Hi, I’m Bob, and I think I might become a blogaholic.
Back in the day, I was a sportswriter, sports editor, sports philosopher and sports authority, or so I thought. Hell, I like to think I’m still at least one of those, on a good day, anyway. Delusion’s a good thing.
Much like life itself, I have no idea where this blog will go, how it will turn out. The thoughts will be all mine. I’ll steal some good ideas, you know, structure-wise, from other sites, because that shows good judgment. Stealing bad ideas is probably what doomed the American auto industry.
As I read the previous paragraph, I see I actually spelled judgment correctly. Judgment, perhaps the most commonly misspelled word in the English language. You’d think there’d be an “e” after the g, but, no. I learned that the hard way.
Many years ago, for a variety of reasons, some of which I still can’t comprehend to this day, I decided against my better, ah, judgment, to accept the job as sports editor of a newspaper in Missouri. Now, I’ve made some bad decisions through the years – excitedly accepting the powder blue leisure suit my parents thought was such a great look in 1975 springs to mind – but, thinking I could live in mosquito-ridden, humid-as-a-shower, believe me, it ain’t laid-back California freaking Missouri, now that was a miscalculation of gargantuan proportions.
Mainly because I was more homesick than a 6-year-old kid at his first summer camp.
In Missiouri, as the new sports editor, a pseudo-hippie nut job from California, I received three comments (one glowing, two not so glowing) after my first column. Now, kids, this was right as the computer boom was taking off, so there were no blogs or emails just yet. You actually had to write a comment on a piece of paper – go figure – and somehow get it delivered to a building. Seems like the stone age.
“We take these as a badge of honor,” the editor told me of the comments. “Most of our columnists don’t get any response. You got three on your first day.”
Day Two had me (mis)spelling “judgement” in a headline. When I arrived at work – in my mandatory tie (reason No. 17 for leaving) – my front page of the sports section was on my desk, the damned headline circled in black Sharpie.
I’ve never misspelled judgment again.