If you’ve read this blog any length of time you’re probably aware that in addition to my real estate career I’m a free-lance writer for the Associated Press.
This summer will mark 24 years since I first walked into the offices of the Mesa Tribune; this fall will be the 22nd anniversary of my first byline – a thrilling tale of a football game between Safford and Gilbert at old Gilbert High School.
Real estate is my wife; sportswriting remains my mistress, the place I spend my evenings when I’m not at home. (A metaphor I’m sure my mother and wife will love.)
Yesterday – actually about two hours ago – I was working the Suns’ nationally televised game against the Dallas Mavericks. Ever want to know what an NBA game looks like from press row? Here you go …
That’s Tim Kempton on the left, the venerable Al McCoy on the right.
Anyway, one of the things with writing for the Associated Press is your story needs to be done as soon as the game’s over. So, as a writer, you cheat and try to write the story when it appears the outcome no longer is doubt. Which is fine, except teams seem to sense when the AP writer has the story done and they then screw things up.
Such as the Suns, who led for 40 seconds over the first three quarters, coming back from eight points down … something I didn’t realize was happening until I looked up from my screen in time to see Earl Clark sink a 26-footer for his first career 3-pointer.
Scramble, scramble, rewrite … and when all is said and done, the story still was done as the buzzer sounded (even if balky e-mail kept it from being sent as quickly.)
Maybe it’s this kind of experience which allows me to ride the inevitable waves and last minute hiccups that occur in any real estate transaction.
This isn’t to say that I haven’t thrown my share of press notes out the press box window. This spring my laptop didn’t exactly die of natural causes when the wireless went out (though it should have been able to handle my love tap much better than it did. Stupid wussy hard drive.) But in time, with few exceptions, you realize nothing is accomplished through overreaction.
Such lessons translate well to real estate, where part of my job description is to be the voice of reason in situations where reason seems to be on holiday. It’s in these instances that experience does make a difference … a novice writer isn’t going to be able to rewrite a story literally in five minutes and a novice real estate agent isn’t going to be able to find the solution needed quickly, blind dumb luck excepted.
Where are the rewards in all this? For the real estate side of me, it’s days like I had a couple of months back and will have again tomorrow where a client invites me into their new home to show me everything they’ve done since they purchased.
And for the sportswriter in me? It’s listening to ESPN Radio Sportscenter on the way home from downtown, after a 10-minute delay due to a stopped train sitting between me and the parking garage with my car, and hearing the update guy reading verbatim from the game notes I wrote at the end of my story.
No one really knows they’re mine other than me. But you know, knowing the job was well done often is enough.
And with that, kids, it’s 1:18 a.m. Time for bed.
[tags]Phoenix real estate[/tags]