Legend has it that I came into this world looking like I had just gone 12 rounds in the ring with Floyd Mayweather. I was a bloody blob of cartilage, and I was an absolute mess. Luckily, the doctors at that Cincinnati hospital cleaned me up and I was on my way. Cincinnati and I got off to such a bright start, but our days together were numbered. Around the time of my third birthday, the Cohen clan relocated to Atlanta. And seeing as I cannot recall a single thing about living in Ohio, I feel I can call the ATL my home without hesitation.
Vivid images of my childhood in Atlanta regularly flood my mind. Surprisingly interesting elementary school field trips. January soccer games in tundra-like conditions. Terribly awkward high school dances. All that good stuff. I enjoyed the confusing process of growing up, primarily because of the unwavering support I received from my parents and from some hooligans who will be cheering me on at my wedding someday.
I admire my parents, and I cherish the relationships I have with my friends. However, I revere my older sister Sara. She just gets it. I have seldom encountered someone with such humility, kindness, drive and wit. I feel a tremendous amount of pride in being her younger brother. Because I have always looked up to my sister, I have often followed in her footsteps over the years.
So when my sister decided to take up soccer, I replaced my hockey skates with soccer cleats. I was just 8 years old, and I thought I was merely participating in the same after-school activity as her. But as time wore on, I realized soccer had a far deeper meaning in my life.
I constantly practiced in my backyard as I pretended to be Thierry Henry, Steven Gerrard and Didier Drogba. You know, some of the greatest to ever do it. As I hunched over on the brown leather couch in my basement, I studied what my idols did on the television screen. Upon the conclusion of a match, I would scurry outside and try the moves I had just seen. Drag with the left foot, step over the ball with the right foot and boom! Straight into the top corner. My word, they made it look so easy, even with world-class defenders standing in their way. I was beyond inspired. I seriously believed I was going to play in the English Premier League one day. Unsurprisingly, given my diminutive stature and lack of a truly competitive internal fiber, I allowed the dream to fizzle out. During my youth soccer career, I travelled to Italy and Brazil to train with a handful of professional teams' academy programs. While playing in such soccer-crazed countries provided unforgettable experiences, these trips also helped me arrive at a painful yet undeniable realization: at a certain level, everyone can ball. So many worthy candidates will try to make it to the big leagues. So few will succeed in doing so.
And so there is perhaps a shade of irony in my saying that I want to be a play-by-play sportscaster in the future. I continue to chase the dream, fully aware of the underwhelming statistical odds of being the next Al Michaels. Through my broadcast journalism classes and my involvement in student radio and student television, I am refining my skill set here at USC. While I am not opposed to basking in the perpetual sunshine of this drought-stricken town, I prefer to be playing, watching or researching sports in my free time. After all, the caliber of the school's Division-I teams certainly factored into my decision to attend. My obsession with sports continues to increase as I try to shape my affinity for athletics into a broadcasting career. I figured if I cannot be playing on the field, I might as well try to get as close to the action as possible. I want to develop genuine relationships with coaches and players. I want to feel the energy of a stadium. I want to unleash my boyish enthusiasm as I call a play.
I want to do what I love.
I have ambitions and will grind to make them come to fruition. However, that does not nullify my status as a complete goofball. I am easily amused. I freestyle rap with friends while puttering through traffic. And yes, in my world, socks are to sandals as peanut butter is to jelly.