David 
Every year the Chambana Report awards one lucky reader or reporter the Chambana Report Sportsmanship Award. This highly prestigious award is given to an individual who displays both ethical behavior and fair play in their day-to-day life. This year, our paper has elected to give this award to Richie Dering, who after a few days of dodging my calls was able to meet me for a brief and deeply unsatisfying interview.
I invited Richie to meet me at a local coffee shop in Urbana for our interview. While we waited in line, I stood behind Richie and noticed that he declined to tip our barista. I tried to keep an open mind about my interviewee as I tipped my usual 25%.
At first glance, it was obvious that Richie had dressed down for our interview. Instead of dressing up in a collared shirt or neutral colors, Richie’s stylist dressed him in Richie’s signature blue Nike sweatsuit. What statement was Dering trying to make? Was this some sort of political statement, a sign of gang affiliation, or should I have just taken this to mean that he didn’t care to take our interview seriously? Naturally, I maintained my polite composure that I’m known and renowned for, but the whole scene was purely off-putting.
It took me a few minutes of blankly staring at Richie before I could even stomach interviewing him. We began our conversation by discussing his reaction to winning the award. Although he said he was speechless when he realized that he had won the award, he still managed to talk my ear off about how honored he was. I wanted to cut him off. He’d already won the award; he didn’t need to convince me of it. Richie went on and on listing the various friends and family members that he wanted to thank as I gazed out the café’s window.
Outside of the coffee shop there was a woman walking a dog the size of a small horse. Rambling, Richie continued his self-indulgent spiel as I became almost obsessively fixated on the dog outside. Even though the dog’s mouth was closed, spit and drool dripped from its mouth. It was the most disgusting beast I’d ever seen. Nearing the end of my canine delusion, I noticed that the dog was just as aware of me as I was of him. What did he think of me? I’d have rather been interviewing the dog. “I’d also like to thank you for interviewing me,” said Richie, interrupting my train of thought. I should really get back to doing my job. Regardless, I couldn’t shake the look that the dog gave me. It was as if he knew how ethical and fair I was; he could tell with just one look.
Grasping at straws for anything else to talk to Richie about, I asked him a question so generic I knew it would captivate his attention. “Richie, is there one moment you feel defines your legacy?” I said, as if that’s the sort of question I prepare for a high-brow interview. Even though my question could also have been thought up by a fruit fly, it captured Richie’s attention as he began to recall the All-Star Game. The All-Star Game, oddly enough, is an event I was a key player in.
I wouldn’t call the All-Star Game a particularly defining moment for Richie. Although, as far as I’m concerned, it was an unsightly stain on my reputation as a basketball player but also a great display of what a great sport I am. Richie and I played against each other on teams that can only be described as lopsided. Specifics of the game really aren’t of great importance. For those interested, it’s worth noting that the game was over in 5 minutes or less. After the game, because I am an extraordinarily good sport, I offered to ceremonially swap sweaters with Richie. At the park, this is quite possibly the greatest sign of respect.
In wake of Richie forcing me to relive the All-Star Game, I started laying the groundwork to politely end the interview. I asked Richie for his prediction on next year’s winner. To my surprise, he named me. While I do think I would be an amazing candidate for Sportsman of the Year because of my highly ethical lifestyle, this was clearly a textbook case of Richie trying to butter me up. Richie must have known that the interview was going horribly and was trying to appeal to my better side (left). I requested that Richie stop dancing around the subject and just finish the interview. We only had one question left; after that I could figure out what the deal with the dog was.
“What is your secret?” I asked Richie.
“Just try to be the best person you can be every day and help people less fortunate than you every day,” was his response.
Let’s get one thing straight: this is not Richie’s secret. It’s a nice thing to say but it’s definitely not his secret. Now, it’s a little unorthodox for an interviewer to so clearly disregard a response from his interviewee, but I’ve had a few closed-door discussions that lead me to believe that this isn’t even close to Richie’s secret. Earlier this year, Richie said that only Teo knows his secret. Teo is a mutual friend of ours who has only spoken fifteenish words to me as long as I’ve known him. Richie explained to me, under no uncertain terms, that to gain access to Teo’s wealth of knowledge of Richie’s secret, one must have a conversation with Teo where he says over a hundred words. If I’m not making this clear already, Richie’s secret is as good as gone. I theorized that asking Richie point-blank about his secret might catch him off guard, but he was more prepared than I anticipated. Anyway, this has little to do with Richie’s potential for sportsmanship, but it’s not insignificant that Richie is willing to deceive a trusted friend such as myself to keep guard of his secret.
Once Richie began to lie, our conversation was essentially over. To keep the peace, I let Richie play on my phone for a little bit as my mind drifted away. No one can argue that Richie won this year’s award. The powers that be dictated that he’ll be known around town as the sportsman of the year. In times like this it’s important that we reflect on the stock we invest in awards that are meaningless unless we win them. Was Richie really the best choice? Who knows? I’m just happy that he was honored by our selection.
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