Sh*t. This is a really tough goodbye. I never thought I’d be writing one of these. I mean, Christ alive, I need to get a grip. It’s not like I’m quitting journalism or anything. It’s not like I’ll never set foot in beautiful Syracuse, New York, again. It’s just … have I peaked?

To me, this depleted industry we’ve gotten ourselves wrapped up in at The Daily Orange — journalism — is the life of kings. I, along with my fellow scribes Aiden, Zak and Justin, spent almost every day of the last four years trying to quench an insatiable thirst for producing the best stories I could possibly write. Never did it feel like actual work; it was a pure and constant dream. Every single step of that journey made me feel on top of the world. I felt like I mattered. I felt I could make a difference. And, you know what, I’m proud to say I did. It was the experience of a lifetime.

If you told me 10 years ago that I’d go on to say that after college, I’d tell you to go f*ck yourself. I entered SU confused about what I wanted to do and entirely unconfident I’d ever make it in the sports industry. Or any industry for that matter. But then I joined this amazing place. And when I didn’t believe in myself that I’d ever grow as a journalist, everybody else did.

Five-hundred something bylines later, I’m sadly (but not regretfully) leaving the greatest place I’ve ever known — the place that proved to me I’m good enough.

Going into my junior year was when I truly felt confident I’d make it at this place. It was the end of the spring semester of my sophomore year, and I had just completed my term as sports editor. It was a really, really exhausting semester, and I did not want to edit a story ever again.

At the same time, though, D.O. management applications were going up, and I was approached about potentially applying for managing editor. I said no, though, because I was way too tired from the past semester and I wasn’t confident enough in my abilities to help lead an entire paper. I didn’t see myself as someone who could command respect. Instead, I saw myself as a goofy fat idiot — a description I’ve always clouded myself in.

But when the incoming editor-in-chief Stephanie Wright called me, we had an extremely enlightening conversation, and I was shocked to learn that she really wanted me specifically to be her ME. I couldn’t believe it. She talked about how a lot of people around the house had great things to say about me and how a lot of people had recommended me for the position. When I look at myself in the mirror, I feel like I’m the opposite of what a professional looks like. But being molded in the environment of The D.O. showed this cynical fat kid that maybe he can do something worthwhile with his life.

Aiden Stepansky, Cooper Andrews, Justin Girshon and Zak Wolf (left to right) had nearly 2,000 combined bylines across their tenures writing for The D.O. sports section. They formed an everlasting friendship, known as “The Dungeon.” Courtesy of Cooper Andrews

In high school, I basically didn’t do anything. I just played video games, played sports but never really tried that hard to advance anywhere in them, and hung out with my friends and family. Sure, that all made me happy, but I never felt accomplished. I felt like a fraud who would eventually quit on his hopes of working in sports and become a nepo baby.

But when I joined The D.O. and got opportunities from it, everything changed. I was trusted to come up with story ideas and execute high-pressure articles right from the get-go. I couldn’t believe it when I got on the front page my freshman year for a story I wrote on Ange Bradley, the former SU field hockey coach who retired after the 2022 season. Apparently, the news section f*cked up the front page, and my sports editor, Cole Bambini, recommended that my feature get on the front because of how well-written it was.

Sure enough, that thing got on the front cover. I’ll never forget what happened afterward, when the editor-in-chief at the time, Richard Perrins, tried to rile the whole staff into giving me a round of applause for nabbing a front-page story as a freshman. But no one in the house heard, and no one else applauded except for him (that sh*t was hilarious, and probably something only I remember).

I knew right then that it would take a while for people to learn my name around the house, though believe me, I was just thankful my abilities were being recognized.

From then on, I climbed the ladder at The D.O. because of the people who believed in me. The list goes on and on — people like Anish, Kyle, Sophie, Stephanie, Tyler, Wyatt, Anthony, Connor, Hank, Cole, Richard, Rachel and Piggy. They recognized my talent and showed me that I can be a successful journalist while authentically being myself.

