Ed Puskas: Some stories you don’t want to write

If you’re in the newspaper business long enough, you’ll write about subjects you’d prefer not to broach.

People who die too young.

Legendary athletes and coaches who die.

People whose careers and lives are derailed by drugs, alcohol or criminal behavior.

Athletes whose careers are cut short by devastating injuries.

Those are among the worst examples. Also difficult, but obviously not as tragic, are the stories of athletes and teams that fail to reach their full potential or meet lofty expectations for a variety of reasons.

I’ve written about all these subjects and more.

Almost 15 years ago, I helped one of my best friends, Dave Dorchock, write his own obituary after his doctors told him there was nothing more they could do to help him in his battle against cancer.

More than 30 years ago, I wrote about a high school wrestler who died in a fire. As if that wasn’t tragic enough, the back story was that this boy literally had no family. Abandoned by his parents and without a connection to his extended family, he lived — and died — in a foster home.

The boy’s high school guidance counselor sobbed on the telephone as she told his story. There was nothing she could do to help him in death, but she wanted our readers to know his story. She was afraid that no one else would come to pay their respects to this lost boy.

I hope that kid knew he had at least one person who mourned his untimely death.

To this day, sitting down with Dave to write his obituary and that earlier interview and the story that came from it remain the most difficult tasks of my entire life and career.

This one isn’t going to be easy, either.

As you must know by now, we apparently — barring a last-second Hail Mary — are playing out the string on Vindicator Square these days. The Vindicator announced on June 28 that the Aug. 31 edition of the newspaper will be the last in its 150-year history.

It is not my place to try to explain why. People far more intelligent than I have tried to do so and I’m not sure it can be boiled down to a few sentences anyway.

All I know is that in a few weeks, my friends and colleagues and I will put that last edition to bed and walk out of this building for the last time. Typically, but especially on a high school football Friday night, the sports crew turns out the lights as we leave because the sports pages are the last to be completed and sent to press.

Every other time, we all show up the following afternoon to put out the Sunday edition. That won’t happen on Aug. 31.

We’ve known this for two weeks, but I’ve purposely avoided addressing it in print. It’s almost as if it won’t happen if I don’t acknowledge it. I know that’s a childish approach, but it’s time to face reality. The only job I’ve ever loved — the only one I’ve ever done — is going away. I’m not alone. There are 144 or so of us who go our separate ways into an uncertain future.

That doesn’t feel good. I hate the idea of so many friends and colleagues not knowing what’s next. And yes, for all the posturing I’ve done about embracing the unknown and making the most of what’s to come, there is a part of me that isn’t altogether comfortable with that level of change.

But here we are. We live and work in the Mahoning Valley, so we’re not the first group of hard-working people who have dealt with this and if I had to bet on it, I’d say we won’t be the last.

There is also the painful realization that great void will be left behind. I don’t say that because my occasional thoughts here will soon be going away. The reality of what all of us will be losing really hit home when I started to think about what we won’t be covering after Aug. 31.

Nine weeks of regular-season high school football games and the playoffs.

All the other fall, winter and spring prep sports during the 2019-20 school year.

Youngstown State football, basketball and all of the Penguins’ other sports.

The Vindicator Athletes of the Year.

The Youngstown Phantoms, the Youngstown Peace Race and the Youngstown Marathon.

The Cleveland Browns, Pittsburgh Steelers and Ohio State Buckeyes.

The obituaries and wedding announcements.

The court and cops reports.

The photographs.

The elections.

And so much more.

Just like you, I took it for granted that The Vindicator would always be here to do these things for you. Barring a miracle, that isn’t going to be the case.

I’m so sorry about that. I wish I could write about something else — anything else — right now. But I’ve put it off too long and the closer we get to that final edition, the harder it was going to be.

I hate writing these kinds of stories. They can be so difficult and awkward, almost as tough as meeting with so many people and seeing the sorrow and pity in their eyes as they struggle for the right words to say. I struggled for them in this column.

But if I’ve taken anything positive from these last couple of weeks, it is learning how much The Vindicator means to so many of you.

I haven’t been here nearly as long as many of my colleagues, but this newspaper and the people I work with every day mean a lot to me, too.

I’m grateful for the chance to be a part of what we do here, which is tell your stories.

Thanks for allowing us the opportunity to do that. And there are still some to tell before it’s all over.

That’s what we intend to do.

Write Vindicator Sports Editor Ed Puskas at epuskas@vindy.com and follow him on Twitter, @EdPuskas_Vindy.