‘Good God, it’s one for the books’: A Season 4 farewell

Reflections and thank-yous as I conclude another season of covering New Jersey college basketball on Substack.

It’s just a shot for your birthday, and one for the end of the world…

The idea for Guarden State came to me in the summer of 2021 while I was sitting on a golf cart. I wasn’t playing, regrettably, but working. My life had taken a detour after I moved home from the D.C. area during the pandemic, and at the time I was holding down two jobs – two, of course, being better than none.

One was at a burgeoning sports news service called Field Level Media – remote and initially part-time – and the other was at a private golf course where I worked a cash register, washed golf carts and the like. The sports world was starting to return to normal, including in-person media coverage, and I was determined to get back out there by any means and keep my career alive.

I had zero connections in New Jersey college hoops at that point, but I loved the sport and was intensely curious about a rising Rutgers program and some of the mid-majors in the area. From the jump I knew my goal was not to monetize a Substack in order to replace the income of one of my other jobs; I simply wanted to do some writing and reporting again.

I’ve been reflecting on that period of my life recently, for a few reasons, mainly after I played back this quote from Dylan Harper at the end of a disappointing Rutgers season:

“I think this season a lot of people had different expectations than what happened, but I mean, that’s life,” Harper said. “I mean, life ain’t gonna go how you want it to go, but me and the guys did a great job just bouncing back.”

If you’re a Rutgers fan, put aside your feelings about the massive flop that was the 2024-25 season, whether you think this was too blasé of a response, whatever. The core truth there is correct when you apply it to life writ large.

If life went how I wanted it to go five or six years ago, I wouldn’t have started this Substack. It was born out of a response to adversity. It’s kept me active, and I’ve had fun producing and growing it.

Have I enjoyed each season equally? I can’t say that I have. The 2024-25 campaign, for reasons I documented throughout the winter, was a letdown across New Jersey. I did good work but could have done better. It was not my favorite season of Guarden State.

But that’s life. And remembering where I sat four years ago, that’s a good problem to have.

Sure, I’ve got plenty of gripes about sports media, the business at large, things I can recognize in my 30s that I was happily ignorant about in my 20s. They’re not kidding when they say everything is about who you know. I see the type of people who win awards, some of whom I believe don’t deserve them but who are hyped up by their friends in the industry. I used to apply for scores of jobs I was qualified for and watched my cover letters be sucked into a black hole; you try to follow up with people at the company and you’re left on read.

It’s also plain to me that so much of sports media now is hinting that you know something others don’t on Twitter, or getting into debates (and dogpiles) on Twitter, or scooping the 233rd pick of the NFL Draft on Twitter, or even doing bits on Twitter. And I used to love bits. Well, some bits.

See, social media can be a sports bar filled with the funniest, sharpest people you know talking ball, and simultaneously it can be an actual curse that zaps your time, spirit and brain cells. One app more than the rest.

So a few hours after this newsletter goes out, I’m logging out of Twitter, taking it off my phone and beginning a long-overdue break from there. It might last two weeks. It might last much longer. I don’t think I can stay away forever, and certainly, I conveniently timed this hiatus for after the Final Four and the NFL Draft. But this spring and heading into the summer, it is the healthiest thing I can do for myself.

This, however, is where any semblance of self-pity stops. I re-read the end-of-year columns I wrote in Seasons 2 and 3, and I stand by every word but wish I hadn’t been moody as hell. I was just experiencing burnout, which doesn’t make me special and isn’t unique to this line of work. (I’m very grateful to Jaden Daly for identifying and discussing burnout in his own end-of-season recap, helping me come around to the same conclusion. Jaden: 78 games instead of 110? That output is still incredible. You’re a mensch.)

My Season 4 highlights included:

• First trips to Villanova and Yale

• First time covering UConn women’s basketball in person, about six weeks before the program won its first national title since 2016

• Interviewed and wrote about Abdi Bashir Jr., one of the breakout stars of the season here or anywhere in the country

• First trip to the MAAC tournament in Atlantic City

• My fifth time covering the NCAA Tournament, my fourth Sweet 16 and Elite Eight and my first in the great state of New Jersey.

It’s one for the books. And before I think ahead to 2025-26, I need to acknowledge a few of the biggest blessings in my life that have allowed me to keep this endeavor going.

My part-time start at Field Level Media quickly turned into a full-time role in 2021, and I never could have anticipated where that would take me. I’m in a leadership position as a senior editor, yet I still get plenty of writing opportunities; I’ll be at the upcoming PGA Tour stop outside Philadelphia, and there’s more to come. During basketball season, my bosses have only encouraged and accommodated my Substack pursuits. They deserve a major, overdue thank-you in this space.

Let’s see, covering some golf this offseason, possibly some football, what else is coming up… Oh, I’m getting married.

Nicole has been my No. 1 supporter since the day we met. She isn’t even a basketball fan, yet she tells everyone in her social circles about my work and where to read it. She understands the many late nights that my work requires. She gets me, she inspires me, she redoubles my confidence. I’d be nowhere without her. I don’t drink liquor anymore, but we’re going to take a shot for her birthday, and one for the end of the world, and we’ll keep building a life together in the face of the unknown.

Our wedding and honeymoon are in October, so right off the bat, Season 5 of Guarden State will be different in the sense that I won’t be around for much preseason coverage. And more broadly speaking, the very same blessings I just counted also represent the areas in my life that most need my attention in my 30s. Between that and the aforementioned burnout, I’ll take some time to consider how I want to approach the 2025-26 season.

It probably won’t end up with me moving away from the newsletter format; it certainly won’t end up with me starting a podcast called “The Adam Zielonka Show.” Yet I’d be ignorant not to think about the other avenues I can explore.

On The Ringer podcast “The Press Box” the other week, Bryan Curtis identified 2020 as the rebirth of the blogging era, when Substack began attracting veteran journalists who had lost their jobs and paying them sign-on bonuses. Chris Ryan agreed, but noted that Substack writing is much more financially incentivized, “whereas I think (blogging) was a side job and a fun thing when I first started it. I don’t know that I would write a blog for fun anymore,” he added.

I think I still want to write for fun. Maybe I’m missing out on some money or notoriety by not aggressively promoting this newsletter or only keeping it active six months out of the year. But at its core, Guarden State remains a creative/journalistic outlet for me without becoming too out-of-hand for my daily life. That’s what I’m here for, and whatever Season 5 brings, I hope you’ll come along for the ride.

Take a look back through the 2024-25 season as I share my 10 favorite editions of Guarden State, Season 4: