Mitch Stephens: New stories, old lessons, judgment days at SBLive Sports

One prep writer starts his 39th year at a new job recalling his first Friday Night Lights story that still resonates today.

Some stories are worth repeating – especially toward the end of a long road, or even at the start of a new journey.

I started this high school sports writing gig the same year LeBron James was born in 1984. From the get-go, the stories have been rich even though the settings and playing fields were largely humble.

My first Friday football lights assignment for the Contra Costa Times (Walnut Creek, Calif.) featured a pair of struggling programs that had mustered only a couple combined wins the season before.

Only a few hundred were in attendance.

I didn’t care this was no premier matchup. I just yearned for competition, to display my new craft and beat a deadline. When the home squad was getting crushed at halftime, this seemed like an easy one to write up.

But then the home coach inserted a gifted running back who completely turned the game around. He ran with speed and grace, power and determination, turning a once listless squad, sideline and student body into a raucous, energized, inspired bunch.

His effort and athleticism inspired me also. I couldn’t wait to report on his 100-yard-plus, three-touchdown performance or describe how he avoided one tackler after another or how he was all but carried off the field in a comeback victory.

However everything changed — at least for me internally — when the game’s hero took off his helmet for a postgame interview.

With a fresh scar above his right eye and a chipped tooth, he resembled more of a boxing veteran than a teen idol. He barely looked up answering questions and spoke with little to no emotion. His words were muffled and mumbled.

I pieced together a couple of quotes when a man wearing a soiled mechanic’s uniform walked up with a 3-year-old in one hand and a paper bag in the other. He stank of alcohol.

“That boys (sic) of mine can really run can’t he?“ he slurred. “I used to run that way too.”

The man broke into an unintelligible, profane-laced deluge of his own glory days, all while his son’s head sunk below his own shoulders.

I had a deadline to meet, so I excused myself, patted the kid’s shoulder pads and sprinted to the car to formulate the game plan for the game story, inverted pyramid style: Start with what’s most important on top followed by lesser important game details and facts.

That’s what you learn in college. It’s called news judgment.

Before the interview, the lede was crystal clear: “Substitute running back rescues home team with gallant second-half performance.”

But was that really the most important thing I witnessed that night? Wasn’t it more: “Battle-scarred teen rises above hellish upbringing to star on the football field.”

I remember the short drive to the office that night, struggling between my sporting assignment and this kid’s truth. With about 20 minutes to write, I finished off a 14-inch story and went home with a heavy heart.

The following day, I picked up the paper and read about how a kid’s storybook effort led to a storybook victory. It described the running back’s skill and speed and determination.

At that moment I felt great satisfaction. Not because of the writing itself, but because for as long as it took the game’s hero to read the story over and over again, he could escape the reality of his life.

Much like he escaped tackles the very night before.

Thirty-eight years later, lessons from that night still hold true for me today.

• No matter the records, the seemingly insignificance of a game or assignment, a truly memorable occurrence is a play, click or interview away.

• The human, big-picture approach is always the best one.
• High school sports is a gold mine for very human stories.

This is my first official day on “the job” at SBLive Sports, a place I hope to tell more human tales and call my final frontier on the prep sports beat.

It’s a place completely dedicated to telling stories both large and small in all pockets of the country, by completely dedicated journalists, young and experienced, alike. Skilled and passionate, alike.

All through words, photos and video.

My job title currently is senior editor with an emphasis in California, a place I was born and raised. I’ve been fortunate enough to cover the high school sports scene nationally as well.

From coast to coast, the story landscape is wide and fertile and we need your help to unearth it all.

Please contact us with any interesting, inspiring human interest story, whether it be a longtime under-appreciated coach, an amazing play, a funny anecdote, a remarkable comeback, a rising recruit or an everyday athlete who has overcome long odds — on the field or off.

Contact Mitch Stephens at mitch@scorebooklive.com