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For this columnist, it’s time for the elevator to stop here

THE BLADE

For this columnist, it’s time for the elevator to stop here

Back in the mid-1970s, between the demise of the old Toledo Times and a subsequent return to The Blade, I spent about three years on the sports staff at the Richmond (Va.) Times-Dispatch, where the sports editor/​columnist was a dapper, old southern gentleman with a very dapper, southern name, Chauncey Wright Durden, Jr.

While I was there, Mr. Durden retired after more than four decades at the paper. The lead to his farewell column is still about the best I’ve ever read.

He told the story of getting on a press box elevator. It was crowded, he was pressed against the back wall, sort of hidden. Up front, a couple of other elderly gents were having a conversation.

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“I haven’t seen old Chauncey in forever, how about you?” one said.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’s dead,” responded the other.

Well, Mr. Durden was very much alive. But it goosed him into thinking perhaps he should retire before death got around to tapping him on the shoulder.

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I have no such cute story to tell. Only a buyout story, for which I am grateful. And an appreciation that I, too, am getting out alive.

So, after almost 44 years in the newspaper game, the last 38 of them at The Blade, and a decade or so as the lead sports columnist, this is it for me. Retirement. The final column.

I’d never thought much about The End and how difficult it would be to write this. So much to cover. So many people to thank. But I’ll give it a go.

First, thanks to my family, especially my long-suffering wife. Sports writing is primarily a weekend and weeknight business and Sue has spent far too many of both on her own. Of course, she might suggest that’s why we’ve made it work for nearly 42 years. Ready or not, darlin’, here I come.

The next people to thank are you, the readers. It has been a privilege.

Many of you have become like friends, if not friends. A lot of pen pals.

And it wasn’t always strictly sports.

I once wrote a column about my beloved dog dying. Hundreds of you sent condolences and told me about your pets and similar experiences.

I wrote a column when my eldest daughter was married and, again, hundreds of you responded in kind.

I wrote a Christmas morning “letter” to my newborn grandson and I couldn’t count all the emails and letters.

We laughed together, wept a bit together, and argued together, mostly respectfully, which was always appreciated.

I have covered local women’s amateur golf, then Masters and U.S. Opens and Ryder Cups. I have sat in cramped, wooden press boxes at dusty baseball fields in the hinterlands, then the Mud Hens, Tigers, Indians, and World Series. I covered football national title teams at Findlay College, then a bunch of Ohio State-Michigan games, college bowl games from coast to coast and maybe a dozen Super Bowls.

I have seen places I never expected to see, done things I never expected to do, and made more friends around the country than I could ever have imagined, all courtesy of this job.

But, still, the very best thing about it has been you. And I thank you.

Some call this the toys-and-games department, but sports are what I knew best and hopefully wrote about best, and I am blessed to have done that and only that for so long.

I worked for five sports editors — the legendary Chet Sullwold, John Hannen, Rick Maas, Bob Kinney, and now Frank Corsoe — at The Blade. All were/​are fine men and supportive bosses, and I salute them.

When I first arrived and stepped onto the bottom rung of the totem pole, I looked up at talents like Tom Loomis, Jim Taylor, John Gugger, Dave Woolford and so many others, including some crack design and copy editors. I have often called it the “Golden Age” of Blade sports and they taught me so much. And, man, were they all fun.

Here’s how long I’ve been hanging around. When I started here I sat at a desk next to Lou Klewer, the outdoors editor whose career at The Blade began in 1924. His two successors, Steve Pollick and Matt Markey, were and are among the best at their craft in the entire country. Count the awards. Staggering.

Now that I’ve climbed a ways up that ladder, I look out, never down, at my current colleagues and feel this sports section is in quite capable, talented hands. Solid reporters with some real writing chops. I wish them and our business, which faces challenges, the very best.

I am Toledo born and raised, a proud Bowsher Rebel, and with the exception of college, my start at the little newspaper in Ashland, Ohio, and those few years in Virginia, I have spent my life here. Maybe that’s why I always have had a soft spot for local high schools, the University of Toledo, and Bowling Green.

And that brings us to this:

I received an email not too long ago from a one-time high school athlete, who I’ll keep anonymous. He has been married for 30-plus years, has four kids, and a Master’s degree. And he said, in part:

“Thirty-five years ago you wrote articles about young men that played basketball at [Blank] High School. I was one of those players ... When you wrote those articles I am sure you did not realize the impact you had on a young man who lacked conviction and direction. Your words sparked a level of confidence and pride I had not found within myself to that point. Without that validation I am doubtful my life would have taken the course of measured success that it has ... You made a difference in my life. Thank you.”

That’s more than enough to shove me toward the door with a smile on my face. Beats standing in an elevator hearing you’re dead.

But the thanks go to you. All of you.

This was my job, but never, ever was it work.

Contact Blade sports columnist Dave Hackenberg at: dhack@theblade.com or 419-724-6398.

First Published July 3, 2016, 5:06 a.m.

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