Advertisement

Once again, in a life divided by a growing number of short chapters, I am a rookie.

Following in the wake of sports writing powerhouse Chip Corwin, I stand little chance of filling anything but the man's office, which was the first benefit of taking over as Sports Editor for the Leader and Kalkaskian. (How does one say no to a window and a pretty green wall?)

Although comparing Corwin to Brett Favre may be a bit overblown, I imagine Green Bay's new starting quarterback Aaron Rodgers and I are having similar thoughts flying through our heads.

Fortunately, trial by fire carries less risk for a sports editor, who has not signed a multi-million dollar contract (though I would be willing to enter into such negotiations).

Covering local sports in the weeks ahead, I expect all the early-season aches and pains to break through like a linebacker and slowly work themselves out like a cross country race. The exciting prospect of reporting the triumphs and shortfalls of high school sports, with all its passion and unpredictability is all the motivation I need to work through the ranks.

At least shaking off the title of rookie is one area where I can claim veteran status.

I arrived in northern Michigan last November from Estes Park, Colorado, where I lived three years on and off coaching track and field, substitute teaching, working trail crew for the National Park Service, tending bar, building houses, serving coffee and writing press releases.

I seem to live my life in six-month intervals, changing jobs, moving or leaving the country before any roots begin to take hold. If I do claim permanent ties to anywhere on earth, it must be Fort Wayne, Indiana.

Spending the first 18 years of my life in that city, which many people in northern Michigan offer their condolences for, I will forever see it as the best place to be with a return ticket in your back pocket.

I love the people and the dense green hardwood forests, thick with thorns, mosquitoes and poison ivy. It is home for me, the place I'll always visit but never stay.

It was there I met Rick Norton and Eric McCarrol, two track and field coaches who paved the path to Indiana State University, where I ran the 400 meter hurdles and a handful of shorter distances.

I made the mistake of majoring in English Literature, which is the degree one pursues in order to be an expert in everything - and nothing.

Then there was Paris, a stepping stone after graduating in 2004, to a six-month ramble through the countries of southern Europe. As it relates to sports, I found myself in Athens just before the start of the summer Olympics, where one could live well off very little. I was pulled south into the Greek islands, however, planning to return for the track and field finals.

The funny thing about boats in Greece is that they don't always bother to show up, which caused me to miss the window to see the world's greatest athletes compete in the purist of sports. The cost of living in Athens tripled overnight as well, showing the world what happens when money is injected into athletics.

This brings me back to the beauty of high school, where athletes stick their necks out for bragging rights, not a contract extension.

With three seasons of local sports stretched out in front of me, I am thrilled to be sitting at the sports desk, preparing to shake off the weaknesses of a rookie as I attempt to cover our local superstars as they do the same.