A couple weeks ago, as the result of a string of random events (and a few additional events orchestrated by me), I ended up at lunch here in NY with one of my favorite authors, Allan Weisbecker: (Cosmic Banditos, In Search of Captain Zero). If you've never read him, pick up Zero. Besides being an honest, emotional memoir about a guy who's lived one hell of a crazy life, Weisbecker's descriptions of the physical act of riding a wave are the most moving and evocative I've read.

Before he left for the day, he signed my copy of Zero and took a copy of The Big Jump, which he asked me to sign. (How freakin' cool!) He said he'd take it with him on his road trip to Mexico and promised to give it a read. Today, he sent me this e-mail. It is my favorite review of the book:

alyssa, i read most of your book -- believe me, the
'most of' is not an insult. you held my attention in
spite of my not giving a flying fuck about motorcycles
and the lunatics who ride them. good job. -allan

Be still my heart.

It's been a few days since my trip to Pittsburgh, so I'm writing this entry post-trip. But I couldn't let a weekend like that slip away without a posting. So, in the sake of saving time, here are 8 reasons I'm still thinking about Steel City ...

8. They call it the City of Bridges for a reason. Driving through downtown is like cruising around in a lifesize erector set. "I can see the stadium! ... I can see the stadium! ... Oh ... on the other side of that river and bridge and bridge and ..."

7. A great dinner with my friends Neil and Franco at Eleven (If you're ever in the Burgh, go! Everything, in the words of our waitress, "is fantastic.") The food (and company) was so great, we missed the Cotto-Mayweather fight. And didn't even care.

6. Heinz Field. I can't believe it's been six years since they imploded Three Rivers, and this was my first visit to the new stadium. Well, it's my new favorite NFL field. It's friendly like a college stadium (probably because it is—Pitt plays there) and the Steelers have the friendliest fans in the league. I chatted with a 70-year-old woman who was also attending her first game and heard the words "please", "thank you" and "excuse me" on more than one occasion. Seriously.

5. Player purses. I have come to realize I am a fan of the two sports teams with the most well-accessorized fans: the Gators (hello, diamond gator pins) and the Steelers. This weekend, I saw no fewer than five styles of player-themed purses. Knowing I would find them awesome, my friend Chad, who was at the 75th Anniversary game the week before, sent me a Troy Polamalu purse, which arrived the day I returned from Pittsburgh. Can't buy that at Bloomies!

4. Press boxes are no places for fans. For this reason, I spent very little time in Pittsburgh's. Instead, I opted to walk down to the field (just to stand on it for a minute!), sit with friends in the club level seats and roam the first level in search of the best angle. Answer: the low 100s, 40-yard-line—you can watch a play unfold on the field while catching it on the ginormous HD-screen in the north endzone.

3. It was nice to interview players in a WINNING locker room. Although I still hold firm that locker room interviews are officially the strangest part of my job.

2. THE GAME! Had I made it back for the 75th Anniversary blowout of Baltimore, I would have had fun, sure. But this game was an experience. I developed an ulcer by fourth quarter.

1. My visit home to the farm. Game over, interviews done, I hopped in my rental car and drove to Sarver to have dinner with my grandparents. It was late, and the visit was short, but sweet, and special.

What a weekend.

I thought I was going to cry. I only spent a few days with Dennis Dixon, yet watching him walk off the field with his father Thursday night was heartbreaking. Now, you certainly don't need to meet Dennis Dixon to understand what a remarkable person he is (Notice I didn't say player. That's understood.), but it sure reinforced it for me.

I know Dixon was deeply honest when, while leaving the field late in the fourth quarter, he told ESPN's Erin Andrews he does not care about the Heisman. Never did. The people who care about Dixon winning the Heisman are his family, friends, fans and coaches—people who know how much he deserves that award. I am one of those people. Dixon may not care about winning the Heisman. But as I watched his leg buckle, I couldn't help fighting back those three toxic words: "It's not fair."

