by Julius Porter - sportsblog.com
As many of you probably already know I am enlisted in the active duty United States Army and I'm currently deployed "somewhere" (for security reasons) in the Middle East. For the most part my day consists of being a soldier, missing my family and repeating that trend for the next "several" (for security reasons) months. The job is OK. But my dream is to become a sports writer. So by night (when not pulling late guard) I transform. I transform into Julius Porter - sports journalist. If given the opportunity I would cover any team in any area in any sport on Earth - on account that it would let me financially support my family. So every night when I get on this keyboard and start typing, I type as if I already am. My daily soldier life is basically filled with thoughts of sports and topics I can put into this white canvas when the sun goes down. This is just a small glimpse into my train of thoughts while I complete a day in the life of a deployed American Soldier.
0500 Hours - Rise and shine. Must stay within physical standards of the military so I hit the shower, shave and off to the gym I go. The day is young but the sun is already bright and ready to beat down. Speaking of beat downs, how many more can the Jaguars take before the thought of joining the Detroit Lions in losing infamy takes hold of fans of Jacksonville brain nodes. Ah, no hot water in this shower... its cold. A cold, cold world - like Jacksonville's season.
0700 Hours - Breakfast. The mess hall is usually my time to enjoy a powdered egg or two and catch some Sports Center on Armed Forces Network. Top story: In a GM poll, Heat to repeat as champions of the NBA, and Lebron will win his fifth MVP. As my buddy across from me is complaining on how the days are getting slower and slower out here, I envision the thought of Lebron winning 7 or more MVPs, having the most, and if that of all things would be enough to consider him the greatest of all time... probably not. Championships are more valuable in that argument.
0745 Hours - I lose a rap battle to the son of a goat herder and come to the conclusion that after breakfast I need to just walk to work and think about if the Red Sox will beat the Cardinals in 6 or 7 games - instead of stopping and showing off my Soulja Boy to a group of middle eastern Jay Z's.
0830 Hours - Sun on full blast already. Maybe the Colorado Avalanche's hot start will hit me with a cool breeze.
0900 Hours - Show up for shift. 12 hours of fun in the sun. Or... not.
1030 Hours - Battle alarm! Run to the bunkers. Probably just a drill. On the way there I realize how heavy my gear is and wonder if this pressure is as heavy as the pressure on Tony Romo to win a playoff game. Lets say its even.
1130 Hours - Lunch time so I pull out a MRE (Meal Ready To Eat). Lets see what we have.... Spaghetti and Meatballs, Wheat Bread, and MnM's. Wishing I had Florida State's defense here to heat it up for me. Allowing 12.3 points per game is enough fire to feed a nation, especially when you're scoring 53.2 to go with it. I then resolve to run more yards than Northern Illinois's Jordan Lynch away from a group of hungry sand ants. Pests.
1345 Hours - I get roped up by my commanding officer for not having clean boots. As I stand at parade rest facing a full head of 20 year veteran steam, I realize he resembles Jim Leyland. I immediately envision that I am a member of the Tiger's bullpen that just gave up a grand slam to the Red Sox to end his career. Immediate shame in my throwing arm and my boots. I snap out of it at the site of him pointing to the ground and ordering me to do 60 push ups - the same number I predict the Golden State Warriors to win in games this season. Hm, ironic.
1500 Hours - The heat of the sun is at its peak. 120-125 degrees tops. And whats better I am moving sandbags to make my Sergeant Major's work tent nice and "pretty". I rather move the Kansas City Chiefs pass rush away from my QB. Oh wait too late - they're already there. Okay, sand bags it is!
1630 Hours - Playing paper basketball with old unclassified call logs before they hit the shredder. My three point percentage is at about 40%. Better than Kyrie Irving's but worst than Kevin Durant's. That would make me LeBron James! Oh what work it would take to reach Stephen Curry's 45% mark... Uhhh oh the commanding officer walks in. I stop because I couldn't forgive myself adding anymore wins for the Golden State Warriors this season.
1800 Hours - Dinner Time. Delicious country fried - not all the way - steak. Its morning time for most back home so Sports Center is fresh with new stories. "Ponder likely to start for Vikings as Freeman hurt". Geesh, the Viking QB carousel is about as sour as the Marines faces trying out the soup of the day across from me. Tim Tebow leading the Vikings to a wild card after their bye week is a fresh dream on the walk back to work...
2000 Hours - Showdown time. Me vs THE CAMEL SPIDER. He is as fast as Trindon Holliday, as quick as Jamaal Charles, and packs a punch the size of Ndamukong Suh's bicep. But he is guarding the strap to my assault pack, which contains highly important items such as durable toilet paper and hand sanitizer. And it is about THAT TIME. I run a Dez Bryant in and out route and he falls for it. I grab my bag and he runs off faster than Ted Ginn with a sugar rush. Me - 1 Camel Spider - 0.
2100 Hours - The day was long, hot and full of a lot of... well - sand. Days like this are the easy ones for me, and I am thankful for that. The thoughts of my family and the day I return home get me through the worst. My 12 hour shift is complete and I begin the walk to my quarters hoping that my internet connection is merely good enough for me to post this article. During this walk I put all my daily sports thoughts into order. I am no longer the uniform I wear. I transform. In my mind I am a multitude of different things. I am the NFL Week 8 rankings (1. Chiefs 2. Broncos. 3. Colts etc.), I am the reason why the Chicago Bulls will beat the Miami Heat in the Eastern Conference Finals, I am the Sidney Crosby 200 point season, and I am... dare I say it - the Oregon Football National Championship.
I am... a sport's writer.