My first week in New York. 24 years old. August 2016
The home I own sits in Lower Manhattan with a proper view of the World Trade Center. Before moving to the West Coast, I purchased that condo because I wasn’t ready to completely let go of the city that forced me to grow up. I needed a piece of me there. A place to come back to. A reminder of who I’ve been.
I almost didn’t move to New York. When I was offered a job in the city in 2016 I was prepared to say no. Change made me uncomfortable. I’d been covering Big Ten athletics for 4 years at that point and was insecure about the possibility there was a geography to my success. Being 24 years old anchoring a nightly show in the number one market in the country was something I knew I’d be great at but convinced myself to be cautious about.
At the time, I was at the overdue end of a long relationship between two people who didn’t know how to let go. Who stayed because the solace of familiarity felt less frightening than the silence of starting over. We kept choosing what we knew, even when it drained us, because the unknown felt heavier than the weight we were already carrying. We were stuck in a holding on that kept us from moving forward. My mind, though, was flourishing as I dedicated my time to reading and learning and listening and shaping my unique point of view. I was eating at Harold’s Chicken (six-piece extra mild) once a week and taking pride in the fact I knew how to drive in the snow.
It was one of the most eventful years in my sports orbit. Colin Kaepernick took a knee in peaceful protest. The Cubs won the World Series after a 108 year drought. The Warriors won 73 games but lost to Cleveland in the franchise’s first ever championship courtesy of Lebron. Derrick Rose had just been traded from the Bulls to the Knicks, and I’d be reporting on his first season in the Big Apple. I found it symbolic that we were both simultaneously and reluctantly leaving Chicago for New York not because we were ready, but because it was time.
New York felt intimidating. And it is intimidating. But it’s also for people who refuse to be intimidated. New York is vast and bright and important because the people make it that way. I felt proud to be a part of the collective energy.
Living in New York is a choice. No one drifts here accidentally. You come to this city to be something. Even if that something is simply yourself. I sacrificed space for purpose and stuffed 2,000 square feet’s worth of furniture into a 781 square foot apartment and somehow still left enough room for myself to grow.
Manhattan is 13.4 miles long. Straight up and down. And as long as you just keep walking in the right direction you’ll always find your way home. Being NYC based is the best case scenario for people who travel often. There are so many cities you can get to in two and a half hours or less on a plane. You can fly to Europe in the same amount of time it takes to get to San Francisco. You can fly to Barbados or Iceland in even less. With LGA, JFK, and EWR, you have infinite options. As I type this, I wonder why my affinity for a city is judged by how easy it is to leave.
That’s what New York is—a destination and a launchpad. New York helped me get somewhere else.
In my almost nine years living there I stood in line when downtown Manhattan opened it’s first ever Chick Fil A location, saw Uncle Boon’s turn into Thai Diner, had my 26th birthday lunch at Sadelle’s and my 27th birthday dinner at Miss Lilly’s. I was named “he interviewer that makes the NBA go viral” by the New York Times, called “more than a meme” by the New York Post, and gossiped incorrectly about in Page Six. I watched the Giants draft Saquon, KD and Kyrie join the Brooklyn Nets, and Phil Jackson push Carmelo out of the Knicks franchise. I dated a man who could change the colors of the Empire State Building from his phone, argued with another over being late to dinner because I wouldn’t admit I was lost on the subway, and spent sporadic nights at Las’ Lap with someone who understood that romance doesn’t have to last forever. I witnessed my best friend host SNL at 30 Rock, snuck into Met Gala afterparties I had no business attending, and hit a double at Yankee stadium during a charity softball game. I mispronounced Mark Messier on live television and cried about it in the bathroom, got nominated for two sports Emmys, attended four NBA drafts, and worked my first hockey game. I raised money for the lower east side girls club, met a sister from the Bronx who ultimately became my bridesmaid, and fell in love with a man who is now my home.
This week, for the first time, someone will begin renting out the condo I own. Ending my delusion that New York can’t go on without me. I will miss everything about the city that taught me brutal honesty, and risk and patience. That if your train is late, it still arrives. It taught me to mind my business. That solitude and uncertainty are not things to fear. That silence is something you create inside yourself. That answers come when you walk long enough. How to be small but feel big. That sometimes it’s okay to disappear. It gave me courage and clarity. It grounded me. I arrived in the city overwhelmed. I left it overflowing.
I needed to be a New Yorker first, before I could be anything else.
Now I know how to let go. I loved New York and New York loved me.
A’ja Wilson was just voted the WNBA’s Most Valuable Player! Winning the award for a record-breaking fourth time.
To put that in perspective: A’ja has been in the league for eight seasons, which means she’s been its best player for half her career. The only other basketball players (NBA or WNBA) with at least four MVPs are Michael Jordan, LeBron James, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Wilt Chamberlain, and Bill Russell. That’s it. That’s the entire list. And A’ja isn’t even 30 yet. We are all just living in A’ja’s world.
The clip above is from an interview I did with her in 2022, right after she won her first WNBA championship. The year before, she and the Aces had fallen in a heartbreaking semifinal loss to the Mercury. And then came redemption. Chelsea Gray (Point Gawdd herself) told reporters it was time to start talking about A’ja as being on the path and trajectory to greatest of all time.
When I asked A’ja about the praise, her answer revealed exactly why she is who she is.
Something else that strikes me most about A’ja Wilson is how deeply loved she is by her teammates, and how much she radiates that same admiration back to them. Whenever she’s praised for her success, she makes it her mission to spotlight the we. In that same 2022 interview, I asked her how she wanted to grow as a leader. She didn’t mention stats or hardware. She said she wanted to be more vocal. More present. To make sure her teammates knew they could count on her in any situation—not just at her position, but across the board. It’s abundantly clear that she accomplished that and so much more.
Becky Hammon’s word to her superstar said it best: “There’s no Mount Rushmore…You are the only one. You’re Everest.”
One of my best friends turned 35 and threw a Casino Royale themed birthday party. The women looked gorgeous in their gowns and sultry makeup. The men wore tuxedoes and acted like they weren’t excited to dress up. A beautiful night celebrating life. Jackpot
I’ve been feeling a pull towards NYC for the past 2 years now and have been debating if I should make the move. I mean quite literally right before reading your article, I was thinking about it. I believe this might have been the confirmation I was looking for. Great article as always.
I got my master's degree in sports journalism from a small school in Upstate New York and decided to drive to NYC (not knowing it was a 9-hour drive from the school). The pull that city had on me was jarring. I felt called, and a year later, the signs are coming at me at warp speed, urging me to make the move eventually. And this article, superbly written, may have just been the ultimate catalyst!