Okay, let’s address the elephant in the room. Things around here have been fairly quiet. There are reasons behind it, including the fact that I got sick over the weekend before Christmas. I picked up a cold from one of the kids (and subsequently shared it across state lines) that totally kicked my butt. I got it the worst out of everyone, and it probably took a good nine days before I was even close to being back to 100%.

Motivation and inspiration have been lacking, to put it mildly.

Plus, with the holidays, some planned travel to see family (which included the conscious decision to leave the laptop at home completely), and time off all mixed into the last few weeks of 2025, it seemed like a reasonable time to take a break.

But, to top things off, I’ve been fighting a major case of imposter syndrome lately.

Well, “lately” might not be accurate. It’s been going on for quite some time now, I think.

And while I’m fairly sure there are several factors contributing to things, there’s no easy way to push through it.

Professionally speaking, things have just felt …. inadequate, for lack of a better word. It’s not that I’m unsatisfied or unfulfilled, necessarily. Or unhappy.

But something isn’t right.

And I’m not quite sure how to fix it.

In fact, I’m kind of unsure where to begin.

So, let’s try to write our way through it. That’s always worked so well in the past.

It seems prudent (or just easy?) to start with the obvious.

The current state of the sports media industry isn’t helping things. An already highly competitive industry has become even more cutthroat since we lost almost a full year of live sports in 2020. It wasn’t just the sports teams and leagues that lost a boatload of money that year.

Nearly every media outlet — regardless of how big they are or how long they’ve been around — struggled. You wouldn’t be crazy to think that sounds a little backwards in some ways; without live sports to watch, wouldn’t that drive more people to read/talk about them online to fill that void? That thinking held up for a few months, but it didn’t last.

And most outlets haven’t recovered since, despite what some might want others to believe. Internet traffic just isn’t there like it used to be, especially with the constant changes to Google’s algorithms, the insidious increase in AI summaries keeping people from actually reading content (again, thanks Google), and people’s increasingly shrinking attention spans (this is why the “pivot to video” was ever a thing, just look at how stupidly popular/addicting Instagram reels and TikTok are).

Layoffs became commonplace across the industry while operating budgets were being cut. The impact has been widespread. I met that fate myself when the calendar turned to 2023 (I literally received the news at 8:01 AM EST on the first Monday of the new year; a callous, five-minute “discussion” that failed to answer any questions and left my former boss unable to look me in the eye). A year unemployed kicked my ass mentally and emotionally before another opportunity came along.

But another opportunity did come along for me. And for a second time in my career, I was able to turn an independent contractor opportunity into a full-time position in this industry.

The truth is, I am fortunate. I am lucky and grateful for the opportunities I’ve been able to come by. There aren’t many FT roles in this industry available to begin with, which only fuels how competitive these opportunities can be. And after 16 years in the industry, I’m still kicking around and fighting to stay.

16 years. You’d think that would be long enough to feel like I belong here, wouldn’t it? Yet, there’s that imposter syndrome again.

Everything focused on creating content when I first got started. It’s actually kind of wild to think back to a time when aiming for one 300 to 500-word post a day felt like a challenge (well, maybe not a challenge, but certainly not as easy a goal as I now realize it is). I don’t think I was naive, necessarily, but I definitely didn’t have the confidence in my abilities then that I do now.

Some of that is normal. I’ve learned an enormous amount over the last decade and a half. That’s not just hyperbole. It’s been necessary. You don’t survive in an industry like this without being able to learn, grow, and adapt.

Things are changing and constantly evolving.

The biggest change, at least for me, has been in my day-to-day. Creating content isn’t the crux of what I’m supposed to be spending my time doing. My job — the bulk of my career, really — has focused far more on talent acquisition; i.e., finding others to create content (and subsequently helping guide their career growth in many cases).

I’ve always known why the transition happened. In some ways, it may have been inevitable. As much as I’m a writer at heart, I’ve always known that there are many, many, many others out there who are better — better writers, yes, but also more creative with ideas, more aggressive about taking chances, stronger at self-promotion, more suited for live access at events …. I could go on.

But beyond the self-loathing angle, I’ve always understood that my career transition wasn’t punitive because I wasn’t good enough. It was a necessity.

Allow me a moment to dig into that part some more.

I spent more than a decade working in the retail industry, mainly in store management positions with a focus on the personnel/HR side of the business. It was exhausting work at times, both between the unsufferable hours and just having to deal with the general public (if you know me, you know that my serious social anxiety issues didn’t help here). When the opportunity came to ditch the retail world, I leapt and never thought twice about it.

