I’ve found that oftentimes, sports are more poetic than not.

OK, I know what you’re thinking — that statement is melodramatic, borderline outlandishly so. And you’d probably be right. Come to think of it, there are plenty of times when sports fall into dull, lifeless monotony.

But I’ll choose to believe that sports are like poetry because when they are, those are the moments that you remember. Those moments when time loops back into itself, when the perfect symmetry or asymmetry of an event captures you, that’s when the real magic of sports reveals itself.

I’ll give an example, since I’m speaking in complete gibberish. The first Texas football game I attended was my freshman year when the Longhorns took a crushing blow at the hands of the mighty Maryland Terrapins (the first of two). The last Texas football game I attended as a student was the absolutely gut-wrenching loss to Iowa State last Saturday. 

Beautiful, right? 

I’ve found that everyday life frequently gives way to moments like these if you’re paying close enough attention (which I often am not). Over the last four years, The Daily Texan has given me countless moments in time that I cherish dearly.

Alex and Ross, you guys gave me a chance at this paper, for which I’m forever grateful. More than that, y’all were the first ones to make me feel welcome down in the basement, for which I’m even more grateful. You guys are all right.

Donnavan, I’m thankful for the time that we spent together in the office. I’ll miss the conspiracy theories and the random arguments about how the mecca of basketball is in Brooklyn (it’s true). Daniela, you were a joy to work with and be around, and you always pushed me to be better. Stephen, you’re one of the hardest workers I’ve ever met. I’m going to miss you guys dearly, but I know we’ll always be able to bond over roasting Donnie for being a Knicks fan.

Myah, you’ve been an absolute joy to work with, and watching you grow as a reporter (and as a good friend of mine) has been one of the true joys of working here. Sami and Brittany, never forget summer 2020. It wouldn’t have been the same without you guys. Leading a remote newsroom was a hell of a challenge, but I learned a lot because of y’all.

To so many others in the sports department and otherwise, there’s too many of y’all to mention, and I don’t have space because I’ve overwritten everything I’ve ever written. But I’m thankful for each person I met in the basement.

Mom, thanks for actually reading my stories (and telling me when I made a mistake). Dad, thanks for being an outlet for my rants about Texas football. Thanks to both of y’all for pushing me to pursue my dreams.

The end here seems anything but poetic. I’m sitting at my desk, alone, in my house a couple miles away from the basement and all the people I’ve worked with. But maybe the poetry in all this is that being away makes me cherish those times in the office even more.

Nah, you’re right. I’m just being dramatic.