Where’s P-Mac?


I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve written a bunch of books, or because I used to work for Sports Illustrated, or because I smell really nice (flowery, with a touch of apple sauce)—but, for some reason, a handful of young journalists seem to think I have * An Answer. *

My reply: I have no answer. I struggle to snag freelance work, just like everyone else. The industry sucks, and I’m lost. My feet smell like shit. I worry about my mortgage all the time.

That said, every so often a young writer catches your eye, and you at least think, “Damn, I wish I could help him.”

Enter: Justin Adler.

I met the guy Thursday night in Brooklyn at a book-reading event. Nice kid, Arizona grad, very eager, moved to New York in search of the dream. He told me about his blog, which is named after Paul McPherson, a former DePaul star whose NBA career lasted a whopping 55 games back in 2000-01. In the same way I used to inexplicably dig David Wingate, the otherwise mediocre Georgetown slasher, Adler looooves McPherson (raise your hand if you’ve ever even heard of McPherson). Weird, but true.

Anyhow, the site is absolutely fantastic, and the guy can really write. Seriously, keep an eye out for his stuff. I especially enjoyed this—Adler’s account of actually meeting the Paul McPherson. Very smart, very well done, definitely worth reading …

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