shawnkopelakis

[shawnkopelakis]

One Year Later

If you haven’t followed the ever-changing landscape of the sports media business, here’s a quick primer. It’s in chaos. So many great people have lost their jobs just in the past month alone. Local newspapers were the first to crater. Magazines followed. Many jobs left print and transitioned to television and websites. By the early 2000s, it seemed that model was working. There were more jobs in the industry than ever before, more content being cranked out by quality writers, producers and broadcasters. Unfortunately as we’ve learned throughout our capitalistic society across so many different kinds of businesses, this often means a bubble. And when it bursts, it drowns a lot of people.

 I am a storyteller. Always have been. It’s why as a kid, I spent hours in the backyard doing play-by-play of the imaginary baseball, football and basketball games I was playing with myself. In high school, it’s the reason I found my way to the drama program. I studied journalism in college, wrote for the school paper and worked in the sports information department. Eventually I found my way to FOX Sports as a producer, writer and creator of television. Over the years, I’ve had the amazing fortune to share some incredible success stories. There have been quite a few about failure as well. Today, a story about both… my story.

 I grew up playing sports, first falling in love with football, then baseball, basketball and soccer. My dreams were the pretty standard fare of professional superstardom either on the gridiron with the Miami Dolphins or the diamond with the Atlanta Braves. The fact that I was a short, tiny, string-bean of a kid didn’t matter. Sports were my destiny. If you listen to my podcast, Inside Job, you’ve heard this story quite a bit from the many talented people I’ve talked to that work in sports. At an early age, they were bit by the bug, thought they might be an athlete but eventually settled for writing, talking and covering the games. Settle is the wrong way to describe it though. Sports media is as hard a business to break into as there is. If you are lucky enough to crack the door, you are fortunate and blessed. And as I’ve learned over the past year, it might be an even harder business to stay in. This is the one-year anniversary of my departure from FOX. With each day that passes, I wonder just how much longer until I give up my dream.

 Technically, I left voluntarily. I was offered a buyout package along with many hundreds of others across the company. It was a great deal and many of us joked that we should all take it and go do something else. It would be like winning the lottery almost, assuming you could find another job. You could see the changes happening all around the media landscape. We all figured the buyouts were only the first step of purging. On the other hand, I really loved my job. Eventually I could read the tea leaves enough to know that I should take it. I was shook by the decision and very emotional. I waited two days to tell my wife Holly. I waited over a week before I started telling my co-workers. Their shock and emotional responses made me feel loved, and yet at the same time made me grow more and more depressed. Not every job is one you love. Certainly not every workplace is filled with people you enjoy. I had both. And soon, I would have neither. Each conversation was a new chance to pick at the wound opening in my career. There were many times I had to close my office door and cry.

 The last week at FOX felt more like a graduation than a funeral. There were so many smiles and laughs. There were great lunches and awesome happy hours. The hope and optimism of my co-workers, family and friends was inspiring. I began to feel like this was the best thing for me. People don’t stay with one company that long. I was ready for new challenges and opportunities. It was perfect timing as summer was arriving and I’d be able to take some vacations with my family. Come September, I would find a job pretty quickly. I was valuable. I was creative, meticulously organized and a really good manager of people. I juggled many roles. I didn’t require a massive salary. I was still young and growing. My ride wasn’t over. Of course, that’s how everyone feels. They aren’t lies when you believe them.

 After my “Summer Sabbatical” ended, I began looking for another full-time position. I had talked to a few people, had some meetings and applied to jobs here and there over the summer, but I knew I wouldn’t go hard until September. Beginning in the fall, each morning I sifted through job listings and applied for position after position. I was full of vigor and hope. The perfect fit was just a click away. I kept a log of the companies, positions, dates and contacts (a log that counts over 175 job applications now). I saw some listings for jobs I knew I was perfect for. Surely someone hiring for those positions would see my well-polished cover letter and resume and call right away to offer me the job! I reached out to old colleagues to see what might be out there. I was offered a position right away, but it wasn’t in sports nor was it something I wanted to do. I turned it down. Eight months later, I wonder if that was a mistake.

 As the days, weeks and months have ticked by, I have battled some tough feelings. My life has felt without purpose. I feel like a total fraud, like I never really accomplished anything and never really deserved any of the accolades and honors I achieved in my previous life. Feelings of shame flood my brain on Mondays when I should be waking up to take on the work week. Sleep is often restless as anxiety about work and money keep REM away. I was fortunate in that I took a buyout package with me when I departed FOX. So many people leave without that kind of safety net. I feel guilty that I was afforded the luxury only to watch others not receive it. I’m not special and many more talented people than me have lost jobs with nothing to show for it over the years. Pile those feelings on top of the others and you begin to get a sense of what my shoulders have been carrying this past year.

