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PCR and Nima Continue their discussion of the failure of leaders to confront real issues
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The Longreads Questionnaire, Featuring Roberto José Andrade Franco

Four years ago, I read Roberto José Andrade Franco’s ESPN story about Tess Mata, one of the students killed in the Robb Elementary School shooting in Uvalde, and I’ve never forgotten an image in it: a determined Tess outside in the Texas heat, aiming her softball pitches at a target on a tree in her family’s yard. That’s what Franco does so well. He creates moments that linger—about sports, Texas, loss, and identity and in-betweenness—and makes me care about the people he puts on the page.
Franco grew up on the El Paso-Juárez border. In a 2020 National Magazine Award-nominated essay that he wrote one year after the El Paso massacre, he reflects on the lifelong pull to this paradox of a place: “It’s where things make the most sense. Where it’s easy to love, even if it’s difficult to live.” I love that he writes from this borderland even when he’s somewhere else. During Mexico’s first World Cup match earlier this summer, he was in Woodburn, Oregon, a small town where Latinos make up more than 60 percent of the population and own nearly every business downtown. Residents had been shaken by last fall’s ICE raids, but they showed up to watch and celebrate. There, thousands of miles from El Paso, Franco found something familiar: a hardworking, resilient community with deep Latino roots and a fierce sense of pride.
I also credit Franco with piquing my interest in wrestling stories, including his piece on WWW star Eddie Guerrero, which also explores family and legacy. Whether he’s writing about sports heroes or ordinary people, or tracing the history of Texas or his own, Franco never fails to move me.
Below, he explains why enrolling in community college at 28 was the most meaningful journey he’s taken, tells us his favorite meal (and the ideal season to eat it), and recognizes a fellow sports writer who inspires him. When asked to name three publications he enjoys reading, he gives a shout-out to Texas Highways, a magazine we love—and it just so happens that he’s the guest editor of its October 2026 issue, focused on El Paso. After spending time with Franco here, read his feature on the city’s historic Smelter Cemetery, and then explore the rest of the magazine.
Where did you grow up?
Several places, but mostly on the El Paso-Juárez border.
I was born in Chicago, but we lived in Juárez, Mexico, until I was about 6. Then we moved across the border to El Paso, Texas, before my father joined the Army. That’s when we lived in Chicago for a short time, then Colorado and Germany before we briefly returned to Juárez. I was about 13 when we moved to El Paso again.
What places feel like home?
Anywhere I hear the Spanish of the US-Mexico border. These areas are often ignored and underserved so it’s a working-class Spanish. Because of its location, some words are a mix of English and Spanish that other parts of Mexico don’t use.
Other than family members, who or what has shaped you the most?
The decade between graduating high school and enrolling at El Paso Community College. I spent most of it working in construction and bouncing around between El Paso and Phoenix, along with a few bad months in Tucson.
What is your favorite time of day?
The early morning when everyone is asleep and the sun’s yet to rise. And it’s so quiet that, almost always at the exact same time, I can hear my neighbor’s footsteps as they walk out of their home, open and close their car door, start it, and then drive away, presumably on their way to work.
What are you really good at?
Building things. I find it almost therapeutic to do some sort of work with my hands as I sweat and listen to music. I also enjoy the feeling of seeing something finished within a few hours.
What’s the best gift you’ve ever received?
I don’t remember who I got the idea from, but years ago I heard or read a suggestion to interview your children during different phases of their lives. Just take out the voice recorder and ask them basic questions. When they’re younger, you can ask about their favorite animal, color, movie, etc. As they get older, the questions can be more about their friends, hobbies, and aspirations.
I’ve been doing this every few months with my now 9-year-old daughter. Occasionally, I’ll listen to the first recordings from when she was 3, and I can hear how much she’s changed—from her voice and interests to the clarity of her words and thoughts. It’s like a short visit with a different version of who your child once was.
That suggestion to interview your children has been the best gift.
Describe your favorite meal.
