Wild Days at the Sports Desk

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It will come as no surprise to anybody who has ever had to work for a living when I say that there are Fast days and slow days in Every business. It is a Universal Truth that no one but a certified Moron would deny—not even the Filthy Rich who have never worked a day in their lives and still believe in Santa Claus, if only because they can afford to think that way.

Not even professional Journalists can deny a thing like that with a straight face. It is an open secret on any newspaper that the Sports Desk will see more Action, on any given day, than any other Desk will see in a month.… That is why Sportswriters are almost always the lowest-paid people on Newspaper staffs: They are charter members of the Too Much Fun Club, and they like it that way.

“Why should I work for a living,” they say, “if I can get paid doing something I love?”

And who will argue with them? Not me. I am a Natural-born Sportswriter. I have a knack for it, a God-given talent. After I first learned that it was possible to sleep late and go to work at Two in the afternoon, and still get Paid for it, I never did anything else.

You bet. Some people call me lazy, but they are Wrong. If I am lazy, then so is Chris Berman of ESPN and Bob Costas of NBC. Both are members of the Too Much Fun Club, and they both learned their trade from former New York Yankees Hall of Fame shortstop Phil Rizzuto—who went from Playing baseball for a living to talking about baseball for an even better living. Rizzuto was my hero as a youth, and I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. I too played shortstop for many years (in Louisville’s version of what is now the Little League), until I was struck down by Acne and Baby Fat.

It was Beer that finally ended my career as a full-time Athlete—first Beer, then Girls, and finally a brief fling with Crime. That is a fatal mix for any star athlete, and for a while I thought I was Finished. I went into shock when I no longer heard cheers. My life turned weird overnight, and people snickered when I lumbered out on the Diving Board. It was horrible.

But not for long. The shock quickly wore off, and I soon found a home at the sports desk—any sports desk, from the Louisville Courier-Journal to the Tallahassee Democrat to Time magazine and the Brazil Herald to the New York Herald-Tribune. They all have a sports desk.

—June 11, 2001