'Stuff' is more fun than it seems

It must stink to have to watch that stuff all the time.
I’ve heard that statement, or some variation of it, occasionally over the years.
“That stuff” usually refers to anything that’s not football, basketball or baseball.
But the reality is, that statement couldn’t be further from the truth. It doesn’t stink at all.
There are absolutely sports I enjoy more than others.
Football has been my favorite professional sports for as long as I can remember. At the high school level, basketball is my favorite to cover.
And, certainly, there are sports in which I am less interested.
But one of the reasons I’ve stayed at The Commercial Review for so long, really the main reason, is that it’s not so much about the sports as it is about the athletes.
Here, I get to know the athletes as more than a name, number and stats.
It’s fun to get to know their personalities. It makes all the difference to understand their athletic goals, whether they involve competing at the highest levels or simply reaching personal milestones.
When that happens, it doesn’t particularly matter whether I’m a huge fan of track or golf. It matters that I’m a fan of the athlete who is competing.
So when a runner earns a state medal in the hurdles, I share his excitement. Or when a golfer falls short of her dream of reaching the state finals, I share her sorrow.
Those connections last beyond their prep sports careers, as I was reminded last week.
I’m not a mixed martial arts fan. I never have been.
The only full UFC bout I’ve ever seen was when Ronda Rousey squared off against Holly Holm a couple of weeks ago. I watched that a day late, and only because it was all the Internet was talking about after Holm scored the upset.
It’s just not a sport that draws my interest. I would consider it “that stuff.”
But I’ll tell you this: I’ll tune in for every Casey Kenney fight I get the chance to.
I watched Casey grow up. I wrote my first story about his judo prowess when he was in middle school. I followed his entire wrestling career at Jay County High School, including a pair of state medals.
I’ve continued to watch him progress as he moved to Arizona in an effort to make it big as an MMA fighter.
This summer, I happened to be driving on Western Avenue and rolled to a stop at its intersection with Blaine Pike. There, on the opposite corner, was Casey, walking along with a few friends. He was home visiting for a few days.
He jogged across the street and we chatted briefly, mostly talking about how life was going and what the next step in his career would be, catching up. It’s the kind of scene I can’t imagine happening if I were at a newspaper in a bigger market. It’s unique to places like Jay County.
When I got back to the office, I immediately flipped my calendar to November and wrote myself a note. Though Casey wasn’t sure of the exact date at the time, he knew his next fight would be during the second-to-last month of the year.
I sent him a “good luck” text Thursday, the day of the fight. He let me know it would be streamed live on the internet, for free. And we made plans for an interview afterward.
When 9 p.m. — 6 p.m. in California where he was fighting — rolled around, I was glued to my computer screen.
I tensed up every time he seemed close to finishing off the fight. I winced the few times Victor Rosas managed to connect with a kick or a punch.
I took pride when the announcers, who presumably know far more about MMA than me, starting heaping praise upon him.
Watching Casey succeed at “that stuff” was just as fun as any football or basketball game.
Casey is just one athlete among so many I’ve had the chance to get to cover — and more importantly, get to know — over the course of nearly 15 years with The Commercial Review.
For all of them, I am thankful. I can’t imagine having a better job.