with the head coach could have gone better. And by "could have gone better" I mean, "Boy, a nice mushroom cloud over my home would have been swell right about then, golly gee." Perhaps not that bad, but then again, you have to admit that dying as the first victim of a nuclear holocaust would be a nice way of getting out of responsibilities.

Anyway, the interview. It almost never happened. Days before, I'd made certain to schedule the interview with the coach through Cal Poly's sports information director, Paul Helms. He assured me that Sunday morning at either 9:00 or 10:00 AM would be the best time to call the coach, and, naive fool that I am, I believed him, because, hey, people are always on time for things, right? Right? I'll give you all a few minutes to cackle hysterically at me.

Okay, that's enough.

Long story short (too late), I called the coach for about two hours, finally got tired of hearing the same "I'm not here~" message over and over again, and then left a message of my own practically begging her to call me because I was on a ZOMG STRICT DEADLINE. I had lost command long ago, and my confidence was seeping away. Of course, that was when the coach called me back; I think that she calculated the exact moment I would be most off-guard and decided to call then. I sludged through the interview as quickly as I could (the coach sounded annoyed that some pissant college sportswriter would call her cell phone and have the audacity to request an interview to take place "ASAP") and wrote the story in no time at all, meaning I got the story done after spending an hour wondering just what the hell was more important than what. God bless the inverted pyramid.

The article seemed to go over well, though, and that brings us to today (or yesterday as it will be when I actually post this). This was my first actual home game; I wanted to have a good time. Things looked up when I arrived... Mr. Helms showed me to my seat at the PRESS TABLE~! and made me feel as though I were more than some dip writing an article that maybe five people outside of the women's basketball team will probably read. I also sat next to an (unlike me) actual sports reporter, Pete Marshall of the Inland Valley Daily Bulletin, who introduced himself to me, though I didn't catch his name at first, because, apparently due to God's will that life be as sitcom-ish as possible, a loud horn sounded off just as he told me his name. We then shook hands, after which he went off to get some food, just before I could shout, "THE HORN BLOCKED YOUR NAME, WHOEVER YOU ARE." I was dreading a Seinfeld moment the rest of the night; thankfully, it never came.

It probably would have been easy to simply ask his name again upon his return, but that would have meant admitting that I can't hear through loud horn noises, an essential quality for surviving day-to-day life.

The game itself did not go so well for the women. They've gone through a lot of crap this season (two coaches quit unexpectedly before coach Michelle Fortier took over), and they've been struggling a bit. Taking on Chico State, the #7 ranked team in America, did not do too much to help. Cal Poly got trounced in the first half, though they actually outplayed Chico State in the second half. How much of that great second half play was due to Chico State just cruising along due to a big lead, I don't know, but it's a positive.

Less positive, however, was the fact that I got snubbed during halftime and after the game. Before the game, Paul Helms promised Mr. Marshall and I that we would get stat sheets at halftime and after the game ended. Guess who got them and guess who didn't? Hint: The person who has actually earned professional respect. It doesn't matter that much, since I can get all of the stats online, but, still, a snub is a snub, and it must be paid back with blood and vengeance. Or, it would be if I were some sort of supervillain or a vigilante.

(I also wish swift vengeance upon the lady who sat behind me all night screaming. I have to say, hearing some soccer mom shout, "COME ON, HUSTLE!!!!!" and whatnot all night long in the shrillest, most shrewish voice I've heard in quite a long time was the highlight of my night. The cherry on top would have been witnessing her being ripped apart by wolves, after which her vital organs would be used for decoration.)

Still stinging from not getting the stat sheets, I followed Marshall to a conference room where we interviewed Coach Fortier, by which I mean he interviewed her while I sat back and leeched off the quotes he was getting. It worked out okay, since he inquired about everything I had wanted to ask about, and I got plenty of quotes to use. I'll have plenty of time to brush up on my interviewing skill when the team goes on the road, anyway.

And that was about it for my night. The ladies have another game tonight, against Cal State Stanislaus, and hopefully they'll be able to feed off the momentum they had during the second half against Chico State. And if they do that, maybe even a loser like me will be able to succeed! Yeah! I could even get stat sheets tonight!!

Anything is possible.
Comments (0)