Top 5 Exciting Career Moments of 2008

The year 2008 will go down as a year of big changes for me. I left my first full time job to follow my fiance across the country. I covered sports I've never covered before, including ones that I had always dreamed about and ones I had ignored. Here are some of the highlights of a very special year in my career path.


5. Celebrating the Somerset Patriots' Championship


If being drenched in a shower of champagne and Bud Light doesn't sound like a good time, then sporting championships aren't your thing.


As a sports writer, you never want to become part of the story (unless its in a personal blog). So it was totally unexpected that the Patriots included me in their moment of glory. It was magical to be around such unadulterated joy.


4. Seeing my volleyball feature lead the sports section

As a data entry specialist for The Courier News and The Home News Tribune here in New Jersey, I figured my writing would take a back seat to the computer work I was hired to do. I accepted the job to work my way back into a newsroom -- to me, there is no other work environment like it.

When I was asked by a colleague and friend to write a Player of the Year feature for The Home News Tribune coverage area, I felt more than privileged. This was my shot to show my writing chops. But I never expected the article to lead the sports section!

On December 10, Maggie Kowalska of J. P. Stevens High School was the top volleyball player in central New Jersey, the top story of The Home News Tribune sports section, and an extremely proud moment in my career. An audience thousands greater than I had ever reached saw my name in the byline that Wednesday. I hope in 2009 there will be more opportunities to write for the publications.

3. Escorting the Danica Patrick - Milka Duno footage

Like I mentioned in a previous post, there is something truly exciting about seeing something you were a part of on national television. It's why people wave at cameras and scream when they see themselves on the Jumbotron.

Escorting the "cat fight" footage at the Mid-Ohio race in July made me feel important, a part of the team. And it was work that other people recognized. No, I did not shoot nor edit the footage. But I did make sure it and the people accompanying it reached the people who did the important stuff safely and timely.

Sometimes it's the little things.

2. Riding in an elevator with Chris Drury

As a member of the sports media, professionalism is not only expected, its demanded. Being black listed in a press box is easier than falling off a log. In fact, if you fell off a log, you would be black listed (even if only at the Outdoor Games).

It took all of my wits to remain calm and not turn into a puddle of inglorious fandom when Chris Drury of the New York Rangers walked into the elevator after me at my very first NHL game as a reporter.

Drury was drafted by and starred for my beloved Colorado Avalanche before becoming a highly coveted free agent a few seasons ago. He scored the overtime-game-winning goal against Dallas in the Western Conference Finals on my 14th birthday. Yeah, I like Chris Drury.

Since it was a pre-season match up, Drury was not scheduled to play. I couldn't believe he was standing in front of me, in a fantastic suit, holding the hand of a very young Rangers fan I would believe to be his son.

I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. And it was better that way, because what athlete would really want to know that he scored the game winning goal the night of some reporter's 14th birthday (and that was all the verbal diarrhea that assembled in my head at that moment).

Covering the New York Rangers at Madison Square Garden is exciting in its own right. But being face-to-face with one of your favorite athletes makes that evening one of the most special events I've ever covered.

Who said pre-season isn't fun?!

1. Being asked to work at Watkins Glen

As a little girl, I recall staying up late to watch Sportscenter on mute so my parents wouldn't know. I was obsessed with the catchy phrases the anchors would use. My high school basketball teammates couldn't stand my regurgitation of any and all ESPN slang, therefore relegating me to the end of the bench.

I have wanted to work for ESPN as long as I can remember. And July 2nd, my chance came.

I'll never forget the feeling of reading the e-mail asking to call the production coordinator about helping out that weekend. A good friend had put in a good word for me, and there was the result, glowing white and black typeface on my laptop.

All holiday plans ceased, googling of the Finger Lakes region commenced, and my IndyCar knowledge came into existence withing a matter of hours. But first came the celebrating.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod," and "Nowaynowaynoway," and "AAAHHHHHHHH," were common sounds escaping from my beaming mouth on my twirling, jumping body. Joy. Utter joy. Redemption. Success. Achievement. These are the feelings that I will forever associate with that simple e-mail.

This past year was a lot of ups and downs personally and professionally. The good news is, I'm in a very good place for 2009 to be even better. I plan on making it that way.

Happy New Year.

Things To Look Forward to On Election Night

First, before election night kicks off, I'm interested in the Chris Berman interview of Obama and McCain during the Monday Night Football game. Berman can't interview Tom Jackson very well, so why would we expect him to do a good job with the two presidential candidates? I think Mike Tirico has proven himself time and time again for the network, and has earned a right to do one of the most important interviews of the year. They should've given it to him just for putting up with Tony Kornheiser in the booth all season!

During the actual election coverage, I will probably be watching CNN. Not because I agree with their politics, or particularly enjoy their coverage, but because of The Wall. The technology, designed just for elections, is fascinating. It must have taken months for John King to learn how to use it. Do you see anyone else attempting to circle and enlarge Ohio counties by voting precincts? It could be the greatest technological advance in television since the glowing puck and the first down line.

If I were hosting an election party, which I know some of my more politically-minded friends are, I would play this drinking game. Every hour, a different cable news network is tuned in (MSNBC, FoxNews, CNN, etc.). Divide the room into Republicans and Democrats, and take drinks at the appropriate words. For the Dems: Maverick, Cronie, scandal, Cheney, Tax Cut, Oil Industry. For the GOPs: Change (or any variation of the word), Well Spoken, experience, Rev. Jeremiah Wright, Hilary, universal health care. If a party takes the Electoral College votes for a state, the other party must finish their drinks. Hopefully, everyone would be tipsy enough to not notice Anderson Cooper's sneer or the "experts" brought in to analyze the evening.

