2B — April 22, 2019
SportsMonday
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

E

very email I’ve ever sent 
to the sports staff has 
ended with some varia-
tion of “I love 
you.”
To some, 
that probably 
seems like 
an unpro-
fessional, 
aggressive 
overuse of 
the term “I 
love you.” 
Under other 
circum-
stances, I might agree. But I 
don’t agree here, because: a) 
it’s absurd for anyone to limit 
their allotted number of “I love 
yous” in this lifetime, especial-
ly if you really, truly mean it, 
and b) I really, truly meant it.
My “I love yous” were never 
included on the basis of say-
ing it just to say it. They were 
included because I meant it, 
from the bottom of my heart, 
every single time. 
I have so much love for The 
Daily, for the sports staff and 
for everyone who has ever con-
tributed in any capacity to this 
institution. It’s kind of hard to 
explain why, because to a lot 
of people, this is probably just 
a student newspaper. It’s just 
like any other organization 
on this campus: It’s a creative 
outlet, it’s an extracurricular, 
it adds a little spice to students’ 
resumes, something fun to talk 
about in interviews.
Not for me. 
For me, The Daily is so, so 
much more. For being a student 
journalist, it’s a little ridiculous 
that I’m sitting here struggling 
to string together coherent sen-
tences that accurately convey 
The Daily’s importance to me. 
It should be easy to explain, 
but it’s not. The only way to 
explain it, I think, is to explain 
why The Daily is a large part of 
the reason I’m graduating from 
Michigan in two weeks. 
In high school, my plan was 

commmunity college. I applied 
to Michigan on a whim, and 
only decided to come here after 
the love of my life (financial 
aid) came through. But when I 
first got here, I realized I knew 
no one, and I was as academi-
cally ill-prepared as humanly 
possible.
I quite literally hated it. 
Everything about Michigan 
was different from my little 
village back home — my econ 
class was bigger than my high 
school graduating class, by a 
lot. I knew maybe three people? 
The lowest-level math class you 
could take was pre-calculus, 
which was still two levels too 
high for me. I failed two of 
those exams in a row, and nei-
ther of my parents had gone to 
college, so I felt like I had no 
one to talk to about it. 
And, to top it all off, I got 
sunburnt at every single god-
damn football game.
I was ready to transfer. I 
was going to go anywhere else. 
Michigan was not my home. I 
hadn’t even planned on going 
anywhere other than commu-
nity college in the first place. I 
did not sign up for this. 
Instead of transferring, 
though, I signed up for The 
Daily. It was 
kind of a last-
ditch effort 
to stay at 
Michigan, and 
I did techni-
cally only join 
because I was 
binge-watching 
Gilmore Girls 
at the time and 
Rory wrote 
for her school 
paper, but that’s not important. 
Because when Ted and Kevin 
started offering to help me 
with my math homework, and 
when Avi offered to meet me 
at South Quad for lunch before 
volleyball, and when Kelly gave 
me every piece of advice she 
had, I realized that there was 

a reason for me to stay on cam-
pus and give it another chance. 
My rocky start wasn’t at all 
indicative of the life I’d have 
at Michigan, and that chance 
I took on staying has given me 
the best four years of my life. I 
flew with the hockey team to 
Madison and State College, and 
I drove to Ohio State my senior 
year to cover a football game 
with four amazing friends. We 
went to the Peach Bowl last 
December where we met Mel, 
and if you haven’t met Mel 
(which you probably haven’t), 
just know he makes mean 
peach booze slushie. 
Joining The Daily carried me 
through Michigan. It taught me 
that going out of my comfort 
zone and attending a four-
year university had been hard, 
but exactly what I needed to 
grow as a person. It gave me 
the chance to start collecting 
coffee mugs at every school I 
went to, whether that was to 
cover a sport or for some other 
random, unimportant reason, 
in hopes that my future kids 
will grow up and see these 
mugs and not think twice about 
going to college.
(I don’t have an Ohio State 
mug, but that’s not my fault. I 
tried to buy one 
at both a hockey 
and football 
game. Their 
stores only car-
ried fake buck-
eyes and foam 
fingers.)
The Daily 
gave me a home 
in a place where 
I felt like I 
didn’t have one, 
and now I can’t imagine hav-
ing gone anywhere else. That’s 
why I have an absurd amount 
of love for these people, and 
why I don’t care that ending 
every email with “I love you” 
was probably unnecessary and 
ridiculous.
What I do care about is that 

