A personal announcement

I quit.
For a pretty good while last Thursday night, those two words were the only ones on the computer screen in front of me.
I’d even joked about a plan to simply leave this column blank except the above words and ride off into the proverbial sunset. Continue reading “A personal announcement”

The typewriter Part I

typewriterFrom my vantage point atop a wooden storage cabinet in a room dimly lit by a single bulb protruding from a rotating ceiling fan, I can see a man typing. Continue reading “The typewriter Part I”

A hundred words on the end of a sports column

Rick Reilly quit writing.
Not reading his column anymore is sure to be as unusual as Shaq making a free throw. The Cubs winning a Series. Wakefield frying a radar gun.
I looked forward to the column.
Sometimes it amazed. Other times it aggravated.
Whether it was amazing or aggravating, most of the time I felt like I could become a writer from reading it.
His column — one I first discovered in Sports Illustrated — showed what happens when sports takes a back seat to the people who play them.
Rick Reilly quit writing, and reading sports won’t be the same.