I don't believe the Heisman should go to Tim Tebow. Nor do I believe it belongs to Darren McFadden or Colt Brennan. All for different reasons. But all, I am sure, are not my first choice. That was Dixon. Now? Who knows. I don't like to settle. Supporting anyone else would feel like asking my cousin to the prom.

I could go on and on about how I feel about Dennis Dixon. But a piece SI's Austin Murphy wrote after the game covered a lot of what I was thinking.

If I had a Heisman ballot (which I do not), Dennis Dixon would get my vote.
I don't think I'm alone.

My plane landed in Honolulu on Sunday and I had a revelation. The "three little words" women really want to hear: Welcome to Hawaii.

I am on the North Shore of Oahu reporting a story on 15-year-old surfing phenom Carissa Moore. Carissa lives in Honolulu, on the other side of the island, and is competing in the Roxy Pro, the seventh of eight events on the Women's world surf tour. Every year, the surf season culminates in two months of contests here in Hawaii. I've been covering this sport for five years and can't believe this is my first time to the North Shore. It's also my first time attending a non-mainland surf contest. Every surfer on the men's and women's tour is here in Oahu, along with the entire industry. There is so much energy, it's hard to sleep. Although Hawaii doesn't participate in Daylight Savings Time (I'm five hours behind NYC instead of six), the sun sets around 5:30 and the place gets dark quickly. (The sunset is spectacular. It takes about three minutes for that glowing ball to hit the horizon and ... gone.) So by 10 pm, I'm asleep. By 6 am, I'm at the hotel gym.

This morning was the first round of the women's contest. At 6 am, a contest official checks the waves, and the surf report, and makes a call. At 7 am, I got a text. "The contest is on." Which means "get to Sunset Beach by 8". On my way!

In the name of time, and not enough of it, I’m going to share one “what it was like” moment each day, for the rest of the trip. (My daily Make-A-Wish moment, if you will.)

Today, Wednesday, I spent the morning and early afternoon sitting in my room writing about football and tracking down players on the east coast. (I’m starting to rethink my plan to open a satellite office here. ESPN The Magazine: The North Shore. It’s tough keeping up with folks who live in the future—New York).

Around 3:00, my friend Tobias, who works for Quiksilver, called. “I’m coming to pick you up,” he said. “We’re going to Pipe. It’s going off.” That, for you non-surfers, means a swell had come through, there were great waves at Pipeline and I was going to watch some of the best surfers in the world ride one of the best waves in the world.

6 a.m. text: “The contest is on.”

The skies cleared up, it is beautiful again and today the final rounds of the Roxy Pro were held. I finished my work and made it out to Sunset Beach by 10. I missed the early rounds of the contest, but was there to see Sofia Mulanovich win. Sofia is one of my favorite people, and she is pushing the women's tour. When she won the world tour, I wished I could have seen her win a contest in person. I had the opportunity to watch her surf her home waves in Peru, but I wished I could have seen her in a contest setting. It was neat to witness it today.

By the finals, the women were surfing in some of the biggest waves ever for a women’s WCT contest. And they were bigger than the men surfed later in the day, which rarely happens. If ever. In the semi-finals, Megan Abubo wiped out and tore muscles around her ribs. It was an intense few minutes as she was brought in on a rescue ski. Sofia was the only girl who snuck her way into a barrel and caught one monster of a wave in the final heat that put her over the top.

But that’s not my Wish moment. That happened after the contest, at Waimea Bay.

Friday morning, my last day in Oahu, and I am sad to leave. I’m re-thinking re-thinking that satellite office now. I got up this morning at 4:30, checked out and headed to Honolulu to meet up with Carissa Moore (the reason I’m here) and her family for their morning surf session. On the way over, I wonder when was the last time she woke up after the sun. (She tells me she can’t remember.)

When I arrive, her dad Chris tells me the surf is bad, so the morning session is off. Instead, I hang out and chat with the family before school. Carissa has a younger sister and two younger step-sisters. They're all sleepy, but chatty. After breakfast, we drop Carissa off at school, tour the campus (yes, her high school has a campus) and drive around Honolulu. After school, I get my Wish moment. We're going surfing.