Wrote a lengthy Bleacher Report story that ran today on Pierre Desir, Lindenwood University football player and upcoming NFL draft pick. I was quite happy with the piece; Tweeted it out, etc … etc.Then, this e-mail …
Killer.
Absolute killer.
The beauty of the web is that things can be fixed, and—quickly—Wichita became Topeka. But, as a writer, it doesn’t make me feel any better.
I completed this article at 4 am—eyed red, mind sloppy. Tired, beaten, etc. It’s sorta how I write the longer offerings. I hunker down, knowing I’ll be tortured and deadened by the process, but knowing no other way. I’ll stare at the clock, check SI.com, write, have a bite of cheese, write, see what’s on HBO, write, pace, moan, write, listen to Bubba Sparxxx, write some more. Then, when I’m ready to collapse, I collapse.
Story in.
Usually, this works for me. Every so often, however, Topeka becomes Wichita, and I look like a friggin’ amateur.
The guy who e-mailed me was named Kirk. At first, I was agitated. That vanished. He was 100-percent correct in the criticism, and I told him so. Wrote this …