Only at The D.O. could I be accepted as a wild diehard Chicago Bears fan who would have to take long pauses out of Sunday production to watch late-game heartbreaking moments during the football season — sorry, Stephanie.

Only at The D.O. could I find friends who would take 14-hour road trips with me for game coverage and put up with all of my sh*t the entire time — Zak, Aiden, Justin, I don’t know how we did it.

Only at The D.O. could I be pushed every single day by such incredible counterparts to become the best storyteller that I can be. Iron sharpens iron; as cliché as that is, dammit if that isn’t true about the environment at this place.

Only at The D.O. could I earn the leeway to write with the speed of a tortoise and file late-night, 2,000-word feature stories that delay the entire night’s production — sorry, Anish, Kyle and anyone else I offended.

Cooper Andrews on the field of Allegiant Stadium in Las Vegas after covering Syracuse football’s Oct. 4, 2024, game versus UNLV. Trips like these helped define Cooper’s experience at The D.O. Courtesy of Cooper Andrews

Only at The D.O. could I get to cover things that consistently gave me an incredible reason to be here — sorry, Syracuse, but I consider myself a soon-to-be graduate of Daily Orange University, not necessarily SU.

Only at The D.O. could I be able to interview the head football coach at SU and get him to say the word “erection” after asking him a question about Larry David’s Curb Your Enthusiasm.

Only at The D.O. could I bring in my stuffed plush Mucinex Mucus Man to work and personify him in front of the entire staff — who, to my dismay, loved the Mucus Man and took him in as if he were their own child. Yes, that’s a true story.

And only at The D.O. is where I would be able to live my wildest dreams while in college: writing about sports and traveling the country for it.

Over my last four years, I told stories that held institutions accountable and hopefully changed lives, and for that opportunity, I’m forever grateful. I know I’ll never get an environment like this again. I just wish I appreciated the ride more.

Ever since leaving The D.O., most days have kind of sucked. It’s been hard to find motivation to do sh*t that I don’t really care about on a daily basis, because I don’t have any writing to do right now. I don’t have feature stories to tell. I don’t have sh*tty new-writer stories to edit. I don’t have people around the house to talk to and laugh with on a daily basis. And all the while, something sinister hangs over my head: the realization that I’m about to enter the dying industry of sports journalism, where we’ve already seen some of the greatest sports sections in the country — like the Washington Post’s — completely shut down.

In college, I’ve learned that life is a never-ending rollercoaster. And much of what I learned about life came through my experiences in journalism. I’ve learned that not everyone is always going to agree with you or be easy to work with. I’ve learned that hard work doesn’t always mean success. I’ve learned that even your best friend can stab you in the back.

I also learned that there’s nothing better than good journalism. And I learned I’d sacrifice a lot to try and produce quality work — in today’s world, frankly, that’s what we need more of. I’m forever appreciative that the greatest student-run newspaper of all-time gave me a chance to add to its legacy.

Considering today’s media climate, I don’t know if I’ll ever have the freedom to be myself and tell stories again. That’s a bit frightening. All I do know is that, in 10 years, when I’ll probably be covering high school rugby for a podunk newspaper in Tulsa, Oklahoma, I’ll be satisfied knowing no place I go will ever top the sh*tty, uncomfortably hot, decrepit white house at 230 Euclid Avenue that served as my second home.

“ … as I look back over a misspent life, I find myself more and more convinced that I had more fun doing news reporting than in any other enterprise. It is really the life of kings.” — H.L. Mencken.

— 30 —

Cooper Andrews was a senior staff writer at The Daily Orange, where his column will no longer appear. He can be reached at ccandrew@syr.edu or on X @cooper_andrews.

Published on May 5, 2026 at 1:31 pm
Contact Cooper: ccandrew@syr.edu | @cooper_andrews