A Man Worthy of His Own Words

William “Bill” Plaschke isn’t just a sports columnist with a questionably pronounced last name; He is an actor, an Olympian (kind of), an ESPN staple, and a man who has received ample recognition for his generous work in the community. Oh yeah, He’s also the owner of some pretty prestigious writing awards.

Bill Plaschke is a name most sports fans know in Los Angeles, Calif. As a columnist for the L.A. Times, it’s not uncommon to hear Angelinos either jeering or cheering along with Mr. Plaschke’s sentiments.

A mix of knowledge, perspective and humor make Plaschke’s column more than insightful and much more than entertaining. His column appears daily in the Times and is never short of provocative sport conversation.

Since 1987, Plaschke has been a fixture of L.A. sports prominence as a regular within the city’s biggest paper. His often outspoken opinions have made him a habitual panelist on ESPN’s show “Around The Horn”; a program where he and his loudmouth sports columnist acquaintances get together and share their quirky viewpoints in buzzer-beater fashion.

Here's a comical clip of the man at his best telling a story of himself as a ten-year-old reporter during a commercial break on "Around the Horn" (on the left screen). 

Interestingly enough, ESPN was the mutual friend who set me up on a blind date with Plaschke before I was aware of his greatness. His persona on “Around the Horn” somehow comes off as modestly arrogant with a touch of jubilance. His writing on my hometown area’s sports beat and his unwillingness to be told anything other than what he believes is right have won me over.

However, he is not just a loud and opinionated media man. He is also known as a giver to the community. His involvement in the Big Brother/Big Sister program in Los Angeles has earned him the city’s chapter honor of Man of the Year. Plaschke has also received a “Pursuit of Justice” award from the California Women’s Law Center for his regular coverage of women’s sports.

A great journalistic quality of Plaschke’s is his unbiased writing and vision. In a city with a reputation for having violence and local loyalty mixed together like blue and white or purple and gold, his column is never afraid of saying what needs to be heard. Whether that’s calling out the beloved Dodgers or dismissing the infallible Lakers, Los Angeles sports fans must hear the dirty truth sometimes, and that truth is often found in Bill Plaschke’s column.

And apparently his column is getting noticed. He has been honored with National Sports Writer of the Year by multiple organizations, is a Pulitzer Prize nominee and his writing has been featured in the annually published book “The Best American Sports Writing” on five separate occasions.

And if that wasn’t enough, he carried the Olympic torch during its travels through Los Angeles before the winter games in Salt Lake City in 2002, and he also has some IMDB credits for the portrayal of a sports journalist in the movie “Ali”.

Like most in the media, Plaschke has been around. After being born and raised in Louisville Ky., he spent his freshmen year at Baylor University in Waco Texas then earned his bachelor’s degree in mass communication at Southern Illinois University Edwardsville, where he was the sports editor for the university’s paper. As a professional, He has worked in Fort Lauderdale, Fla. and Seattle, Wash. before making the great city of Los Angeles his home and life’s work.

And from one Southern California to another—thank you Mr. Plaschke for making the greatest sports market in the world even better. In recent years alone, Plaschke has covered three Lakers’ championships, an Angels’ World Series victory, a Ducks’ Stanley Cup championship and too-many-to-count local college accolades.

The only thing left to improve the Los Angeles area sports scene would be a football team.

Or maybe even two.

Damaged Goods: A story of the most horrifying moment of my life.

"I have to stand up."

In terms of a thought that may sadistically infringe into your consciousness, this may be one of the most desperately inhumane things you could ever tear your heart into taking as a reality—especially while underwater—especially with a broken neck.

Going over the falls of a modestly sized right-breaker is usually something a guy born and raised in the beach communities of Orange County and Los Angeles wouldn’t even think twice of; a guy like me. However, that same guy will have more than a few endless thoughts as a result from an endless summer.

It happened July 1 of this summer.

