Getting Up Early
On Sunday night, I learned that my favorite professor from college — a man who had become a mentor, professional reference (he put in a good word for me at DDA), and great friend — had passed away after a heart attack. He was 64.
He had been a former Sports Illustrated staff writer, well-published author, and longtime professor. During my junior and senior years, I took both courses he taught: sports journalism and sports communications. He shaped my career choice, writing ability, and future more than anyone in my life. I had just traded a series of emails with him in the weeks prior, and actually had a half-finished message in my “drafts” folder than I intended to send last Friday but never got a chance to.
But while the sudden news put a serious damper on my weekend and week, this is not entirely a sad story. In fact, it was because of him that I found myself laughing to no one in particular Monday morning when my alarm went off at 6 a.m.
You see, this professor knew that a class in “Sports Journalism” sounded easy, especially when listed in the BU course book. He was fond of saying, “If I offered ‘Sports Nuclear Physics,’ people would register for it.” To combat this, he scheduled the course twice a week, at 8 a.m. Now this was a time that no college student has ever seen, and the thought of an 8 a.m. class gave me the chills, especially while I was putting in long, sleepless nights at the college newspaper. And it didn’t make him happy either, considering he had to wake up at 5 a.m. to deal with the horrific Boston traffic. But it was a necessary evil. “You’ve got to play hurt,” he’d always say, when we would stagger into class tired or sick. And sure enough, only the people who REALLY wanted to be there signed up for the class, and no one was ever late or missed a session. Not because he’d yell and scream, but because he’d just stare at you if you did, and you’d know you had let him down.
Once I left college, I mostly worked afternoon and night shifts at two newspapers, meaning I rarely ever saw 8 a.m. again. But now that I’m an advertising copywriter and project coordinator here at a full-service adveritsing agency like Dynamic Digital Advertising, my alarm goes off at 6 a.m., and I’m usually out the door just after 7. Even on days like today, when my stomach isn’t agreeing with me and my muscles are still sore from a weekend of painting. But when I get here, I get right to work, whether it’s writing pages of content for search engine optimization (SEO) for a new website, updating our DDA Apps division with content on customized online applications, or managing a printed calendar project.
My professor loved to turn everything into a sports metaphor. When he learned that I was getting married, he shot me a quick email, saying “I heard you’re engaged. Welcome to the NFL, kid.” So on days like today, when I’m not feeling great physically, groggy from a late-night football game, and still struggling with the sudden loss of a great friend, I still get right to work, because, “You’ve gotta play hurt.”
Entry by: Steve