Throw strikes: nobody wants to simply walk through life

Picture a baseball game with a pitcher on the mound in the late
innings. The afternoon sun has yielded to evening dusk, and the
shadows engulf the outfield, slowly stretching from foul ground
into fair territory.

The game has long since been decided, but our pitcher has to
finish the day. He tugs at his cap to try and block out the stands,
with the runners on base and his teammates in the dugout. With a
deep breath, he digs his cleats into the dirt, and goes about
trying to pitch his way out of another jam. He peers in to check
the sign, stretches to the peak of his motion, and puts his entire
soul behind a fastball that rockets past a flailing bat, making a
relaxing and satisfying snap into the catcher’s mitt.

To do what I have done for the last year, you have to love
sports. Not just playing or watching or even writing about it, but
you have to love its very essence. The essence of what it is to
compete, and be willing to lose on your best effort rather than win
on someone else’s fault.

I guess it sounds a little strange, but in a way most of us are
like that pitcher on the mound, trying to summon up the courage to
face life challenges head on, and be willing to put everything on
the line for a chance to figure out how much we want and what we
think we want.

My past four years in college and especially my past year at the
Daily Bruin have taught me a lot about life. It’s taught me
that hard work pays off. That editing is about 5 percent on paper
and 95 percent communication. And that Krispy Kremes are just too
damn good.

As I leave the dimly lit cubicles of the sports office behind
me, and the incessant innuendoes and computers seemingly powered by
hamster wheels, I see what is out there in the real world. What I
see is a game dependent upon having the courage to go for broke,
and to give up everything for a chance to become what I’ve
always desperately wanted to be.

At The Bruin, I came to realize how strange it is that so many
people would put their supreme effort into a paper that to most
people means little more than a crossword puzzle and an occasional
basketball recap.

And to the people that haven’t been a part of it,
that’s fine. But to all of the people with whom I have worked
alongside, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. Every
relationship was a new experience, and every day was a new game
unfolding.

I would also like to thank my parents for supporting me, and
giving me the confidence to be unafraid of failure. To my sister,
thanks for helping me see past the inning of a game, to see the big
picture. To Kyla, thank you for entering my life. To all of my
fellow sports editors, I thank you for covering for me, and good
luck with all of your future endeavors. To my writers, thank you
for laughing at my lame jokes.

There are other people that deserve my thanks, but unfortunately
I do not have enough time. Rest assured I do appreciate your
efforts. To all of my readers, thank you for reading my articles,
even if you only looked at that grinning mug shot.

And to those still working on this paper, I’ll leave you
with these words from a Montreal Canadians locker room: “To
you from failing hands we throw the torch. Be yours to hold
high.”

My final piece of advice: when in doubt, throw strikes.