COLLEGE ESSAY HERE:

What I want from a college education is what everyone wants: a future. But not just stability, a comfortable life, the proverbial white picket fence in Suburbia, America. I want my own future, the one that fits me as well as my favorite pair of ankle boots. The question that arises, of course, is what I have sketched my future to be.

For that, I have Minnesota to thank. It was their unenthusiastic support* for their first NHL team, the Minnesota NorthStars, which compelled the ex-owner Norm Green to move the hockey team to Dallas. I’m not chastising Minnesotans for not doling out major league cash to watch a sport that they’re already saturated with through high school, junior, and college leagues. It is thanks to them that a couple of years after their NorthStars dropped the ‘North’ and moved way below the Mason-Dixon line, I catapulted down the dark tunnel that is sports addiction. From 1996-1998, I was a fan. A very avid, appreciative, loud, and slightly off-kilter fan, mind you, but only a fan.

And then, it occurred to me suddenly. A full-contact, hard-hitting realization which I would call an epiphany, but I’m afraid of tainting the word.

I was lying in front of the television, or sitting at the computer; I’m not sure. I know it involved hockey, either watching it or reading about it. After a couple of years of completely immersing myself in the sport, I suddenly recognized that I could combine two of my greatest loves, hockey and writing, into my future. Sports journalism made sense. Why hadn’t I figured it out before?

After that moment, I began to watch ESPN more carefully. A natural exuberance convinced me that I could do what the SportsCenter anchors were being paid to do. I paid more attention to one-on-one interviews, looking for the unwritten rules between athlete and reporter. I read the newspapers and articles with a more critical eye, distinguishing between what I would do and what I wouldn’t do as a journalist. In reading magazine articles, my reaction would not be limited to the content, but also to the writing style. Watching games, I would be more attentive to strategy, plays, the line-up, and I took pride in every time a “professional” writer repeated my analysis or if my predictions came true. Why the quotes around professional? Well, because I soon came to the realization that every true sports fan has: professional writers indubitably know nothing. This is where I’d like to point out that I’ve had a love affair with the University of Michigan hockey team almost as long as I’ve been infatuated with hockey. 1996, NCAA champions? It’s one of my first pleasant hockey memories. But that’s not the reason why I would attend a university.

I want credibility.

Really, now. Have you taken me seriously while reading about my obsession with hockey? Excuse my cynicism on this topic, but after the years of derisive comments from male fans and guys who have written me off because they’ve assumed I knew nothing because I’m just “a chick”, I’m used to being on the defensive. Maybe it’s a southern thing, but usually whenever I answer “sports journalist” as my future profession, I get mental double-takes from people, if they’re able to control their surprise at all. Hello, Gloria Steinem, please take a step back and stand behind the large, strong, tall man in the black, satin top hat.

I have to confess, I do get an odd thrill out of breaking stereotypes. But I do not look forward to continuing a banal and unnecessary battle against the male ego for the rest of my life. That’s where credibility comes in. Theoretically, it should eliminate the constant questioning and mocking and general snide repertoire thrown at me.

(Did I mention how much I’m in love with your hockey team? Blake Sloan, an alum and ex-player for the Wolverines, used to play for the Dallas Stars. After a Stars practice last season, I asked him about his alma mater. I wish I could bottle the surprise on his face when he heard the words “How’s the campus?” come out of my mouth. “It’s awesome,” he responded enthusiastically. I guess he thought I would say something generic about his game. There’s just something about throwing people off that I enjoy...)

* i know im gonna get my ass kicked for that, so this is my disclaimer: "unenthusiastic" was the only word that worked well enough and i needed it to only be one word. im rather verbose, if you dont know already, and that essay barely fit on one page, even with margins warped. sorry if i offended anyone!