It’s time.
With apologies to the late Lou Gehrig, I have been one of the luckiest people on the face of the earth … for three decades.
This job was never about the money. I enjoyed going to work every day, regardless of how I felt or what was happening around me … never having to worry about dress codes or helicopter bosses … and doing my job, doing it as well as I could and trying to get a little better the next day.
It was also about the rare opportunity for a career in my hometown, close to family and friends.
I can’t overstate how fortunate and blessed I have been to see countless games … spectacular plays … crazy/silly moments … unscripted joy and sadness … captured afterward with millions of words and thousands of stories on deadline.
But now, after 30 mostly fun and positive years at the only full-time job I’ve ever known, I’m ready to pass the proverbial torch and move on to a new adventure — sort of.
I never envisioned how I would close out my Recorder career. Didn’t give it a thought. But one passion I have aside from sports is poker. After 4 years of part-time work, I recently accepted a full-time Content Manager position with Las Vegas-based Overlay Gaming Corp., for which I will manage its website (www.pokeratlas.com) from home. Three days after accepting the offer, I announced I was retiring from the paper.
Although I’ve enjoyed mostly good times at the paper, I’ve had my share of battles — verbal and electronic — with disenchanted coaches, parents and fans. I always tried to stay professional, while questioning whether most of them deserved such good treatment.
I’ve had the privilege to sit alongside some fantastic co-workers and writers: Chip Ainsworth, Nate Dow, John Giniusz, the late Michael Kelley, Cameron Ward, Kyle Belanger, Jeff Lajoie, and for the last decade, Mr. Jaywalking, Jason “Big Boiczyk” Butynski. Also, those who have served as part-timers or correspondents, most notably George Miller, Nate Luippold and Craig Riley. All of them I still to this day call friends, and all have played an important role in my life, whether as a writer and person (whether they realize it or not). I am forever grateful to them.
And I wouldn’t be the writer I am today without the guidance and tutelage of the only sports editor I’ve ever worked for, Gary “Bags” Sanderson. A chance halftime meeting in the makeshift press box at the Ware-Frontier football showdown in November 1986 in South Deerfield — which featured future BC and Packers tight end Mark Chmura — turned into a part-time sports clerk job that slowly blossomed into the full-time position I’ve held until now, a mere 10,996 days later.
The early years were not easy. Bags was demanding, I stubborn as a rented mule. We clashed often, and there was about a three-month stretch where I left after each night thinking I’d worked my last shift, expecting my dismissal the next day (talk about raging paranoia).
I’ve never disclosed the following story until now: in an early annual review, Bags was particularly tough on me, but the final paragraph lit a proverbial fire under me that quickly raged into a motivational inferno. In his typical creative and blunt fashion, Bags sifted through a laundry list of things I needed to improve upon, then what he felt I should do to increase my chances for a future full-time writing position. But he ended that paragraph with these words: “… which I believe is not at The Recorder.”
If he wrote it to challenge me, consider the challenge accepted.
I translated it this way: “Prove me wrong.”
However, Bags failed to realize one key trait about me — I love a challenge. I thrive on it. I revel in it. At the time, he had no idea how much that motivated me. And I was hellbent on proving him wrong.
Approximately 28 years later, it’s safe to say I proved him and every other naysayer wrong — tenfold.
I set out on a mission to make myself invaluable to the department — I became proficient on every computer; I learned page design; I ran the department as editor when Bags was on his annual 4-week winter vacation; and I learned how to cope with deadline pressure. I tackled every assignment with passion (even mundane chores like local stats, daily calendars, etc.), I established relationships with most of our local coaches, and I usually did it all with a smile on my face.
The last 10 years have been the most enjoyable, for the most part, thanks to Bags and Jay. In fact, their professional and personal friendships have made me feel as if they’re family — Jay like a younger brother, Bags like a father in the early days … now, more like the crazy uncle you wanted to hang out with during the holidays, because his stories and laughter were worth the price of admission.
It is nearly impossible to individually thank every person who has been a part of this wild ride, but I did attempt to reach out to as many area coaches and athletic directors as I could by text, email or a phone call.
Their reactions have been priceless and entertaining. What caught me by surprise, however, was the volume of genuinely heartfelt responses — it has been completely overwhelming and, in many cases, very emotional for me. I am truly honored and humbled by all of it.
I am also thankful for the support of my immediate family – my mom, Louise Duclos, my older brother John and family: wife Sherri, and children Ali and Jeremy. I sacrificed a lot and missed many family-related events over the years while doing my job, but no one ever complained. Not once.
I can’t think of anything I would have rather done for work over the past 30 years. It was everything I hoped it would be and more — the people, the venues, the great finishes, the ecstasy of big wins, the tears of painful losses, and the experience of witnessing it from as far north as Montreal (Peter Bergeron’s Major League Baseball debut), to as far south at Chattanooga (UMass’ I-AA football championship win), and thousands of stops in between.
Yet, my most memorable moment was on Nov. 17, 2012, at Algonquin Regional High School in Northborough, when I watched niece Ali help Frontier win its third consecutive state volleyball championship. Not as a writer, though — I just wanted to be Uncle Mark and enjoy Ali’s final match as a fan. It was the only state finals assignment I’ve ever declined during my career — and easily the best decision I’ve ever made.
As I return to Las Vegas this morning to learn more about my new job, I will undoubtedly reflect on my career with a hint of sadness, but mostly the joy of writing stories of young athletes for three decades while working one of the best jobs in the world, and sharing it with our readers every day.
Thanks, everyone. It’s been my pleasure.