 Not every day is doom and gloom. On the better ones, I’m so thankful to have more time to spend with my wife and kids. Being a stay-at-home Dad has it perks. I’ve coached more football, soccer and baseball games and practices over the past eight months than perhaps any other father in America. I take the kids to and from school each day. Instead of the hours I wasted in traffic getting to and from the office, I eat dinner with my family every night.

 In lieu of a full-time position, I’ve been doing freelance work. The freelance life can be exhilarating, but you’re always at the mercy of the next phone call and waiting for it can drive you crazy. I’ve been so fortunate to land some opportunities with companies like NFL Network, VaynerMedia and some smaller production companies. I get emotional thinking about the kindness of friends and former colleagues like Nik Stanjevich, Jake Loskutoff and Geoff Birchfield who have hired me or thrown my name to people looking to hire. I even ended up back at FOX Sports West for a month producing two Angels shows thanks to my old boss Nick Davis and my old Coordinating Producer partner Micah King. In my darkest moments of despair, I try to think of these amazing guys and all they’ve done for me. I’ve enjoyed freelancing and if I could just build up a steadier stream of clients, I’d be happy doing it for the foreseeable future. Landing new projects, working with new people and experiencing new situations is exciting. Showing up, doing a job and then going home and not having to think about it is quite the change from the 24/7/365 existence I had for so many years at FOX.

 One year. I certainly didn’t see myself where I am today. It has been an incredible ride, filled with wonderful experiences in my personal life and a big, gaping hole in my professional one. I don’t want to give up the dream I had as a kid. I will continue to give everything I have to finding work. I’m hopeful I can build up a freelance client base. I’m optimistic the perfect fit in a full-time position is still out there. I trust my abilities to learn, grow and adapt. But reality can be harsh. I have to provide for my family. And if the door to the sports media world slams shut, I’ll move on grateful for everything I experienced. Indebted to everyone who taught me so much. Appreciative of the friendships and bonds. In the meantime, I’ll fight like hell to find my place. It’s all any of us can do.

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[shawnkopelakis]

Farewell my sweet Burrito Brothers

Primo Beef and Bean Burrito. Black Beans. Lettuce. Cheese. Red Sauce. So simple. A staple of my life for so many years. And now like so many of the good things in this world, gone too soon. So long Burrito Brothers.

As a kid growing up in South Florida in a working-class family, we didn’t dine out very much. If we did, it was your typical fast food dash and grab. Like more kids than not, my exposure to burritos and tacos in my early years was via Taco Bell. Cringe-worthy now but at the time, everyone was doing it. It was the '80s, man. So imagine my taste buds’ reaction the first time I visited Gainesville in 1991 as a high school senior and was taken to a hole in the wall place on 13th Street for a real burrito.

That initial visit to Burrito Bros. Taco Company was love at first taste. My order was a primo beef burrito, tortilla chips and a soda. We ate in front of my friend Joel Kelly’s dorm hall, Broward. The flavor of the red sauce, the ground chuck melted together with cheese, the green lettuce, the freshness of the tortilla… I mean seriously, this was an option? The mass produced mystery concoction that was tossed out the drive thru window for years into my car wasn’t a burrito. This was heaven on Earth. This was home.

For the next six years as I pursued a bachelor’s and then a master’s at UF, Burrito Brothers would faithfully serve me at least once a month. It was just a quick dash over from Matherly or Norman after class or before a study session at Library East. Diligently, I stuck to the basics. Primo Beef or Primo Beef and Bean (black beans) almost every time. Why mess with perfection? Plus back in the mid '90s, there wasn’t much more to the menu. Most times I arrived, the line was six or seven people deep, sometimes with a few of us cued up outside. Once you made it inside, you checked the pin boards for notices about which bands were playing where, see if any house parties had posted a flier, check to see if anyone was selling anything you might need. It wasn’t just a place to pick up the best burritos in the world, it was a community.

An eclectic community at that. Gainesville has always been a diverse place and Burrito Brothers was certainly representative of that. Punks with tattoos and piercings, professors, locals from the outskirts of town, businessmen in suits, freshman with fear in their eyes who had been sent there on recommendations from older siblings or parents. All were welcome through that door just north of University Ave. And all came for the feast.