My mom’s pozole. It’s a Mexican pork and hominy stew accompanied with radishes, cabbage, and bolillo bread. She’ll sometimes make it in late October, on the Saturday closest to my birthday. The weather will be colder by then and a college football game will be on in the background—both of those make it even better. Then a good cigar afterwards.
Sound or silence? (And if sound, what sound?)
It’s become silence. I used to write with music in the background. It almost didn’t matter what kind, and sometimes it’d be the same song on repeat for hours. That was also when I’d do most of my writing during the day and into the early evening. But now, I’ve fallen into a routine where I do most of my writing early. Sometimes I’ll wake up naturally as early as three in the morning. With that change, I now write in silence.
But maybe it’ll change back to music one day.
Where do you do your best thinking?
It just happens so there’s no specific place. And so long as I’m not on deadline, whenever I feel like I can’t think anymore I just try to do something else for that day.
I’ve gotten ideas while driving, listening to podcasts and music, or in the middle of watching a movie. I’ve even woken up during the middle of night with a thought that helps unlock something that I had been stuck on.
What journey—physical, creative, intellectual, or otherwise—has meant the most to you?
Earning an associate degree.
I was a nontraditional student who first enrolled at El Paso Community College at 28 years old. It had been about a decade since I was in school. I was full of self-doubt and worry that I was too old or not a good enough student to be there. With that, I also worried that I might be wasting my time.
But I quickly realized I was a much better student in college than I’d ever been in high school. I was motivated, disciplined, and having worked in construction for the decade before then, I had a different perspective of what college could be. Whenever I felt like complaining, I’d remind myself (as I’ll still occasionally do) that reading and writing is a lot easier than doing manual labor outdoors, especially during the summers.
I ultimately transferred and graduated from a four-year university, and later even finished a PhD program. But that associate degree was the most meaningful because it’s where I started to find outlets for my intellectual curiosities and people who encouraged me.
Where do you like to read?
I don’t have any specific place. At home it’s usually in my office, bed, or on the couch. Away from there, I’ll read while waiting. I’m an anxious flyer, so I’ve also recently found myself saving longer reads for when I’m at the airport or on a plane. It lets me focus on something else while also helping pass the time.
What’s the last rabbit hole you disappeared into?
The World Cup.
Name three publications you enjoy reading these days.
Texas Highways to read about the parts of Texas that aren’t chaotic or depressive. De Los to keep up with some of what’s happening with Latinos outside of where I live. The Good Fight to stay current with boxing.
What’s one longread that you can’t stop thinking about?
Michael Paterniti’s “The House that Thurman Munson Built.” It’s got everything that interests me as a reader and writer: tragedy, memory, and examining what athletes mean to us at different ages.
What was the last book you read?
Divided Soul: The Life of Marvin Gaye. It’s an excellent book.
What piece of nonfiction are you most proud of writing?
I don’t know if “proud” is the right word for it since it’s such a heartbreaking story. But “‘She made us happy’: The all-star dreams of Uvalde’s biggest José Altuve fan” is the first thing that comes to mind.
What’s your most reliable way to get creatively unstuck?
Go for a walk or drive. Either of those help me get away from what I’m doing without completely separating me from it.
Who’s a writer you turn to when you need some inspiration?
Wright Thompson, who I’m fortunate to call a colleague.
I’ll sometimes listen to a chapter or two from The Cost of These Dreams on audiobook before I start writing a story. Wright is among the best sports writers ever, but the story of his that I’ll most often return to is the one he wrote for The Atlantic, “His Name Was Emmett Till.” The small part where one of the main characters says he doesn’t think of the past but has a dog named Dixie is perfect.
What words do you overuse?
“Practically,” “essentially,” “actual(ly),” “that,” “even.”
And in first drafts, I start too many sentences with “so,” “because,” and “since.”
What’s your favorite guilty pleasure?
Watching mindless, and at times dumb, dating shows with my wife.
What superpower would you like to have?
The ability to not get distracted by my phone.
What animal or nonhuman being do you most identify with?
