An open letter:
Before anyone cared where I would spend my summer, I was just a kid from Southeastern Massachusetts. Medfield, to be specific, but unless you're from Eastern Mass and actually have any idea where that is, it's easier to just say Boston. I digress. It's where I learned I would have to do actual work in the summertime, when I thought I could get away with going to camps, playing sports and otherwise just laying around for three months on end. When it would stay light out for as long as we needed in order to finish a basketball game. When it was warm enough at all times, you didn't have to check to see what you should wear. I learned in high school you needed to have responsibilities in this most sacred of times to, not just during the school year.
I started as an intern at GateHouse Media, working with a number of local newspapers, including my hometown Medfield Press. I gained experience for a hopeful future career. It's also when I started this blog. The next summer was spent in the stockroom and on the floor of the Columbia Sportswear Outlet Store in Wrentham, MA. That at least was done with two of my friends, and we toiled there from May, just after graduating high school, until the end of August, when it was time for college. That winter and spring, I missed out on media internships that would aid in my hopeful future. I was unaware and unprepared. I spent that summer instead tending to a lawn in Norton, MA, right on the edge of a lake. Three hours every day to start, and then every other day, watering the grass at this house built by my grandfather and on the housing market. Not to brag, but that lawn was probably the best on the block, no offense to the neighbors.
That fall and winter at school I began looking at internships for the upcoming summer. Summer of 2016. The same year as the Olympics. It just so happens my school has a partnership with NBC, sending interns to work the Olympics every two years. I wanted that internship in the worst way. Spending the last few weeks of summer in Brazil, I mean who would pass that up? Even with the health and safety concerns. I mean, I had withdrawn from Team USA considerations...
But I was still open to working as part of the media. And so, I foolishly put all my eggs in that basket. I knew it would take longer than other internships to hear back since it would be happening as a lot of those other chances were ending. So I only applied to the Rio Games. And I waited. And waited. And waited. Eventually it got to the point where I emailed someone in the dean's office to ask them if I should have heard any-literally ANY-correspondence from NBC by now, and if I should begin looking at other options.Following @PFTCommenter example, I am officially withdrawing my name from any @TeamUSA Olympic considerations as a result of the Zika threat— Khal Fuego (@TheSituAsian508) May 31, 2016
That was in February. I was basically told, "I have no idea about correspondence, but yes, start looking at other options." I was down. I still held out a little hope, even as I began looking at other opportunities. The problem was, it was February. The internships needed applications weeks ago. It was looking like another summer of watering yards or working retail. A few days later I got the official email from NBC informing me they were "grateful for the interest, but are unable to offer you a position at this time."
In the final days of February and early days of March I was texting a friend from home, joking about my prospects of the summer ahead. He told me his job had a few openings I should check out. He and few others had been working at a summer camp and spots for basketball and sports were apparently open. "Perfect," I thought. "Make a quick 2K+ and be done with it." I filled out an application and emailed those in charge just to make my presence known and hopefully bump me to the top of the line. After some back and forth, I had an interview set up for spring break. I went and got my hair trimmed to the point I wouldn't have to wear it in a bun, shaved my face of its 17 hairs, put on my khakis and shirt and tie, and drove to the JCC in Newton, MA. It was an interesting interview to say the least. I was asked by the camp director and assistant director about all things leadership, why I wanted to be involved and what sports I played in high school. I was even asked to stand up so the director could see how tall I was at one point. But it went well. I was told what I'd make if hired, and was told there was a 95% chance I'd become sports specialist at the senior field.
A few days later I was raking leaves and sticks at my grandparents house listening to the new episode of Pardon My Take when I heard a beep on my phone. I checked and somehow had missed a call even with the earphones in. But there was a voicemail and an email. I checked the email first. It was from the assistant director, telling me they had decided to hire me and there was a message on my voicemail with he same info. I called back and accepted. The paperwork was sent to me, filled out and sent back. I was officially on board. I was going to be a part of the staff at JCC Grossman Camp.
Remember when they told me there was 95% chance I would end up in sports? I received an email in April they had decided to move a returning and longer tenured staff member there. So I was going to be made a senior counselor with an older group and without a deduction in salary. I honestly didn't think anything of it, but was told by my friend being a specialist was much easier. And that would have worked a lot better for my one-and-done plan. But I wasn't about to throw a fit over it either. They were paying me, I would oblige them however I could.
You can read about the last few weeks at camp, as well as my thoughts following the final week. But to sum it up, I had an awesome time. The kids were great, the staff was great, and the co-workers were great. I had such a good time I started thinking, "How can I be back next year?" My unit head called me over one day the last week to do a sort of informal exit interview. He wanted to pick my brain on what went well and what I thought could be improved. I had already mentioned weeks before about our Friday schedule being tough with four straight activities and no time for kids to switch into other groups, and he heeded my advice and cut out a few minutes for that. And then he asked me if I would be back next year. And I told him I truly hoped so. At that time I was finishing my application to study in London for the Spring 2017 Semester. And I could get an internship there to, meaning I could go back to camp in the summer. So I told him that. Basically a 50/50 chance I was back despite 100% wanting to. He told me he understood I would need to look for internships if London didn't happen. But he said he hoped I would be back to, and that I would be a good fit based on what he saw over the summer with the age group just below us even better than the one we were in or the one above us. I essentially said something like, "Thank you, but if I'm back I want to be here or with the kids when they move up next year." I'm a loyalty guy, no big deal.