I moved to California in 2000 and was introduced to authentic Mexican food for the first time. There are so many wonderful spots for tacos and burritos but my love for Burrito Brothers never died. In fact, my Mom once sent me a few primo beef burritos packed in dry ice for my birthday. On every trip back to Gainesville, I've eaten at Burrito Brothers at least once and sometimes twice.

As the years have passed, Gainesville has morphed and those effects on the old mainstays were obvious. So many longtime hangouts of generations of Gators have long ago disappeared. Joe’s Deli, the Covered Dish, the Orange and Brew, the Purple Porpoise, Common Grounds and countless others… all gone. The corner of 13th and University is prime real estate and the city of Gainesville has exploited that. Burrito Brothers first relocated and spent years operating out of the back of a church. As shocking as that move was to many of us, it still felt like our own special place. It wasn’t the hole in the wall anymore, it was the hole in the back of the church. As long as there was red sauce, we were happy. Surely Burrito Brothers could find a way to survive even when those other Gainesville icons could not.

When I took my family back to Gainesville in November of 2015 for the Florida-Florida State game, as with every trip back, Burrito Brothers was on the itinerary. I had heard about the new digs but when I strolled over for lunch on Game Day, I had no clue what awaited me. An actual restaurant with tables and a patio. Craft beer on tap. A menu with so many items on it, my wife and kids had to take their time figuring out what they wanted. Not me. Primo beef and bean (black) burrito, extra red sauce, guacamole (which incidentally is one of my biggest regrets, not liking guac as a student, I never had it until I returned as an alum, what a loss). I also added a draft of a local Gainesville brew because how cool is that? We took our brown paper bag (I loved that they still stayed true to the brown paper to-go bag) and walked back across University to our tailgate spot in the Plaza of the Americas. And there I consumed what turned out to be my last burrito from the place that binds me to Gainesville as much as Ben Hill Griffin Stadium, Weimer Hall or anywhere else.

I didn’t know it was my last meal at that time but looking back now, I’m salivating at the taste flashback. The fact that my wife and young sons got to partake with me makes it all the more special. I can’t believe they are closing, the blame lies heavily with the city and I know that my next trip back to Gainesville will be a little less joyous because of it.

Farewell Burrito Brothers. Gainesville is losing another piece of its soul on Saturday. We’ll always love you.

[shawnkopelakis]

Thankful for These Past 8 Years

It was over eight years ago, early November in 2008. My family was in Florida on vacation. Our kids were two years old and eight months old and this was the first trip with both of them to see the rest of the family back home. My boys were the stars of the trip and took up all the attention with grandparents, aunts and uncles, leaving me time for something else. I spent a portion of two days knocking on doors in Brevard County canvassing for a presidential hopeful I believed could bring us hope and change. Now eight years later, I’m so proud and honored to have been a part of Barack Obama’s journey.

I’ve always been a political junkie. I was born three months after Richard Nixon’s resignation. My first memory of politics was election night in 1980 when the family TV showcased the unveiling of the Reagan Revolution with Ronald Reagan’s landslide victory over President Jimmy Carter. Little did I know, at almost six years old, just how those ultra-conservative policies being ushered in would shape my beliefs and passions for life in fighting against them.

I was in fifth grade during the next presidential election and I remember that we followed it very closely in my favorite elementary school teacher Mrs. Neuenschwander’s class. I was a supporter of Walter Mondale, but much like the rest of the country, most everyone else supported Reagan. My freshman year of high school in 1988 saw Michael Dukakis (a fellow Greek, yes!) take his turn dashing my political hopes and dreams.

By the time 1992 rolled around, I was old enough to know more about the whole election process. This was the first time I was really aware of the primary system and thanks again to two great high school teachers, Mr. Whitaker and Mr. Liebman, I felt very confident in my knowledge of the issues and the candidates. In the primary, I was a huge supporter of Jerry Brown. This was my first taste of a grassroots campaigner, someone who seemed to be way outside the establishment, fighting for the poor and the under-served. Once again, I picked the losing horse as Brown eventually fell by the wayside to Bill Clinton (amazing that some 18 years later, I’d cast a vote for Brown as Governor of California!). I arrived at the University of Florida that fall and regrouped to support Clinton. It would be my first taste of victory on the Presidential stage but it was somewhat bittersweet. My November 11th birthday meant that I was eight days shy of being eligible to vote in the ‘92 election.