  

A moment before the horrific thought of being dysfunctional from the neck down entered my wide-eyed naivety, I landed—neck first—with my body toppling over me onto the concrete hard, packed sand below. I heard, and felt, a violent snap that left my psyche paralyzed from a thought that my body was paralyzed from a break.

"I have to stand up."

It was instantaneous. Nothing else existed other than that impulse. “Fight or flight” had taken over every cell in my body. It was surreal. It was scary.

I stood up.

I stood and walked, at least 50 steps, through knee-deep water to the sand before me, screaming for bloody mercy, while dozens of people stood, stared, and watched. I could not believe the indifference on their faces.

I trip? Paralyzed, at least. A wave behind me crashes on or near me?  You get the picture. Still, the guy screaming, “I hit my neck, please help me, please,” was forced to walk to a stranger and ask to be taken to a lifeguard.

I will never forget the 5’3” female lifeguard who had to stabilize the neck of a standing six-and-a-half-footer. She was outstanding, and I just might owe my life to her.

Don't worry though; those bystanders—all saints at the end of it. Once my neck was stabilized with a brace,  and I was on a gurney, the uninterested crowd became very concerned. They surrounded me, pointed, took pictures, and crowded the situation before I was ambulanced to the emergency room.

Surely I’m now in countless facebook albums entitled “This dude got messed up at Salt Creek!! We thought he was dead!!! But he wasn’t :((( LAME!”.

Anyway, when you spend three nights in the hospital and seemingly every single doctor in the Western Hemisphere walks into your room just to emphasize how truly lucky you are, you shouldn't have too much to complain about, right?

I guess this is what they were talking about—only 3% of all cervical fractures (“broken neck” all fancied up) result in a non-spinal-cord-injury, according to the Medical Disability Guide, leaving the trauma victim with complete functionality of their body.

The same study concluded that of the 11,000 cases of cervical fractures in the U.S. per year, roughly 6,000 result in death and 5,000 become quadriplegic.

Perspective.

I am especially lucky in this case because of the walking I did on my fractured C7 vertebra before it was stabilized. This greatly increased the chance of a cord injury.

I feel like I won the California Lottery but kind of bummed it wasn’t the Mega Millions.

Since the accident, I’ve been flooded with new information about cervical fractures everyday. A new finding of the medical condition states, “We are very proud of you and love you very, very much,” according to a text from my mom.

And as my mom would tell you, I am a neurotic, anxiety filled young man with plenty of demons. This summer changed me in many ways.

But perhaps no change is more prevalent than taking on a new perspective and learning about a me that I never knew existed.

I looked death in the face for the first time ever this summer, but I didn’t lie down.  I stood up.

College or Collage?

College is great. There is so much to be offered. If you don’t have money, it’s easy to get some just for attending. And if you don’t have friends, you can use that money to buy a whole lot of them.

I am, of course, referring to two keystone fundamentals of college. Financial aid and Greek life—one of which I take full, financial advantage of. It is never more apparent, the Greek presence on campus, than the first handful of weeks of school. Walking through the library quad brings up quite a mental debacle between pros and cons. I have never been stopped by a guy with a flyer and asked about recruitment. This is a good thing. The bad is now I am left wondering to myself, “am I an unapproachable a-hole with an I-hate-everyone-and-everything appeal?”

Nah.

In fact, one of the great things about college is all of the friends I have made from the opposite side of the state than I’m from. Interestingly enough, a study from Purdue University concluded that friends made during college last longer than the ones made before it—which is too bad because I hate everyone I know here. I have this I-hate-everyone-and-everything personality trait.

In all seriousness, a great thing about college is the financial help it offers. I wouldn’t be able to be here, sitting on this couch, writing this very column throughout a Thursday night and Friday morning. Instead, I’d be doing something unproductive and cheaply entertaining.

Wait a second. I’ve been duped!

College is good n junk n stuff cuz now I don’t talking like this n-e-more!!!!!11111111

Education is a pretty big part of getting an education. College is essential in getting a post-secondary education degree (I googled it), whether it be an associates, bachelors, master, or doctorate. I have achieved one already. Believe it or not, it’s not the doctorate.