Stray dogs who largely mind their own business and hang out in the same general area without terrorizing it.
If you have a free solitary hour in your day, what do you typically do?
If it’s early in the day, I’ll take a nap.
What five items would you place in a time capsule?
My phone full of photos and videos, a drawing from my daughter, my box full of sports cards, my voice recorder, and a Dallas Cowboys Super Bowl XXX champions hat because I increasingly fear that’ll be the last one they’ll win.
What does your writing space look like?
I’ve turned a room in our house into my office. It has a wall-to-wall bookcase. On the opposite side of it is my desk. It has plenty of space, a filing cabinet attached to it, and a shelf for my speaker and printer. Yes, a printer. It’s nothing fancy, but practical.
On the wall above the desk is a dry-erase board where I’ll write reminders and a few words that are story ideas. Once those ideas become a story, I have a corkboard, on the wall to the left of where I sit, for the three-by-five cards I use to outline and organize sections. Above the corkboard are reminders of what I need to focus on when I write. Below it is a calendar for deadlines and travel dates. To the right of where I sit is a small couch. The walls have framed boxing fight posters, work of local artists, photos of my wife and daughter, and random things that mean something to me, like mini football helmets from the University of Texas-El Paso.

Roberto José Andrade Franco is a feature writer with ESPN and a Writer-at-Large with Texas Highways. His work has been anthologized four times in The Year’s Best Sports Writing and nominated for the National Magazine Award. He’s also a four-time finalist for the Dan Jenkins Medal for Excellence in Sportswriting.
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The Longreads Questionnaire, Featuring Jon Ronson

“I do unashamedly want to write page-turners,” Jon Ronson told The New Yorker in an interview. “I can never understand why most nonfiction books have such limited creative ambitions.” Ronson, who is “not a thrill-seeker,” then recounts fearing for his life while being pursued by members of a secretive political gathering—a chase that found its way into Them: Adventures with Extremists, his 2001 breakthrough book. Thrills have a way of finding Ronson, either through active pursuit or some subtler means of revelation. The Men Who Stare At Goats begins with a US Army general who attempts to walk through walls, repeatedly smacking into them. In the opening of The Psychopath Test, a neurologist hands Ronson a baffling package, copies of which have been anonymously mailed to academics throughout the world. The pages turn themselves.

Ronson’s latest, The Castle, earned a starred review from Publisher’s Weekly, which praised the book as “a blockbuster portrait of men gone mad” and Ronson’s style as “intuitive but rigorous.” His podcast, Things Fell Apart, was recently renewed for a third season, in which Ronson will shift focus from American culture wars to individual battles against institutions. He once told The Guardian, “I get called faux-naïf all the time. But I honestly think I am just genuinely naive.” It’s an observation that reminds me of Joan Didion’s own famous self-assessment: that she was “so physically small, so temperamentally unobtrusive . . . that people tend to forget that my presence runs counter to their best interests.” Ronson is warmer than that, but his access is no less astonishing. Time and again, someone allows him to get very close—closer, perhaps, than they might be aware of. Each of Ronson’s books is a testament to his depth of inquiry, his proximity to the surprising, and his conviction that a good narrative should be propulsive.
—Brendan Fitzgerald
Where did you grow up?
Cardiff, Wales. In a suburb called Lisvane.
What places feel like home?
London, for sure. As a child, when we’d visit my grandparents, I’d sneak away and jump on a bus and just get lost in the City. Even when it wasn’t home, it felt like home. Eventually I lived there for decades, loving especially Soho and Islington. I also love our tiny town in the Hudson Valley. We’ve lived here since 2019.
Other than family members, who or what has shaped you the most?
As a teenager, watching Nick Broomfield documentaries and reading the great nonfiction adventurers from the ’60s and ’70s like Hunter S. Thompson and PJ O’Rourke and the writers featured in Tom Wolfe’s The New Journalism. And when I started in journalism, the editors who first gave me a break: Ian Parker, Chris Heath, Deborah Orr, Ian Katz.
What is your favorite time of day?