It wasn’t until 1996 when I was nearly 22 years old, a veteran of watching four previous elections, that I was finally able to vote. I remember the church polling place off Williston Road where I punched the ballot and the joy at displaying the “I Voted” sticker on my shirt. The Clinton years from 1993-2001 were as influential as any time in my life. They included my college years, my graduation, the formation of lifelong friendships that are like a brotherhood and my big move to California. They cemented my core beliefs in what our government and country should be, a place of hope and opportunity for all citizens, not just the rich or the white or the male.

I moved to California in March of 2000 amid the campaign between George W. Bush and Al Gore. I registered to vote in my new state despite knowing that my vote was now essentially meaningless on the national scale and then watched in horror (and some humor) at the embarrassment that was the Florida vote and recount. My one vote back in my home state would not have made the difference but I still felt ashamed and guilty nonetheless. After Bush’s disastrous eight years in office, I knew that I had to do more next time around.

Which leads me back to why I wanted to write something today in the first place. Barack Obama’s 2008 campaign was the most electric and exhilarating campaign perhaps in American history. The young people, the diversity, the embrace of ALL was intoxicating. I had to be a part of it and I knew that Florida might once again be the crucial state. The polls, which I now obsessively tracked every day, were close, especially in Florida. So as we planned when to take our boys on their first trip to see most of our family, I thought about the election and whether or not I could help. We booked the trip to spend Halloween through election day in the Sunshine State, cast our own ballots early (mostly so we could make sure to vote against the hateful Prop 8 since we knew Obama would easily win CA) and then I reached out to the campaign to offer my services. I spent portions of two days walking the streets in mostly-white, mostly-conservative Melbourne. The campaign had a comprehensive list of undecided and independent voters so I wasn’t necessarily approaching any hostile doors. And yet, as I walked by one house, an older white man asked me what I was doing. I said I was talking to people about the election and Barack Obama. He replied to me that he was voting for George Wallace (the infamous Alabama segregationist and racist). I didn’t flinch and kept knocking on doors knowing that some people just weren’t going to even consider a black President.

On the night of November 4, 2008, my wife Holly, her mother Lori and I were glued to the television as the election results were coming in. When Florida was called for Obama, I burst into tears knowing he had won the election. I was so proud of my country and my fellow citizens. It seemed like we had accomplished something so many had never thought possible and that now, we could potentially and truly change the world.

Alas, these past eight years haven’t gone exactly to plan. The obstruction against Obama began almost immediately, a lot of it fueled by racist undertones. He hasn’t been able to accomplish everything he wanted and a lot of what we hoped for. And there are certainly aspects of his presidency like the increase of the surveillance state that I do not agree with. 

But despite the least productive Congress in history, one hellbent on only denying Obama any “victory”, the President was able to enact great, historic measures. He ended the Great Recession and saved our economy from the brink of disaster. Employment is way down with the longest streak of net job creation in our nation’s history. Obamacare, as Americans are finally starting to realize now that it is being threatened, is a positive first step toward ensuring all Americans have affordable access to healthcare. It was a landmark accomplishment 40 years in the making, a plan that was originally proposed by conservative Republicans only for them to turn against it once Obama endorsed it. Other accomplishments include criminal justice reforms aimed at reducing our prison state and ending the racial bias in arrests and sentences. Obama’s actions on green energy and climate change, marriage equality and LGBT rights, nuclear non-proliferation and the deal with Iran are all transcendent acts that have made us a better, stronger nation. Oh and did you forget he oversaw the killing of Osama Bin Laden?

Regardless of all those acts, the thing that made Obama so special to so many was his grace, his humility, his empathy and his compassion. I’ll never forget his tearful speech after Newtown. In the face of constant attacks, some to his face (”You lie”) and many behind his back (racist jokes and cartoons about him and his family shared via email and social media by disgusting, pathetic people), Obama never flinched. He was so eloquent in every speech, so charming and funny in every public appearance, so cool and hip in every interaction on talk shows and online skits with celebrities, musicians and athletes. He was a President who valued intellectual curiosity and never felt threatened by others, to the point of putting known adversaries like Hillary Clinton and Robert Gates in his cabinet.

When I think of President Obama, I’m going to think of all of these things and more. He was the coolest dude on the planet and also one of the nerdiest, something I’ve tried to balance throughout my entire life. When he said earlier this week that “it has been the honor of my life to serve you”, my heart surged. I thought to myself “No Mr. President, it has been the honor of our lives to have you serve us”.

On this last day of your historic and successful presidency, thank you Mr. President for everything.