Of course, I'm interested in all of the usual stuff: Who will win the swing states, Will the electoral college reflect the popular vote, Will there be a tie, Can Florida explain to its Seniors that you have to punch all the way through, and no, Richard Nixon is not on the ballot.

As a first-time voter (by absentee, so I'm already not being counted), I do feel a sense of pride in helping to choose our country's leader. We all hope we make the right choice, and sometimes when we don't, we're thankful for all of the people who did. Or comiserate with all of the other idiots.

If you are looking for some political comic relief, I suggest visiting www.jibjab.com. Their political cartoons are hilarious, and they still have some classics from the '04 election up.
Everyone have a safe and happy election day. Go Vote!

I don't know what we're protesting, but it sure is fun!

A few weekends ago, I was lucky enough to be in Boston for the annual Honk parade and protest. My family and I stood watching the parade for over an hourand toured the festival grounds near the Harvard campus, and I STILL have no idea what the protest was about. If you can decipher from the photos, please feel free to let me know.

The Grand Marshalls were NPR's Click and Clack, the hosts of "Car Talk." Interesting choice, considering most of the parade seemed to be about bikes.

I get frustrated when my kitchen counters are too low, but I don't go parading around about it.
I've totally missed the boat on this one.

Why? For what reason? That's what I want to know, too!
This is where I started to get really confused.

Okay, this makes more sense. Bicycles. Yes. Bicycles are good.

I know there are a lot of war protesters, but this guy seems to be a little late. This is fun. And sparkly!Okay, I think we're getting somewhere.

No matter your political affiliation, this is just clever.

And this is just disturbing.

So, Wyatt, what do you think of your first cross-dressing experience? Yeah, I'm confused too.

More fun with the Leftist Marching Band. What great outfits!

As you can tell, it was a fabulous day. Despite the confusion. I'm looking forward to my next protest. And I think I'm going to invite those really tall chefs!

An Open Letter to My Chest

Dear Twins,

I know winter is fast approaching, and you'll soon be hibernating in thick sweaters and turtlenecks, so I just wanted to run a few thoughts past you both.
First off, thank you for a fantastic summer. I promise a new swimsuit next summer as long as you both promise not to fight for space or anything while you're hibernating.
I'd also like to apologize for using you . I hope you can forgive me, because sometimes you're my only chance to get what I want. Someday, you'll understand.
I know you've been hearing a lot about breast cancer this month. It might be scary, but think of all of the people who are trying to find a cure. Maybe, before you ever become treasonous, there might be a cure. And try to remember that one of the reasons so many of the people we love are diagnosed with breast cancer because doctors are getting so much better at finding it.
Everyone from Victoria to Hugh Hefner tells us that you two define femininity like water defines an ocean. And yeah, when you look good, I feel good, too. But I hope you understand that femininity is not defined by what fills our shirts, but by what fills our hearts. So if you have to leave me at some point, I will understand. But just in case, I'll wear that black dress a little more often, take pictures at the beach and pretend like you're never going to migrate south.
So, before you go into hiding, I'll make you a deal.
I'll make sure to eat better and keep my weight down, always support you properly, and make sure to check on you regularly. If I do all of that, will you please let me know if there's anything wrong and maybe try to stay north of the equator? I think it's a fair deal.
Thanks for listening, girls. I hope you have a terrific, comfortable winter. I'll see you around Valentines Day.
Love,
Mel

Closing Chapter

Note: This blog is not in chronological order. Sorry for the delay.

At Right: Me in one of Ryan Hunter-Reay's cars at Watkins Glen on the 4th of July.

I’ll admit it. I wept like a baby. I’m sure I got more snot on t-shirts and polos of my hugging victims than Slimer achieved in the entire Ghostbuster movie pantheon.

But it was the last one. The last race and I was leaving my friends, my job and what I had come to find as my comfort zone.

If I’ve learned one thing about myself, it is that if I flourish somewhere, you will have to pull me kicking and screaming away from it. Or, in this case, slobbering like a weepy St. Bernard.

And I felt like a valuable person while working at the race track – I understood my role, I generally knew what was going on and I was contributing. All those little things that add up to being successful.

I also met people who understood what it meant to work ridiculous hours for minuscule pay, spending weeks and weeks away from loved ones, and still be happy with their job. I define myself by my work, whether good or bad, and I think I saw a lot of that in my co-workers.

I feel like I’m this close to not having to describe myself as a “freelance journalist.” Which is another reason why the race season ended too soon.

So, I’ll add another line to the resume, send some e-mails, make more phone calls and, when the time comes that I need to move on, I’ll always have the 2008 IRL season.
And I can say, “I worked for ESPN.”

Another Good Way to Spend Your Sunday

This past Sunday offered a slew of athletic competitions for consumption, all of which had a lot of pride on the line.

The Cowboys rode into Green Bay and won at Lambeau for the first time in history on Sunday Night Football. The Yankees played the final baseball game at Yankee Stadium, beating the Orioles and ending the ballparks life as it had begun: with a victory. And some good 'ol boys on the United States team golfed their way past some talented yet, um, stuffy Europeans for the first Ryder Cup for the Americans in nine years.

But my personal favorite event on Sunday started at 7:45 a.m., was provided only local news coverage and put serious personal pride on the podium.

The 31st annual ING Philadelphia Distance Run began at the famous "Rocky Steps," appropriate for the underdog stories in each pair sneakers. Over 16,000 enthusiastic participants entered their assigned corrals around 7:15. The various ages, sizes, shapes and experiences of the runners was apparent in the selection of running gear (my favorite was an older gentleman steadily jogging in his tan 'Older, Wiser, Sexier' oversized t-shirt, barely surpassing the kilted 'In my mind, I run like a Kenyan' guy and the guy in a chicken costume).

