Labours of love: The struggles of student journalism

My first Varsity, my first Varsity match report. I’d already been to the ice hockey the night before, experienced the Varsity buzz, and here was my chance to report on it.

I finished my pre-match netball research (it is a goal not a basket, who knew?) and headed over to the sports centre. But I’d timed this all wrong, the main hall balcony was packed to the rafters. I was left looking for the shortest person to lean over to get a glimpse of the game. [You may note my match report doesn’t mention anything of Warwick’s wing attack, and I’ll be honest, for all I know she could have had the best first half in Varsity netball history]. Come half time I’d been ushered into the equipment cupboard through the sport editor’s networking, sitting on a surprisingly comfortable combination of futsal goals and lacrosse sticks.

Come half time I’d been ushered into the equipment cupboard through the sport editor’s networking, sitting on a surprisingly comfortable combination of futsal goals and lacrosse sticks.

Such is student journalism. Whether it’s having your first ever match report on a women’s lacrosse match (with the names Alice and Sarena in the first paragraph) sub-titled by the higher-ups to “Oscar Mayhew watched men’s lacrosse slip to a battling defeat”, or trying to explain the name ‘the Boar’ to your mates (“I think it’s meant to be ironic”, “But it’s not funny”), this year, for as brilliant an experience it has been, has on occasion showcased the challenges of student journalism. And Varsity brought the crescendo of this.

Try directing someone to Coventry’s annoyingly named pitches. “It’s The Place near Varsity”…”No it’s actually called The Place”. Try sending regular live updates on one bar of 3G at the SkyDome. Try using the Sport Officer’s tweets to work out who scored which goal in the women’s football. Try getting an iPhone battery life to last 4 hours of hockey in single figures degrees in order to write notes for the match report…Having turned up 15 minutes late after mistakenly walking to Westwood. [Reader tip: Airplane mode is a saviour, although I think I’m quite late to realise this]. I wonder whether these concerns bother Matthew Syed on a daily basis.

I wonder whether these concerns bother Matthew Syed on a daily basis.

But, for me, these challenges are what made Varsity distinctly Varsity. Within 10 minutes on the Saturday, I’d sprinted down Gibbet Hill Road to get to the women’s football on time, seen a U1 driver swearing at his number 11 counterpart and briefly caught Warwick demolish Coventry at Ultimate Frisbee, a 10 minutes that never would have happened if I was being treated like a professional journalist. By following the Varsity buzz as a true amateur writing distinctly average match reports, perhaps for the first time since unpacking my bags in Rootes back in October, I’d had a uniquely Warwick experience. All because of Varsity.