As I sit in the gray and uncomfortable chairs, surrounded by reporters who have known each other for years, I can’t help but feel out of place. I fight an internal dialogue that tells me I don’t know how football works, fearing I’ll blunder in the post-game press conferences and feeling like I don’t belong. But despite these fears, I tug at my clothes to ensure they are perfect, take diligent notes and work to absorb everything.
As the game ends, reporters rush to the press conference to set up cameras and secure front-row seats. Ignoring the judgment around me, I position myself and steady my voice to ask questions. A male reporter compliments me on asking a technical question, making me wonder if he was surprised. The press conference concludes, and as much as I enjoy it, it also brings with it a sense of anxiety.
But when it comes time to craft words and piece together images in my writing, all that fades away. Ignoring the voice of doubt, I focus on story structure, balancing gameplay and metaphors in my writing. Carefully choosing each word under a two-hour deadline fuels my passion for this process. As much as it brings stress and pressure, seeing my name under the headline brings a sense of pride that drives me forward.
When I share my stories with my family and anyone who will listen, it only strengthens my passion for what I do. Despite the challenges that come with being a journalist
