(Last in a series of three)
“You are one of the reasons I went to journalism school.”
Bob Ryan’s face jerked up at me, away from the book he had been inscribing to me. He did a double-take and looked at me a bit wide-eyed. (I was kind of proud of myself to get that reaction because I imagine that this guy isn’t shocked by anything he hears from baseball fans yakking away at him.)
It was early afternoon on August 3, 2022, and we had just emerged from that day’s Author’s Series presentation at the Baseball Hall of Fame & Museum. Bob Ryan and Bill Chuck had discussed their new book, In Scoring Position, and I had been transported into my own personal Field of Dreams for the better part of an hour. The joy and giddiness I felt were both unexpected and inspiring. Everyone and everything else fell away as I listened to the stories, as Bob spoke directly to me, it seemed, and I hung on every word he and Bill shared.
We (my son Will, sister Nancy, and baseball bestie KK) had planned to get on the road from Cooperstown around noon, but the night before, my son Christopher, who was then an intern at the Hall of Fame, had told us who would be appearing at the Author’s Series. I was psyched! There was no way we’d be getting back in that car mid-day.
Growing up in Massachusetts, and in particular, as one of the seven children of Adam Wolkovich, I was born a Red Sox Fan, although the fandom didn’t completely invade my formerly rational being until the summer of 1975. With that came an occasional weeknight game on tv, omnipresent radio casts, and the daily reporting by a fantastic corps of writers working on the Boston Globe sports page. That’s when and why I began reading a daily newspaper.
Through the years, my favorites were Ray Fitzgerald, Bob Ryan, and Leigh Montville. Their writing exuded such life! Their columns flowed like rivers of thought and emotion that connected me to the beauty of writing through sports – the Celts, Sox, and Bruins, mainly. (I must admit that Ray Fitzgerald was a personal favorite. I can only imagine the poetic prose he would have written about the drama, frustration, and ultimate glory of the summer and fall of 2004, had he not left this world way too soon.)
As a high school basketball manager in Hudson, Mass., I would call the team’s game stats and scores into the Globe sports desk. There was one person, an intern, I presume, who often answered the phone and responded to my questions, including a play-by-play of whose desk was where from his vantage point at that very moment. (Apparently, I was fan-girling before that was a thing.) Wow! Bob Ryan. Leigh Montville. Ray Fitzgerald. And many more scrappy, talented sports scribes! I wanted to be there one day.
Eventually, no Sunday would move forward until I read Peter Gammons’ Baseball Notes page; it was pure gold, filled with the inside scoop, and intriguing bits and pieces that you just couldn’t get anywhere else pre-digital revolution. Eventually, as the Baseball Notes page was handed down to other reporters, I also began to read weekly insights “from the Bill Chuck files.” Delicious!
I wanted to write like that and, initially, to become a sportswriter myself. Off to college I went, studied journalism, and wrote for The Diamondback, the University of Maryland’s daily paper. (#Feartheturtle!) I never worked as a reporter or eventually as a columnist (but Scott Moore, my Diamondback editor, remains a dear friend and kindred baseball soul). I have, nonetheless, applied my interview and writing skills in other ways throughout my communications career.
I try to pull some creativity into the daily writing that has been part of almost every day of my career. My communications work has been incredibly rewarding at times, exciting, fun and challenging, and has brought me through the years.
But on August 3, 2022, that spark came back to me, and I realized how and where my passion for writing professionally was born. Thanks for the reminder, Bob Ryan, and for speaking only to me during that hour (and really, for our actual five-minute chat) in Cooperstown!
PR around the horn 