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+---- Thread: Media Grader Hiring Battle! (/showthread.php?tid=19646)
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Media Grader Hiring Battle! - Memento Mori - 03-02-2020
Every second felt like an hour, and every minute felt like an age. The ticking of the clock seemed deafening in the quiet murmur of the green room, overpowering the muffled sounds of the crowd inside the venue. Brandon Booker slid the ring off his middle finger, back on, and off again. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been doing this, or why.
He looked up from his hands and glanced around the room as he continued: off, on, off, on. Some of the prospects were completely silent, passing the time with their own rituals. Rhythmically tapping their feet on the floor in polished, sparkling shoes bought for the occasion; or just staring at a particular section of the wallpaper. Others were on the phone to their agents: clearly agitated and convinced that something meaningful must’ve happened in the last few minutes.
Brandon thought about the journey that had taken him here. From running around the backyard in Phoenix, to Desert Vista High School football. It had all been about fun back then. No pressure, no expectations. Part of him missed being the fastest kid on the field, and the effortlessness with which he’d evaded tacklers and scored touchdowns. He missed picking himself up after every hit with a grin sprawled across his face. No contract discussions, no media obligations, no internal politics. Brandon, ten friends, and eleven opponents. Pizza after games, sleepovers with friends in towns he’d never heard of before. Fuelled by friendship, winning, and far too much soda.
Another prospect loudly re-entered the room, having returned from the bathroom. It was the seventh time he’d been. Or was it the eighth? Brandon had been keeping count, but had lost track. He’d been unable to focus on anything that day. Where was he again? Right, the journey.
Even college seemed simple now. Sure, things could’ve gone more smoothly, but there was never a moment he’d felt like this. He always knew he’d make it, just not quite when or how. What if he couldn’t get on the field? What if he got cut? What if he wasn’t offered a second contract? This world wasn’t as forgiving. There weren’t as many people rooting for him to succeed. It’d be so easy for him to slip through the cracks and become another footnote. Just another name, one only a handful remembered.
What would he do if his football career failed? Or more importantly, what could he do? What was his backup plan? He thought of his parents, his coaches, his teammates. Everyone who’d worked hard to get him this far. Driving him to practice, driving him to games. Standing up for him, picking him up when he was down. Throwing passes, running routes or doing tackling drills after everyone else had gone home. Sacrificing their own needs for his. Could he look his mother in the eye and tell her he’d failed, after hundreds, no, thousands of hours driving him across the city and across the state? Would his father forgive him, after he’d turned down a promotion that would have forced the family to move and Brandon to change schools?
Had it all been leading up to this day? This moment? Or was today just as fleeting?
A chorus of booing began, and every eyeball in the room darted in the direction of the giant TV screen mounted on the wall. Bex was walking to the podium, draft card in hand. The commissioner cleared her throat, and announced into the microphone: “With the first pick in the Season 22 NSFL Draft, the Chicago Butchers select…”
She paused. Brandon took a deep breath, and the commissioner read out the name on the card.
Quote:612 words. NB: Made Chicago the #1 pick because y'all won the fewest games last season. If you don't like it, win more games.
Media Grader Hiring Battle! - revuhlution - 03-02-2020
Everything I've written for the NSFL has come pretty easy. I think of a topic and then write it out. Being given a topic, even one this broad, gave me issues. I've already written whatever I had ideas about. But here goes, anyway. PS: I dig that you opened this up for everyone to vote.
I wanna take a second to talk about my dog, Bruce. He's a short, fat Pit Bull. Tuxedo black, with the white on his chest and paws. Looks like he's wearing booties. He's about 70lbs, but the vet always says he needs to lose some weight. No joke, dude's built like a sausage, low to the ground. I’ve even had other Pit owners ask me, “How’d you get him like that?” Man, I dunno. Its natural, the lazy bum. I found him in the street, about 7 years ago (I was like15). We’ve been together since.
Going from Jacksonville to San Diego for college was tough. I didn't know anyone and this was a brand new place. And it’s DIFFERENT from Florida. Culture shock almost. I didn't have Bruce my first year, living on campus. I missed him alot. I like folks, I'm relatively outgoing, but I go through times when I don't want to be around anyone. Nothing crazy, I just recharge. But Bruce is there for me. Not having that my freshman year was difficult.
Its one of the things I love best about having a pet.. Even if I don’t want to leave the house or get up from my bed, I know I have someone who relies on me to meet his needs. I HAVE to take him out; he doesn’t get to make that choice for himself, so I gotta do it. We’re so active during the season, I go through times where I don’t do much at all. Bruce makes sure I don’t go too far down that rabbit hole.