everyone on this staff — every 
freshman, every senior, every 
junior and every sophomore — 
knows that they are a part of 
one of the best experiences on 
this campus.
At this point, it’s important 
to note that I tried to write 
this column a million times 
and couldn’t figure out what I 
wanted to say. A couple nights 
ago, I asked a former MSE how 
to best approach this column, 
and he said to write it for your-
self — not for anyone else. 
I kept thinking about what I 
wanted to say. What I needed, 
not what anyone else needed. 
All I could think of, though, 
was how much I loved every-
one, how grateful I am that I 
got to be a part of something so 
special for these four years. 
So, really, this column is just 
a 1,000-word extension of my 
senior goodbye from back in 
December. Oops.
In reality, that’s probably 
because I wasn’t really ready 
to say goodbye back then. I 
couldn’t write that goodbye 
in its entirety because saying 
goodbye meant I was done here 

at Michigan, and I wasn’t ready 
to be done. 
But, I think I am now. So, let 
me finish by wrapping up a few 
things I left unsaid:
Megan and Lauren, thanks 
for putting up with me (and 
The Daily). I can’t believe we 
made it through four years 
together even though we went 
in blind freshman year. I’m 
happy none of 
our fights over 
plastic bags 
and dishes ever 
had serious 
consequences. 
Thanks, 
Mrs. John-
son and Mrs. 
Jarrad, for 
calling Michi-
gan’s office of 
financial aid 
every day after I got accepted 
to find a way to get me here. 
Thanks, Christopher Loben-
herz, for picking up the phone 
one of those days and helping 
an unaccompanied homeless 
youth get to college. 
Turns out, I don’t have any 
big-picture theme or advice to 

give, mostly because I’m 22 and 
really don’t need that kind of 
liability on my hands. But I do 
want to say thank you, and not 
just to The Daily. Thank you if 
you read a story, if you were a 
professor who went out of your 
way to help me, if you were a 
GSI who didn’t fail me in pre-
calculus even if you probably 
should have.
Thank you all 
for being here, 
for being a part 
of this commu-
nity, for reading 
this incoherent 
goodbye col-
umn. Thank you, 
everyone, for 
doing whatever 
it is that you did 
to help me get to 
where I am today. 
I love you. 

Laney can be reached on 

Twitter @laneybyler or by email 

at dbyler@umich.edu. She wants 

to thank you (obviously) for 

reading this incomprehensible and 

ridiculously emotional last column. 

You’re all rockstars. She loves you. 

“I love you”

LANEY 
BYLER

Time to turn the lights out
A

fter a basketball game 
is finished, and the fans 
have left, some media 
members prefer to work in the 
media room.
I always 
try to go back 
to the press 
box, partially 
because I 
work better 
by myself, 
but mostly 
because there 
is nothing 
like an empty 
stadium. 
Where there was deafening 
noise and heart-stopping action 
mere hours earlier, now there is 
silence.
It helps my creativity for 
working and fuels my nostalgia 
when I’m done.
Over the last four years, from 
hockey to football, I’ve been 
lucky enough to walk around 
Joe Louis Arena, the Dean 
Dome, Mackey Arena, Madison 
Square Garden, the Alamodome, 
Mercedes-Benz Stadium and 
yes, Michigan Stadium. All 
empty. All magnificent.
In the basketball arenas, 
I think of my dad, Mike. He 
taught me how to shoot a jump-
shot and drove me all around 
hell and back for tournaments 
and games over the years, shar-
ing stories and advice like only a 
dad can do.
In the football stadiums, I 
think of my mom, Martha, who 
I remember yelling at the televi-
sion on fall Saturdays and tear-
ing up at the Michigan marching 
band during post-game perfor-
mances when we came to games 
in Ann Arbor years ago. She has 
always been there for me, in the 
stands for the easy times and in 
the trenches for the hard ones.
I look around these stadiums 
and think of my parents, the 
role they’ve played in getting 
me here and how much I wish I 
could show them these experi-
ences in person.
I liked to sit for a while by 
myself after running produc-
tions at The Daily last year, too. 
The posters around the room 

