I felt incredibly flattered when the Verge Series promoter sent me this article to read:
Memories of being a 10th man in the heyday of the Boston Globe
Unlike writing for a college newspaper, working at the Globe was a serious business. This was never clearer than on December 23, 1981. For most people, it was the holiday season, but sportswriters don’t get holidays. They work Thanksgiving and Christmas, as well as New Year’s Day and pretty much all the others. It was the day before the day before Christmas, and I was in the office compiling stats. It was a painstaking job, but I was on break from college and happy to have the time during the week to catch up. Lost in concentration, I was jolted when I heard a chair scrape loudly across the floor. I looked up, and one row of desks over I saw Will McDonough on his feet, leaning over, one hand on his desk and the other grasping a phone receiver like he was wringing someone’s neck. His face was Santa-suit red as he screamed into the phone, “You think you can fucking get away with fucking me over like that?!”
Favorite line? “Sometimes it seemed like the only job more demanding than being an athlete was covering them.”
So, so, so true.
Nell Scovell is seriously my new hero.