As race time neared, the caliber of the competition was announced by the EmCee of the event. 32 runners had run every Philly half-marathon ever put together. Kenyan Catherine Ndereba was running her first race since taking the silver medal in the women's marathon at the Beijing Olympics (she would be the second woman to finish on this day, too). Entrants in wheelchairs were sent out a few minutes before the throngs of foot-travelers to a thunderous applause, beginning the series of memories of personal triumphs.

I stood underneath the start line banner, waiting for my running all-star to come through from the 16th corral. Before he reached me, I watched thousands upon thousands of enthusiastic runners pass.

Many had hi-tech moisture-wicking, light-weight, bear-repellant running apparel on (I'm assuming it was bear repellant because it looked like it did everything else). But those who looked most comfortable were the teams with t-shirts supporting causes or people. Distance for Dan. Livestrong, the Tug McGraw team and numerous other groups were represented. These people were not just running for pride, but running for lives.

After I completed my initial cheerleading duties, I joined the other spectators spreading out on the course. I picked my spot at mile 4, underneath the carved stone statues marking the Benjiman Franklin Parkway. By that point, just beyond the 5K marker, those who were running for time separated themselves from those who were running for pride. I missed the race leaders - they were running four-and-a-half minute miles (crazy). But I did see the "weekend warriors," the cancer survivors, the gentlemen carrying a team flag and pushing a boy in a wheelchair, the woman pushing a stroller, the pre-work morning runners. All along the race course, bands were playing, pom-poms were shaking, cowbells were ringing (curing fevers for many who demand more cowbell) and people were supporting not just their friends and family but everyone who chose to wake up extra early on a Sunday to run 13.1 miles.

I made my way back to the finish line after consuming a much-needed cup of coffee (I am neither a runner nor a morning person). The EmCee was announcing as many finishers as he could, highlighting those who had traveled a long distance to compete or runners whose age categorized them as a baby boomer.

As people crossed the finish line, sighs of relief were heard. Faces expressed the strange combination of exhaustion and joy, achievement and pain, that only pushing ones self can create. Couples held hands across the line. People jumped to touch the banner. Some even crossed running backward (although the elevated timing line made this more of a challenge than one would think). It was exciting to see such outward celebration of accomplishment.

Thirteen point one miles is a long way to run. It takes mental focus, physical training and a lot of heart to push yourself that distance. It also takes a lot of pride.



Personal Aside: My runner finished in 2 hours, 5 minutes, and I could not be more proud.

Ask and Ye Shall Receive

Be persistent. Ask a lot of questions. Make sure people know you are interested.

I've heard these recommendations from everyone in the print and broadcast media that I've worked with.

If you don't ask, you won't know. Be at the right place at the right time. Stand on your head and crochet a sweater while whistling the Senegalese national anthem (OK, not really, but sometimes that's what I feel is expected of me).

Throughout life, I've always felt like asking for more meant I was greedy. I have a Barbie - why would I want more? There are girls who don't have Barbies.

Adjusting my attitude to this "ask or you'll never get what you want" system has been difficult.

Recently, I asked one of my editors, now that baseball season is coming to an end, if he had time to meet in person and if he needed anyone to cover hockey. Two separate questions, but they ended up with one result.

Last Monday, I went to my very first New York Rangers game at Madison Square Garden to meet with my editor. Sometimes I don't believe these things happen to me.

I picked up my press credential in the employee entrance and got in the elevator. We waited for a man in a very nice suit and a small boy in a Rangers jersey to accompany us.

Now, I've watched a LOT of NHL hockey over the past decade or so, especially my favorite team the Colorado Avalanche. And there are some faces you never forget, like '97-'98 Hobey Baker Award winner, '98-'99 Calder Memorial Trophy winner, 2001 Stanley Cup Champion, two-time Olympian, Trumbull, Conn. Little League World Series winning pitcher, former Avalanche/Flames/Sabre, current Ranger Chris Drury.

Chris Drury got in the elevator right in front of me. It took every ounce of my intestinal fortitude not to cry and scream and generally make a scene. Chris Drury is everything that is right with hockey. He's Mr. Clutch (the NHL's version of A.J. Graves, if you will). And he's in the elevator with me.


What a great way to start the evening.

Now, if you've ever been to a hockey game at Madison Square Garden, you realize that it's hockey the way God intended it. There are no obstructed views, and in every seat you feel like you're sitting on top of the ice. I felt privileged to be there to see that game.

I met the other writers along press row, including a wonderful man who does a monthly Rangers magazine and a radio locker room vet. They were intrigued by my odyssey from Wisconsin to Indiana to Madison Square Garden - I do sound like my story is straight out of a Journey song.

As the game goes on, my editor talk about the business and how it took him two years of writing before earning a paycheck (not what I wanted to hear, but still encouragement that I'm not doing everything wrong). He tells me he's "The Guy At the Garden" for Rangers games, and calls in scores updates to the all-powerful four-letter channel. He asks me if I could fill in for him for a few games in the next couple of weeks after his wife gives birth.

So, another semi-paid job with the worldwide leader is in my future. Another example of how it is more likely to work your way in through the back door than waltzing through the front door in this business.

My editor also asks me to write a story for the evening. I keep notes, and toss out a few ideas. We try to come up with a story on the first line playing together for the first time, but it eventually got dismissed.

The Rangers won, beating the Senators in their home pre-season opener. Ho-hum. But when the reporters RAN down to the Rangers locker room at the end of the game, I ended up talking with goalie and three time Vezina Trophy finalist Henrick Lundqvist. Lundqvist talked my ear off. I asked him three questions and we talked for 15 minutes, one on one.

I had my story.

Writing it came naturally. I didn't have to consult the score chart and line-ups the way I usually do for baseball. It just felt right, so I sent it in.