Early morning. I make a coffee and for the first few hours my brain is at its best and I can write a lot.
What are you really good at?
Narrative nonfiction. If I go off on some journey, I know exactly how to make it work. It’s the only thing I’m good at.
What’s the best gift you’ve ever received?
Recently the BBC gave me a subscription to Descript, a text-based audio editing program. It’s a dream gift for a detail-oriented storyteller. I can finally do the audio editing myself. I sit there for hours.
Describe your favorite meal.
I guess some kind of salad with lots of fruit and vegetables and a good dressing. You can’t beat Greek dressing.
Sound or silence? (And if sound, what sound?)
Silence! I can’t believe how great the silence is here in the Hudson Valley. There’s something very comforting about knowing it won’t end. They’ll never turn this country lane into a big road.
Where do you do your best thinking?
When I’m out on a story, in some strange place, gathering material. I just instinctively know what’ll work, what the best moments are. Fiction people can do that in their imaginations. I can’t. But when I’m out on a story, I just know.
What journey—physical, creative, intellectual, or otherwise—has meant the most to you?
The journey of leaving Cardiff and moving to London when I was 18. I felt like finally my life could begin.
Where do you like to read?
I listen to audiobooks when I’m out walking.
What’s the last rabbit hole you disappeared into?
The Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC). I went to the cage match on the White House South Lawn for GQ, because it was theme-adjacent to my new book The Castle. So I watched all manner of fighter interviews and UFC super-fan videos for that.
Name three publications you enjoy reading these days.
The New Yorker, The Guardian, The New York Times.
What’s one longread that you can’t stop thinking about?
“Andrew Tate’s Empire Of Abuse” was the last one I listened to from beginning to end.
What was the last book you read?
Shakespeare: The World as Stage by Bill Bryson. I listen to it over and over to get to sleep. So I still don’t know how he dies.
What piece of nonfiction are you most proud of writing?
Every book I’ve written has chapters I’m equally proud of: sneaking into Bohemian Grove with Alex Jones and getting chased by the Bilderberg Group in Them, the goat staring in The Men Who Stare At Goats, pretty much all of The Psychopath Test, much of Lost at Sea, Justine Sacco in So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed. The Castle feels really good. I felt very confident writing it, mixing up tones and styles in a way I don’t think I could have managed before.
What’s your most reliable way to get creatively unstuck?
Just wandering around Reddit can be good. The whole world is somewhere on Reddit. And if you don’t find your next story, it might still unlock some part of your brain.
Who’s a writer you turn to when you need some inspiration?
Kurt Vonnegut, for his brevity and his clashes between comedy and horror.
What words do you overuse?
It used to be “There was a silence” but I’ve cured myself of that, thank God.
What’s your favorite guilty pleasure?
I don’t know if this counts, but every book I read for pleasure is a celebrity memoir, mostly musicians and actors. Cher. Anthony Hopkins. Bruce Springsteen. I LOVED the English actor Kathy Burke’s one, A Mind Of My Own. Right now it’s Johnny Marr.
What superpower would you like to have?
I think I’d like to be able to shoot fire out of my hands. No. Teleportation through space and time.
What animal or nonhuman being do you most identify with?
I really identified with my dog, Floppy—how he wanted to be around people but didn’t want to interact with them.
If you have a free solitary hour in your day, what do you typically do?
Run or walk.
What five items would you place in a time capsule?
Talking Heads’ Stop Making Sense. The Pitt. Succession. All of NPR’s Tiny Desk Concerts, especially Doechii, Sierra Ferrell, and Chappell Roan. Bruce Springsteen’s 1979 No Nukes concert video. Huh, it’s almost all music. I guess that’s the stuff we should remember. People being their best.
What does your writing space look like?

Jon Ronson’s nonfiction books include So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed, The Psychopath Test, Them: Adventures with Extremists, Lost at Sea, and The Men Who Stare At Goats. They have all been international and/or New York Times bestsellers and have been translated into more than 30 languages. His latest book, The Castle, is now available.