Peter Kaplan said he would subscribe to my magazine in an instant.

He's only America's foremost expert in magazines and media. Too bad the magazine doesn't exist.

Kaplan, the editor of the New York Observer and an authority on media in all of its forms, came to speak to us tonight as one last primer before we begin our magazine workshop this weekend. I knew he'd be talking about the history and mission of magazines (which he did in superb fashion), but I didn't know he had also read our magazine ideas. He wanted to call out the better ideas in front of class, for those students to explain their ideas and then he would say why they had potential. Now, the guy who was brought in expressly to discuss our ideas, which happened the other day, pretty much dismissed ours, and never mentioned mine at all.

Tonight, after about six others, Kaplan called my name. I stood up and tried, a couple of times, to explain my magazine idea. I say a couple of times because he kept stopping me and telling me that I wrote it down better than I was saying it out loud. Eventually he stopped me for good and read what I wrote. He then proceeded to explain why he loved it: because it had enthusiasm. Because it was about being a participant in sports again, after years of being spectators (which is what ESPN plays into almost exclusively). Because it was about having that same passion for athletic pursuits that we imagine our fathers having. Because the articles practically assign themselves, and you can do the kind of literature that writers will line up for. Because the photography and art could be magnificient. And, as a bonus, because it has one hell of an advertiser base.

Over and over again, he told us that the inherent existence of a magazine is in its editors; they are the blood that flows through the idea of the publication. Through their committment to a certain and distinct worldview, they bring catharsis to society through constantly challenging and bonding, seducing and nailing the magazine's readers. This was the message he wanted us to have, going into our workshops, where he dares us to make a magazine, not based on cold calculations of finance, but on our sensibilities and interests, indeed on our 'own best instincts.' "You have to beguile the reader with something that matters, and create a staff that knows they live in service to an idea. Anything you do less than that is dead."

Afterwards, I went up to shake his hand and have a quick word. He quickly smiled when I stepped up and said that I should absolutely take this idea and however possible, make it happen for real. He asked where I was from, and I said Kansas. He goes "Where in Kansas?"
"Lawrence."
"Oh, I know what they did there."
"Well, I wrote a paper on it. The Union fire, right?"
"Yeah. Where did you go to school?"
"The University there."
"Did you like it?"
"Very much so."
"Are you moving to New York?"
"Um, I will if I have to?"
"Are you a writer? If you write, you should keep doing it because this was good."
"Actually, I want to be a designer. Do design and editing."
"(with a surprised, inquiring look on his face) Really? (picking up newspaper) Well if you're in New York and you get stuck, email me, if we're still around."
"(with a surprised, embarassed look on my face) Thank you, and I will. And seriously, tell Bobby DeNiro to commit already."
"He hasn't yet!"

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what I like to call one hell of an evening. Tomorrow morning is running in Central Park, followed by my customary croissant and orange juice, and then a trip to the Cooper-Hewitt. And then a nap, because there's no possible way I'm gonna be able to sleep tonight.