“I wasn’t Lisa Guerrero for that entire season. I didn’t look like myself. I didn’t sound like myself. I was utterly lost.” Inside a year from hell, as a reporter on “Monday Night Football,” by 4lisaguerrero
But there was nothing silly about this mistake. I knew it instantly. In the eyes of the press and my bosses, I’d just confirmed everything that had been said about me. I’d provided all the haters with a reason to rant on sports radio, or bitch on their blogs. I was that stupid bimbo, just like they’d said all along.
I was touched by his concern. “Did you see it?” I asked, hoping that someone removed from the debacle might give me an honest take on it. Maybe it wasn’t so horrible. In another, I was naked on the football field. I was petrified, thinking that this was exactly the ammunition the media needed to prove that I’d been hired for my body rather than any talent. Freddie would definitely fire me. Worst of all, in the dream I couldn’t remember anything about the teams. I didn’t even know who was playing. Al threw to me. I couldn’t speak.
After my gaffe in the season opener, the media launched a new attack: “Guerrero is offensive to any female with brains.” “Guerrero insults any male who not only loves the game but respects it in the morning.” “[Guerrero was] there strictly as eye candy for the predominantly male audience, and to pretend otherwise is to further insult whatever intelligence the audience may have.” “They don’t call it the boob tube for nothing.
Looking back, it’s hard to believe that was me.
And I wasn’t Lisa Guerrero for that entire season. I didn’t look like myself. I didn’t sound like myself. I was utterly lost. But when I took a sip, I couldn’t taste it. One of the side effects of my depression was that food and drink had lost their flavor. As much as I tried to pushout of my head while celebrating with my fiancé, it was with me, taunting me. I gulped down the champagne and smiled, but I remembered what was waiting for me when I headed back to work after the holiday.
I stared at the camera, but I could barely see. The pain was excruciating. I heard myself mispronounce a player’s name and knew I’d hear about it later. I was losing a pregnancy and worrying about a mispronunciation!
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