I guess it turned out alright, and I held my composure for being in a professional locker room for the first time, because I may be writing on the New Jersey Devils this season.
Covering the Devils comes with more caveats than my baseball assignment (taking the train to Newark, hauling my laptop along), but it also offers a whole new world of contacts and experience.

I had been to two NHL games as a fan before, both in Chicago at the United Center. I asked to write about hockey, and I ended up in the locker room at my third pro game, and maybe two new jobs. Ask and ye shall receive.

Note From The Blogger

As you may have noticed, I took a hiatus from "Make Yourself"
This was not an intended hiatus, but became necessary during my travels. Trying to get an internet connection in the middle of a cornfield in Kentucky is not easy.
I have several handwritten entries that need to be posted, so those will come at you as soon as they get typed (and it may not happen in a chronological order - please be patient!)
In the meantime, if you're curious for some more Mel-style writing, please visit www.nysportscene.com. There you'll be able to find my local baseball stories, and even a New York Rangers game wrap (more on that soon)!
Thank you for your patience, and please enjoy the fall editions of "Melinda Makes Herself."

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Paddock...

Part of my job for ESPN is running more important people wherever they need to go as fast as I can without running over pedestrians, especially children.
During the Mid-Ohio race weekend, I was sent by our producer to Milka Duno's garage to pick up her PR person and personal camera man. I had heard discussion earlier of "If we know the footage is out there, we need to show it," but I had no idea what it was about (they don't include low men on the totem pole in those kind of talks).
So, while on another assignment with my production coordinator and fellow runner, we whisked Katherine, the PR person, and Raul the cameraman back to the television compound in the middle of the track infield.
During our cozy ride on a golf cart (yes, five adults and a video camera on one golf cart), I discovered Katherine was from Milwaukee, and her best friend lives in Grafton. Small world.
I escorted Katherine and Raul into the editing truck and dropped them off into the fantastic hands of our editors, producers and production assistants. I gave Katherine my phone number so I could take her and Raul back to the garage when they needed.
While they extracted whatever footage they wanted out of Raul's camera, I was off running another errand for another important person. Then, the skies opened up and anything that was not under a tarp or a roof (including myself) became instantly drenched.
I learned a valuable lesson that day: rain becomes painful when speeding through it on a golf cart.
As the thunder and lightning began to inch closer, who calls? Katherine.
I'm thinking to myself, "Self, how on Earth are you going to transport these two people and their camera that's worth more than my life without making a complete scene and embarrassing the company?" Quite the dilemma.
While picking up the duo from the garages earlier in the day, it was nearly impossible to maneuver a golf cart between the crowds of people with pit passes, taking photos of empty trailers with their hero's pictures enlarged on the sides. When my production coordinator said, "Take Marty's rental car," I laughed, imagining how I would take a full-size sedan through the throng of unaware people.
But a car was better than subjecting our guests to the stinging ride of a golf cart (as well as the potential electrocution).
So, I ran a garbage bag to Raul to cover the camera (classy, I know), and brought our play-by-play man Marty's Infinity rental car as close to the edit truck as I could. By this time, God was having a heckuva time dumping buckets on our heads, and the lightening looked like it was going to strike the media tower at any moment.
I drove Katherine and Raul to the entry to the garage area, flashed my credentials to the angry sopping volunteer gate guard, and drove without stopping straight to the number 23 car garage. All of the pedestrians I was worried about were smart enough (miraculously) to be under the hospitality tents provided by the teams.
I was curious as to what the footage was that was so crucial to our broadcast. I found out during the race, while in the truck with the producer and the director, what the footage was:

http://sports.espn.go.com/broadband/video/videopage?categoryId=null&brand=null&videoId=3497542&n8pe6c=2

I saw the footage on Sportscenter, ESPNNEWS, Headline News, CNN and just about everywhere else you might find sports coverage. And it was the only thing anyone mentioned about the race!
When you first sign up to do something like I'm doing for ESPN, you really do feel like a lesser class of employee even though everyone tells you that if you weren't there to do your job, just like anyone else in the compound, the show would be a disaster.
I didn't believe them until I saw the footage for myself.

A Step Towards Making It

I understand that I’ve been lacking in my blog updates, but I hope my excuse is good enough to earn your good graces. I’ve been working for ESPN for several weekends, helping to cover Indy Racing League races around the country. Yes, ESPN: The hallowed four letters that I’ve been chasing since I was old enough to stay up to watch the 11 p.m. Sportscenter.
It was a whirlwind start, an e-mail that asked “can you be here tomorrow?” And of course, my answer was yes, yes and yes. I ran around my apartment, screaming and waving my scraggly, pale arms around my head. After two months of unreturned phone calls and e-mails, of feeling like a failure, a friend had given me the “hook up” with the company I’ve been striving to work for my entire pre-teen and young adult life.
The experience was everything I had hoped it would be. A whole compound on the track infield of people who love sports and who love making sports happen. Every person knew their role and everyone was qualified for their job (a rare double occurrence, if you’ve ever set foot in a workplace).
I made my mistakes (my nickname is Crash), but I guess I worked hard enough to be a runner for ESPN for five of the last seven races of the season. I’ll be posting schedules, running water bottles, chauffeuring to and from the media center and making sure no vulgarities from the drivers make it onto the air.
In the process, I’ll be learning production skills from some of the top people in the business. These are people who work on the World Series, the Super Bowl and the Olympics by request.
The only down side is the lack of guarantee. I’m working four days a week until the beginning of September, making about as much money as I’ll be putting into my gas tank to make it to the gigs. Will my hard work turn into a full time job with the World Wide Leader? I don’t know. No one knows. But it can’t hurt to try to make the most of it. This is my chance to make my dreams happen.

