When I first heard that my journalism class was going to be joined by a guest speaker, I was initially quite excited. This would be an opportunity to pick the brain of a working journalist and have all my questions answered, which would hopefully give me an edge when I went into that very field later in my life. When I heard that we would be visited by a sports journalist, my dreams deflated almost as suddenly as some of my Red Sox-memorabilia-wearing peers gave enthusiastic and approving nods. What could someone like me, who has an embarrassingly low knowledge of sports, possibly learn from someone who chooses to watch and write about it for a living?

As Travis Lazarczyk, a sports writer for the Morning Sentinel and the Kennebec Journal in Central Maine, sat down at a desk along the front edge of our classes malformed oval formation, my interest was already waning. I expected nonstop dialogue about this high school basketball team, that college lacrosse team, old men who have been coaching since practical infancy, and catchy one-liners straight out of a cliché sports film about “beating the odds” or “being a good sport”. While there was a little bit of this throughout our one-hour long chat, and only a few sports metaphors and puns, what I heard most about was the writing itself. I was pleasantly surprised that most of the stories that he reminisced about were not based solely on a particularly good quarterback or a championship winning play. One of the other students in my class asked how he chose who he interviews, and of course he replied that he watches for particularly good players during whatever game is happening, but he also noted to the kind of research that he does before going out to a game. He said that he researches the team and looks for players with special attributes. An example that he gave was a basketball player who may climb Mount Everest or volunteer at the local homeless shelter in their spare time.

“Sports are secondary, the stories are about the people first”, Travis said. From that point on, I was much more attentive and realized that I may have underestimated how much I would actually learn.

Another piece of particularly good advice came when the class started to ask more questions about his personal experiences in the field. Questions were asked about memorably good and bad interviews and what the tell-tale signs were that it was headed either way. His answers were just as cryptic as I imagined they would be. When interviewing someone, “you just know” which way it’s headed. If your interviewee isn’t cooperating and is giving short, undeveloped questions, simply reassess, and ask “is there something I’m missing here?”, which will hopefully prompt them to answer questions to your liking.

Closer to the end of class, I rounded up the courage to ask an important question; “Do you have any advice for an aspiring journalist who is trying to build a resume?”. For a brief second, it felt like he was talking directly to me rather that to a room of fifteen or so other students. He said very matter-of-factly to read, an aspect to being a good writer that I often forget about. He said to read all sorts of books and articles, find what I like and what I don’t, and from there develop my own voice. While this is advice that I have probably been receiving since my first Language Arts classes, it resonated with me more now than ever. I’m at a point in my life where, instead of planning on how to build a solid resume and develop my writing style, I should buckle down and start to do it.

Not only did I receive helpful advice on my writing, I also learned a valuable lesson. No matter what someone’s background or interests are, you can learn something from everyone. A mere difference in perspective can be enough to change how you see a situation. While I still have no interest in batting averages, jump shots, or touchdowns, I still learned that, above all, writers must write about what they are passionate about, whatever it may be, or else their work can’t connect with an audience.