Graduating from college is rife with tradition and festivities, as the senior class is ushered out and onto their next chapter in life.
It is also the time of the year when senior Daily Aztec editors are handed pink slips.
Card access to entrance doors is revoked, parking passes become invalid and cubicles and offices are cleaned out.
You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.
I’m kidding. We aren’t fired. But it is time to move on. And that’s a good thing. (Even if there is no severance package)
The Daily Aztec is, in essence, exactly what it offers: opportunity. An opportunity to be involved on campus, to report on your passion and to make connections with colleagues and peers. In the best of cases, to make a difference.
It is now the next generation’s turn to begin or even continue with that experience, that opportunity, while us graduates move on to whatever hopefully bright lights await.
So, with all that said, my time as the sports editor of this century-old newspaper is coming to an end. It’s been a long journey, and a lot of work.
I am and always have been truly humbled by the opportunity, and will be forever grateful that I was able to do what I loved, while learning and, hopefully, helping a few people along the way.
To be completely honest, getting to work on this paper is why I transferred to San Diego State in 2017.
I have had a lot of fun, covered a lot of exciting events and worked with a lot of great people who have helped me grow as both a writer and a person.
I was on the court for our men’s basketball team’s Mountain West title in Vegas in 2018, as well as on the field that same year when our baseball team took first place to win the conference championship.
I watched Rashaad Penny rush for over 2,000 yards and had insider and behind the scenes access to coaches and athletes.
Football head coach Rocky Long snapped at me. That’s a good thing, right?
In the sports section, I worked with a great team of staff writers and fellow editors, who shared the same enthusiasm for writing, sports and photography that sends us all careening toward a common goal of someday getting paid to watch sports.
It’s more than that, of course.
Growing up, I always had a great admiration for sports writers, but becoming one myself felt more like a fantasy than an actual possibility.
It sounded like too much fun. Work was supposed to be, well, work.
And, honestly, when you are faced with catching every moment, finding the story beneath the surface and remembering small details that would be easier to miss than a 100-mile-per-hour fastball, it kind of is.
But it’s still pretty damn cool.