My First Time
http://www.atomicsportsmedia.com/articles/601/1/My-First-Time/My-First-Time.html
James Field
Jim is in his fifth and, fingers-crossed, final year at the Ohio State University. He is a staff writer for Uweekly, published every Wednesday at OSU, as well as a copy editor at the school's daily paper, The Lantern. In his free time he enjoys jazz flute, long walks on the beach, football, Coors Light and watching the Anchorman DVD. He is also in love with Erin Andrews and would like for her to know that if she is ever in Columbus she should look him up.
By James Field
Published on 10/3/2006
Your first time is rarely your best effort, but it's usually the most memorable. That's certainly true for Atomic Sports writer Jim Field, who details his tryst with an older woman in his contribution to our "Best Sports Memory" series.
My first time -- like everyone else’s I assume -- was really awkward. She was much older than me, and I was as nervous as I’d ever been in my life. What made it even more interesting was the fact that her husband introduced us.
Intrigued?
I was finishing up the first true journalism class I had taken at Ohio State. The quarter was winding down, and our final assignment was to interview someone and write a feature about them. Sounded easy enough to me; I love to talk to people -- at least I thought I did.
That fateful assignment was the first step towards the realization of two important details about myself. For one, I wasn’t as good at listening as I had once thought. It turned out that for a long time other people talking was just the time off between the important things I had to say. The second was that, for a guy who doesn’t get nervous, I sure did sweat a lot in pressure situations.
My goal was to interview Ellen Tressel, the wife of OSU head coach Jim Tressel, and ask her what it was like as the wife of a guy who is in charge of arguably one of the best college football programs in the country. In high school, I had dated a girl whose dad was a coach and her mom always said that coach’s wives had the harder job. Well, I was going to find out.
The assignment started as a simple email to Coach Tressel. I was sure that he had someone to check his email, and that if said person did not return the correspondence within the week, I would begin looking for another approach.
Not two hours later, there was a message in my inbox from the man himself. It read something like, “Hey Jim I think that’s a great idea, Ellen is a great interview. I’ll forward your request to her.”
It was signed, “Go Bucks, JT.”
Your first time is rarely your best effort, but it's usually the most memorable. That's certainly true for Atomic Sports writer Jim Field, who details his tryst with an older woman in his contribution to our "Best Sports Memory" series.
My First Time
My first time -- like everyone else’s I assume -- was really awkward. She was much older than me, and I was as nervous as I’d ever been in my life. What made it even more interesting was the fact that her husband introduced us.
Intrigued?
I was finishing up the first true journalism class I had taken at Ohio State. The quarter was winding down, and our final assignment was to interview someone and write a feature about them. Sounded easy enough to me; I love to talk to people -- at least I thought I did.
That fateful assignment was the first step towards the realization of two important details about myself. For one, I wasn’t as good at listening as I had once thought. It turned out that for a long time other people talking was just the time off between the important things I had to say. The second was that, for a guy who doesn’t get nervous, I sure did sweat a lot in pressure situations.
My goal was to interview Ellen Tressel, the wife of OSU head coach Jim Tressel, and ask her what it was like as the wife of a guy who is in charge of arguably one of the best college football programs in the country. In high school, I had dated a girl whose dad was a coach and her mom always said that coach’s wives had the harder job. Well, I was going to find out.
The assignment started as a simple email to Coach Tressel. I was sure that he had someone to check his email, and that if said person did not return the correspondence within the week, I would begin looking for another approach.
Not two hours later, there was a message in my inbox from the man himself. It read something like, “Hey Jim I think that’s a great idea, Ellen is a great interview. I’ll forward your request to her.”
It was signed, “Go Bucks, JT.”
My First Time
For some kid who had grown up in Central Ohio, this was almost as good as it gets.
“Yeah,” I told my buddy, “I just got an email from Tressel. No biggie really.”
Through the wonderful world of email we set up a time and place to conduct the interview. It would be a weeknight at the Woody Hayes Athletic Facility -- the hallowed ground where the Buckeyes were molded into champions.
I arrived at Woody Hayes at about 7:30, walked through the doors and into what I can only describe as Ohio State heaven. In the middle of the foyer was a single bright light that shone down from the ceiling blanketing the 2002 National Title trophy. Surrounding the base of the trophy were rings for every member of the team. It struck me in a way I’d never expected.
“Man,” I thought to myself, “I can’t believe I’ve never been in here before.”