Even then, my mom and I would Skype or Facetime, and later she would show me pictures of Bruce curled up on the computer she just used. I don’t usually get too sentimental, but he’s got a real special place in my heart. And... I know its kind of gross, but he always slept with me. I still caught myself sleeping on one side of the bed. Bruce was supposed to be on the other. He's just my guy, man.
When I moved into a house with some teammates, so did Bruce. He was the house dog. People knew you had to deal with Bruce when you came through the door. Even at parties. We didn’t lock him away. He gets excited, knocks people over, and stands over them like a lovable champion. But he's big, so you can't just let him jump on you.
It’s funny. I’m back in Jacksonville with my family before the draft, and its just like when we were kids. My mom’s cooking breakfast every morning. Its always loud in the house, but when me and Bruce come down the stairs, its crazy. He bounces around, putting his nose everywhere, taking any scraps people give him. He always stays near the kitchen longer, though. She knows he needs to lose weight, but my mom always sneaks him snacks. He’s already getting fat.
He’s excited for the draft. He can tell every is on needles. We try to take him out a couple times a day, because otherwise he gets into stuff. We have a neighbor with another big dog, and they have been having a blast. They run along the chain link fence, not making too much noise, but excited! Tails’ always wagging.
I know he’s going to miss the family when we get drafted. I might have to get him a friend though. Things are going to be crazy busy, and I can’t leave him alone all the time. Its a time for new beginnings. For Bruce, too. He’s been telling me he wants to go somewhere warm, but I don’t know. I think he’d be just as happy with Minnesota or London. London… man, that’d be a trip.
Word count: 631
[div align=\\\"center\\\"]Best of luck to everyone going for the gig. I didn't really expect to have to compete for a spot, but it speaks to the amount of participation and enthusiasm we have. Let's keep it going.
[/div]
Media Grader Hiring Battle! - Sermokala - 03-02-2020
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, GET BACK UP!" God this kid made me so mad. Jackob Yerdladson, he was a king at tackle drills and was a varsity cross country runner. But, every time he even sniffed a blocker he went down like a sack of potatoes.
"Don't just throw yourself into him, there are five of them and four of you, if you fall and get held down he does his job and the line is now down three to four. Use your hips, yes your hips to generate the power to push him off his balance and then shove him aside."
Coach was good at teaching a lot of things but had trouble teaching technical skills to kids. I was an honorary captain for homecoming tonight. I had gotten in early and was up earlier for "dawn drills", a traditional practice for gameday where the team did position drills before class that Friday, they would then nap as one team in the locker room after class until the game.
I heard the coach's whistle for drills to end. I helped pick him up after falling again over the blocking dummy. "Look, just think about it, try to find time to enjoy today."
I struggled to find anything to enjoy that day. I hadn't come back to my high school for seven years now. Things looked a lot worse then I remembered. The concrete floors had more cracks then I remembered, the buses were rustier and more in need of a coat of paint. The German books were still from West Germany.
But those lights. God I dreamed of those lights. This is where the world would always make sense. The stadium was rebar and concrete block reinforced with mold, dust, and grime. The concessions stand was new and served a good hot dog from the local factory. No parking lot, everyone walked to the field and then walked home, after the game.
"Uh, sir, it’s time." I looked to my right and the regular captains were holding hands and looking to me. I took his hand and walked to the middle of the field. I saw on the other side of the field, Palmer Anderson. A QB, He had gotten a scholarship for college for five years but never showed any interest in the DSFL. It took me back to the last game I ever got to play for my hometown. I was a few inches from taking him to the ground when he got the ball out of his hands and down the field. Forty thousand people were screaming as he took the state title from us.
My city produced a running game that never could be stopped, but it took time to score; while the away team ran an offense that would make the Otters proud. The game was a blur, except for the very end. I watched as the visiting Quarterback scrambled to Jakobs's side and I could see just how we were going to lose this game. Jakob had kept on his feet but hadn't been able to do much of anything this game, but this time was different. Suddenly I saw him do the move he had been saving the entire game. He flicked away the guard's arms with his inside hand and shoved him away with his outside hand. Like a thunderbolt, he was off and tackled that QB so hard the ball popped out. He wasn't first to the ball, the other team’s Runningback was there to pick it up, but as soon as he turned around he was hit by Jakob as well... in the endzone for a safety. Good field position saw my home team to make the game-winning field goal.
But I wasn't watching the final drive like the rest of the sideline and the crowd. During the kickoff, I looked over to the other side of the field and saw someone else that knew what was going to happen next. Palmer Anderson was with his wife and pushing a stroller with two young kids out of the stadium. He was happy, I guess you don't always get what you want.
