Sweet talkers

I'm convinced there are only two times people speak kindly of you while you're around.

One is at your funeral, which doesn't do your ego much good.

The other is when you've turned in your notice at your current employer. This is where it starts to feel more and more like a wake, though.

In each case, one by one, people will file past you to offer their well-wishes for the after-life, albeit in the second case it's the "after-here life." They'll offer praise and compliments and fond wishes they'd never dare share if they were actually going to see you every day.

Kind of makes you wonder why people aren't this kind to one another more often.

By far the best compliment I've heard came from one of my guys, who had applied for my job prior to my arrival and was a little bummed when I started that he didn't get the position. He said he's not interested in taking the job now: "Now that I've seen it done right, I don't think I can do it."

On the darker side, it's almost sad to see how desolate the online ad at JournalismJobs.com was. It doesn't mention that writers from our section received Associated Press Sports Editors honorable mention awards the last two years. Naah, top 10 in the whole country isn't that big of a deal. It doesn't mention that we won best sports section in Virginia for our sized paper this year and finished second last year... when we were forced to move up a class and play with all the mid-sized newspapers.

I know pride won't get you too far in life. But I'd like people to know that this isn't just like every other sports editor's job in the country. This job is special and comes with some good, hard-working people. It's also a job that, if the paper and area somehow moved about seven hours west, I'd never be leaving.