Where do I begin?

Tony Altobelli

Well, here I am, writing the column I never wanted to write.

After over two years and 1,000 stories, yours truly is calling it

quits from the Daily Pilot. The Mrs. and I heading to Texas.

Looking at the mountain of memories on my desk, it’s amazing looking

back on what this paper has meant to me, not only as a writer, but as a

kid growing up in Newport Beach.

I still have my first-ever athletic picture from the Pilot, circa

1978. I was a Toughskins-wearin, afro-hairin’ Walter Payton wannabe

playin’ 7-year-old, playing in the city of Newport Beach flag football

league at Mariners Elementary. All right, I was 20 yards behind the play,

but with the afro, it’s still easy to point me out.

From there, I became a household name (in my house anyway) thanks to

the Daily Pilot coverage while on the Newport Harbor High baseball team.

The Daily Pilot was much different at that stage of the game. The sports

department covered all the Orange County schools, so for the 5-45 Sailors

(both varsity years combined), front-page highlights came few and far

between. But it was still nice getting those seventh-paragraph

references, after the winning team, of course.

My biggest moment, however, came as a sophomore in college, writing

for the Orange Coast College Coast Report. As the baseball Sports

Information Director for UC Irvine, I was there when the school axed the

baseball team in 1992 and my professor, former Daily Pilot great and

all-around great guy, the late Tom Murphine, suggested that I write a

story for the paper he affectionately called in a raspy voice under a

cloud of pipe smoke, “The Daily Poop.”

Seeing my byline under a story in a “real” newspaper was truly

exciting and it was at that point I decided to become a big-time sports

writer.

After paying my dues at the L.A. Times Orange County newspaper as a

stringer, I took a three-year hiatus away from the journalism world

before I was back in the fray here at the Pilot.

When Sports Editor Roger Carlson said to me during my interview,

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep you busy,” he wasn’t kidding.

It’s been a nonstop, multi-taskin’, multi-story, headache-inducing,

ulcer-building bullet train of a ride for the two-plus years I was here

and you know what? I wouldn’t have had it any other way. If I didn’t love

what I do so much, I might actually think this was work or something.

Two games a day, a mountain of youth faxes, 15 phone calls a day with

scores ... all in a day’s work.

Fortunately, Murphine had prepared me for the real-life newspaper

world, while at OCC when I spent countless hours gluing, pasting, copy

editing and even delivering newspapers. I spent 70 hours a week at that

place (as my less-then Princeton-like grade point average would attest)

and I loved it.

As far as the Pilot goes, limiting our coverage to just the

Newport-Mesa schools really made this paper something special and the

longtime sports guys constantly pointed out to me just how important it

was to perform at a top level every day.

I’ve also been fortunate enough to meet some of the nicest people on

the planet. From fellow sports dude Steve Virgen, to co-workers in other

departments here at the Pilot. My E-mail list is growing by the minute.

In terms of covering the athletes, hats off to the parents of all

these gifted athletes. You raised them well. Except for Amber Steen,

whose reputation as a cheater in cribbage followed her all the way to the

University of Arizona. But seriously ...

I was able to interview players named Hatfield and McCoy and avoided

any conflicts. From Aaron Peirsol to Zoila Gomez, the thousands of people

I’ve come in contact with were all cherished memories I take with me to

Texas.

I also was fortunate enough to chat with an Olympic silver medalists,

CIF and state champions, NBA Hall of Famers, Major League Baseball

greats, Senior PGA golfers and various world champions of all shapes and

sizes. Thanks for being great champions, both on and off the playing

fields.

I also was able to say goodbye to a couple of local fixtures who were

taken too early, Estancia High baseball coach Paul Troxel and Newport

Harbor High football star Andre Stewart. Both of you will never be

forgotten.

From day one, the 99% of all the coaches from all four schools really

made me feel comfortable and for that, I am truly grateful. Those other

1%, and you know who you are, don’t wait by the mailbox for an invitation

to my going-away party.

A tip for you young writers out there from a “grizzled” reporter. I

learned that coaches are people, too, and when treated as human beings

instead of quote machines, it really makes a coach/reporter relationship

work that much better. Have fun with your job. We’re not curing cancer,

we’re covering sports.

Speaking of the grizzled veterans, I especially want to thank Rog,

Barry Faulkner and Rich Dunn for being a part of my life these past

couple of years.

They are true masters of their domain and they quickly showed me that

this paper runs at 100 mph. If you don’t jump on, you get left behind.

Their knowledge of Newport-Mesa sports is second to none and their

guidance, humor and unlimited patience really helped me during my

training-wheel period. The words, “Thank you” don’t even cover my

gratitude to those three special people, all of whom I hope to stay

friends with for the rest of my life.

Did I leave anyone out? If I did, my humblest apologies and my deepest

thank you.

Well, now, it’s time to clean out my desk which is a task of mammoth

proportions. Those special enough to see it know what I mean.

Like my wife said, “This isn’t a goodbye. It’s more of a see you

later.”

I’m going to hold her to that.