SAMPLES: Roots Run Deep in Western Washington County

family moved again when I was 13, this time to a town just outside of Dallas, Texas. I can remember my mother and father asking my brother and me, “Would you boys be OK if we moved to Dallas?” All I could muster was, “You mean where the Cowboys play?!” I believe we were entirely moved-in within a week.

I was fortunate to enjoy baseball and basketball throughout middle school and high school. Texas became home, and I followed my high school girlfriend to A&M. I endured the worst four years of football in the school’s history, learned more outside of class than in it, and discovered a passion for the sports industry working for the athletic department. I worked alongside technical directors, operated HD video cameras, and learned the ins-and-outs of live sports production. The pen-and-pad would always beckon, though, as would the vibrant, fall leaves of Arkansas.

I suppose I always knew in the back of my mind that I would find a way home, to northwest Arkansas. While the gumption and boldness of Texas displayed its attractiveness, my person-hood has always felt more at home here. I don’t know if it is the fact that y’all actually get to enjoy seasons, or if it’s the pork chops and chocolate pie my Grandmother Yvonne makes, but I like it here. I enjoy being home.

I look forward to getting to know many of you over the coming weeks, months, and years. I hope to spend a lot of time alongside you in these same gymnasiums where my mother, father, aunts and uncles spent so much of their childhood. And outside of one weekend a year during football season, I certainly plan to don your red and white and pull for the same Razorbacks you do. Thanks, Woo Pig Sooie, and Gig ’Em.