"The Big Dog" Mitch Vosburg

It was March 19, 2024, moments after Ishpeming girls basketball conquered St. Ignace to punch its ticket to the final four at Breslin Center.

Hematites coach Ryan Reichel comes down to the floor to speak with us media folk. He comes up to us and says “do you know who has the coolest nickname in the U.P.? The Big Dog” and points at me.

I was flattered, but only briefly. One person in our little group muttered six words that low-key rattled me.

“Anyone can be ‘The Big Dog.'”

No. No they can not.

Some of you are probably curious as to why I added “The Big Dog” to my byline, but I’ve been fairly mum on the subject. Until now.

This all starts in June 2020 when I made the decision not to commit suicide.

For those who have followed my career from the jump at Central Michigan University, you probably know about my mega mental breakdown in Oct. 2019. My grandpa was fighting for his life with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

But only a select few know about what happened in June 2020.

My confidence as a writer was, to put it in a family-friendly tone, non existent. The sports world was shut down due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

It sucked. Then thoughts of suicide began to creep in. On the morning on June 23, 2020, I took a good, hard look at myself in the mirror.

There wasn’t an ounce of love toward the person I saw in the mirror. Then I began visualizing what my funeral would look like.

I saw my brother bawling his eyes out. I saw my Mom asking what she could have done differently. I pictured my older cousins telling their kids that they would never see me again.

And there was a large part of me that was ready to accept that.

But then another thought began to creep in. I thought about the people that wouldn’t show up to this hypothetical funeral. The people who I considered friends who could care less about me or put me down to satisfy their own insecurities and jealousies.

At that moment, something in my brain snapped. I looked at the person in the mirror once again.

This time his eyes weren’t brown. His eyes were filled with fire.

I made a promise to myself on June 23, 2020: I didn’t care what it was going to take, I didn’t care where I’d have to go, I was going to make the people who loved me proud and the fake friends choke on their jealousy.

Less than four years later I am now a multi-time award-winning sports writer and photographer. I became editor of a print publication less than two years after I graduated from CMU.

But the road here has been anything but easy.

After I made the promise to myself I spent the next 18 months finishing college and getting back involved in CMU’s student-produced newspaper, Central Michigan Life.

By April 2021 I was promoted to sports editor. But by September 2021 I was hanging on for dear life after the deaths of my friends Dony Sowles and Zack Boyer, two people I was working toward making proud.

By December 2021 I was hunting for my first job out of college. I was betrayed by someone who I loved like a brother five days before Christmas. I spent the next two months scrambling for a source of income and keep food in my mouth.

Fortunately, the Manistee News Advocate gave me a shot. In 15 months my confidence was restored. Then I saw a job posting for sports editor at The Daily Press.

I accepted the job on May 12, 2023. I submitted my six-weeks notice to the News Advocate three days later. It should have been a day filled with happy memories.

But it’s not. Less than 10 minutes after I submitted a column announcing my departure to Escanaba my grandma, my emotional rock, suffered a massive stroke. She hung for dear life overnight. I drove home as fast as I legally could, but I was 35 minutes away when she took her final breath.

To this day I have yet to forgive myself for not being at the side of my biggest journalistic cheerleader.

So, on July 7, 2023, I moved to Escanaba. I knew nothing about the town. I had contact information for 0 coaches and athletic directors. I was continuing the grieving process of my grandma.

Then the same day as Escanaba football hosted Cadillac, my grandpa suffered a stroke. I found a way to power through, but man was I struggling.

I felt like every step forward was three backward. I was seriously contemplating throwing in the towel.

Then one September night in the office I had a deep conversation with myself. I thought hard about that promise I made myself on June 23, 2020. I reflected on all the bad I laid out before you.

But then I thought about all the good.

I thought about the photos I captured during CMU’s 42-30 win over Western Michigan University at Waldo Stadium, 25 minutes from my childhood home. I thought about the time I tripped across three states to cover CMU’s 2021 Sun Bowl win over Washington State.

I thought about all the good I did in Manistee. I mean, riding shotgun in a drag race and putting spotlights on Special Olympic athletes and high school referees have been incredible.

Then I thought about the friend who betrayed me. And I remembered something in particular he did. There was a specific nickname he occasionally called me.

“The Big Dog.”

So I made the decision to add it to my byline, and suddenly the fire inside returned as I buried the towel deep into the ground.

And it’s because of that one promise I made on June 23, 2020 that I get to be a storyteller. It’s because of that one promise I made on June 23, 2020 that I earned the right to be labeled as a multi-time award-winning sports writer and photographer.

So, after all of this explanation I’m going to raise this question again: can anyone be “The Big Dog?”

Honestly, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you, the audience, now know why I am who I am.

You now know why I’m the dude that dares to drive thousands of miles to be in high school gyms. You now know that my enthusiasm and passion for this job comes from climbing out of rock bottom.

But the biggest reason I laid all of this out is because I know for a fact that I am not the only one who’s ever fallen on hard times.

I learned one important lesson from former Bear Lake girls basketball coach Hannah Harrington: someone’s story of struggle can be someone else’s survival guide.

I hope that my vulnerability can one day guide someone out of rock bottom.

That’s what “The Big Dog” is all about. It’s not something to come across as cute or cartoonish.

It’s a reminder that I’ve gone from rock bottom to finally loving myself and my career. And it’s not exclusively for me.

“The Big Dog” is a symbol and reminder for everyone that adversity is nothing more than a nine-letter word.

“The Big Dog” Mitch Vosburg is a multi-time award-winning sports writer and photographer who serves as sports editor for The Daily Press. He can be reached at mvosburg@dailypress.net or at 906-786-2021 (Ext. 143).