Six months later, the COVID pandemic hits and budgets are shot to death and no more soccer journalism once again. The editors and writers all move on. You have to, too. This keeps happening, on repeat, for several years. ChatGPT also comes online and entire roles are replaced by AI Bots. Nice! Thankfully your full time job away from journalism has sprouted a good career. You’re still heartsick that all this time you wanted to be a full time journalist, though. You make peace with what you’ve been able to accomplish through persistence and dedication. You start to put soccer reporting in a box and thank it for the memories made and skills gained.  Then one day you realize your CEO is a piece of shit who treats you like a 1960s secretary on Mad Men. You quit your job on the spot. You look for something, ANYTHING, to help pay the bills in New York City. Fortunately, you still have people in your corner. Amazing friends you made in the press box. Caring PR people and editors who pass your name along. And before you know it, whilst not having a full time salary, your byline appears in the Boston Herald. You’re now on TV for Boston 25. A new team of people believes in you and gives you mentorship and a platform. Suddenly, you’re picking up a press credential to cover the FIFA World Cup in your own city. You have no idea how soul destroying it is to dedicate yourself to something, to be told never take no for an answer, to continue to be persistent, and yet have door after door slammed in your face and people in positions of power stonewall you. Yet, I would not change ANY of it. None of this matters, because at the end of the day, if you’re a passionate writer who WORKS HARD, who always raises his hand, who tries to keep the door open for the people behind him, not only will the opportunities find you, but you will have gained far more than a byline, TV time, or World Cup access. I am grateful and truly blessed. Thank you to all the readers, journalism teachers, family, editors, mentors, coaches, and professional colleagues that believed in me and opened the skylight a little more each time. The struggle has been real. But thanks to you, I’m flying.