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| International headquarters of Life In The DPC |
The life of a freelance writer is filled with drama and mystery, it says so in the title, but I have bills to pay and that necessitates a steady income not provided by being a wordman. To make ends meet and finance this hockey/NASCAR journalism empire I am an auto insurance claims adjuster.
It's not a glamorous job but it's steady employment and I have cool coworkers. In one capacity or another I have worked in the insurance industry for the past 10-years and it has always paid the rent.
My typical midweek gameday goes thusly:
Up at 6 a.m. and get myself properly groomed.
Get my son up and get him ready for school.
Drop off my son at school and I am at the office by 830 a.m.
From 8:30 am until 5:30 p.m. I do my thing as a claims adjuster and provide superior service to the people.
5:31 p.m. I cruise to Gila River Arena.
Arrive at Gila River Arena at 6ish, depending on traffic.
We media types get sweet (read: Free) parking at the multistory garage next to the arena. I have a five minute walk from the garage to the media entrance. I say hi to my usual door guy that checks my bag. After the security check, I walk 10-feet to the elevator. The elevator is mainly for media and team employees going up five-floors to The Keilback Press Box. It's an outdated concept but we have an elevator operator.
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Some dull graffiti at Gila River Arena
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I'm at the Press Box by 630ish and my usual routine entails getting a cup of black tea and a copy of the game day notes to cram but the upcoming game, if I haven't had time to do the proper research before the game.
The puck drop at 7:14 pm and ready, steady go.
Bank on three-hours for a game, give or take, and of course there is the opportunity for Over Time. OT is cool, unfortunately the 'Yotes play beyond 60:00 when I have to be up in the morning. My bitching about too much hockey falls under
#MiddleClassProblems and I am hella embarassed. In rural Tennessee my grandparents are rolling over in their respective graves.
Without about 5:00 left in regulation, if it's a given that the game isn't going to OT, I pack up and make my way downstairs. The ice level is the same floor as the locker rooms, press conference rooms. So after a five-floor elevator ride I am back on the ground. Yes, I know I should exercise but I am lazy and that will never change.
From where the elevator drops off I have a five-minute walk through the belly of the beast until I reach the Coyotes' locker room.
At this point the game is just and I mill about with the other writers, TV camera folks and all the rest. I see these good folks 30-40 nights a year but I wouldn't say we were close. Eventually we are let in the locker room and huddle around three or four players as questions are asked. I'm developing uber strong should muscles from holding my cell phone up to record the interviews. I do my best to look attentive and intrigued in case I am on TV....
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I am not Martin Erat but I still look hella stoked
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After 10-minutes we make are way down the hall for Head Coach Dave Tippett's post game press conference. These are usually brief, the shortest one I've attended was approximately 3:48.
After that I head home and the magic begins.
I once made the analogy to my wife that covering sports is like having a baby. The procreation is the fun part and labor/delivery is the tough part. Watching your child blossom is the proudest part.
Watching a game is the fun part. Writing and editing the story is the labor. Reading one's proper article is where I am proudest. After making this analogy I am going to go out on a limb and assume that any woman that ever gave birth now hates me and/or thinks I am a moron. It has always been my assumption that many women think I am a moron regardless, even if I didn't just compare covering a hockey game to conceiving, carrying, delivering and raising a child.
Once at home I write, edit, polish my work into a dull shine. By 1 a.m. it is published and I am asleep. A couple of years ago I made the mistake of taking my sleeping pills before I hit "PUBLISH"
The next morning I found 11 typos, grammatical errors, including misspelling Hockey. It would have been nerve wracking but I have a small and dedicated audience that rarely reads my work.
