I would wake up in the morning, brush my teeth, and sit down at the typewriter in the same clothes I had slept in.
My uncle had worked for a corporation and hated it—same thing, every day—and I was determined never to end up like him.
I bounced around from New York to Florida and eventually took a job in Detroit as a columnist for the Detroit Free Press.
The sports appetite in that city was insatiable—
they had professional teams in football, basketball, baseball, and hockey—and it matched my ambition.
In a few years, I was not only penning columns, I was writing sports books, doing radio shows, and appearing regularly on TV,
spouting my opinions on rich football players and hypocritical college sports programs.
I was part of the media thunderstorm that now soaks our country. I was in demand.
I stopped renting. I started buying. I bought a house on a hill. I bought cars.
I invested in stocks and built a portfolio. I was cranked to a fifth gear, and everything I did, I did on a deadline.
I exercised like a demon. I drove my car at breakneck speed. I made more money than I had ever figured to see.
I met a dark-haired woman named Janine who somehow loved me despite my schedule and the constant absences.
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