By Robert Lipsyte
An established activities columnist for the recent York occasions interweaves tales from his existence and the occasions he coated to discover the relationships among the video games we play and the lives we lead starting to be up, Robert Lipsyte used to be the smart-aleck fats child, the bully magnet who went to the library rather than the ballpark. because the perpetual outsider, even into maturity, Lipsyte's alienation from Jock tradition made him a rarity within the press field: the sportswriter who wasn't a activities fan. this sense of otherness has coloured Lipsyte's activities writing for 50 years, a lot of it spent as a columnist for the recent York instances. He did not persist with specific athletes or groups; he wasn't awed by means of the entry afforded by means of his press cross or his familiarity with the gamers within the locker room. among bouts on the instances, he introduced a winning occupation writing younger grownup fiction, frequently approximately activities. The event and perception he earned over a part century infuse An unintended Sportswriter. Going past the standard memoir, Lipsyte has written "a reminiscence loop, a round look for misplaced or forgotten items within the puzzle of a life." In telling his personal tale, he grapples with American activities and society—from Mickey Mantle to invoice Simmons—arguing that Jock tradition has seeped into our enterprise, politics, and kinfolk lifestyles, and its definitions became the normal to degree worth. jam-packed with knowledge and an knowing of yankee activities that contextualizes instead of celebrates athletes, An unintended Sportswriter is the crowning fulfillment of a wealthy profession and a booklet that may converse to us for years yet to come.
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Additional info for An Accidental Sportswriter
I had sent a dorm deposit. Once out there, I would fulfill my destiny as a novelist, either starving on the beach because my fiction was too avant-garde or luxuriating by the side of my pool because I had sold out. Both scenarios involved dangerous women. I was an English major. But I needed a summer job to raise cash for the trip. When the water truck job fell through—it was canceled, I think, for lack of funding—I bought my first copy of The New York Times. I’d heard the paper had good classified ads and quickly found one for “editorial assistant” at the Times itself.
Slim, handsome, friendly, impeccably be-suited by his New Jersey tailor father, Gay had been a Times copyboy after the University of Alabama (the only college he could get into and then with strings pulled by one of his father’s customers). He had returned from the army to be a reporter in sports. ” New Jersey? Alabama? Despite a hierarchy of southern-born editors and City College (or no-college) reporters, the Times considered itself an Ivy League paper. Gay often pulled night rewrite, and in those quiet hours he would expound: find a character through which to tell your tale with anecdotes, revealing quotes, and detail.
It will work out, somehow. Doggedness was the first of many lessons I learned as I began, accidentally, my career. I’m sure I would have learned many of them as a doctor (in my mother’s dreams) or as a college professor (my dad’s). Mine came from a lifetime ducking into and out of locker rooms chasing Muhammad Ali, Mickey Mantle, Billie Jean King, myself, and, ultimately, my dad. In the protective environment of the Times, in those days more powerful than most of the sports organizations the Times covered, I got the chance to develop a distinctive voice that has drawn supportive fans and furious critics.