By Daniel Carrero Ramírez
As I write this editorial on the VIA Rail back to Toronto—after working through what was the busiest weekend of my career so far—the lack of sleep and persistent headache I have from editing words in a language that’s not my own takes over my sanity. But I have to keep going, I have this opportunity and can’t let it go to waste.
If you had told me four years ago—when I emigrated from Bogotá, Colombia to Canada—that I would be covering the 2025 university men’s hockey national championship in Ottawa the weekend just before releasing my very own sports special issue, I would’ve answered:
“That’s not meant for me.”
The Canadian Association of Journalists reported that in 2024, less than two per cent of journalists nationwide were Latin Americans, a statistic that hadn’t changed since I last heard it in my first year of university four years ago.
Since then, that percentage has haunted me, forcing me to work day and night to hopefully find somewhere in sports journalism where I belong.
I thought it was discouraging to hear this in a class—until I witnessed the reality of this statistic myself.
In November 2024, Mitchell Fox—the other half of the sports section—and I were invited to the RTA sport media program’s 10-year anniversary party. At first, I thought we were invited to report on the event, but upon arrival, I realized we were guests.
The Jet Ice Lounge at the Mattamy Athletic Centre (MAC) was packed with the biggest names in the sports industry, from my former professor and CBC columnist Shireen Ahmed to TSN soccer reporter Matthew Scianitti.
As you might expect, I panicked.
My instinct told me to look for familiar faces—to look for something I could identify myself with. I got it, I told myself as I approached someone wearing a three-piece suit, seemingly professional.
He looked just like me—he was a Latino just like me. He was probably successful and worked in the industry I have always dreamt of being in.
As I got closer to him, realization flooded my body.
The person I was approaching, the other Latin American in the room, was the bartender.
I was the only Latin American in that room who worked in sports.
My impostor syndrome took over and I told myself: “You are not supposed to be here.”
The drive to beat these statistics is what led to Blurring the Boundaries.
As you flip through these pages, you will find coverage beyond common sports reporting that points to some of the systemic issues in the field, as well as celebrating what’s being done in the industry to make sports better.
From stories like the presence of service dogs at the MAC, whether the women’s teams get the same apparel as the men’s teams do, athletes’ advocacy with signs of systematic protest and much more, this issue will present a new sports perspective, perhaps one we truly need.
Maybe being a sports editor is just my way of blurring boundaries.
I know I have to keep going—even if the statistics are not on my side.
It’s been a long year for the sports section—with over 150 articles published—but it has also been a wonderful journey to see so many writers and contributors grow both in their field and as people.
We appreciate all your effort and dedication. Without you, Blurring the Boundaries and everything we’ve done this year wouldn’t be possible.
And as for me, maybe I do belong here.
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