Holiday Conversation

It seems the perfect time to tell this story, with the Fourth of July coming up this weekend. This past weekend, I had an uniquely American experience, on my way to the Nation's Capitol.
As part of my patriotic duty to stimulate the economy and not produce greenhouse gases, I took a trip on public transportation to see a dear friend of mine in Washington D.C.
My train took me to Penn Station in New York, right under Madison Square Garden, and from the Garden I took a bus to downtown D.C., where I took the subway to meet my friend.
Growing up in the Midwest, public transportation is rare and generally unreliable (with the exception of the Chicago systems). I cherish these opportunities to keep my car in its spot and travel with others. The others traveling with me on this trip turned out to be quite the international group.
While waiting for the bus to arrive, I met two young men waiting for the same line. Rob and Max were on their way to Virginia Beach. We talked about where we came from and what we do. Max was from Russia, did his undergrad work in Russia and Germany, and now studies molecular biology at NYU. He's planning to work in the pharmaceutical industry. Rob is a web designer, who went to school in the Philippines, where his parents are from. It made my venture from Wisconsin to Indiana for school look a bit pale. But they were kind and inquisitive, and eventually it was discovered that Max was familiar with the endless fields of the Midwest -- he had spent time in Lincoln, Nebraska. It was intimidating but so enjoyable to talk to these guys. And it was a slight preview of the rest of my ride.
A girl who looked to be my age sat with me on the coach. We did not speak for the first few hours of the trip, mostly because I was away in iPod-running-drool-inducing-jello-neck-bobbing-napland. Early mornings do not agree with me.
After I woke up, and wiped the attractive pile of spittle from my chin, the girl next to me asked where I was from. When I told her Wisconsin, she asked, "In the United States, correct?" I said yes. She seemed a little disappointed, but her explanation made sense. She said I looked European, and wondered if I was from Germany. I said no, but thanked her for the compliment. I have always had the thought that women from Europe were not necessarily more beautiful than American women, but they hold themselves differently, more elegantly. I think of Audrey Hepburn, Sophia Loren and, more recently, Princess Diana. So I was thrilled with her question.
The conversation rolled naturally after that (amazing what a kind question can accomplish). My seatmate was from Denmark and was working as an Au pair for a family from Long Island. She graduated from high school recently, and was working before going to (free!) college in Copenhagen.
I asked Pinella about her travels in the United States, and she said she had been to Buffalo and Philadelphia, and this was her second trip to D.C. She was attending her first baseball game this weekend.
So we discussed different sports (another comfortable place for me to be), and how Denmark's men's handball team is the Euro champion, but their soccer team has more work to do. She told me that she wants to take a trip around the country when she is done working, and is saving up to try to make it to California.
We talked about how Wisconsin has been compared to Germany in terms of climate and landscape. Of course, discussing my home state brought out my Badger Pride, and I explained to her how I get made fun of for my love of all things Wisconsin. And that rolled into a fascinating discussion of how, in the U.S., there is so much less history and tradition than in Denmark, people tend to not take pride in their country. Pinella said it is becoming that way in Europe with younger generations, especially with the globalization of American culture, but there is still a large population of people who take pride in their customs.
We talked about how that had happened in the U.S., with all of the combining cultures and the need to incorporate everyone. Pinella said how our holidays seem to lack the true spirit intended, how they lacked soul. We wondered if it came from materialism or just the newness of our nation.
The topic of the American Dream came up, and luckily my high school freshman English teacher forced us to define the American Dream after reading The Great Gatsby. Like Gatsby, or so I feel, the American Dream is to give your kids what you never had, to become what your parents could never become. And, as the richest generation to come along, that is becoming harder and harder to achieve.
Pinella said her Long Island family was wonderful, yet she is always amazed at the amount of toys the 4- and 6-year-old have. She said they are good kids, but they do not comprehend what they have already and tend to always ask for more. Always more -- the real American Dream.
It was so interesting to hear a fresh view point on many of the things going on in our country. I did not bash the U.S., but we did discuss some of the not-so-apparent issues the country is facing.
Am I proud to be an American? Yes, wholeheartedly (where's Lee Greenwood when you need him?). But am I worried about where our country is headed? You bet.
I wonder what the other passengers on the bus were thinking about our conversation. The blond girl with the flawless English and me. It felt good to have a deep conversation with someone near my own age, and I hope I represented myself and my fellow Wisconsinites well.
And, I think this weekend I'm going to try to remember the spirit behind the Fourth of July.
Then again, I'm not going to miss out on fireworks and jell-o salad, either.

Happy Fourth, everyone.

Blogging Through Golf History

As I wrote for the Daily Commute blog, every once in a while I like to in-game blog, like my favorite writers John Buccigross and Rick Riley. The U.S. Open Playoff between Tiger Woods and Rocco Mediate seemed like the perfect event. Historic, tension filled and televised.


