A lot can happen in a year.
Sure, that phrase may seem cliche to some. But it’s 100% true.
On Aug. 1, 2025, I officially arrived in Mankato, Minnesota. I left Escanaba, Michigan at 7:15 a.m. with my car loaded to the brim and my mom trailing me in a U-Haul. The next eight hours were going to be spent not only attempting to play all nine Led Zeppelin albums in succession, but trekking to a town and a state I had never been to.
Seriously. I came here totally blind. I had planned to visit Mankato the week before but the belt in my car decided to turn into string cheese.
In typical fashion with me on the road I was left with time to think and reflect on what exactly had transpired.
On my two-year anniversary with The Daily Press I arrived into the office at 3 p.m. At 3:04 p.m. I received an email from then Free Press editor Joe Spear with the job offer to come to Mankato. I accepted that offer at 3:09 p.m. with a smile you couldn’t knock off my face, even if you hit me in the face with a shovel (no one tried, thank god).
I left the office five minutes later. I called all my friends and family to tell them the news — I was taking the next step in my career at a time where I felt desperate for a clean slate.
Those thoughts brought a smile to my face as Robert Plant, Jimmy Page, John Paul Jones and John Bonham attempted to keep me occupied on the road while simultaneously creating my soundtrack for this new, exciting step in my life.
On the other side I was absolutely gutted.
See, with this job comes the opportunity to make relationships with families. I made some incredibly deep relationships with so many families. Relationships I was not ready to say goodbye to, not in the slightest.
There were still so many stories to tell. So many opportunities to do great things. I still have stories on the backburner I hope to one day finish.
But I felt like I had no choice but to walk away when I did. And man, that was not easy to deal with.
When I hit the road I was overcome with a feeling I got when I looked to the west out my windshield. I drove through Escanaba and many of the small towns in my now former coverage area for the final time. It felt like my spirit was crying for leaving.
Then we crossed the bridge from Menominee, Michigan into Marinette, Wisconsin. Michigan was figuratively and literally in the rear-view mirror.
No more pasties. No more Vernors. No more Meijer.
But the time had come for me to be gone.
Hours and hours of deep reflection, and a new-found respect for Led Zeppelin III, I went back and forth debating whether or not I was making the right choice.
But then I made my way out of the twin cities and made my first drive down the now familiar Highway 169 before arriving at Mankato for the first time. The sites I found of the town on YouTube were accurate, but they didn’t capture the homey feeling the town had, or how much of a sports town it really is.
Once everything was unpacked it came time to explore.
I remember lunch the next day at Pagliai’s Pizza, and learned how to properly say its name about two months later. I took in my first Mankato MoonDogs game. I found my favorite watering hole at Big Dog’s Sports Cafe.
I was excited to embark on this new journey. I was also slightly terrified to meet new people and make new relationships. I constantly asked myself if the move to Mankato was the right decision.
In hindsight, I had no reason to be terrified. I had no reason to question the move. Because the first year here in Mankato was filled with moments and memories I was dying to make.
I remember my first trip to… (groans) Grand Casino Arena (it’s still the Xcel in my books, too, folks) in November for Cleveland volleyball’s first ever state tournament match after an insane section championship win. The Clippers’ student section was super vocal that day (rightfully so). But there was one chant that caught me off guard — “We love Mitch.”
I had no clue that none of these kids, or the town of Cleveland in general, even existed until a few weeks before that state quarterfinal match. Yet somehow, someway I made that big of an impression on that small town. It took every ounce of strength I had not to break down into an emotional mess.
Of course the moments didn’t stop there, especially during hockey season.
There was the time when Mankato East girls claimed a 3-1 section championship win over Minnesota River. A game story which has my all-time favorite lede to a story.
Then a few weeks later was when Mankato West boys went into overtime in its section championship game against Luverne. Then a second overtime. Then a third overtime.
Blake Brekke’s last name was chanted as if he was a rockstar. Brooks Baukol sealed the deal off an Isaac Ulman rebound in that third overtime to claim the section title and avenge a loss last season against Luverne.
And of course you have Minnesota State men’s hockey playing for the Mason Cup against St. Thomas. It was the day where I not only finally calmed my anxiety, but was also reminded why this job is so fun.
It didn’t stop at hockey either. I finally ended my quest for a state champion in June.
Grace Thorson worked a 3-2 count with the bases loaded in the bottom of the sixth inning with the score knotted at 2-2. She took ball four. The go-ahead run scored.
Three outs away from a 10-year journey to get a state champ, and it was going to come in a sport I thought I was getting one a year earlier.
I don’t know about the rest of the people donning blue for Lake Crystal Wellcome Memorial on that day at Jane Sage Cowles Stadium, but I could barely breathe as I watched the top of the seventh inning.
Nettie Parsons, now on her way to St. Cloud State, worked a 1-2-3 inning. The Knights finished their story — a story that Hollywood itself probably couldn’t get right — to claim the Class AA title.
Finally, I had a state champion. But I didn’t get one state champion. I got two on the same day.
That day’s finale saw United South Central, the last stand for Minnesota State’s Mariah Anderson, go back-to-back as Class A champs. She struck out 16 batters that day to cap off her historic career as one of the best pitchers the state of Minnesota has even seen. An RBI single in the first inning from freshman Grace Walton was the only run of the game, and the only run the Rebels needed to become back-to-back state champs.
And recently, Carson Hart being drafted by, and signing with, the Milwaukee Brewers is something I definitely didn’t have on my journalistic list. But man, how special of a moment was that?
But here’s the best part of all of this — if you told me that every moment I just mentioned was going to happen, I probably would’ve initially laughed at you. Then I would probably give you a pat on the shoulder, look you dead in the eye and tell you that this is exactly why I moved here blindly.
This is why I chose this profession. This is why I chose to move 600 miles away from home.
Did I know everything was exactly going to go this way? No, not in the slightest.
At no point did I plan on being in Minnesota. At no point did I plan on being able to make this kind of impact. I also didn’t plan to stop that Led Zeppelin challenge during the back quarter of “Physical Graffiti,” but hey, that’s what happens when you’re contemplating life-altering decisions while driving across three different states on a breakfast consisting of a can of zero sugar Mountain Dew Code Red.
On Aug. 1, 2026 I can safely say that the move to Mankato was absolutely the right decision. Looking back, I can’t believe I doubted that choice for a second.
But here’s the best part about the last year.
This opportunity in Mankato wasn’t handed to me on a silver platter. This opportunity didn’t come out of pity. This opportunity didn’t come from some bribe I gave Spear.
No no. This opportunity, and everything that came with it, was earned.
And for that, I am grateful.
Mitch Vosburg is a multi-time award-winning sports writer and photographer who proudly serves as sports editor for The Free Press. He can be reached at mvosburg@mankatofreepress.com. Follow him on X (@realmitchvburg) and on Instagram (@themantheycallmitch).