It’s late December, and you know what that means. My peers across the media industry are proudly sharing their favorite stories of the past year, an often self-indulgent practice I’m allowed to poke fun at because I’ve definitely done it myself. But as I looked back at the words and sentences I put together in 2022, it occurred to me I have been carrying around a burden: My favorite piece I wrote this year has been read by a grand total of one other person. It got spiked.
Turn the calendar back to late October. People were apple picking, listening to Taylor Swift’s new album and learning a lot about the British government. MLB editor Matt Martell asked me whether I’d want to write a column about the Phillies winning the World Series. The Phillies are the team I was geographically born to root for, whose misery I watched a little too closely the last decade, whose schedule I revolved my own around for that month, canceling social plans to spend autumn weekend nights in front of the TV.
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