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My life as a female sportswriter

Contributed by: Erin Di Paolo on 9/14/2006

Years ago, I was a sportswriter. Well, actually, I still am.

At least I think so.

But I am not just any sportswriter, I am a female sportswriter. Nowadays, it really is not that big of a deal, but then? Oh, it was. In my role, years ago, I encountered many challenges. Some good, some not so good. I was young at the time, somewhat naive and a little foolish.

If I had known then what I know now, things would have been different. Of course, isn't that what they all say?

How would things have been different? I would have stuck up for myself, for one thing. It was rare, in those days, to see a woman covering professional sporting events. It was also uncommon for me to cover them, as I mostly wrote about high school sports.

Please keep in mind that when I use the term "woman," I use it loosely, as I was only 21 years old at the time. I was still just a girl, dressed up in a woman's clothing. But I could write and I knew sports, particularly football. That is all that should have mattered. If only it were...

I remember one episode as if it were yesterday. I was covering the Denver Broncos, along with my editor, Jim, at the team's training camp. We stood on the sidelines, Jim and I, watching and taking notes, just like every other member of the media.

Suddenly I noticed a player running out of bounds, headed straight for me. Of course, I bolted out of the way, just like everyone else in the player's path did. As I moved, I let out what I remember to be a little scream.

Not so out of line, considering I was 5'4" and maybe 105 pounds. My mama didn't raise a fool, after all. Following the drama, I looked and saw a man, a fellow journalist, mimicking me and laughing. All I could do was shake my head. What was I supposed to do, let a 250-pound running back demolish my scraggly body? I think not.

A week or so later, I was sitting in the press box at a Broncos pre-season game, frantically keeping track of each play in my notebook. How I wanted to do such a good job. This was, after all, ahuge event for me and, my editor, out of the kindness of his editor heart, allowed me to actuallycover a Broncos game. Wow! The gods were definitely smiling on me.

Anyway, keeping a running record helps a sportswriter go back and look for important plays that may possibly make or break a game - or at the very least, provide an interesting lead for the story.

As I was scribbling notes, the same man that had made disparaging comments toward me at training camp was now back at it. He glanced at Jim, winked, and said, "What is she doing? Making her grocery list?"

I was horrified and it must have showed. Jim, quite familiar with my strong-willed personality, seeing the burning displeasure on my face, whispered, "Don't respond, Erin. Cool down." I did as he said, but the experience left me angry, confused, and disappointed. It also made me question my ability.

Afterwards, Jim and I joked about the situation and consoled ourselves with the fact that this man was a joke himself. He was also a thorn in my proverbial side. But no jokes could take away the pain and shame I felt. Even thinking about it today makes me disheartened.

I can say, with great joy, that justice did come, though it was not as swift as I would have liked. Years later, I heard that this man was "let go" by the media outlet he had worked for for many years.

I heard a rumor that he was replaced by - you guessed it - a woman. Do I dare say it served him right? Of course, who knows if the rumor was true or not? Even so, I took great relish in the thought of it.

Even though I had issues with this man, a man IN the field, I also had issues with men ON the field. As I used the term woman loosely earlier, I now use the term men loosely here. I was covering a college football game and told my editor that I wanted to be a real reporter and, like everyone else, enter the locker room for interviews.

Not because I wanted a cheap thrill, but because I wanted to be treated like everyone else. Jim replied and said it was fine, but we would need to let the sports information director and others know that a woman would be entering the locker room. I said great. It was anything but (no pun intended).

As soon as I entered the locker room, I heard various voices questioning why I was there, cursing, and calling me names. This is not what I had signed up for.

I never, in a million years, expected this kind of reaction, especially from stud football players who I believed were used to revealing their naked bodies to assorted women. At least that's what I experienced during my college years! I guess it's different when someone else initiates it; they were apparently not used to that.

I remember walking in, fearful, making sure my head was at face level, feeling proud of myself. After their remarks and name-calling, I felt dejected and humiliated. Trying to hold back the tears, but being quite unsuccessful, I told Jim that I wanted to leave and I exited the locker room as quickly as I could, hopes dashed.

When I decided to become a sportswriter, I did so for multiple reasons. First, I had a love for writing. I always had, for as long as I could remember. It seemed the only way I could effectively express myself.

Secondly, I had a love for sports, particularly football. I dreamed of covering the Dallas Cowboys exclusively, as they were America's Team at the time. Additionally, I felt that, in some small way, I could make a difference with my writing. I still, to this day, believe this.

Somehow, someday, maybe I would stumble onto the perfect story that would make an impact. In over four years of writing, I did experience these things. I did have successes. But I also had failures. Unfortunately, the majority of my failures had nothing to do with what I wrote or what I did, but for who I was. To me, that is a travesty.

After years of taking some time off to raise a family, I am a writer again, pursuing the perfect story. Would I like to cover sports again? I would consider it a great joy. In fact, several weeks ago I was able to cover the Grand Prix of Denver. It was a thrill for me; I felt redeemed, to a small degree.

But, to be honest, some of the intimidation I felt so many years ago crept its way back into my psyche, making it difficult to see myself equal to the men in my midst.

Even so, I am now older and, I'd like to think, wiser. Things have progressed a great deal in our society, so I think the experiences I just described are no longer the norm. At least I would like to believe so. At any rate, I know I have changed, I have grown up. I would handle the situations much more differently now than I did then.

As a woman, I may never understand completely what it means to suit up for a football game or make a jump shot. I cannot comprehend what it feels like to hit a home run. I have never played sports.

Men who have participated in the games that have brought millions of fans to their knees have made unique contributions to history. I acknowledge that, I applaud them. But I, as a woman, have made contributions as well. It's true, I have a different way of looking at the world and reporting about it. Not better, not worse, just different.

All I ask is that I be treated with the honor and dignity I deserve for simply being a human being...who just happens to be a woman.




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Showing 1 of 1 comments
Submitted By: Brendan Leonard
posted on 9/15/2006 @ 10:44:59 AM
Rated Story
Justice is served! Great story, Erin.
[Report as objectionable]
Showing 1 of 1 comments
CONTRIBUTOR INFORMATION

Erin Di Paolo

Denver , CO

Erin Di Paolo has posted 61 stories and 6 comments since joining on 3/18/2006. Erin Di Paolo 's average story rating is 4.81.
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