Seth Schwartzberg comes from the kind of place where everyone knows you, your parents, and probably what you had for lunch. He graduated high school in a class of 76 students, 63 of which had been with him since the sixth grade.
Growing up in a town that small has its perks. Lifelong friendships, stability, and great ice cream from a small shop. It also means your social circle is quite frankly locked in before you’re old enough to drive. Seth will tell you straight up that it made branching out later in life quite difficult. When you’ve known the same people for all your life, meeting new ones feels less like networking and more like trying to open that really stubborn jar of pickles.
Sports became Seth’s refuge, with baseball leading the way.
Seth’s love for baseball didn’t begin with trophies or championships. It began with going to Houston Astros games with his dad, back when the Astros were impressively bad. This was not the era of sold-out crowds and October baseball that we know now. This was the era of “at least the tickets and beer are cheap.”
Somewhere between those losing seasons and long afternoons at the ballpark, and eventual championships, something clicked. Baseball was slow. Baseball was patient. Baseball required just enough effort to keep a self-described “lazy kid” engaged. Most importantly though, baseball had stats. Lots and lots of stats.
Bingo. Seth found his calling.
By seventh grade, Seth was already writing about sports, starting with his middle school paper and continuing through high school. When he got to the University of Missouri, that habit didn’t stop. He wrote for multiple student publications, covered the Astros on various sites, and even dabbled in music. Seth was writing more articles than the Astros have banged trash cans.
Now at Cronkite, his bylines are scattered across high school sports and ASU volleyball. What can’t this guy write about? Give Seth a game, a notebook and a can of Red Bull, and he’s all in.
Seth doesn’t see writing as just any old art form. For him it’s talking, and if you know Seth, he loves to talk. He loves conversations, learning obscure facts, and then passing those facts along to people who may or may not have asked for them. Writing simply gives him a platform where that behavior is encouraged instead of politely put up with.
Professionally, Seth isn’t chasing the flashiest of paths. He wants to be a beat reporter, ideally for the Houston Astros. Not because of fame or fortune, but because of the people he can meet. The dream is access. The contact list. The ability to look at his phone and see names he once only saw on the back of jerseys and on his baseball cards.
Seth also has an unwavering loyalty to the Dallas Cowboys, a franchise that brings its fans disappointment and emotional damage year in and year out. Ask him if he’ll ever see a Super Bowl win in his lifetime, and the answer is simple: not as long as Jerry Jones is around. Clearly, Seth doesn’t have the best taste in football teams.
At Cronkite, the biggest adjustment hasn’t been the workload, it’s been the people. Coming from a small school, surrounded by the same people, Seth suddenly found himself surrounded by new faces, voices and perspectives. It’s been eye-opening, and at times uncomfortable, but all worth it in the end.
Seth isn’t trying to reinvent the art of sports writing. He’s not trying to be the loudest voice or have the hottest takes. For him it’s about the game, the players, and the chance to share his passion for the game he loves most.