11:45 A.M. Eastern Standard Time
I'm settled on the couch with all of my necessities: coffee, bottled water, grapes, chips, lip balm, extra pens and a writing pad. Rocco just gave his pre-round interview sipping on a Starbucks frappachino. The "every man's golfer" is going to need that ice running through those veins today. 18 holes against Tiger? I'd need a frapp pumped intravenously in order to keep my cool. And yes, I feel comfortable enough referring to both golfers by their first name.
11:51
I'm not sure if Scott Van Pelt and Andy North are over exaggerating the David vs. Goliath match up or if they've been underplaying it. A man's first major at 46 after back surgery against a man's fourteenth major after knee surgery. Other than Golf Digest subscribers, who has ever heard of Mediate? The two have had opposite weeks. Mediate has been playing out of his head, consistently hitting greens and fairways. He's not a long driver, but he's solid. Tiger, knee issues or no, couldn't keep his drives on the fairway, needing spectacular short plays that only he can make to get to this point in the tournament. Can he continue to make ridiculous shots to combat his abnormal driving and knee pain?
11:58
The two approach the first tee. I'm getting pumped. Who gets giddy for televised golf? I guess this girl does.
12:02 P.M.
I still don't know who I'm rooting for. I love underdogs, but Tiger is why I started watching golf (like most of my generation). And the playoff begins. Rocco's first drive is beautiful, Tiger's drive bounces off the right ruff and onto the fairway. Wood hitting the fairway on hole one is like a bear not catching any salmon for four days, and on the fifth day in the stream, nabs a whale. If Tiger continues this good start, it may be over quickly.
12:07
The commentators are listed, and Dottie Pepper is not part of the crew. That's a shame -- I really enjoyed her work over the weekend. She wasn't afriad to jump in with real insight while the boys club was yukking it up over something.
12:15
Tiger, even, Rocco +1 after one hole. The first time Tiger's been ahead after one hole all weekend. And now the ESPNBC crew is replaying all of Rocco' midrange putt misses. Yes, he could've been outright champ. And I could've played nose-tackle for the Cleveland Browns, but we can't have everything. The playoff makes for great TV, and is good for the game. Rocco seems like the type of guy who would do anything for the good of the game.
12:20
Another Rocco interview with him sipping on Starbucks. Quick, someone get this man a corporate sponsorship! By the way, ESPNBC aired the entire interview without sound and no one in the truck noticed. But the soft chirping of birds and the caddy-talk is a rather peaceful sound.
12:42
The two golfers traded bogies and birdies, giving Rocco a 1-stroke lead going onto the fourth. The fourth is one of those holes running along the ocean. I bet this is one of those places where candle and air freshener designers come to determine what "Ocean Breeze" really smells like. What I would do for smell-o-vision. Tiger hits his second shot in the rough. He looks so frustrated it's making me uncomfortable. Rocco just used a hybrid club to get 25 feet from the hole. A hybrid, eh? Environmental enthusiasts everywhere have found their golfer. Quick, someone get that man an audience with Al Gore!
12:45
ESPNBC is re-airing the Roccobucks interview, this time with the sound. There really was no point to showing it now, except to waste time while the golfers walk the course. I wonder how many hours of extra footage the crew had to come up with to fill time inbetween shots.
12:48
Tiger lifts one to within one foot of the hole. Beautiful. Never count him out. Rocco's long putt goes 6 inches past Tiger's mark. This is great golf. Both par, and onto the fifth.
12:51
The NBC broadcast crew is hyping ESPN Monday Night Baseball. I wonder if this is as awkward for them as it is for us to hear it. And how on Earth did the bigwigs at ABC/Disney/ESPN okay this partnership? You would've thought ABC would jump all over the tourney rights.
1:02
What a shot from the cart path from Rocco. Each golfer answers the challenges from the other. I hope DVDs of this playoff will be made available, so we can show our kids and grandkids what the best of golf looks like.
1:19
I'm watching Rocco follow his shots, and it makes me feel like I'm watching my brother playing MarioKart. They both lean at every curve, grimacing and smiling depending on their success. One more endearing quality that makes him the everyday fan's man.
1:34
Tiger takes a 2 shot lead on a perfect putt. The announcers have been focusing on how he took over-the-counter pain killers yesterday during the round, and they seemed to loosen him up. As a Brett Favre fan, any mention of pain killers during competition makes my stomach turn. I'm sure it's no big deal, but if too big of a deal is made of it, it could cloud the eventual winner's achievement, no matter who it is. Only 25 minutes until ESPNBC switches to NBCSPN, and we trade Scott Van Pelt and Andy (Go Badgers!) North for Bob Costas and Curtis Strange at the desk.
3:00
Oops. I fell into the time honored trap of the golf-nap. The calm, quiet tones of the announcers, the chirping birds, the serene vistas ... snore. I missed the 10-13th holes. Tiger has a one shot lead, but it had fluctuated greatly during my siesta. Rocco's comeback from 3 shots behind will be talked about for a long time. Thank goodness this is an 18-hole match. By the way, I've heard the announcers use the word "chunky" more this weekend than at a peanut butter convention. Ooh, Rocco birdied the 14th to pull back to +1, even with el Tigre. Ahh, the drama.
3:13
Is Tiger falling apart? He's in the right bunker on 15 with a lousy lie. If Rocco gains another shot on Tiger, he will have dropped four shots in a row. And Rocco's second shot is terrific. In terms of history, the most important part may not be whose name goes on the trophy, but that Rocco Mediate, the 158th ranked player on the tour, ended Tiger's streak of 13 straight victories when leading after the third round.
3:16
Why would I ever doubt Tiger? That bunker shot? Ended up four feet front he hole. That should be illegal. He should have to play blindfolded or on LSD or something, just to make it fair. I'm amazed at the gallery for a Monday -- very large, very vocal and moving quickly with the players. I'm waiting for a video shot of the cliff to show hundreds of people in Bermudas and visors leaping into the Pacific like lemmings.
3:20
Rocco just dropped in a lovely, curving birdie putt. Tiger's got to make this putt to keep up with Mediate. That's not something you write often. Wow, missed it badly. Tap in for par and onto the 16th. I think I can feel the tension in my living room.
3:39
Listening to Tiger and his caddy, Steve Williams, discuss yardage and wind before every shot is a treat. This is something you just don't get while TV coverage bounces from hole to hole to cover every golfer. Williams just backed Tiger off and told him to switch clubs. A true partnership, Williams' advice put Tiger on the green 20 feet from the pin.
3:48
With a one-shot lead on 17 and a four foot putt, how would you react? Rocco nails it. On to the 18th, Rocco at Even, Tiger at +1. 18 is a par 5 and Tiger gobbles up par 5's. Rocco's in the bunker. Tiger is liming and grimacing, but he's in the fairway. I smell sudden death. Or that may be the cold coffee in my mug.
3:52
The commercial with Earl Woods talking about Tiger's toughness is really moving, and appropriate for this tournament. Kudos to Nike for putting it together.
3:55
NBC is interrupting golf for a tornado warning in Pennsylvania. Thank goodness Tiger takes so long to set up his shot - we missed nothing, except for a few heartbeats. Tiger is on the green in two, and Rocco's third shot will need to get on the green perfectly to keep the lead.
3:59
Rocco nailed it. Rocco nailed it, 10 feet from the hole. He deserves the roaring ovation he's getting while walking up the 18th.
4:03
First whole-body shiver of the day. Tiger misses an eagle putt by three feet and Rocco has to make this putt to secure the win. And as I write, the air comes out of the crowd as Rocco misses it by the same amount as Tiger.
4:05
I can feel my heart beating through my shirt. Assuming Rocco makes his putt, if Tiger makes his, his birdie forces sudden-death. If he misses it, Rocco Mediate, U.S. Open Champion.
4:08
Tiger birdies 18 AGAIN. Eagle Saturday, birdie Sunday, birdie Monday. On to sudden death. I can't imagine what they're going through. I'm dying here. Like I said, I want a DVD and I want a one-by-one inch square of Rocco's sweat towel in a trading card, like the game-worn jersey cards. Autographed is preferred, unwashed is required.
4:16
Sudden Death Hole #1: I still don't know who I'm rooting for. Why does someone have to lose? Can't they both win? My air conditioning is shutting off when the quiet sign goes up in fear of Tiger's glare. It becomes more and more apparent, by each shot, that Rocco's miss on 18 really did take the air out his game. You have to feel for this guy. He sticks with Tiger for 72, then 90 holes, and on the 91st, he hits a bad drive and a wild second. The crowd is chanting "lets go Rocco" -- since when does a golf-crowd do chants? The magic of this playoff is appearing over and over again.
4:27
I don't want this to end. Tiger leaves a putt two inches short, and leaves the door open for Rocco. A 15-foot putt to continue the sudden death. The whole world is holding its breath.
4:29
The putt roles just past the hole. Tiger adds to his legend, and the world has a new favorite, Rocco. I'm happy, I'm sad, and most of all, I'm so glad I was able to watch this golf history being made. Four-and-a-half hours later, I am filled with golf's glory. Bring on the British!


