Writing about myself roughly ranks somewhere between 6 a.m. flights and drinking vodka on my personal list of least desirable activities, so I’ll try to work through these next few paragraphs without much flare. My editor, Tracee Hamilton, asked if I wanted to blog a few words on my last day at the Washington Post. I told her I had no idea what I would say, but I promised I would at least endeavor to find out.
Three years ago, the newspaper section I spent my entire childhood reading took a chance on a raw, terrified-as-all-hell college graduate and hired me to cover football and men’s basketball at the University of Maryland.