Words of wisdom from DPOSTM's old timers

Looking back, it seems sort of strange that I knew nothing at all about the world of Penn athletics as I first plopped myself down on the hard mattress that took up almost all of that tiny room. As a mop-headed five-year-old, I was determined to be the next slick-fielding Yankees shortstop, following in the footsteps of Bucky Dent. Needless to say, that dream died a quick death, as did most of my other childhood allusions. Since that 198O Yankees season, though, sports has been a major part of my life. I played ball for hours after school every day. And every summer night, I listened to the Bronx Bombers on the radio -- nothing sped up my heart rate more than Phil Rizzuto's ninth-inning call of a one-run game. Holy Cow... During my high school years at Andover, I played football and tennis, but I was resigned to the fact that our final tennis match against Exeter would mark the end of my competitive athletic career. I felt I had a good run, but it was time to move on in life -- to grow up. Those who know me understand what a silly notion that was, and I suppose that sheds some light on why I became so involved in the Penn sports scene -- this time as a frustrated athlete, ah, I mean journalist. Feeling the need to get out of that cramped dorm room as much as possible, I expressed interest in writing to the sports editors at the DP, and they told me women's tennis would be my first beat. When I showed up at my first practice to introduce myself to the coach, a slender and stunning blond was hitting backhands down the line with a perfect Chrissy Evert stroke. When she finished her drills and looked over at me, she instantly figured out I was the ignorant freshman that had been sent to cover the team for the semester. She smiled. Holy cow! "This journalism thing is the best," I thought to myself. Throughout my four years of service for this fine rag, including a year as editor, the biggest knock against me from colleagues, superiors, friends and foes was that I was more a fan than a journalist. There is no doubt that was true. For some reason, I felt a much greater responsibility to the athletes than to our readership -- perhaps because readership was such a nebulous concept. Maybe the reason was that I knew the athletes I was writing about and could associate a face with the name. More importantly, every Penn athlete I encountered, with almost no exceptions, gained my immediate respect and affection. From that first encounter with Leanne Mos at the Lott Courts to the Jerome Allens and Miles Maciks of this campus, I couldn't help but cheer for those guys and gals. I couldn't help but think of how much they all gave back to the Penn community. Think about how much electricity is generated on campus by trouncing Princeton at the Palestra. That is a product of 12 guys and three coaches busting their balls for hours and hours every day. Sure it's something they love to do, but I couldn't help but be appreciative. The Quakers gave me an opportunity to travel all over the country, to get on national television, to drive through the streets of Ann Arbor, Mich., and talk trash to all the cocky Jimmy King-lovin' Wolverines fans, to watch one of John Chaney's 5 a.m. practices, where he teaches much more about life than match-up zones, to ask Joe Paterno about the toast thrown at Franklin Field, to be pictured in Sports Illustrated -- to laugh a lot and, occasionally, to cry. My love affair with the Quakers added texture to my life here at Penn. Everybody gets through the academic portion of life here in West Philadelphia. But for most people, the passion in life comes from elsewhere. For me, a big part of it came from the Red and the Blue, from Fran Dunphy and Al Bagnoli, from the Big 5 and the Palestra. Before everyone graduates, I would encourage them to walk into that place just one more time and look up at the light pouring in and listen to the echoes of the cheers. Sorry, I digressed. For me, I feel again as though I am ready to move on. I passed up a professional sports writing job in New York to get into the real estate business. I can't exactly put my finger on what triggered that decision, but I think most important was that it was not journalism that I fell in love with during my tenure at the DP, but the interaction with all the fabulous people I had the opportunity to deal with as a result of my obligations to the paper. Journalism was only the medium through which these relationships developed. It was the hundreds of players and coaches who I cheered for, who I felt nervous for, who I pissed off and aggravated that made it all worth while. Thank you.

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