Tuesday update:
Although I feel competent in my telling of this story, I found another voice who chronicled the feelings of the day much better. For a more concise and generally better telling of the match, visit http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/columns/story?columnist=wojciechowski_gene&id=3447810&sportCat=golf&lpos=spotlight&lid=tab2pos2.

I had a similar experience to Wojo, watching the 2006 World Cup Championship match in an O'Hare Airport bar with soccer fans of all countries and economic levels. When my plane landed, the flight attendant announced that Italy had won, and half the plane cheered and half booed.


What would our life experience be like without the moments like these that sports produce?

The Butler Way

As I begin the job search process once again, the self-evaluating and "here I am, world" attitudes have lead me to some conclusions.



The main conclusion being my resume is not flashy or overloaded by any means. It's a conglomeration of student experiences and paid work, that on paper (no pun intended) looks like a collection of multimedia dabblings in search of one's calling. Which, in essence, it is.



But when I look at my resume, I see several years worth of hard work and life changing experiences. And I see evidence of beginning my career The Butler Way.



The Butler Way is not only a mass-branding effort by my Alma mater's athletic department, but a true foundation of principles students are taught from day one on campus. Butler may call itself the Ivy League of the Midwest, but the true essence of the school is more "Hoosiers" than "A Beautiful Mind."



The Butler Way is made up of core values like quiet hard work, accountability, reliability, team before self, humility before glamour and especially doing things the right way instead of the easy way.



The Butler Bulldog basketball team has demonstrated The Butler Way to the nation by being the underdog, scrappy, fundamentally sound small school that seems to worm its way into the national spotlight every spring. Commentators consistently marvel at the sound defense, unselfish passing and free throw consistency the Bulldogs rely on to win. But isn't that how basketball was originally intended to be played?



The real student-athletes on the court reflect the attitude, determination and vision of the other 3,987 students on campus, not to mention 151 years worth of graduates.



When I look at my not-so-flashy resume, I may not see the same things as others because I look through Butler-Blue colored lenses.



My sorority experience may not look like it's career worthy enough to be on a resume, but I see innovation, teamwork, peer leadership, flexibility and accountability.



My time at a local news station, in the production and sports departments, may not seem as impressive as others, but I see the development of professionalism and hours of basic grunt work that is thankless but necessary to the operations of a newscast. I see being at the studio for eight hours and being paid for four, but not mentioning it to anyone.



My skills may say intermediate Spanish, non-linear editing and basic Microsoft Office, but I think about studying "flashitos," working overnight in edit bays and spending a few panicked evenings on the phone with technical support, fixing my own computer.

I almost feel guilty for explaining my experiences like this -- I believe I violated the code just by writing this blog!

I understand that a resume is intended to grab an employer's interest enough to offer an interview. The interview is where the intangibles are supposed to be revealed.

But how do you write that amazing resume when you've been taught to let your work speak for itself? Maybe The Butler Way gets nudged to the side ... on second thought, if The Butler Way can get a no-name team to two Sweet 16s in four years, it's good enough for me.

A Few Thoughts on the NBA

Normally, a title like that would automatically go from my Inbox to the Trash, but bear with me for a moment.
I generally don't like the NBA. I like college basketball better, and I gave up on the pros after Ray Allen was traded to Seattle from Milwaukee for a battered, uninspired Gary Payton.
But after watching Game 4 of the super-over-hyped NBA Finals tonight, I made some surprising observations. Let me share ...

