So as I wrote earlier, today I had a piece in the Wall Street Journal about Knicks rookie Landry Fields.
Like many people I know, I’ve been writing for quite a while. I’ve worked for The Tennessean, Sports Illustrated, Newsday, Yahoo, ESPN.com and SI.com. I’ve got four books, and a fifth on the way.
And I still get excited.
I really, really do.
Today I dashed off to the supermarket to pick up a copy of the Journal. Sure, I saw my piece online. But there’s something about holding the paper in your hands; in seeing your byline atop a story. It remains a rush for me, just as it was in the fall of 1988, when I had my first story apear in The Chieftain, Mahopac High School’s student newspaper. Back then I used to sit on my parents’ bed and make them listen to my articles. It must have been pure torture—“Led by Jeff Cascone, the Indians cross country team might have a year to remember …” But they listened. And listened. And listened.
Today, my mom and dad went to see the Journal; to see their son’s article. I can’t tell you how thrilling that is for me. The whole ordeal. The buzz. The feeling of, to a certain degree, making good. This is what I wanted to do from age 13 or 14, and here I am, doing it. You might think I suck, I might make some boneheaded moves—but I’m living my dream.