Storms last night kept me from posting this photo I took Friday of Mr.
Newspaper Reporter taking a photo of me. Gimmick? I tried to explain
that he was being interviewed whilst he was interviewing me. I’m not a
very good subject; Q&A morphed to conversation, and although I didn’t
take notes by hand, I did ask him whether he cared if I blogged a few of the
things he said. Of course I mind! Fair enough.
The blog gave me reportorial leverage: "Misrepresent me and I’ll
mediate you in return."
He left me a message to call him today so he could read the story to me
before printing it. The story: A lot has happened since you first came to
the U. as an undergrad in ’92, and now you’re leaving. As significant as
the juicy premise of the story is, Mr. NR’s writing me up due to the rained-out sports scene in the past week. Mr. NR, after all, is a local sports ed. The gripping story is really more of a eleventh hour grab.
All deadlines and filler.
And he’s reading it back to me not because it’s juicy or controversial but
because we broached some of the more difficult angles of my job, administrative
short, stuff that still gets the tisk-tisk and finger-wag, forebodings of
"Don’t go there." Mr. NR understands this, and so we proceeded
with our formal interview not ever really agreeing what was on the record or off
the record, since we’re the record. The representations are only
parts. I’ve been funneling the U.’s sports PR to Mr. NR for the last seven
years; he has a thorough sense of what I do, what I’ve done.
Lest this entry dip any further into vanity, I wanted to note the latest
hibbity over at the U.–my title is all wrong. I wrote up the job
description last week, winnowing away vital duties for my replacement, casting
the spot in hirable terms, and reducing the title to its known standard–Sports
Information Director. The flap: directors can’t report to
directors. Like I said, I only want to note it. That should be