If you’re looking for schadenfreude, this guy hasn’t written professionally about sports in more than 6 years.
His last three jobs, according to LinkdIn, were selling paint in Natomas, scheduling dentist appointments for San Quentin inmates, and PIO for CalTrans in Bishop.
He was also a 23-year-old kid freshly graduated from UNR and covering high school sports at the Porterville Recorder near Visalia when he wrote this tripe. It’s the type of poorly-crafted novice-opinionwriting that would have never escaped Fresno if not for the Internet, its insatiable need for content, and slightly predatory practice of posting the shoddy works of nobodies to a global audience, forever.
It’s also very much from the mind of a kid who grew up in Sacramento, and spent his young adult life trying desperately to escape it.
