The Daily Grind

Mark My Words

Mark Snyder

When did the Daily take hold? To accurately assess the end of a journey, the beginning must be considered. Where did it start, how long did it take and what pitfalls emerged along the way. With these words, the conclusion draws ever closer. The last nightside came two months ago, the last article barely fit into this calendar year and finally, it's time to say goodbye.

Maybe it was the midsummer night when a window that opened a foot became just open enough.

I remember the first day as vividly as the last. With a friend in September 1995, the Daily opened its doors to a green reporter who yearned for something new. After three hours of poring through old copies of the Daily, the only certainty emerged from my tired hands - no news was good news.

Combining disdain for classwork with a penchant for laziness was hardly the path for an aggressive news reporter so I decided to leave the Daily - a career finished in one night.

On the way out of the building, the sports banter ensued and I was hooked.

Could it be the summer when delivering papers became a reason to wake up, Art Fair became an obstacle to overcome and excitement seized us daily?

Those who consider college a place to find oneself tapped my shoulder that fall evening and four years later, I'm streaking along, on to the next phase of an increasingly public life.

But I cannot assume the credit for being drawn to the profession. The Daily itself paved my path.

You've read in these pages recently that there are people who love to follow the journalism path, eager to explore the world through the stories of heroes while at the same time creating heroes from the stories. I'm the type they spoke about.

I love the life, have savored the experiences, soaked in the highs and lows with exuberance.

A possibility was when 12 college students used planes, trains and automobiles "just to be there" as fans, as freelancers, but mostly as friends.

The memories will remain vivid long after meaningless classes wash away.

Who gasped 10 feet from Diallo Johnson as his post route won the 1999 Citrus Bowl?

Who else stood with Red Berenson in his lockerroom 30 minutes after his second national title, watching him beam with victory?

Where were the masses when Robert Traylor - along with an assortment of relatives - used his high school press conference to leave Michigan hoops in shambles?

Those are the moments the Daily brought me.

But the Daily was about more than giving me a chance to bask in the shadows of other people's glory - it was about the daily rush, the witty banter and the lifelong friends.

It could be the fall when the three wise men made roots in Big Ten bars, enjoying the arguing well beyond last call. Or the Buckeye morning, when two passes became three for the toughest ticket in the country.

While I'll continue telling sports stories for years to come, tomorrow it becomes a job. Attending games becomes a note-taking class, digging for a scoop transforms into competition and hard work goes from high-fives to a boss' cold shoulder.

They say the money's bad, the hours stink and the travel is brutal on a social life. The change will bother me because the Daily was never a chore. It was always a place I wanted to stay forever, an interaction of creativity and passion, where I could give more than I had and love every minute.

It's hard to pinpoint the moment from four years that fueled my passion, but saying goodbye - as you can tell - is agonizingly difficult.

Though there's often a mocking tone directed at the Daily, because few outsiders understand. It's like any campus group - a fraternity/sorority, an athletic team, a multicultural club or MSA - that becomes an interlocking unit. The only difference is we're sharing everyone's stories.

Please don't try to imagine the hours expended because, regardless of what Dailyites tell you, they don't count.

Maybe it was a head-bobbing friend who taught me to live life and enjoy work because the next day is uncertain.

We come as a blank slate, seeking a place, watching the clock and wanting to leave.

We depart richer for the experience and better for the memories but, in the end, only time turns us away.

- This is Mark Snyder's final column for The Michigan Daily. He can be reached via e-mail at msnyder@umich.edu

04-15-99