The following is a teaser extract from my book-in-the-making titled as the headline of this post. Would crave for any comment you'd like to make
It is 1992. Twenty years ago. I have just graduated from College in London
and made it into my first real job as a sports journalist for a Fleet
Street-based newspaper. Back then, every time my editor was in need for
background information on an athlete or any sporting subject he’d ask me to get it for him. Sounds simple?
Not exactly!
First I had to get off my chair and take a
five minute walk, up a few stairs and down a few more to get to the archive
section of the paper. Then I had to fill in a request form containing the
relevant keywords which I had to then pass on to Rodger, an elderly archiveian
– for lack of a better word – who would lower his reading glasses upon my form,
clear his throat a couple of times and then gather his composure, take a deep
breath and help himself off his chair to drag his feet at the back of the
warehouse-like room, where a lengthy search would commence amongst shelves and
piles of files containing newspaper clippings pasted with UHU stick in A4
papers.
In the meantime and while Rodger was still looking for the appropriate
files, I was just standing there, a 22-year-old, clueless and bored, eyes
vacant, yet hopeful, that I would be able to return back to my desk, to
triumphantly and full of pride announce to my editor that I had stricken gold,
that I had managed, despite all the odds, obstacles and Rodger’s nonchalance,
to return with the Holy Grail, the source of all knowledge about the subject he
had asked me for.
Most times I did get back holding a bruised carton folder, with the signs
of ageing spreading along both covers and all four chipped, wrinkling corners.
The folder would in most cases contain a few yellowing clips of my newspaper
and of a few others which had reported on the subject of my search. That was it!
The source of all background knowledge available to the editorial team,
contained in a few newspaper clips. In most cases the subject in question had
been highlighted with a bright yellow marker and it was easy to identify. That
would be the equivalent of today’s Quick Search option in Google I guess.
As my trips to Rodger’s kingdom had become more frequent, my visitations
seemed to make him tick having an effect similar to that modern energy drinks
have on teenagers. He gradually became more welcoming, even mumbling “Hello’’
sometimes through his swollen, cracked lips bearing a permanent bloody bump
right in the middle of the lower flap. I dare say that he even looked forward
to seeing me in order to get his daily opportunity to get off his chair and
venture to the forest of shelves behind him into an adventure that kept his
instincts and reflexes alive.
One day, as I was standing there, waiting for Rodger to return with the
day’s data dose, I sort of had a panic attack. “What if Rodger falls sick
tomorrow? I asked myself. “What if he
takes his annual leave and goes for two weeks? Who would be replacing him? How
would I be able to get my hands on the information required to garnish the
newspaper’s stories with the detail and the background needed for our readers
to get the full picture? Or, even worst, what if Rodger kicked the bucket? What
then? I couldn’t bear the thought even,
not because I had suddenly developed a friendly disposition towards my ancient
colleague from the archives department but mostly because of the panic I felt
at the thought of having no access to information.
Can you imagine?
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