Getting a college degree opens new academic doors, potential future career networking, lessons from highly achieved professors of the same field, develops maturity, creates self worth and… I’ve already lost your interest and attention just from reading this sentence. Be honest—that was even painful to type. This is why, let’s face it, we do not necessarily attend college for these reasons. This probably accounts for academic disqualification being the second highest cause for college dropouts, according to a study conducted in 2007.

Distractions are abundant. But if those distractions were originally intentions, you may find yourself as a statistic. 

But if you can find a level head, you can let distractions entertain you and still accidentally teach you in the process. It’s quite simple to learn about, say, moral and ethical issues while playing Grand Theft Auto. It would not be unlikely for blowing up cars and mindlessly killing everyone in an entire city to prompt contemplation, which could benefit a philosophy paper on virtue.

I sound like an Xbox public relations representative.

The best thing of college, or at least one of them, for me, is the chance to get out and experience new things in a new city. It would have been a truly missed opportunity if I were to attend my local state school instead of one in a new, exciting area. Living in downtown Sacramento has put me in situations I have not regularly been in before.

College is good for all the right and wrong reasons. Enlightening, thought provoking, disciplining and self-developing, college turns boys to men and girls to women. On the other hand, college becomes a source of developing how to get by and what the minimum is for you to get there—a C+.

A week of weakness

Commonly, the first week of a new school year is complicated by several reasonably unwelcoming unpleasantries. 37 cars searching in a parking structure with only a single open space (which is undoubtedly cramped by two ignorantly self-assured drivers on both sides), a class cancellation forcing an extra semester to an already seven-year-running undergraduate degree or managing to find the one desk in a classroom of at least 150 that violently squeaks at the slightest breath or whisper.

These are the typical obstacles I have come to expect and mentally prep for during the first week of instruction. However, This semester brings a new, bleak feeling to the mix of already anticipated anxiousness.

On July 1st of this year, a mere two months from this very day, I broke my neck on a life changing, shore breaking and bodysurfing wave in my home of Orange County. Fast forward about a month and a half, and I am moving my life to Sacramento along with my newly fused spine and nerve damaged, weak left arm.

Along with the aforementioned expected debacles of the dreaded first week, I have battled with my health insurance to change my network of coverage to seek a new, local neurologist and physical therapist, dealt with frustrations of all the physical limitations placed on me by my neurosurgeon (e.g., no lifting more than roughly 7% of my maximum capacity) and put up with walking/standing pains on a regular, daily basis.

Apparently, a fractured vertebra really can put a whole-lot-of hullabaloo in your plans.

This week has left me with some gawking stares from on-going strangers glaring at my scars, a sore arm from carrying my backpack by hand (to protect the fusion), frequent ice packs on my neck and back and some medications to boot. But my rarely seen optimistic self must mention that I have received a lot of warm wishes, hugs and concerned friends all wanting to help me with my situation.

This Wednesday, however, left me slightly heavyhearted. While burning time around campus between classes, I wandered into the Well for the first time since last semester. This was an especially depressing moment for me; my best memories of last year at Sac State, for the most part, were made in the Well. In fact, most of my friends in Sacramento were met through playing club volleyball and pickup basketball on campus. I was even an intramural league champ. Before my accident, I would always think about this semester's potential athletic endeavors; it was definitely what I was looking forward to the most about this school year. Now, I will not be able to do anything even remotely close to athletic competition for at least two years.

So long, recreation.

Despite all the negativity in this therapeutic writing, I am getting by better than I had expected. I made the decision to attend school late in the summer after some serious consideration of not taking any risks and staying home. This week has shown me some light at the end of the tunnel.

The uncommon, although uncommonly, may eventually run its course. However, when the uncommon becomes the turning page of life's next chapter, new priorities fall into place. This sheds a fresh light on previous school years' first weeks and puts a new perspective on old memories of then-perceived torment.



I still don't like the Iditarod trek made to campus after being forced to park behind the football field, though. Talk about a neck breaker...