Yes, the bananas talk to me at 2 AM, and they make some good points.
Well, this has gone on a lot longer than I expected.
When I started Coupeville Sports — the first article hitting the internet Aug. 15, 2012 — I sort of thought it would be a side project, something to add to my real-world job.
With video stores having faded out, I was back washing dishes, digging ditches on the prairie, and otherwise abusing my back and fingers.
“(Work) h’uh
Yeah!
(What is it good for?)
Absolutely (nothin) uh-huh, uh-huh
(Work) h’uh
Yeah!
(What is it good for?)
Absolutely (nothin’)
Say it again, y’all
I was royally cheesed that the Coupeville Examiner, which I had written for on a freelance basis for 15+ years (emphasis often on free), had just been sold and was on the fast track to oblivion.
So, boredom, pain, unhappiness, and a little too much eggnog (of the spiked variety) combined to send me back into the world of sports writing from whence I came.
And now here we stand on Apr. 5, 2023, and you’re reading article #10,000.
Or just looking at the photos…
I haven’t worked a “real-world” job in a bunch of years now, and somehow, through all the hiccups and hissy fits, and a little personal growth (emphasis on little), Coupeville Sports still sputters along.
Pretty much every word you’ve ever read on this blog, with the rare exception of a first-person account or two, came off my fingertips — a lot of it written at 2 AM.
Coupeville Sports wouldn’t be where it is, or what it is, without the countless photographers who have allowed me to use their work over the past decade.
John Fisken, Shelli Trumbull, Jackie Saia, Morgan White, and every Wolf Mom (or dad) with a camera or a phone allow me to do what I do — write — and not what I don’t do — shoot photos.
This year, the yearbook staff at Coupeville High School — Bailey Thule, Delanie Lewis, Helen Strelow, Brenn Sugatan, Chloe Marzocca, and more — have opened up a new pipeline of pics, one which has given new life to the blog.
Equally invaluable are the many, many coaches and/or parents who go out of their way to send me stats and info from road games, who put up with my often-inane questions, and have yet to hit me with a well-flung clipboard.
Which did happen back in my old-school Whidbey News-Times days, but that was at least 78% unintended, and the bruises have healed.
Even the one coach who (barely) lasted a season before vanishing into the night without offering a real resignation, the one who used to sprint away from anyone who tried to speak to them after a game, taught me a valuable lesson.
Always block off all the exits before going in for a postgame interview! Always!!!
Yes, well…
Where’s this whole thing going? I have no clue.
Like all one-man operations, there are days where the words whizz off my fingertips, and days where I consider taking my winter depression beard and moving off into the woods to raise pigs.
So, 20,000 articles, or a giant emotional flame out at 10,001?
Only time will tell.
As we ride that roller coaster, my biggest thanks go out to the many, many people who have been so supportive over the years, both in words and deeds.
I’m probably never getting that indoor/outdoor swimming pool, with waterfall in the middle (unless Bill Gates has been secretly reading, and enjoying this blog, and suddenly decides to add me to the will).
But, thanks to your donations, I pay my limited bills and stay out of the dish pit, and my fingers thank you for it.
Want to join the Bow Down to Cow Town movement? It’s simple and may give you a pleasant glow in your chest.
PayPal — https://paypal.me/DavidSvien?country.x=US&locale.x=en_US
Venmo — David-Svien
Snail mail — 165 Sherman, Coupeville, WA 98239
In person at games — Do it mob style for that extra thrill.
