`A dollar a week...
...for the next 60 years.' My son's impeccable math rationale for attending the college football championship game. Plus: paying homage to a friend & mentor on the Silver Anniversary of our meeting.
Sports are a wonderful way to take a break from the grim and gory headlines, a chance to re-charge amid the chaos. Most people view these athletic clashes through our TV and other screens, but a small minority—like my son, Zach—experience it in person too.
Even if it—in this case, the college football championship game two Mondays ago—costs more than his first car.1
Being on the scene, of course, elevates the emotional impact. For example, early in the second half, just after Indiana University scored a touchdown on a blocked punt to go ahead, 17-7, Zach texted:
“The stadium broke the sound barrier. This is the greatest day of my life.”
Taking in the game from my basement, I was delighted to see he was having so much fun…and more than a bit concerned that his elation could descend into devastating deflation. There was plenty of time left for the underdog University of Miami to break Hoosier hearts.
The view from Zach’s seat at Hard Rock Stadium, the perfect vantage point when IU quarterback Fernando Mendoza battled his way into the end zone in the fourth quarter.
A 2025 IU grad, Zach saw enough of the pre-Curt Cignetti era to fully appreciate the coach’s turnaround of the Hoosier football program the past two years. That includes this year’s undefeated and at times historically dominant run that landed them in the title game in Miami.
So, after traveling to Pasadena to see the team’s New Year’s Day rout of Alabama in the Rose Bowl, he got on another plane to Miami to be at Hard Rock Stadium for the championship game against the Hurricanes. There, he and a few college friends shelled out $3,100 each for tickets—a sum that easily exceeds my lifetime spending on athletic events.
Zach isn’t naive, either. He’s had enough highs and lows as a rabid sports fan to know that his “greatest day” was far from over. It could take a dramatic downward turn if Miami came back to upset IU. Fortunately for him and all of Hoosier Nation, after much drama, Indiana held on to win, 27-21.
And about that ticket price? A few days after the game, as we caught up on some of the fresh memories that will endure for the rest of his life, he offered this simple math equation: it’s one dollar a week over the next 60 years.
Now, that’s a Kelley Business School grad for you.
In the center with a “CIG” shirt, a parody of the Big Ten logo while also referencing Coach Cignetti, Zach with pals Michael (left) and Bradyn.
Class & Kindness
For the first decade of the 2000s (the “aughts”), I led dozens of training programs for state newspaper associations across the United States. To augment my freelance journalism income, I’d travel all around to help reporters and editors use data more effectively in their storytelling.
The side hustle sent me to my home state of Massachusetts, brought me to Texas and Wyoming one busy, wintry weekend, and allowed me to preach the “Go Figure” gospel in places like Kansas, North Dakota, Minnesota, Kentucky, New York and New Jersey.
Since then, I’ve pivoted the program to include more general audiences, but the roots of “Go Figure: Making Numbers Count” are steeped in my passion to help journalists navigate the minefield of statistical slop that can undermine our vital work of clear, accurate storytelling.
And it all began 25 years ago tomorrow, in Madison, Wisconsin, at an annual conference of the Wisconsin Newspaper Association.
Over the previous months, I’d brainstormed the outline of key topics, created a handout packet, contacted press association representatives, and negotiated my fee.
Thw topic intrigued association leaders but it was still new terrain…how would it be received?
Now, standing in front of 40 journalists inside a hotel conference room, it was time to bring this underappreciated and often-overlooked element to my peers.
Early on, toward the back, a bespectacled, bearded man laughed heartily at all my quips and murmured affirmation of my serious points. He treated me like some combination of Jim Carrey and Stephen Hawking, a world-class comic/genius.
When our 90 minutes had concluded, this guy had stood out as my best audience member—the kind that a rookie presenter could only dream of having on his side. To my relief, the session went very well…and there’s no doubt that this one guy was instrumental in fanning those positive flames.
Afterwards, I learned his identity: Jim Stasiowski.
A seasoned newspaper reporter, editor and writing coach, Jim had carved out a little time in the midst of his own busy schedule to be at my session. In fact, he was the rock star of the conference, drawing the largest gatherings to his energetic and engaging sessions.
As I’ve reflected on that moment over the years, what strikes me the most is Jim’s deep well of empathy; in his robust support of this newbie to the training circuit, he modeled caring and character.
I made a point of sitting next to Jim at that day’s luncheon and he quickly became a mentor and friend, counseling me on various facets of this niche realm I’d embarked upon. Later that year, when a newspaper editor tried to chisel into my fee after I’d provided a full day of training, Jim recommended that I stand my ground but offer to do a follow-up training at no cost.
Jim knew they’d back down—and not have the gall to take me up on the freebie offer.
(Since then, I’ve employed this response with others attempting variations on this less-than-scrupulous tactic; it’s worked out fine each time.)
I’m grateful to still be in touch with Jim, who’s been retired for nearly 10 years. But his words and actions not only on that day in 2001 but throughout his career reverberate through the numerous people he’s mentored.
To wrap up today’s column, I’ll point you to this excerpt in Jim’s farewell column:
“On Friday, April 15, 2016, the Journal had a brief, informal retirement ceremony for me. I told my colleagues that although a person leaving a job is expected to say, “Most of all, I’ll miss the people I worked with,” I was going against the grain. What I would miss most, I said, was the chase, which I define as the effort of making six, a dozen, even 20 phone calls (or other attempts at communication) to track down a single fact or quotation or other element that marks any story, no matter how big or small, as being mine alone. I know I’m not always the best writer in the newsroom, I told my colleagues, but I always can be the reporter who doesn’t give up, no matter the odds against me.”
Thank you, Jim!
I can confirm this car price: I was there in July 2022 in the scorching heat of a sketchy used car lot/repair shop in Hammond, Indiana as Zach handed over $3,000 cash to acquire his 2009 Honda Civic.
Somehow, it’s still running.
Great memories and you make the stories so interesting! Thank you
Good column, I like both stories.