Yeah, worst day ever—but not quite.

I had to rewrite the article. One of the sports chairs called me and asked me to do it, saying that it was the perfect opportunity for me to apologize to the team. There was no way for me to say no.

I walked up to the door of The Crimson that night, listening to my walkman as I tried to stop my hands from shaking. I decided to take a lap, give myself one more song before I entered the fray.

I walked around the block, pausing at the edge of Plympton Street as I thought about just continuing on. I was only beginning life at Harvard and there was no reason The Crimson had to be in it. I could just walk away.

I didn’t, and to this day I’m not sure why. When I finally entered the newsroom, the room became very quiet and then faint snickers began.

My face burning, I focused on writing and tried to ignore the tall blonde making fun of me. Then someone actually spoke to me.

“Didn’t you notice that Sara Burg isn’t on the roster?” a sportswriter gently mocked.

But the tease came with a smile and chatter that got me through the first few minutes. Two more sportswriters joined the group, and an hour later, I was actually enjoying myself.

Knowing my “most likely to fall into a manhole” persona, this will probably not be my last major humiliation. But it was my first, and at Harvard no less, when I was feeling particularly vulnerable.

The aftermath of that mortification is the reason I stayed. I love writing and I love sports, but I knew long ago that sportswriting was but a hobby for me. I made The Crimson my life because of the gentle kindness my board extended then, and time and time again afterward.

Thank you for sharing the labor and the compassion. I hope you all find the same humanity in your moments of humiliation.

—Staff writer Jessica T. Lee can be reached at jesslee@post.harvard.edu.