Writing potential career path at 12
The e-mail popped into my inbox like thousands of others. The subject line read: “New Sports Writer.”
The tagline made me leery. We get a lot of queries from people who want into the sportswriting business. “I’ve always loved the Giants and thought I’d be a great columnist for you.” Or, “You people are idiots. I could do a better job than any of you.” That sort of thing is pretty common.
But I clicked on the message anyway, against my better judgment. What came up on my screen that day in May turned out to be my favorite e-mail of the year. I thought I’d share it here, with The Sporting Green faithful, as a holiday gesture.
Here’s what the note said: Hello! My name is Jack Kelley, I am 12 years old, I love sports, and I love to write. I was wondering if it was possible for me to write for the San Francisco Chronicle. I am a big fan, (both of the Chronicle and about San Francisco sports teams) and I want to take my sports writing to the next level. (My blog is jackstake.weebly.com.) I wouldn’t need to be paid. I think I have an
interesting point of view because I am younger than most bloggers and can connect to a younger reader.
Thanks, Jack Kelley
A smile crossed my lips and I thought back to sixth grade, the year I started in this business of ink-stained wretchedness. Way back then, at Glenbrook Elementary in the suburbs of Cleveland, this sports editor launched into his first publishing endeavor. I called it the “President’s Journal,” and I chronicled the happenings of my fellow sixth-graders — on the sports field, on the stage, in the classroom and beyond.
Yes, I was that geek. My father had gotten me hooked on reading Mike Royko’s syndicated columns from Chicago, in the old Cleveland Press, and that’s what I wanted to do. Write for a living. Tell people how it is. Thirty-some odd years later, that’s kind of where I ended up. I’m no Royko, but I’m in the game. And it all started when I was 12. Just like Jack Kelley.
I printed out the kid’s letter, thinking my fellow crusty editors in the morning meeting would get a kick out of it. Sure enough, there were chuckles all around.
“You should get him to pick games on Sunday, Al.” “Get that kid a blog!” I thought that might be the end of it, but I couldn’t leave young Jack hanging. I owed him a note. So I clicked on his blog first, and was pleasantly surprised. Some grammar issues needed to be resolved, but the kid had a voice. And an opinion.
In his “Draft Assesment: 49ers,” Kelley had this to say: “With the 30th pick in the NFL Draft the 49ers selected safety Jimmy Ward from Northern Illinois University. I think this pick will be good for the Niners, who are in need of a good DB, after losing Donte Whitner last year. Ward is a bigger hitter and a playmaker that will fit in perfectly with the 49ers defense. Coach Harbaugh has already talked about playing Ward in the nickel, and on Social Media, Ward is being compared to Seattle Seahawk safety Earl Thomas.”
Pretty good analysis for a grade schooler. I would know. And let’s just say, my sixth-grade insight didn’t include what they were saying on social media. (Ward had a spotty first season, in hindsight, but Jack will learn that all sportswriters specialize in being wrong in public.)
I sent Jack a note thanking him for his interest, asking him to connect me with his parents at some point. Maybe he could come by the paper sometime and take a tour. As I put it back in May: “Thanks for making my day, Jack. I started a newspaper when I was 12. You remind me of me.”
The youngster responded quickly, informing me that he actually lives in Oregon, but that he reads all our stuff online. His dad traveled down to the Bay Area every once in awhile, so maybe he’d tag along on one of his father’s business trips. I thanked him again for the interest, and figured that would be it.
Until young Jack showed up at my office. True to his word, the young writer talked his dad into taking him on a trip to San Francisco in November. Tom Kelley e-mailed me and asked if it would be OK to drop Jack off for a couple of hours while he attended a meeting downtown. Sure. Why not? And that’s how Jack and I ended up sitting in that very same meeting room, with those very same crusty old editors, talking the days news with a 12-year-old kid who dreams of someday writing for a living.
Afterward, I gave Jack some advice. (“Don’t write for free, kid....”) Then we went out for some pizza. (“Don’t eat too much pizza, kid...”) And then we sat down for an interview. Him interviewing me.
After about 20 minutes of grilling, ranging in topics from my favorite authors to my leastfavorite sports, Jack folded up his notebook and announced he was done.
I asked him why he liked to write. “I started writing in third grade, because my third-grade teacher, Miss Lois, encouraged us to write.” (Huzzah, Miss Lois!)
I asked him what he thought of the 49ers leaving town. “I’m actually a little disappointed in that. I thought it was cool being in the city. That’s where all the real fans are. I think it’ll be more businesspeople down there.” (Exactly.)
The Warriors? “I was really surprised they fired Mark Jackson. That was one of the best seasons they had. But the new guy will do a good job.” (Steve Kerr seems to be doing just fine.)
And what about Colin Kaepernick? “I don’t know if he’s a franchise quarterback. He’s got to run less and get more accurate with his passes.” (Spot on, Jack.)
Four-for-four in my book. Maybe this business isn’t so hard.
Jack’s dad came by to pick him up and off they went, back to Oregon. Dad to his job. Jack to his blog.
If you’re wondering where this is all heading, I’m guessing you’ll be a little disappointed. I didn’t hire Jack to be The Chronicle’s Huck Finn columnist. Jack didn’t go on to pick 20 straight NFL games. There is no book deal or TV reality show.
What we have here is a young kid, ginger hair and great smile, who loves sports and loves to write. Here’s hoping he maintains that passion, whether as a journalist or not. Writing is becoming a lost art in a world dominated by 140 characters and disappearing photos.
Happy holidays, Jack Kelley. Keep on writing. You never know where it might lead you.