692 words. good luck to everyone else.
Media Grader Hiring Battle! - ScorpXCracker - 03-02-2020
I really like this idea tbh
Media Grader Hiring Battle! - thevoicelesscreator - 03-03-2020
[div align=\\\"center\\\"]The Life of Mo “Mamba” Magic
-Part One: Before The Game-
As told by Michael Magic[/div]
When Mo was approached to do a personal piece to help DSFL scouts get a better understanding of his history, Mo refused stating that “I haven’t achieved anything yet. What is there to know?”. In a way, that really says all you need to know about Mo; humble, driven, with a chip on his shoulder.
But I’m not Mo. My name is Michael Magic, and this is the story of my big brother, Mozambama “Mamba” Magic.
[div align=\\\"center\\\"]-[/div]
Mozambama Magic, or Mo Magic as he prefers to be called, was born on August 23rd, 2016, at the Deerfoot General Hospital to Maria Magic. Weighing a hefty 5.2 kilograms, or 11.5lbs, Mo was always a big child, with a very healthy appetite. So, when Maria Magic gave birth to Michael Magic two years later, it was only a matter of time before she had to pick up a second job to make ends meet.
A single mother of two beautiful and healthy children, Maria Magic rarely had time to spend with her boys, leaving them in the care of her parents while she worked around to clock. As a result, the Magic boys were raised in a traditional conservative Christian household. From a young age, Mo showed hints of athletic talent, which were fostered by his grandfather. As Michael came into age, the two developed a sibling rivalry, and pushed each other to consistently get better and better.
Although the two tried everything together, Mo would eventually be drawn to basketball, and Michael to soccer. As one could expect of 7-year-old that stood at nearly 4ft, Mo would play as a two-way guard for most of his time on the court. Coached by his grandfather, Mo was dominant force on the court, and quickly adopted the moniker “Mamba” – something that was given to him by his grandfather for Mo’s driven need to improve and best everyone he played with and against. However, at the age of 11, tragedy struck the Magic family when Kobbe Magic, and his wife of 50 years, Marian Magic, were killed by a drunk driver. They were on their way to watch Mo play in his first middle school tournament.
The loss of both his parental figures shook Mo to his core and resulted in him taking the rest of the year away from the game. In the interim, Mo became a pseudo-parent for his younger brother Michael, caring for him while their mother ensured that they could continue to live in their ancestral home. However, even for the young Magic brothers, it became apparent that their lifestyle was no longer sustainable, and that a decision had to be made.
Unbeknownst to the Magic family, Kobbe Magic’s legacy was a highlight reel of Mo Magic, that was sent to major institutions across the nation. In the privacy of scouting rooms, Mo Mamba became a phenom, and one of the most sought after student athletes of his age. The first offer came around May, as the Magic family prepared to foreclose on their home and move into a shelter.
For Maria, it was all too good to be true. “I thought it was a joke at first. Here’s some school halfway across the country telling me that they want my boy to come and play basketball for them? I was young, but I wasn’t naïve.”
And then the second offer came in. And then the third, and the fourth, and the fifth. Soon enough, the Magic family were receiving letters every day from prospective high schools looking to have Mo be the keystone of their program. However, it was the one odd offer that would change Mo’s life.
Out of the 154 letters he received, only one of them spoke of bringing Mo in to do something completely different. A letter from Hugh Boyd Secondary’s head coach Will Hughes offered Mo a chance to play football, a sport that he had never even contemplated before. The offer itself seemed too good to be true – subsidized housing in the city of Maria Magic dreams, Vancouver. The rest didn’t even come close, only offering a room for Mo should he choose to accept.
A decision of that magnitude would take most adults days of contemplation, but for Mo Mamba, the choice was a combination of simple truths. “I loved Calgary, but we needed to get out of the hood… When we were sheltered, it was fine. But without grandpaps and grams, it was no place to raise Michael. When coach Hughes offered me the chance to bring my family with me, it made the decision a no-brainer”.
It took two phone calls for Mo to set his future in motion. The first to coach Hughes to confirm the offer was authentic, and the second a day later to verbally commit to the Hugh Boyd Secondary Trojans’ program. What would follow would change the life of the Magic family forever. But that’s for another time.
Words Count: 839
Media Grader Hiring Battle! - AlexF - 03-03-2020
Guess I missed the deadline lol
Ah well, hmu when round 3 of the AlexF for Media Grader cycle starts.
Media Grader Hiring Battle! - revuhlution - 03-03-2020
(03-01-2020, 08:05 PM)retrospace111 Wrote:nice i vote for @revuhlution
and i don't even know what he's writing that's how you know im unbiased
How should we vote?