Reflections of the BMW Championship: Tuesday, September 8, 2009 - Official Practice Round at Cog Hill
I woke up giddy with anticipation and turned on my computer. It was just after 8:00 a.m., which is a little early for me. Even my computer was sluggish at that early hour as it seemed to take longer than usual to boot up. Finally it did and I quickly set to work navigating my way to my Hotmail account. There were plenty of new messages, but nothing from my new pal Sara.
With nothing else on the schedule, I decided to spend the rest of the day confined to my apartment; pacing around my living room/office, pausing at my computer every few minutes to click the "refresh" button.
Finally I received a response from Sara about mid-afternoon. It read:
Hi Joe:
A problem has come up in processing your request. Could you have your editor contact me directly? Tell him to use a business email. Thanks.
Sara
It had not previously occurred to me that the road to the BMW might somehow be thwarted due to my asking for press credentials via a personal email account, but I had no other option. I am, what is referred to in the newspaper industry as, a stringer. You civilians might call me a freelancer, which is also fine and correct, but it just doesn't have that same sexy ring to it, so I typically refer to myself by the former. Anyway, as a stringer, I have no official ties to the newspaper and therefore, do not possess a proper email address with the company.
It was obvious that if the BMW Championship was in my future, the request would have to come from the top. I forwarded Sara's email to my editor and asked if he could make a request on my behalf.
The sun was beginning to set and I had still received no new words from either Sara or my editor. I decided to call him at the office; no answer. I called his cell phone; he didn't pick up. Finally I sent him a text message saying: READ EMAIL!!!
My editor responded: ON DEADLINE. WILL CALL TOMORROW.
Call tomorrow? Call whom; me or Sara? 
I had no business making the assumption that my editor would remember to contact Sara on his own; this was too big of an assignment for me to lose. However, I had to concede that, at least for now, this was out of my hands. I turned off my computer, picked up my tackle box and went fishing.
To be continued...