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Sunday, June 9, 1996

There is a fine line that I, a sports writer, must straddle every day on the job. For one, I have a duty as a student journalist to provide you, the reader, comprehensive and objective reporting. But also consider that I, possessor of a 5-foot-4-inch frame, would like to avoid antagonizing too many people at one time.

These two objectives are not always compatible, and though I've never been threatened with physical violence, I've received my share of evil eyes and dirty scowls. Nothing major, but I'm real sensitive, you know.

I remember sitting at the gate in San Jose International Airport last year after the UCLA women's tennis team endured, shall we say, a tough weekend in the Bay Area.

I was plugging away at my story on my laptop when one of the players, who shall remain nameless, asked to read what I was writing. This was a player who burned my forehead with a cold stare a couple days earlier because she didn't appreciate the fact that I quoted someone in her profile that she pretty much hated. But in a gesture of goodwill, I handed her my Powerbook, and like a biochem student lending his notes to a fellow classmate, I was just hoping to get it back.

I watched as she peered at the liquid-crystal display, her stoic face intently studying the pixels on the screen. She scrolled down to the very end, emotionless 'til the last.

Then she slid the computer back to my clutches and said, "You know Chris, you need to learn how to be 'positively objective.'

"You can say we lost, but don't be so negative."

Now, I pretty much forget what happened after that, but the concept of "positive objectivity" has remained a constant source of internal strife for me. I mean, I want to tell it like it is, but I don't want to have to rag on anybody either.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that success is rooted in failure. No one can learn how to win without experiencing the pain of defeat. Remember when UCLA basketball won its last national title, just one year after a first-round spanking by Tulsa. It's called paying your dues.

And it just wouldn't do the team and its players justice if I sugar-coated the pratfalls, because the readers wouldn't appreciate the ensuing triumphs.

If I ever offended anyone as a Daily Bruin sports writer, don't take it personally. I was only doing my job. And in a show of goodwill, I will more than happily tell the campus about my one (and only) bout with failure.

It was a gloomy day last year at Stanford Tennis Stadium and the rain forced the UCLA women's tennis team indoors. To pass the time, a few of the players managed to grab a hold of a volleyball and secure a basketball court. They even let me play.

I was stroking it from all over, and when we finally got a real basketball to get a game of H-O-R-S-E going, only one person weathered my barrage.

I had two letters on the only one left standing, fellow graduating senior Paige Yaroshuk, when she made a little wager with me. Of course, I took the bet because I was going to school her like I schooled everyone else. Then I missed from behind the three-point arc. Big mistake.

The UCLA netter seized control and canned one from the free throw line. Then again ... then again.

The stripe was not so charitable for me and I suddenly found myself on the brink of elimination with one more vowel.

Finally, she missed and I took the game back beyond the arc. And soon, we were tied at H-O-R-S.

I got a little cute and tried a trey from the baseline. It clanked short.

And back to the free-throw line we went. She made three in a row, and so did I. But after she made a fourth, she pushed me to my statistical envelope. For as I recall, I shot 52% from the line in CYO basketball.

The stats didn't lie as my final shot had the line, but bounded off the back rim ­ leaving me pondering how I was going to pay off the bet.

Not that this matters too much, but the wager was that if I happened to lose that game of H-O-R-S-E ... I had to write about it in the Daily Bruin.

Isidro was an assistant sports editor this year and is getting his degree in computer science and engineering. He will be spending the summer editing the sports section of the Summer Bruin and working on his free throws.

... I realized that success is rooted in failure. No one can learn how to win without experiencing the pain of defeat.