Somewhere in transit between Reno and Buffalo, in the middle of the night while squished between two massive football players in one of the last rows of a tiny puddle-jumping airplane, I was ready to throw in the towel on my newly born Spectrum career. Convinced that I was in over my head and too humble to ask for help, I began to reflect on the bizarre sequence of events that had ensued in the past days on my first Spectrum sports desk assignment.
Not sure whether it was the fact that I had just traveled across the country to cover a football game in temperatures that hovered around blatantly freezing, in Nevada, nonetheless, or if it was because I was a female sports writer (gasp), from Buffalo (double gasp) that had to tap the post-game mind of Jim Hofher after traveling across the country and getting pounded by a sub-par Nevada football team, I was struggling. Struggling to do my job, struggling to keep my cool, struggling to tie my shoes. You name it, I was probably struggling.
I've had the uncommon experience of being an insider looking out and an outsider looking in, first as a student-athlete and finally as a journalist. I came to UB not because I was positively overwhelmed with the stunning beauty of the campus, or because I was overly impressed with the academic programs that the university had to offer me. Point blank, I wanted to play Division I softball and I wanted to move away from home.
When I got here I quickly learned that in college and at such a high level of competition, an above-average high school athlete was, at best, decent. I also learned that regardless of how many softball bats I owned that happened to be endorsed by Lisa Fernandez, I definitely wasn't cut out to be USA softball's next superstar.
Following three seasons of some of the most incredible times of my life, it hit me like a lead pipe - Nancy Kerrigan style. I realized there would eventually be life after softball, so I reluctantly turned in my polyester pants and my helmet with a chin strap (yeah, I was that girl), and after a fall stint on the cross country team, I came to the realization that an old iMac and a goofy-looking kid named Daniel were going to be two, among many, of my new best friends.
I took over the sports desk at The Spectrum with relatively little experience, essentially transforming into a UB athletic outsider in terms of something that had become such a familiar aspect of my life. And being a member of the media, an outsider, was admittedly not much easier than being on the inside as an athlete.
Which brings me back to Reno. After being mistaken for everything from a coach's wife to a UB cheerleader to Victoria Bull, there were probably more synonyms to describe the frustration I felt with being taken seriously as a female journalist than there were illustrative expletives to describe the feelings I had for the ex-boyfriend who had just broken my heart.
I struggled covering some sports, particularly the sports that I generally reserved for barroom viewing or had traditionally saved for lazy Sunday afternoons, but for whatever reason, I kept going, probably because I envisioned a job upon graduation writing about sports more accommodating than living in a cardboard box by the river.
Eventually, many of the peers that I had initially considered nemesis-like figures became my friends, my allies and my support. A lot of the reason my whole Spectrum experience has been so successful, in my mind at least, is because I stuck with it. Which brings me back to the UB department of athletics.
Looking back, it is evident to me that the whole relationship has been cyclical. I learned through some of my more trying experiences as a UB athlete and in being a member of a losing team (which is now a marginally successful team) that winning is a mentality.
During my four years here, I have seen losing teams turn into MAC contenders, little-known athletes become stars and the local coach from a high school around the corner evolve into a hero.
One of the first UB men's basketball games that I ever went to, I can remember being able to count the number of fans in the stands and at this season's final game, it was so packed I could barely breathe.
