There aren’t many 10-year-old blogs around these days. Mr. Irrelevant is one of them, created as A Cinderella Story in March of 2004.
Count the things I wasn’t born with that I’ve had for that long. My wife. Old friends. Boxes of baseball cards. Binders of CD’s. This one basketball that’s all scuff, no grip. An Art Monk jersey and a JMU sweatshirt. That’s about it.
The blog started on a whim and became a career. It spurred the Sports Bloggers Live podcast and Blog Show, FanHouse and the Yahoo! Sports blogs and For The Win.
It allowed me to collaborate with my brother. Chris doesn’t write much now, but he used to. His wife says the humor he showed back then pulled her in when they first started dating. Think about that.
So many friends and family and readers have contributed to the site. Many are talented in ways they may not know. I don’t take it for granted.
I think about the changes in my life. Marriage. My dog Otis. Pregnancy. The beach. Three beautiful children.
I was 26 at the start and had more time to watch and read and write about sports just for fun. And it was.
The Skins were flipping from Spurrier to Gibbs. It was Year 1 of the Arenas administration. Sidney Ponson led the O’s in innings. John Gilchrist led Maryland to an ACC title. Ovechkin had n’yet arrived. The Nats were still Les Expos.
I hadn’t heard of Deadspin or SB Nation or BuzzFeed or Facebook or Twitter, because those things didn’t exist. They didn’t distract.
Those and others distract me now. They take time and energy. They’re daunting. How am I going to write something better than Dan Steinberg?
The time just isn’t there. I thought I loved sports, but family is love. I’m lucky to love my job, too. These are priorities. After that, when the kids are in bed, I’m on the couch with good beer, the DVR and the iPad.
(In ’04 there was no iPad, and I had no DVR. The beer and couch were shitty too.)
Mr. Irrelevant isn’t what it was, and it wasn’t much to begin with. I’ll go days and even weeks without posting. I’ve gone seven years without updating the design. Don’t hold your breath.
I’m holding onto the site, though, even if it twists and turns along the way. This is my place for whimsy and a place for you too, if you like.
It’s a dusty old blog, but it’s our dusty old blog. And it’s a big part of me.
Happy birthday, old boy.