I’d started writing a little on my own during this time, mostly as a means to decompress and destress. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I was scratching the surface of a career path. Eventually, I got to know some other bloggers and further introductions brought new people into the circle. One of those new friends happened to be helping out at a growing network and he pointed me to my first paid contributor opportunity. It was a matter of months before I was replacing him in his role leading the network’s MLB sites.

The first part of my sports media career came at what could only be called a startup. We were small, but hellbent on growing aggressively. And the plan was working. Outside of the two brothers who had founded the network and the tech guy they had brought on as a partner, I was literally the fourth full-time hire the company had made. Adam, Zach, Matt, Patrick, Michael, Josh, and I. The seven of us made one hell of a team. (The way they all abandoned me after I was laid off still stings.)

And many more would soon join us.

With all that pending growth — especially as we were bringing on countless contractors across the network of sites to create content — my path to a career was clear. My people management and HR background proved invaluable (especially once we needed someone willing to be the bad guy when a contractor had to be dismissed). You could say I carved out my own career, but you could also say I fell into my opportunity. Part destiny, part accident.

All these years later, even now with a different outlet completely, finding eager writers is still the heart of my job.

It’s no secret I hate how things ended at my old outlet. Maybe I should be completely over it by now, but I’m not. It serves no purpose to hang onto any resentment, but there it is.

We accomplished a lot during the decade-plus I was there. There was a lot to be proud of. We built a network of nearly 300 active fan communities, fueled by content contributions from almost 2,000 independent contractors and nearly 100 full-time employees. Before long, the company was acquired, and I had the opportunity to play a vital role in that transition.

I was damn proud of the work we had done and what we had built.

Sure, that corporate acquisition didn’t prove to be a good thing in the long run. We didn’t get the support we deserved (or needed or were promised). It wasn’t long before we found ourselves in limbo, facing another sale to a different corporate parent who also talked a bigger game than they were prepared to deliver. Corporate overlords aren’t always a positive, especially when revenues take priority over basic decency.

Allegedly, the decision to eliminate my position (as well as several others at the time) was financially motivated. The network’s corporate parent never provided any explanation, other than the nonsensical excuse my former boss tried to give me at the time he delivered news of my layoff. It wasn’t easy to accept, especially when I felt like we had so much more to build there. The job felt unfinished, and I wasn’t ready to walk away from it. That decision wasn’t mine to make anymore.

Despite those speed bumps, it’s actually hard to ignore how fortunate I’ve been. I didn’t see this career path coming.

I always wished that I had.

I didn’t go to journalism school. I don’t even think I took a single journo-related class. One of many, many mistakes (things I’d do differently, at least, if not “mistakes”) made during my collegiate career.

Yet, that really hasn’t kept me from a career that I generally enjoy in an industry that I’m still sometimes amazed I get to call my profession.

There’s no reason I should be fighting imposter syndrome, but here I am. And I can only wonder if it stems from still feeling like a writer at heart. That part of my career hasn’t reached the goals I hoped for. Could those unfulfilled goals still linger somewhere in my subconscious more strongly than I’ve been willing to accept? Perhaps.

But shouldn’t that serve as fuel to work harder rather than an impediment?

I’m realistic enough to acknowledge that my career path isn’t leading towards those goals being accomplished. It’s just not the direction I’ve found myself following. And, if I’m being honest with myself, there are reasons to think it’s not the path I’m meant to be on.

I’ve always thought of myself as a writer, not a reporter. It may be semantics to most, but there is a distinction. I can cover a story, understand all the angles, and dig into the research without hesitation, but being the guy physically on site talking to people and asking questions is where my comfort zone disappears. My inquisitive nature is more methodical than in the moment. I just don’t have the social gear in me to develop sources or to be a “trusted insider” who is going to break big stories or news. That’s just not me.

It likely means the biggest goal of my writing career — earning my BBWAA card — will remain out of reach.

It’s a weird thing to accept, when I don’t necessarily need the access it would afford me.

I’ve watched peers reach this goal. In fact, it’s practically become an annual thing to see others I have “grown up in the industry with” get to this point. And I’m jealous every year.

I shouldn’t be, but I am. Maybe that eats at me more than I’d like it to, too.

2026 is here. Every year starts with optimism. I don’t know what that means, necessarily, for the year ahead, but I want to lean into it.

So, here’s to big things this year …. whatever that ends up meaning.