When I was in tenth grade, after moving from north central Ohio to The Middle of Nowhere, Virginia, I tried out for basketball. I didn’t do it because I had been a baller at my old school, but instead because I was six foot five and that’s what sixteen year-olds who are that tall do. I’d never played ball on a school team before, just shot around in the driveway with my brothers and friends and played in a couple of church youth leagues. I was, by all accounts, far from a jock.

But, sometime after I’d left my old school and started my new one, I woke up one morning and was taller than everyone else. All of my new classmates asked, almost immediately upon meeting me, if I played basketball. After I answered in the negative – saying instead that I was in the band – I was encouraged by most to try out.

On the day of the tryout, for some reason or another, I couldn’t find a ride to the school (forgive my shakiness on the details, it’s been a few years since I was 16). So when I got to work on a day that I had told my boss that I wouldn’t be there, he asked why I wasn’t at the tryouts. I explained to him my lack of transport and he – in his lovingly gruff way – said he’d take me.

I’d never tried out for anything before in my life. All of the sports I’d played to that point were of the “if you sign up in time you’re on the team” variety. I had no idea what to expect. But, I stood in the gym with everyone else, listened to the coaches, and ran through the drills as best I could. I didn’t wow anyone with my superior speed, footwork, or jumpshot, but I gave it my everything and, thankfully, was far from the worst guy on the floor.

A couple of days later when the results were posted, I was astounded to find my name on the list. I hadn’t been selected to be a player, but rather a student manager – basically a water/towel/ball boy that would hang out with the team at practice and go to all the games. I went to talk to the coach, as the sheet instructed, and he said that they liked what they saw in my hustle, heart, and brain, but that I was currently lacking the basketball skills they were looking for.

Coach went on to say that if I worked on my game (presumably with the team in practices and whatnot), and worked hard as manager that they would give me special consideration to be on the team as a player the next year. After giving his offer about nine seconds thought, I thanked him and respectfully declined. In my head, the value of being a towel boy with a shot at being on the team next year wasn’t worth the money I would lose by attending practices and games instead of working after school.

I sometimes think about that decision, and what things would have been like for the rest of high school had I accepted his offer. I would have made a lot of friends, instead of going through tenth grade all but alone as the new kid. I would have made my family – and my surly boss – proud by seeing it through. I would have moved to that small school in Kentucky (where if you sign up in time you’re on the team) a few months later with a better basketball skillset, meaning I probably would have gotten more playing time my during junior and senior years.

But instead I took the option with the most immediate payoff. How shortsighted I was (don’t get me wrong, that was an awesome job, and without it I probably wouldn’t be half the cook I am today – but that’s not the point).

As I think about the place in life that I currently find myself, and how I’m looking for someone to take a chance on me, this story seems pretty fitting. I’ve worked hard, that’s never been in doubt. I was taught to give everything to every endeavor. But I’ve also taken a lot of paths of immediate payoff. The first time that I think I ever worked hard to prove myself for a chance at something better was when I worked at Honeywell. I was placed there by a temp agency, but worked my butt off for a year proving myself until Honeywell supervisor hired me full time. Had I not loved that job though, I might not have done that. I can say with a lot of certainty that had a better offer come along during that first year I probably would have taken it.

But that experience, coupled with the one from my sophomore year of high school, has taught me an invaluable lesson: Sometimes (most of the time) when you want someone to take a chance, you have to first put in the work to prove that you won’t let them down.

I don’t know why it took nine-hundred words and almost thrity years for me to finally verbalize that, but it did. And it feels good. I promise, to myself and everyone who believes in me, that I won’t pass up a chance to work towards something great ever again.

So, let’s start with the here and now. I’m a decently proficient writer with a passion for sports and storytelling. Mainly storytelling, but sports provide a lot of stories to be told so it works out. I’m building a pretty decent reputation in my admittedly small circle, and it’s high time to move on to the next.

Also, I have this rather large circle of social influence, but I’m not sure a) what to do with it, or b) if that’s even worth anything. But, I think it bears mentioning in this space, if nothing more than a demonstration of value.

But, I want to take my talents to the next level. In my head that means becoming a professional communicator of some kind – writer, talker, show-er, whatever – but I have no idea how to get my foot into that door. I’m not even sure where that door is.

Actually, if I’m going to be honest, I know exactly what I would do to get my foot into one of those doors: I’d charm and schmooze, and then, once standing inside the foyer of “made it” I’d charm some more while working and fighting and scratching and working to prove that I belonged there in the first place.

