When I was a young lad not so long ago, I spent my days sitting in a sweaty hellhole of a studio apartment in Los Angeles living with a girl I barely knew, trying desperately to get someone, anyone, to read an article I had written about Joe Dumars and his Hall of Fame chances. If that sounds pathetic to you, it gets worse. Every day I would hunt down names, numbers, and email addresses of sportswriters who wrote for publications as big as the Sporting News (yes, it used to be big) and as small as Fanball, and begged them to show the Dumars article to their editors. This isn't exactly the best way to go about getting writing work, but I literally knew no one connected to the business.
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