When I was picking my college major at the tender age or 17 or whatever (far too young to decide your future, but that’s a different rant), I was pretty sure I knew what I wanted to be: I wanted to be an MLB beat writer. I wanted to be in the press box for every game and I wanted to tell the stories of the players on the field. The primary reason I wanted to do this was because of the Indians beat writer, a guy whose words I ate up, a guy named Anthony Castrovince.
After college, when I really got into the work of journalism and following a beat (high school sports to start), I realized just how awful the hours can be and how uninspiring the work can be when its not your favorite baseball team that you’re covering.