• Ray Allen may be to Milwaukee what Kevin Garnett is to Minnesota. Allen did bounce around the league more than Garnett, but he made an impact on Milwaukee's community during his time there. He even miraculously delivered the Bucks to the Eastern Conference Finals in 2001 with the cloudy (allegedly) post play of Glenn Robinson at his disposal (I'm not sure if I'm alleging Robinson's recreational used drugs or that he actually played in the post). Both are fighting for their first title and causing mass loyalty issues back in the Midwest. Are you a fan of the team or the player? Can a Bucks fan or Timberwolves fan root for the Celtics? Boston Bruin fans cheered passionately for Ray Bourque when he won the Stanley Cup with the Avalanche. Does that kind of loyalty translate to other sports?
• No one mentions (that I've heard) that Allen and every one's favorite extraterrestrial point guard, Sam Cassell, were part of Milwaukee's 'Big Three' with Robinson. Although Cassell isn't in the Celtics' Big Three, the thought of not mentioning the connection seems odd to me.
• The post-game press conference after the Celtics huge comeback was some of the most entertaining live television I've seen in a while. I believe, in the era of spying, steroids and gambling, many players and coaches understand the way to regain the trust of the fan base is to be completely honest with the fan base. Doc Rivers was thoughtful but sincere when describing his team's amazing turnaround, including giving the real story behind going to the strategy of using four guards with Garnett. Kobe Bryant, admittedly one of my least favorite players, was mature about his team's poor second-half performance. He cracked jokes, he admitted their weaknesses and he didn't throw his team under the bus. And he did all of this while still sounding reasonably devastated at being down 3-1 in the series. Good television -- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QWfCLiPcRxU.

As much as I hate to admit it, Game 4 lived up to the extreme hype surrounding the "historic" series. Despite his use of the word "ginormous" during a toss, Stuart Scott did a great job navigating the post-game show (I missed half-time).

Although I doubt this series alone will return my interest in professional basketball, I will admit to being excited for Sunday's Game 5. I'll liken my relationship with the NBA to my relationship with vegetables; generally, I'll have nothing to do with them, but if it is done the right way, sign me up. Now, the question is, are the Celtics "spinach green," or is spinach "Celtics green?"

As a follow up to the last entry, I realized that my first choice for a Dave Matthews inspired blog title would also be inappropriate. It would be from the song "Granny," and I am neither old nor wise (nor matriarchal).

Naming a Blog

Naming a blog is difficult. I was looking for something that says passionate and quirky, modern and in-tune with pop culture, fast paced and young. But mostly, I wanted it to say brilliant. Okay, I'll settle for clever.

My first working title was "1000 Julys," after an unreleased song on Third Eye Blind's sophomore album, "Blue." To me, the power chord ode to spandex-and-hairspray rock spoke of passion, an exciting new time and youthful discovery. The "How we living?/Young American," lyric summarized my current state in a perfect nutshell.
One problem, though. The, um, sexual nature of Third Eye Blind's music would most definitely mislead readers and future employers. Not the message I want to send, and not something you think about at age 11 when you pick a favorite band.
But I felt going on the lyrical route was the right way to go. Being of the 1990's and early-2000's alt-rock/pop loving scene, great hooks and memorable lyrics are not difficult to come by. Although, if I see one more blog named after a Dave Matthews Band song, I may give up all hope for my generation. Don't get me wrong, I love Dave, but how many Billies, Nancies, Ants and Spoons are needed in cyberspace? Sorry, that was a tangent.
Going through my CD collection provided some ideas. "I'd Do Anything" (Simple Plan) sounds too desperate, "Thoughts on God" (Dishwalla) is too philosophical, and who knows what a "Yellow Ledbetter" (Pearl Jam) is?
"Sympathy" (Goo Goo Dolls) speaks of emotional neediness, "Polyamerous" (Breaking Benjamin) comes with the same issues as Third Eye Blind, and "Inside Out" (Eve 6) sounds like a whole bunch of confusion.
My thoughts kept drifting back to 3EB, who have bailed me out on many occasions. I once wrote a paper on the virtues of "Semi-Charmed Life" for a high school English class. I praised the instrumentation, the pop sensibility and the irrepressibly catchy melody. Tell me you don't smile when you hear the opening "do do do"s. I cheered the clever lyrics and their underlying anti-drug message. I got an A on that paper. I could have written a tome on the handsome lead singer, Stephan Jenkins, and his piercing blue eyes and sly delivery, but I refrained (as I will now).
And then it hit me -- I needed another front man with a unique handsomeness and deliciously clever lyrics. Brandon Boyd, of Incubus, became my muse. Sorry, Stephan. The wiry front man reminds me of some of my favorite sporting attributes (not necessarily personal characteristics).
The raw yet controlled aggression of a middle linebacker.
The fluidity of a European-trained hockey player.
The cockiness and innovation of a point guard.
The youthful energy of pre-draft workouts.
"Make Yourself" is not only the name of a critically and commercially successful album, but a title-track anthem of self-reliance and self-knowledge. The young American's dream of making something of yourself on your own merits. As part of a generation that has been hand fed through much of our young lives, the idea of self-sufficiency is daunting yet welcome.
I like how "Make Yourself" speaks to the focus of this blog: the various ways a young woman tries to make something of herself. It's a rather wide topic, from job searching to personal discovery to pet peeves.
With this entry, I invite you to join me on my journey of making myself. And if you happen to have the CD or MP3s available, I encourage you to pop in the wonderful post-coming-of-age album and look at the lyrics. It's enjoyable.
So here we go, World, watch me make myself.