Man, this one took a minute.
Ask me to write a Caps feature? No problem. Hockey game recap due at the buzzer? Sure thing.
But a column where I can write about pretty much anything, and reflect after all these years — 10 years to be exact — on the Churchill Observer and what my school experience meant to the person I am? Tough.
Because I feel I need better words to really describe my journey.
Whirlwind doesn’t cut it. It seems like it was just yesterday I was just getting back from a high school journalism convention in D.C. Mrs. Knarr was our advisor back then, someone who made a huge impact in my life. It was production time, and I was designing and turning around the November issue with some of my best friends at the time, some of the greats who made the Observer an All-American newspaper: Katie Gauch, Ana Faguy, Gil Jacobson… list could go on.
Fast forward 10 years. I walk into the same classroom, speaking to a new wave of students who use computers over paper. No more folders or running pieces of paper back and forth. I’m running on little sleep after covering Alex Ovechkin’s 900th goal for The Hockey News and Associated Press the night before. I have an Emmy — my Emmy — in my hand to share with the place where I got my start.
The Observer really made me who I am. It sounds cliché, but that’s where I grew up, learned to be cool (I was an awkward high schooler, anyone reading this will tell you) and figured, “Hey, maybe I’ll give this thing a try.”
The path, though, was always hockey. My mom took me to a game when I was nine. Alex Ovechkin scored, Jose Theodore was in net and the Capitals beat the Blues 4-2. I was hooked.
Alex Ovechkin’s FatHead was on my wall. I was the kid who wore her jersey to school every day, begged her mom relentlessly for a pair of skates and watched the TV on mute so I could commentate the Capitals’ latest adventures on ice.
So when I graduated from high school, and headed off to the University of Maryland, I thought to myself, “Well… what now?”
Change is scary. It’s even scarier when you’re going off to college to live on your own and you have no idea what the hell you want to do. All you know is that you love hockey and you loved your high school newspaper. It sticks with you, so that’s what you do.
I was good at it. More than good at it — I could realistically make a career out of it. My advisor in college pulled me aside, though, and asked, “Are you sure? I mean, do you know how many hockey writers are out there? Not a lot. You should pick a different sport.”
I didn’t. I refused. Because when you know what you want to do with your life — whenever you figure it out (and it’s okay if you don’t know yet, because you have more time than you think… even though it goes fast) — that’s it.
So I ignored my advisor, skipped class to work and ended up in the Capitals locker room on a daily basis. My first year on the beat, the Capitals went all the way to the Stanley Cup as I was turning 21. I found myself sitting in the middle of the Stanley Cup Final, writing, and that was the first instance that I really felt like this could be a reality.
Eight seasons later, and I’m still there, having grown up a bit more there, graduated from college and still doing my own thing. Sitting down 1-on-1 with Ovechkin, my childhood hero, getting to know Tom Wilson and the team as best as a journalist can and earning the nickname “Silbsy” in the locker room… you can’t put that into words. But it tugs at my heart a bit.
It translates to the ice, where I play locally with my teams, The Ghost Pirates and the Kraken Capitals. I’m a winger and a goalie, best of both words, and it helps me embrace the game even more.
All the while, I’m working in television, an associate producer at Peacock TV. I won my first Emmy this past summer while working on the Olympic Games. At first I didn’t know I won; I was getting ready for a game in the locker room, when I got the text that I won. I ran out in my hockey pants and called my family, and that was it.
Dream accomplished. But there’s still so much left to go, still a lot to learn.
So what’s the point of all this? It sounds stupid, but don’t give up, and bet on yourself. Be your own cheerleader. Time flies, but you also get a good amount of it to figure things out. And once you do, buckle up, because it’s going to be a hell of a ride.