from past Managing Editors are 
a little like jerseys hung in raf-
ters. I think of myself here, and 
how I’ve somehow found a place 
in the history of this 128-year-
old newspaper.
Both experiences settle me 
down and give me the slightest 
sense of imposter syndrome. 
They are my two first thoughts 
when I think of my “happy 
place.”
The difference is that, if all 
goes well, more stadiums will 
be in my future. A silent, empty 
Stanford Lipsey Student Pub-
lications Building at 2:00 a.m. 
will not.
***
From a young age, I would 
wake up early in the morning 
to watch SportsCenter. When 
it ended, I would watch the 
next episode, which was just an 
exact repeat of the one I had just 
watched.
In those days, sports were 
synonymous with Michigan 
sports to me, and I never really 
had a choice.
My grandpa — Gumpa, as his 
grandkids called him — attend-
ed Michigan, and from there, I 
think my fate was preordained.
So I grew up with maize and 
blue everything. In Sunday 
School as a child, I colored a 
picture of Jesus Christ maize 
and blue.
I used to play catch with 
Gumpa in my grandparents’ 
living room with a little, blue, 
plastic football for hours. I’d say 
I was Marquise Walker (the real 
ones will remember) or Braylon 
Edwards or some other Wolver-
ines receiver, as I dove into their 
couches making one-handed 
catches.
I always thought I would be 
a Michigan athlete one day. Of 
course, that dream was dashed, 
because I am not close to 
D-1-caliber at anything, though 
I do hold my own on the IM 
courts.
Time passed, and it eventu-
ally came time to apply for col-
lege. I thought for a second that 
I might want to go somewhere 
else. I knew sports journalism 
was my interest and that Michi-

gan didn’t have a journalism 
major.
But when I actually got 
accepted here, I don’t even think 
I had to tell my parents where 
I wanted to go. They probably 
knew I’d end up in Ann Arbor 
before I did.
The sports journalism aspect 
took care of itself, too.
At Festifall my freshman 
year, I was actually looking for 
the WCBN table — I thought 
I wanted to do radio or televi-
sion. But I stumbled across The 
Daily’s table, where then-MSE 
Max Cohen was standing.
He asked me if he could be 
honest with me, and his pitch 
was something along the lines 
of, “We’re the best fucking stu-
dent newspaper in the country, 
and we’ll get you a job.”
Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, 
I was sold, and the rest is his-
tory.
Gumpa passed when I was 
nine. I’d give anything to tell 
him about the last four years.
***
I remember when my Dad 
was laid off. He is a press opera-
tor, and I was too 
young to have it 
explained to me 
fully, but he spent 
time at home for a 
while. Mom is an 
elementary school 
teacher, and we 
got by.
I also remem-
ber taking a 
drive one day. 
My parents, my 
two sisters — Katie and Mary 
— and I packed into our car and 
drove about five minutes away 
from home, pulling down a long 
driveway into the woods. At the 
end of it was a small house. We 
were moving here, away from 
my childhood home, to this air-
condition-less, fresh-water-less 
place.
I know I didn’t take that 
change well, and I imagine my 
reaction didn’t make things easy 
on my parents. I realize now 
that the move was partially for 
me.
Mom and Dad have always 