Flanking the Big One were Ohio State’s six Heisman trophies. Talk about a surreal experience. I had trouble wrapping my head around the fact that I was looking at one; I could only imagine the feeling Archie Griffin must have had when he heard is name called and made his way to the podium to collect college football’s highest honor --twice.
In the glass trophy cases surrounding the large square, vaulted room were trophies dating all the way back to the mysterious AP titles and Woody’s numerous Rose Bowl championships. On the wall above them were the pictures of greats like Chris Speilman, Orlando Pace, Andy Katzenmoyer and Eddie George.
I was literally surrounded by greatness and nothing personified that more than those Heisman trophies. I was drawn to them, like a bug about to be zapped, when I heard a voice behind me say, “Hey, you Jim?”
I turned around and there stood the coach.
The man who wore only sweater-vests and lived on my television was standing there, with his wife at his side. The sweater vest, I imagined, was tucked safely in a dresser at home, compliments of the Mrs.
We shook hands and he introduced himself and Mrs. Tressel.
I almost laughed; they needed no introduction.
I nervously shook their hands and began to rattle of small talk as I followed him through the doors that read “Football players only.”
“I really want to thank you both for taking the time out of your schedules to accommodate me and helping with my project,” I robotically said. My mouth was doing the talking but my head was elsewhere.
Players and coaches occupied every room I passed, going over film, getting a little pep talk or just trading jokes. I had played a year of college ball myself, but when we watched film we all crowded into a classroom, sat at desks and watched them on 27-inch televisions. These guys were using auditoriums and projection screens.
We made our way down the hallway and made a right into Tressel’s office. Notebooks and binders were spread out over a beautiful wooden Block O table that had been polished to a high, glossy shine. On the opposite wall hung a huge flat screen TV and on it was a Northwestern wideout, paused in mid-route.
“Yeah,” I told my buddy, “I just got an email from Tressel. No biggie really.”
Through the wonderful world of email we set up a time and place to conduct the interview. It would be a weeknight at the Woody Hayes Athletic Facility -- the hallowed ground where the Buckeyes were molded into champions.
I arrived at Woody Hayes at about 7:30, walked through the doors and into what I can only describe as Ohio State heaven. In the middle of the foyer was a single bright light that shone down from the ceiling blanketing the 2002 National Title trophy. Surrounding the base of the trophy were rings for every member of the team. It struck me in a way I’d never expected.
“Man,” I thought to myself, “I can’t believe I’ve never been in here before.”
Flanking the Big One were Ohio State’s six Heisman trophies. Talk about a surreal experience. I had trouble wrapping my head around the fact that I was looking at one; I could only imagine the feeling Archie Griffin must have had when he heard is name called and made his way to the podium to collect college football’s highest honor --twice.
In the glass trophy cases surrounding the large square, vaulted room were trophies dating all the way back to the mysterious AP titles and Woody’s numerous Rose Bowl championships. On the wall above them were the pictures of greats like Chris Speilman, Orlando Pace, Andy Katzenmoyer and Eddie George.
I was literally surrounded by greatness and nothing personified that more than those Heisman trophies. I was drawn to them, like a bug about to be zapped, when I heard a voice behind me say, “Hey, you Jim?”
I turned around and there stood the coach.
The man who wore only sweater-vests and lived on my television was standing there, with his wife at his side. The sweater vest, I imagined, was tucked safely in a dresser at home, compliments of the Mrs.
We shook hands and he introduced himself and Mrs. Tressel.
I almost laughed; they needed no introduction.
I nervously shook their hands and began to rattle of small talk as I followed him through the doors that read “Football players only.”
“I really want to thank you both for taking the time out of your schedules to accommodate me and helping with my project,” I robotically said. My mouth was doing the talking but my head was elsewhere.
Players and coaches occupied every room I passed, going over film, getting a little pep talk or just trading jokes. I had played a year of college ball myself, but when we watched film we all crowded into a classroom, sat at desks and watched them on 27-inch televisions. These guys were using auditoriums and projection screens.
We made our way down the hallway and made a right into Tressel’s office. Notebooks and binders were spread out over a beautiful wooden Block O table that had been polished to a high, glossy shine. On the opposite wall hung a huge flat screen TV and on it was a Northwestern wideout, paused in mid-route.
