The Post

I was a feature writer in New York when Barry Forbis called me from Cincinnati and asked me if I'd consider writing a column. This was 1987. I loved working in New York, didn't like living there. I'd also never written an opinion piece. Forbis, the Post sports ed. at the time, gave me a chance. That's what The Post did. It gave people chances.

The list is staggering of writers who went there raw and came out polished: Jay Mariotti, Rick Hoffer (SI), Bruce Schoenfeld, Jerry Crasnick (ESPN.com), Todd Jones, Todd Archer and on and on. Don't mean to slight anyone, I just don't have the space. The people writing sports there now are young and incredibly talented. And of course, there is Lonnie Wheeler. All he's done is write a book that went to No. 1 on the New York Times bestseller list, and stayed there.

The Post had editors who let you poke around the edges of propriety, let you take chances, believed in allowing you to, as Davey Johnson put it, "express your talent.'' As the second newspaper in a two-paper town, the Post was feisty, aggressive and hungry. When I was there, We at the Post believed They at the Enquirer were fat, lazy and overly full of themselves. We were, more often than not, correct.

When I worked there (1988-94), we had lots of travel money. I saw the world on Scripps' dime: Seoul, Barcelona etc. I also went to every major sporting event in America. Thanks to the Post and its editors, I learned how to write a column.

Unfortunately, it's only a big deal to newspaper people when newspapers die. Truth is, every time another source of credible information disappears, everyone's ability to make informed choices is diminished. Best of luck to all who fought the good fight at The Post. It's not your fault. It's only your problem. More's the pity, for all of us.

Live big, Bear Queenan.