I leave for London on January 9, 2017. I will be interning there. I sent in my contract and other initial forms to the JCC in Newton on Black Friday.
I'm back.
So now the question is, why? Well, like I wrote above, it was a hell of a time last year. It was truly a blast to earn a paycheck the way I did, I don't take that for granted. But it may also be the last time I get to do it. After camp ends I start my senior year of college and will have to start looking at year-round jobs. And I have unfinished business. My red Maccabiah Second Place ribbon hangs on the wall in my room, right above my desk, taunting me like the flag of the Soviet Union to President Ronald Reagan. I'm coming for that blue ribbon like a bat out of hell, so hop on the train or get run over.
When that rookie deal ended I felt like there was more story to write with this franchise. I entered free agency open to offers, but when that new contract came through my email, it was too hard to pass up. A sophomore season on the heels of a Rookie of the Year display in 2016 seemed like destiny. I mean, I fell ass backward into the job when I missed out on Rio and hadn't applied to any backups. Maybe that was fate, seeing as I seemed to find my place in Kinneret with those kids and counselors. I got a max deal as well, becoming the highest paid second-year counselor in the history of the camp (this info has not been verified in any way). And I know what the critics will say:
STEPHEN A SMITH: To me, that's preposterous. He has shown nothing that tells me he commands top dollar. A good role counselor, sure, but the highest paid second-year ever? EVER!?!? Hell, I'd rather give that money to Kwame Brown. KWAME BROWN! Did he have a good year? Yes. I personally didn't think he was deserving of the Rookie of the Year, but that happened. HOWEVER! I simply do not think he can sustain his level of counseloring in year two. I just don't see it. He will get exposed, I will be proven correct, and you will all be left feeling hoodwinked, bamboozled, lead astray, run amok and flat out deceived.
But I promise on thing, folks. I will thrive on that. The doubters, the naysayers, all of it. It will feed me like I'm Isaiah Thomas thinking about being picked last.
I know it won't be exactly the same. Almost all of the kids who made Year 1 special will be gone. I'll still see them, but it won't be the same. I don't know which of my co-counselors will be back, and the same goes for my friends who work there. But that's alright. I went in blind last year and look how it turned out. I can do it again, and even better now that I know what's coming.Ummm @ColeyMick does your boy have a complex about being picked last or something? pic.twitter.com/28gaGYZkiP— Kmarko (@Kmarkobarstool) November 27, 2016
I feel like Christian from WWE asking for one more match:
One. More. Summer. (For the World Heavyweight Championship)
I'm not having a press conference or party or patting myself on the back. I thought about doing an hour long special on ESPN to announce my decision but decided not even I was that big of an asshole. I'm too blue collar for that. I also couldn't afford the airtime on ESPN, or a SportsCenter anchor to conduct the event. I couldn't even afford airtime on FS1. I'll have a nice, locally-brewed IPA or two...
... but then it's nose to the grindstone. I have the rest of the school year to prepare for, and then need to gameplan for camp, developing strategies on how to get the most points in a single day of Maccabiah without necessarily cheating but also not necessarily playing by all the rules. I might light a couch on fire or eat some beef jerky. But I'm a humble kid from humble beginnings, not like JJ Watt, who will put forth maximum effort into this job, except maybe lip sync because I'm still not very good at that and will let my co-captain do 90% of the work. I'll show grit and workrate that would make every white skill-position player in the NFL blush.
I don't know what will happen after the final day of camp in 2017. Will I be back? Will I have a farewell tour regardless? Well, that's too far ahead to know for certain, though I am open to the idea accepting gifts and monetary donations of all sizes, preferably in large quantities in burlap sacks, paper bags, briefcases with far too many latches and also simply thrown at me like I'm Sepp Blatter...
What I do know is there are soccer games to be won, kids to bury in basketball and video games, and content to convey. "This Week in Campers" will be back with a new cast of characters (yes, I did call 10 year old children characters). That's a promise. If you don't like it, there's the door.
At Camp Grossman, nothing is given. It's earned.
I'm ready for the challenge.
I'm ready to get to work and show my mettle.
I'm ready to get up at 745 AM for a bus that gets us there 30 minutes before anyone else.
I'm ready to get up at 6 AM after getting four hours of sleep on an overnight and having kids already be yelling and sweating my ass off putting 45 sleeping bags back into the covers that are made far too small for what they carry.
I'm ready for the adversity, the highs, the lows.
Let's rip.
-Alex Wong
PS-This PFT article mocking LeBron's announcement to return to Cleveland served as inspiration. Here are the other graphics that came in behind the one I used.
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