I wouldn't change a single word

After 102 published articles, 18 columns, several Spectrum posts, and positions on Spectator’s associate, deputy, and managing boards, I’m pretty sure I’ve reached the pinnacle of my career. MJ may have said it better—and I don’t see anyone calling a press conference for me—but that’s not really the point. I’m retiring as a sportswriter.

The job has not always been as glorious and rewarding as one might imagine. At times, it has seemed that for every positive I am able to identify in my capacity as a sports reporter, some sort of negative consequence or qualifier lies just around the corner.

I love, for example, that the Lions tend to offer stubborn competition in most major sporting events. Our high-profile sports teams, though, generally don’t fare so well in the end. This is upsetting for writers as well as fans.

I have also grown to love the opportunity to interview athletes and coaches in person, on the phone, via email, and even with text messages. But I hate the way they are routinely overprotected by some personnel in the sports information office. Journalists, even students, do not appreciate when administrators or coaches tell them how to do their job.

On the reporting end, I am indebted to Spectator for the face time it has given me and for allowing me a space for all these bylines and columns. I especially enjoyed covering the football team this year and developing a rapport with the coach and certain players. Maybe that’s why I was so upset when Spectator’s 134th editorial board failed to consult those most familiar with the issue at hand—the football beat writers—before publishing an uninformed editorial calling for Norries Wilson’s dismissal.

As for apathy among Columbia’s potential fan base, it’s been discussed to death on Spectator’s back page. After four years as a student and countless trips up to Baker, I can’t pretend to offer a more brilliant or pragmatic solution than those already put forward. I do appreciate Columbia’s initiative to provide free fan buses up to the games. But I really hate waiting outside in the cold when that concept is not effectively implemented, or worse, dealing for months with the long-term side effects of wrangling a seat on the marching band’s bus and spending half an hour in a confined space with CUMB.

Now let’s be real. Who doesn’t love a free t-shirt? Even another light blue one? Promotions are great, but they don’t replace winning (or even flyering) as more effective strategies to boost attendance. I’ve said it before—the Student Rewards Program is ill conceived and annoying. One final unrelated gripe: I know what the sound guys are going for when they play that fake Lion roar over the loudspeaker at sporting events, but in reality it just sounds like a toilet flushing. Hardly an effective intimidation tactic.

But I don’t want this column to turn into a deranged rant about the Athletics Department. There’s a lot to love—unconditionally—about writing sports for Spectator.

I will forever treasure and miss the little things. Sunday sports meetings where everyone competes to tell the best weekend blackout story. House ads. Sending out the weekly budget. Football road trips. Flipping through old bound volumes for long-lost statistics or inspirational graphic ideas. Pixbox. Knowing enough about design rules to spot mistakes our readership would never notice. House ads. Coach Wilson commenting on my hangover. House ads. Ascending the press box elevator at Wien Stadium. Crossword puzzles.

It’s kind of funny that just one semester removed from serious involvement as a Spectator editor, those little memories are the ones that are sticking. Why not the major tasks and assignments such as managing board meetings or interview transcribing or editing articles or pounding out a quick game recap from the press box off some game notes and quickie stat sheets? Why not writing headlines or checking printouts or researching articles?

I can only imagine that as more time passes, this trend will intensify. What is so special about those little things, those moments that no Speccie signs up for but none can avoid? Looking back on a full and fulfilling career, I think I can start to answer this question. Spec isn’t a job and it isn’t a time-filler; it’s neither a hobby nor a chore; not volunteering and not really even a mere extra-curricular activity.

It’s a way of life. One with its own rules, its own culture, and its own inside jokes. Its own nightly heroes and impossible challenges and workplace rhythm. I know I speak for dozens of others when I say I’ll never truly be able to separate “college” from “Spec” for the rest of my life. When I walk out the door at 2875 this week, Spectator will lose a pretty decent writer with strong dedication and solid organizational skills, not to mention unprecedented wit. But I’ll lose a lot more: a haven, a home, an epicenter of everything college should be. A place to work and joke and eat and drink and laugh and even sleep. That’s how I’ll remember it.

I’ll remember how JTay taught me that an editor’s first job is to ensure the date is correct on printouts. Puro’s superficial work ethic and laid-back attitude essentially forced me into the position a semester early. Lauren, Sabine, and Sara were diligent associates and great personalities on my editing nights. I enjoyed serving on MB with all of 133 but especially Angela, Ben, Betsy, Dino, Joy, and Yipeng. From 134’s tenure: Akhil, Betsy, Mikey, Neel, Nina, Thomas, and Zach. 135: Jasper, Jeremiah, Jim, Leah, Mrinal, Rebeka. I will graduate in two weeks with friendships from 131 all the way through 136. The experience has been educational and humbling.

As much as Spectator provided a fertile breeding ground for life-altering friendships and memorable encounters, every college student needs some friends to come home to after a long night at the office. I’ll always appreciate the fine people of JTS ’11 (and affiliates) who have stayed close to me no matter how many Spec nights or supplements or football games got in the way. Thanks, guys.

Hannah: We’ve only been friends since the summer but you’ve kept me grounded throughout a wild senior year. Thanks for being a great friend to me and for being a constant, positive presence in the office and in my life.

J. Shapiro: We’ve bonded over JTS and the Chicago Blackhawks and summer softball in the park. Even though you root for the White Sox, I’ll miss having you around next year. Oh, and thanks for telling me I should write sports for Spec. I guess that worked out okay.

Matt: Clearly Spec would have been less valuable an experience for me without your guidance from the start. Your fun-loving personality—not to mention promises of press box food that you may have slightly oversold—drew me in to Spec Sports and your editor’s eye helped me develop into the best writer I could be. Thank you for that.

M. Shapiro: You’re a good friend and a good guy, even though much like your brother you are afflicted with that mysterious baseball-related malady whereby you root for the wrong home team. You also suck at NHL, which is too bad for you. Still, I think you’ll turn out alright. Good luck in your senior year and keep in touch buddy.

Kunal: I’ve probably edited more Gupta tennis articles than anything else in my Spec career. Thankfully for both of us, that’s all in the past. You may be the token SEAS guy in our class, but you’re a lot more than that to me. You’re the kind of guy I love hanging out with on weekends and your utter, blind devotion to Spec is both freakish and incredibly impressive. Though I’ll forever hold a grudge because of that incident at Spec Dinner sophomore spring, there’s a decent chance I’ll miss you next year.

Michele: Apart from being one of my closest friends, you are in so many ways the person who makes Spec, well, Spec. Hard to believe we never shared editing nights, but that hasn’t stopped us from having all kinds of fun in and out of the office. I know you, Sam, and Jack will keep doing great things with the paper. Spec is lucky to have you running the show, and I’m lucky to have you as a friend.

When Jordan announced his first retirement in 1993, he left open the possibility of coming back one day. Unless I fail some finals next week, I won’t be writing for this newspaper again. Thanks for the ride, Spectator. It’s been quite a journey. I don’t think I’d change one word.

Jacob Levenfeld is a List College senior majoring in history and Talmud. He was sports editor on the 133rd managing board.
sports@columbiaspectator.com