I spent a good part of my summer going through old things from my childhood bedroom at my parents' house. I was dreading the task. I'd left all the stuff for so many years and wasn't thrilled about having to sort through dank, dusty, cob web-riddled junk I hadn't seen in over a decade, then having to decide what to keep and how to keep it. But it ended up being the perfect antidote I didn't know I needed.
2021 has been a challenging year for me, both personally and professionally, which is why I haven't blogged much. When I'm emotionally distressed it's virtually impossible for me to focus and write. 2021 also marks the 20th anniversary of making my childhood dream come true. Unfortunately, I was so stressed about all the work, clients and income I'd lost to the pandemic that I failed to realize it - that is, until I found my first published articles amidst all the things I sorted through from my old room.
When I was 11 years old I wrote a memoir - a mini autobiography of sorts - about how I fell in love with figure skating and ice hockey. I called it "Pure Ice." (If you know, you know!) It was then that I knew I wanted to be a sportswriter when I grew up, and hopefully work for a hockey team.
My uncles were Ducks season seat holders during the Ducks' first few years in the League, and I was so fortunate to be able to tag along with them to games. Once, as I was flipping through the Ducks game night magazine, which was called "In Flight" in those days, I noticed there was a phone number to call for editorial inquiries. Right around the time I graduated from high school I decided that I would try to get an internship with the magazine. I didn't care if I had to fetch coffee or make copies, but I wanted a way in. So one day I called the number.
It ended up being a direct line to the editor's desk, whose name I recognized well from the by-lines of all the feature stories in the magazine: Doug Ward. The first time he answered the phone I was a little shocked and a lotta nervous. I told him who I was, where I wanted to be, and what I was willing to do. He told me he didn't have anything for me at the moment but to try back later. A couple weeks later when I called back, he basically told me the same thing again. This went on for probably more than six months, him telling me "not now, but maybe later." The fact that he never actually said "no, stop calling" led me to think "so you're saying there's a chance!" So I kept calling. Then one day, lo and behold, I got a chance.
In early 2001 I made what felt like my 200th call to Doug. He told me he wanted me to write an article on the San Jose Sharks' new goaltender, Evgeni Nabokov. He gave me the phone number for the Sharks' media relations department and told me to call them and explain that I was writing an article for the Ducks' game-night magazine and to request some information be faxed to me that I could use in my piece. I was shocked and elated that I got an assignment. I had no clue what was going to come of it - maybe it was a test, maybe he would try to use it for the magazine, I had no idea. But I had an assignment and it was way better than filling coffee. That night, my #dad took me to Costco and bought me a fax machine. A FAX MACHINE!
While I was sorting through my old stuff, one of the things I found was the file I made for this story, complete with sparkly green gel pen lettering, which included a 25-page fax from the Sharks, and other information I had researched, printed out, and highlighted. I don't remember making the file and I for sure don't remember writing this note and finding this fortune cookie fortune I taped to the back of it.
A couple weeks after I finished and faxed the story and wrote the note, I was (surprise!) told to call back for an update. I remember that phone call like it was yesterday. It went something like this:
Me: Hi Doug, it's Deborah. I'm calling to see if you had any feedback on my Nabokov article.
Doug: Oh, yes. Unfortunately we didn't have as much space as we anticipated...(my heart sank, what was I expecting?)...so we had to cut it down a little bit.
Me: *silence*
Doug: You did a great job and we'll be happy to pay you for the piece and use you going forward. Also, do you know anything about baseball?
Me: *in shock* No, but I can learn.
That was the beginning. He inquired about my baseball knowledge because he was also the editor for the Angels' game-night magazine, as both teams were owned by Disney at the time. So that year, not only did I start writing for the Ducks, but I started writing for the Angels as well. On March 11th, the night my Nabokov story was published, I had about 25 family members and friends come with me to the Ducks game because I told them I had a surprise for them. When we walked through the doors of the arena my dad proudly paid the program vendor for magazines for each person, plus extras. I had everyone turn to page 52 and I'll let you imagine what happened after that. I was 18 years old.
Looking back on the last 20 years I am truly blessed to have had the career I've had. After three seasons with the Ducks and Angles I went on to write for the Daily Breeze, and I've just embarked on my 13th year with the Los Angeles Kings (minus the Covid season). I've met some of the most talented people in the world, helped raise money for charity, told stories that will go down in history, covered two Stanley Cup Championships, and have been privileged to do it all in my own backyard. Man...if my 11-year-old self knew she would get a Stanley Cup ring...lol.
"The distance between dreams and reality is called action." -Anonymous
In honor of my 20th Anniversary, I added a new item to the shop! Check it out here and help support the blog!
