It's like looking over at your Special Edition DVD copy of Bull Durham, but realizing you don't have quite enough time to watch it.
Like an invitation to a grillout when you know you've gotta rise and shine before the sun does.
That's what my decision has been like in deciding when to move on from Monroe. While sticking around for a football season sounds like fun, I know I'd ending up sticking around until I graduate along with the classes of 2009. With the hoops season being my personal favorite, I couldn't leave before the winter takes its icy grip. And, try as I may, I wouldn't be able to run away from the track teams once the world thaws.
So, I depart shortly after such cherished Cheesemakers as Shawn Hart and Calyn Bidlingmaier.
But not without permanent marks that they and so very many others have left on my mind, my heart and my soul.
I've gotten to watch an even-keel Ashley Beutler make running faster than anyone has on the prep level in Wisconsin look like breezing through an exam you overprepared for.
Patrick Klein taught me that premier athletes can be as approachable off the cross country course as they are unapproachable on it.
I had the honor of irking Amy Golz after each of her games I covered as she set Albany's all-time leading scorer in hoops. The same way she sharpened her shot on the hardwood, Golz became a world-class interview candidate. And her mother, Sharon, gave me so many compliments, none bigger than the way she put our photo editor at the top of her speed dial.
Her persistent photo orders told a novice photographer that he was doing alright as he mastered the art of holding a notepad under his arm and spinning the focus and zoom with a pencil wedged between fingers.
This gig was my first out of college and I couldn't have imagined a better point of departure in my career. I burrowed through my stack of papers a couple of nights ago and it was like peering into a collective scrapbook of southwestern Wisconsin prep sports. I have the honor of saying that I saw there. For the sheer exhilaration of victory. For the salty state of defeat.
The community has endured my whimsical stylings and, on a few reported occasions laughed along. My co-workers stood by in support, fighting the urge to snicker as I learned the art of designing illustrations.
Simply put, I've had a lot of fun here. I hope my work has emoted that. It's easy to do a great job when you're among those that insist upon greatness. The kids, the stalwart programs they're part of, that's only half of the story. With the newspaper industry under financial duress, our perpetually short-handed staff has inspired me on a regular basis.
And that's because we love our jobs. Every kid would love to be a sports writer, and I'd like to thank each and every person reading this for making my first job out of college the best point of departure possible.
But now it's time to sign off. Now you read me, now you...
Like an invitation to a grillout when you know you've gotta rise and shine before the sun does.
That's what my decision has been like in deciding when to move on from Monroe. While sticking around for a football season sounds like fun, I know I'd ending up sticking around until I graduate along with the classes of 2009. With the hoops season being my personal favorite, I couldn't leave before the winter takes its icy grip. And, try as I may, I wouldn't be able to run away from the track teams once the world thaws.
So, I depart shortly after such cherished Cheesemakers as Shawn Hart and Calyn Bidlingmaier.
But not without permanent marks that they and so very many others have left on my mind, my heart and my soul.
I've gotten to watch an even-keel Ashley Beutler make running faster than anyone has on the prep level in Wisconsin look like breezing through an exam you overprepared for.
Patrick Klein taught me that premier athletes can be as approachable off the cross country course as they are unapproachable on it.
I had the honor of irking Amy Golz after each of her games I covered as she set Albany's all-time leading scorer in hoops. The same way she sharpened her shot on the hardwood, Golz became a world-class interview candidate. And her mother, Sharon, gave me so many compliments, none bigger than the way she put our photo editor at the top of her speed dial.
Her persistent photo orders told a novice photographer that he was doing alright as he mastered the art of holding a notepad under his arm and spinning the focus and zoom with a pencil wedged between fingers.
This gig was my first out of college and I couldn't have imagined a better point of departure in my career. I burrowed through my stack of papers a couple of nights ago and it was like peering into a collective scrapbook of southwestern Wisconsin prep sports. I have the honor of saying that I saw there. For the sheer exhilaration of victory. For the salty state of defeat.
The community has endured my whimsical stylings and, on a few reported occasions laughed along. My co-workers stood by in support, fighting the urge to snicker as I learned the art of designing illustrations.
Simply put, I've had a lot of fun here. I hope my work has emoted that. It's easy to do a great job when you're among those that insist upon greatness. The kids, the stalwart programs they're part of, that's only half of the story. With the newspaper industry under financial duress, our perpetually short-handed staff has inspired me on a regular basis.
And that's because we love our jobs. Every kid would love to be a sports writer, and I'd like to thank each and every person reading this for making my first job out of college the best point of departure possible.
But now it's time to sign off. Now you read me, now you...