told us kids not to worry about 
the costs of things, because we’ll 
make it work.
When I wanted to play AAU 
basketball, they figured out a 
way to pay for it. When Katie 
decided on Western Michigan, 
and I decided on Michigan, they 
figured out a way to pay for it. 
When Mary gets into Harvard 
or Oxford or something, they’ll 
figure out a way to pay for it. 
When I got my first internship 
in Colorado Springs, my Dad 
got in my shitty, old car with 
me and drove through the night 
to Colorado to make sure I got 
there safe.
I don’t write any of this 
because I think I’m special, or 
for pity’s sake. I recognize there 
are thousands of kids and par-
ents who have to grind to make 
ends meet.
I tell these stories because I 
am so, incredibly lucky to have 
the parents I do. They deserve 
so much credit. Truthfully, they 
deserve so much more than that.
No matter how many times 
I’ve been down to my last dol-
lar, scrambling to pay rent, they 
kept a promise. 
We’ve always 
made it work.
So I’ll repeat 
what I said 
in my Senior 
Goodbye.
Mom and 
Dad, one day I 
swear it will all 
be worth it.
***
I’ve said a 
fair number of goodbyes in my 
life, and I’ve sucked at all of 
them. 
The last football game I 
attended as a fan was Michi-
gan’s loss to Ohio State in 2017. 
My friends went home before 
me, and when the final whistle 
blew, I made my way to the 
50-yard line. In the shadow of 
the press box, I watched the 
marching band’s postgame show 
and cried.
At the end of my MSE tenure, 
I went home for a family wed-
ding. I was tired. A year of this 
job takes something out of you. I 

had a long talk with Mom about 
school and The Daily and my 
own mental health, and I cried 
then too. I wasn’t ready to be 
done with The Daily, and I’m 
still not. I’m certainly not ready 
to be done with Michigan.
And that’s why this goodbye 
is especially painful.
Because, even if those other 
ones were “lasts” for specific 
situations, I still had time left.
For this one, I have two 
weeks, and then nothing will 
ever be the same as it was these 
last four years.
When I would sit at The Daily 
on those late nights, I would 
leave and walk through the 
silent campus. The walk was 
better before The Union was 
under construction, but it’s still 
pretty good.
Maybe after the stories I’ve 
already told, it’s a surprise I 
didn’t cry. Instead, I would well 
up with pride.
For all the hundreds of thou-
sands of people who walked this 
campus, I am one of the relative 
few who was Managing Sports 
Editor of The Michigan Daily. 

Years from now, I will be able 
to walk back into 420 Maynard 
St. and find my bylines from my 
time here.
I’ll remember The Daily for 
being the thing that got me 
through the hard times. When 
things were at their worst, I 
never once dreaded walking 
into that building. Turning the 
corner from the stairs, entering 
the newsroom and seeing the 
sports staff at the first desk on 
the right washed away whatever 
else was going on in my life. For 
a year, that staff — the best god-
damn student sports section in 
the world — was mine, and that 
means the world to me.
It was the biggest factor in 
the best four years of my life.
But at some point, the sta-
dium lights go out, and you have 
to leave.
It is the worst part.

Persak can be reached at 

mdpers@umich.edu or on Twitter 

@MikeDPersak. He would like to 

thank anyone who has read any 

of his articles, no matter how 

ridiculous they may have been.

MIKE
PERSAK

COURTESY OF MIKE PERSAK
Senior Mike Persak promises his parents that their sacrifices will be worth it.

It was the 
biggest factor 
in the best four 
years of my life.

ALEXIS RANKIN/Daily
Senior Laney Byler bought a coffee mug at every school she’s ever visited, except Ohio State because she couldn’t find one.

Joining The 
Daily carried 
me through 
Michigan.

But I do want to 
say thank you, 
and not just to 
The Daily.