See, I have a handicap: I’m behind. Not only am I dumbfounded staring at this map, everyone else that has my destination in mind has is already on the road. They all have degrees in things like “journalism” and “PR” and “marketing” or whatever. All I have, other than experience, is a really strong desire to tell stories. To communicate. To do what I love.

Have you ever conveyed an emotion to someone? Do you remember how satisfying it was for them to laugh at your joke or share your tears or ride on the coattails of your excitement? For me, that is like a drug. I love, love, the feeling of bringing someone into a story, of taking them to a place in my head and convincing them that they experienced it with me when in fact all they did was read or listen to my words. That, to me, is the ultimate accomplishment: to transport someone from their reality and into mine.

So yeah, anyway, I’ve hamstrung myself over the last ten years. I’ve got a lot a of experience doing a lot of things – retail management, call center customer service, small business management, photography, supply chain management, even a little bit of radio – but no degree. Not formally anyway.

If I could, I’d give myself a bachelors in “Getting It Done” from Mistakes Were Made State College, and a “Master of Figure It Out” from You’ll Get No Help University. I’m working on my Ph.D. in “Disaster Avoidance,” too.

But none of that matters to the people I want to talk to. They don’t see a degree on my resume, and therefor they don’t see me. I realize that the best and only way to change that is to get a degree, but in the meantime what I am supposed to do? Wait tables? Take phone calls? Sell jeans? And while I’m doing those things I’m just falling further and further behind.

I say no. There has to be a way to get paid to do what that I’m passionate about – and good at – without waiting until I’ve got initials behind my name. Is there no one in the world that will take a chance on me? Is there no one out there that values experience at life as much – if not more – than time in a classroom? Is there not a single potential employer that would read my writing or hear my demo tape and say “Yeah, this guy has it even without the formal education”?

If there isn’t, then I’ll take my defeat and go change oil for the rest of my life. But I seriously doubt that college is the only way to get the job that I want.

My grandfather helped put men on the moon and was instrumental in bringing hundreds of astronauts safely back to Earth, and he – at age 84 – is yet to set foot into a college classroom. Yes, I realize things were different back then, but you see my point: he had desire, ability, and opportunity.

And that’s all I really want: Opportunity. A fair shake. Put my writing sample next to the just-starting-out college graduate’s, Mr. Employer, and compare the two fairly. If mine isn’t better, I’ll accept that and work hard until it is. But if mine is better, why not hire me?

Meadow Soprano once famously said that “College is just a way to prove to employers that you can show up in the same place for four years.” I’m not sure if that’s completely accurate, but I agree with the sentiment: That you can learn a lot of the same things through living life as you can through college. I think it’s time that I get to prove that to someone.

Give me a chance, hire me. You’ll see how much I’ve learned.

I’m proud to say that I’m officially on the staff of the brand-spanking new Ohio Sports Journal, where I’ll be covering the Columbus Crew and waxing poetic about soccer in Central Ohio.

This could turn out to be a great opportunity for me, and I’m very excited and thankful. It’s not a paid position, yet, but I’m excited at the prospect of working for a local web publication.

You can read my first column here.

Ever since I walked into that Columbus Crew game with my friend Dan three years ago I knew that I wanted to spend my life working, in some capacity, for a Major League Soccer team. Pair that with my newly remembered passion for writing and I have a recipe for destiny.

I have encountered a few roadblocks over the past few months, mainly my lack of a degree, but I haven’t let that hold me back. I’ve been enrolled in school for a while now, and have been working my tail off trying to prove myself during interviews. I’ve taken the strategy that love and passion for the game and the fans is not something that can be taught, but I am still growing as a writer.

Basically, I’ve been telling people that I’m already in love with the game and the people and not a bad writer, and asking them to hang with me while my writing improves.

Well, this morning all of my begging and pleading and ass kissing has paid off. After a long interview process, I’ve been offered, and therefore accepted (duh) a job as a staff blogger with the NASL side Crystal Palace Baltimore.

My duties will be to generally maintain the teams online presence in social media sites like Facebook and Twitter, as well as writing articles and a blog for the club’s official website. It’s not the big leagues yet, but I’m tickled pink.

Also, there are going to be nice bi-weekly paychecks coming my way just because I want to hang out with a bunch of soccer players.

I’m going to be leaving town at the end of next week, so anyone that wants to share one last pint needs to get in touch ASAP. Also, if anyone wants to take a weekend trip to Baltimore to help me move, I’ll be forever in your debt.

So yeah, off I go into the great unknown…

(And if anyone wants my Crew Season Tickets, they’re going to the highest bidder…)