Help kids out when you get the chance

We were in their shoes once, and I’ve never forgotten that.

BEND, Ore. - After graduating from Washington State in 1978, I worked for my dad for awhile doing construction-type stuff, but I really wanted to be a sportswriter. I majored in communications and decided to take a trip around the Northwest in my 1964 green Volkswagen bug.

I went to many newspaper offices, hoping someone would hire me, thinking if I showed up, at least the editors could put a face to the resume I had sent to them. And maybe they’d see that I had enough initiative to drive to their office to meet them in person, we should hire this kid.

Guess what? That all sounded great in theory, but I didn’t get a job from any of the papers I visited in Washington, Oregon and Idaho. I ended up taking my first job as sports editor at the Ketchikan Daily News making $215 a week.

But I remembered something from that trip that has stuck with me ever since. I appreciated the editors who took time out of their schedule to meet with me. Didn’t matter if it was a half-hour or two minutes, if they stopped what they were doing to meet and greet a kid who was simply looking for a job, that was good enough for me.

The ones who didn’t have the time of day to even say hello or, even worse, the ones who rudely turned me away, well, those guys made more of an impression on me than the nice guys.

I say that because I remember going back to my car after encountering rude encounters or no encounters at all and thought: “What a dick!” There were several dicks on my trip, and I remember thinking when I get older if some kid wants my help or advice about anything, I’ll stop what I’m doing and try to help them out.

I’m not patting myself on the back for what I’m about to tell you; I’m just using it as an example of why we should all help kids out when they ask for help. We were in their shoes once, trying to start a career. Remember how we felt, ohmigod, I’m off on my own for the first time, I’m excited but this is scary stuff.

So I’ve made a point of always, and I mean ALWAYS, helping a kid when he asks me anything about being a sports writer or a sports talk show host. No kid is ever gonna call me a dick. I mean, some neighbors might, some listeners might, but a kid? Never!

I will also admit that when the kid who asks me for help graduated from Washington State or is a student at Washington State, I go the extra yard for him or her.

I’ve forgotten the kid’s name already, but a few months ago a WSU student contacted me to get some background about a sports-related career. We were on a Zoom call for an hour and a half. I kept thinking he was going to wrap it up but kept asking questions, and I thought, what the hell, this kid is really ambitious, more ambitious that I ever was, I’ll keep answering his questions.

This past week I was in Seattle for various appointments, including one for my annual physical. I wouldn’t say I passed with flying colors, but it sounded like I got a B or a B+ anyway as far as my health goes for a soon-to-be 68-year-old.

On Thursday I went to a downtown Puyallup park with my daughter and granddaughter. We also went to Lick, an ice cream joint, that was great aside from charging us $2 each for cups of water. Hey Lick owners, just give me free water, OK? Especially after what we paid for your ice cream! And if you’re thinking, hey man, you’re the dumb ass who agreed to pay $2 for those cups of water, I’d have to say you’re right, but I was caught so off-guard that I anted up anyway because my kid and her kid were thirsty.

While Addi was playing, a guy walked up to me and thanked me for something I did 13 years ago. I learned later that his name was Mike Ciolek, a 30-year-old who met me at a Seahawks’ practice when he was 17.

I didn’t remember Mike or anything that happened with him after we met. I’m not sure if that’s because I’m so damn old that I forget everything now or if it was because it happened so long ago or if it was because I’ve helped so many kids over the years, I couldn’t pinpoint exactly who he was.

But he was really grateful. He told me how much he appreciated the small amount of time I spent with him that day at the Seahawks’ practice and the job shadow that followed at 710 ESPN Seattle.

On Friday he emailed me and showed me the email exchange we had in 2012. The line that he wrote that stood out to me the most:

“It is great to know that someone saw what I am passionate about and acted in a manner of helping.”

Mike told me that he in fact has gone on to a sports-related career, having worked for the Dolphins and the Seahawks, or maybe it was the Mariners. He’s now in charge of the suites at Lumen Field for Sounders games and hopes someday to run his own team. I don’t doubt that he will reach his goal.

He was so appreciative that he offered me a suite at a Sounders game, and even though I’m not a soccer fan, I’m a fan of suites, especially those with free booze and food.

I’m really not writing this post to be complimented for being nice to kids. But it does make me feel good to think that in some very small way I might have made a difference in this kid’s life. And all it took was a few minutes of my time.

I’d encourage you to do the same thing. We can’t be so busy with whatever we’re doing that we can’t find the time for a kid, can we? I mean, if I hadn’t talked to 17-year-old Mike that day, I probably would have spent those minutes just B.S.ing with other reporters or complaining about how much I dislike Dave Pearson, the Seahawks’ vice president of media relations or whatever the hell is over-inflated title is these days.

GOOD MOVE OR BAD MOVE?

When I was in Seattle, I went to the Department of Licensing in Crossroads and waited forever to try and get a new title for my wife’s car. She misplaced it and we can’t find it so we needed to get a new one so we can change the Washington plates to Oregon plates since we moved to Bend.

I had ticket number 44, and when I was given ticket number 44, they were serving ticket number 27. So I had to wait for 16 other people to do whatever they were there for before they got to me.

Well, I was given ticket number 44 at 1:45 p.m., and I had an eye appointment in Issaquah at 3:45. I thought I allowed enough time but I didn’t. By 3 p.m. they were only up to ticket number 38.

“Ticket number 38, please come to window number 6,” the Department of Licensing lady said on the microphone.

No one went to window number 6. A minute passed and still no one went to window number 6.

“Last call for ticket number 38,” the lady said on the microphone.

I thought, OK, I’m doing it, I’m gonna go up to window number 6 and fumble around in my pockets and tell the lady I can’t find ticket number 38 (maybe because I had ticket number 44), I must have lost it somewhere. She believed me and I went on to conduct my business and made it to my eye appointment on time.

Now here’s my question or questions…Did I do a terrible thing? What gave me the right to take cuts in front of ticket number holders 39, 40, 41, 42 and 43?

Or do you think it was a good move, one that won’t banish me to hell on Judgment Day?

I mean, whoever meets me at the pearly gates, if they were short on time, would they have maybe done the same thing? Plus couldn’t ticket holders 39, 40, 41, 42 and 43 have done what I did? Though you’re right, ticket holder 39 didn’t have to do a damn thing, he was in the on-deck circle and would have been up to bat if I hadn’t swooped in like I did.

And to be honest, it’s not my first time of doing something like this. Have you ever been to a restaurant where you put your name in and have an ungodly wait to get a table?

Of course you have. One time I found a way to take cuts in that situation too. When they asked for “Jones, party of 2,” typically the Jones party of 2 shows up and goes to their table. But when they say “Jones, party of 2, last call” is there something wrong with walking up to the hostess and saying you’re the Jones party of 2 and going to the table, knowing that “Moore party of 2” won’t be getting their table for another half-hour, maybe 45 minutes?

I think not. Try it sometime. I know it’s technically wrong, but it feels good to get away with something, like you’re a little kid who sticks his hand in the cookie jar and takes some cookies without getting caught.

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