Stephens: For 5 years, I walked the line

I didn’t ask the question, but he was looking at me. Responding to me.

In a cramped, fluorescent-lit media room adjacent to Moby Arena with more chairs than desk space, Emmanuel Omogbo had a swarm of reporters huddled around him in early March. Pat Graham of the Associated Press, sitting stage right of the CSU basketball team’s most valuable player, asked Omogbo whether this season for the Rams was a magical one given that it played from Jan. 14 forward with only seven players.

“The thing about this team is we keep fighting. We keep fighting and working hard. If you work hard and keep fighting, certain good is going to happen, it doesn’t matter where you are in life,” said Omogbo, swirling his food around a fork from a to-go cafeteria container. “You guys have jobs. You work really, really hard at what you do to get your papers to sell out.”

Then he looked at me, sitting directly in front of him, and continued.

“You work really hard on those papers. That’s why people know you as one of the best writers, right?”

I thought the question was rhetorical. We all did. But there was a pause and an awkward silence painted the room more decoratively than the white-washed cinder blocks that encaged us. Omogbo waited as he took another bite.

It was exactly three weeks since Kelly Lyell and I had published our story on Colorado State University’s 2013-14 internal investigation that discovered men’s basketball coach Larry Eustachy emotionally abused his players and staff. This was my first face-to-face meeting with the team since.

And Omogbo? There’s never been a CSU player who’s had a tighter bond with Eustachy; the coach and his wife, Lana, have been his family ever since Omogbo’s parents died in a 2016 house fire.

The silence lingered. Morphed from awkward to crippling. A man whose eye level is a foot above mine and would out-class me on the wrestling mat by 50 pounds gazed over at me; over and down at me as I sat left ankle crossed over right thigh, Leonardo and Raphael’s eyes peeking through between my jean cuff and shoe.

I understood what he was doing. I was sure I did. Omogobo is a kind young man. And without bluntly belittling you, he makes it clear he’s right and you’re wrong. And this wasn’t the first time he’d asked a not-so-rhetorical question this season.

After the Rams’ 72-58 upset of the University of Colorado in Boulder, he said to the media mob, “I know you guys all thought we were going to lose, right? Did you? Don’t lie.”

I eventually broke the silence and admitted it. I thought they would. But they didn’t. I was wrong.

I saw what was coming. I was sure I did. This time, he was going to build up my ego and topple his creation. He was waiting for the response so that he could tell me publishing the story was wrong.

Another bite.

Seven years as a professional journalist; three as a full-time columnist or editor. I’ve asked Eustachy to his face if he’s lost his team and CSU football coach Mike Bobo if he’s overpaid, and they've had their chances to yell at me. They never have. But this was going to be it. The mild-mannered athlete who no one would expect it from.

Another bite.

The silence lingered.

Another bite.

I have to say something.

Another bite.

“I hope so,” I fumbled through.

“Yeah,” Omogbo responded grinning. “It’s like in life, my parents always told me, just work hard in whatever you’re doing: basketball player, regular job, school, just work hard because hard work always pays off.”

That’s it? On to the next question? No grand defense about how Eustachy is a changed man? Just respond to my question about what you think your legacy at CSU is and, voila, end scene?

I didn’t know what was coming. And I didn’t expect what came next.

As we stood up, he opened the door to the hallway and gave one last remark.

“Come on, Matt, you know you’re a good writer,” Omogbo said. “Now some of the stuff that you write is kind of messed up, but you write the good stuff, too, and that’s why I’m not trippin’ around you.”

There’s this uncomfortable relationship we balance as sports journalists between being friendly and speaking up when a coach, player or administrator is out of line. A lot of readers refuse to understand that and few sources grasp the concept. And when you’re part of the only publication regularly breaking news and shedding light on the not-so-pretty-yet-still-important side of athletics at an institution, it’s easy to get marked as the enemy, even when the vast majority of what you write is positive.

We walk that line daily. I hope for you, I walked it well. It’s not easy, but the difficulty isn’t your concern; you care that we deliver you the news and that we always deliver stories that surprise or delight. My goal in the stories I wrote was to always make you feel something.

Empathy for SteveO Michel, pride in Justin Hansen, mixed emotions with Treyous Jarrells. And as for the team I coached at the Coloradoan, Kelly Lyell, Kevin Lytle and Stephen Meyers, I hope you always got the sense they were working for you, not me. If so, I know they’re in good hands.

My time at the Coloradoan has come to an end. After five years at the Coloradoan and nearly a decade living in Fort Collins, I’ve made the most difficult decision of my life and decided it was time for a new challenge. Beginning Monday, I’ll take over as the deputy sports editor at The Denver Post, tasked with improving the already strong work the team does in the print and digital spaces.

I hope you saw me walk that line. I hope that even if you didn’t like me — like us — you respected our work.

One source did.

For insight and analysis on athletics around Northern Colorado and the Mountain West, follow former Coloradoan sports editor Matt L. Stephens at twitter.com/mattstephens and facebook.com/stephensreporting.