My First Time
It was Northwestern week and all the evidence in that office pointed to the fact Coach Tressel was committed to preparation – no matter who the opponent.
“Let me get this out of your way,” Tressel said as he picked up his notebooks. “Will this be alright here?”
“Yeah, whatever is convenient for you,” I shot back.
“Well, this will work, I’ll let you two get after it. I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”
So there I was, sitting in Tressel’s office with Mrs. Tressel. I tossed open my little notepad and got my list of ready-made questions out. I had no idea how I was going to do this. I had asked my mom for some suggestions, and the best she could come up with was, “I wonder what she likes to read.”
Thanks mom.
I proceeded the best I could; I tried to write down the answers she gave while still listening to her enough to know what question to ask next. It’s actually harder than you might think, especially when you don’t have a voice recorder -- a problem I fixed not long after.
Rookie mistake.
I bounced all over the place asking her what she did for fun, her relationship with the team and what she liked to read (it was worth a shot).
Forty-five minutes after I had arrived, I was sitting back in my truck. I drove home and began to piece together the article. I constructed what I thought to be a winner and went to bed.
That was almost a year ago and, as I look at my notes and the article today, I can’t help but laugh. Every question I managed to ask seemed to lend itself to an entirely different angle.
You have to start somewhere though, I guess, and I made mine on crisp, autumn night in the Woody Hayes Athletic Facility.
I’m no stranger to pressure, and I’ve had my fair share of sports memories. I’ve played in all-star games, was a captain on my high school football team the only year we ever made the Ohio state playoffs, was named the first scout player of the week in college and was a freshman at OSU in 2002 when the Bucks won the title, but none of that compares to those 45-minutes with Coach and Mrs. Tressel.
I’ve since gotten over the anxiety of talking to people I watch on TV or read about in the paper, but I’ve yet to meet anyone who showed as much class or treated a kid with as much respect as they did that night.
I was just some student who needed help in a class and they both made it happen.
Woody Hayes always said, you win with people, and I would have to say that that has never been more true at Ohio State than it is today.
My last question to Mrs. Tressel was what made her and the coach so down-to-earth. Why would they afford the time to some kid in the midst of a football season already deep into conference play?
“Our faith,” she answered.
That’s the story I should have done, I told myself. What I wouldn’t give for a do-over.
“Let me get this out of your way,” Tressel said as he picked up his notebooks. “Will this be alright here?”
“Yeah, whatever is convenient for you,” I shot back.
“Well, this will work, I’ll let you two get after it. I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”
So there I was, sitting in Tressel’s office with Mrs. Tressel. I tossed open my little notepad and got my list of ready-made questions out. I had no idea how I was going to do this. I had asked my mom for some suggestions, and the best she could come up with was, “I wonder what she likes to read.”
Thanks mom.
I proceeded the best I could; I tried to write down the answers she gave while still listening to her enough to know what question to ask next. It’s actually harder than you might think, especially when you don’t have a voice recorder -- a problem I fixed not long after.
Rookie mistake.
I bounced all over the place asking her what she did for fun, her relationship with the team and what she liked to read (it was worth a shot).
Forty-five minutes after I had arrived, I was sitting back in my truck. I drove home and began to piece together the article. I constructed what I thought to be a winner and went to bed.
That was almost a year ago and, as I look at my notes and the article today, I can’t help but laugh. Every question I managed to ask seemed to lend itself to an entirely different angle.
You have to start somewhere though, I guess, and I made mine on crisp, autumn night in the Woody Hayes Athletic Facility.
I’m no stranger to pressure, and I’ve had my fair share of sports memories. I’ve played in all-star games, was a captain on my high school football team the only year we ever made the Ohio state playoffs, was named the first scout player of the week in college and was a freshman at OSU in 2002 when the Bucks won the title, but none of that compares to those 45-minutes with Coach and Mrs. Tressel.
I’ve since gotten over the anxiety of talking to people I watch on TV or read about in the paper, but I’ve yet to meet anyone who showed as much class or treated a kid with as much respect as they did that night.
I was just some student who needed help in a class and they both made it happen.
Woody Hayes always said, you win with people, and I would have to say that that has never been more true at Ohio State than it is today.
My last question to Mrs. Tressel was what made her and the coach so down-to-earth. Why would they afford the time to some kid in the midst of a football season already deep into conference play?
“Our faith,” she answered.
That’s the story I should have done, I told myself. What I wouldn’t give for a do-over.