I'm still working with the publisher in New Rochelle, and without planning to do so, I have picked up a new friend. Not only are we now friendly, I have inspired her to join the blogosphere. So Joanne, welcome! It can be addicting, frustrating, and rewarding.
Read Joanne here
Oh, and the name of her blog was my idea. Once in a while, the blind squirrel finds the nut.
I'm always treading lightly when making work friends, as it can be a tenuous thing, especially as a temp. I'm not expected to be here long-term, at least not initially. I am hoping for the long-term here, since I think the company and I have been good for each other. At times, the office is, shall we say, um...quiet. Library-like. You will not find any radios playing (a staple of mine). Instead, I'm deep into wearing ear buds and listening to my iPod or Mike and the Mad Dog (who's theme song The Son loves to sing). So I've brought a little life to my corner of the office, and the company has blessed me by making me feel talented, wanted and liked. Deep down, isn't that really all that we want - some acceptance?
Still, when my "boss" sat me down at my new desk, I thought I'd just sit here quietly. However, by the end of the first day, Joanne and I were buddies. We talked of "eye candy" in a way that I have never done before, and I'm not sure I can explain what that means. She's a fellow Yankees fan, a reality show freak (OK, so we're different there), and has an offbeat, bordering on blue sense of humor. In short, we are simpatico. So now this office has a two-person force to be reckoned with. God help them. She just has to break me of my habit of sitting in my car at lunch, as I eat and read. A person needs a few minutes of privacy, right?
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Writer's Block
Maybe it's that I'm overwhelmed lately, or I just don't really have anything to say, but I haven't written a lot here. I'll try to get back up to speed soon. I'd like to play catch up with some thoughts about a great party last night, and even some "archive" stuff, like travel journals, and so on. Plus with baseball coming up, and March Madness rolling along, I have sports things to discuss as well. So I hope to be back with you soon, maybe even by the end of the day.
I'm working a bit again, for a publisher in New Rochelle. I'm so happy there, and there's talk of them wanting me permanently. There's a financial downside to it but we'll see if we can live with it. I know it's nice to be wanted - that's for sure!
A couple of shout outs before I run. Happy birthday to the most wonderful, beautiful wife and friend that a guy could have. Her name is Sandi, and she's The Wife. We're kind of struggling these days to make all the ends meet, but we make it work somehow. Happy birthday also to her father, Tom. Sixty-five and still full of life. He's the closest thing I have to a father. And, if I haven't mentioned this already, best of luck to Ricky Fritsch as he sets off on his new endeavor, which he started earlier in the week. We've become good friends, and I enjoy his honest and realistic look at life. He could often find the right mix to keep my grounded. I hope he stays involved with WGCH in some capacity, but it's more likely that I will have a new broadcast partner, when (or should I say "if") we get back to broadcasting games. I know who that new/old partner is, but I can't reveal that information yet...
I hope you all continue to read "Exit 55", and enjoy my sometimes offbeat view of my world, and the bigger picture. I don't run a counter here to see who's reading because I don't think I want to know. I'm happy to live with the comments that I receive, and view the lack of comments as "no news means good news." With that said, whoever is reading, I thank you for stopping by.
I'm working a bit again, for a publisher in New Rochelle. I'm so happy there, and there's talk of them wanting me permanently. There's a financial downside to it but we'll see if we can live with it. I know it's nice to be wanted - that's for sure!
A couple of shout outs before I run. Happy birthday to the most wonderful, beautiful wife and friend that a guy could have. Her name is Sandi, and she's The Wife. We're kind of struggling these days to make all the ends meet, but we make it work somehow. Happy birthday also to her father, Tom. Sixty-five and still full of life. He's the closest thing I have to a father. And, if I haven't mentioned this already, best of luck to Ricky Fritsch as he sets off on his new endeavor, which he started earlier in the week. We've become good friends, and I enjoy his honest and realistic look at life. He could often find the right mix to keep my grounded. I hope he stays involved with WGCH in some capacity, but it's more likely that I will have a new broadcast partner, when (or should I say "if") we get back to broadcasting games. I know who that new/old partner is, but I can't reveal that information yet...
I hope you all continue to read "Exit 55", and enjoy my sometimes offbeat view of my world, and the bigger picture. I don't run a counter here to see who's reading because I don't think I want to know. I'm happy to live with the comments that I receive, and view the lack of comments as "no news means good news." With that said, whoever is reading, I thank you for stopping by.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Erin Go Off The Bench
Top of the morning to ya, or as the good “Cardinal Egan” of Imus in the Morning says, “Good morning and God bless!” So it’s not actually St. Patrick’s Day yet, but it’s close enough. The Wife inspired me to do like her this week so everyday since Sunday I have worn something green. She has done the same thing. In my case, I was able to come with a different green shirt for each day. All in good fun, I guess.
Admittedly St. Patrick’s Day always comes with a touch of mournfulness, but it’s nothing that I dwell on. For it was on St. Patrick’s night in 1989 that we lost my father to a heart attack while watching, of all things, The Quiet Man. I had last seen him on the previous Wednesday morning, when my cat woke me up to let him out. As I walked to the kitchen, my father was standing there, eating his breakfast. Not a word was spoken between us and I returned to bed. That Friday, I was going to stay home, having not seen him to talk to in a few days, but The Wife (then, The Girlfriend, of course) convinced me to take her out. So after I left work in Rye Brook, I drove to the Danbury Fair Mall to do some quick shopping for her birthday, and then picked her up. Back in those days, a night out could be some cheap dinner and a drive somewhere, or maybe a stroll around some shopping enclave. On that night, we had dinner at a Denny’s in Newburgh, then took a drive down Route 9W.
I can’t tell you for sure what time we got back to her house but as we pulled up, her father came out to the driveway and told me that my mother had called and that I was to get home. I would later find out that it was not my mother, but a family friend at the time whom I called “Ma.” My heart skipped a slight beat, but I assumed it was regarding my grandfather, who at almost 93, was beginning to slow down. I prepared myself for a probable trip to Florida for his burial.
When I got home, the first thing that stuck out at me was that the house was empty and all the cars were still in their places. My father’s Nova sat in the driveway, while my mother’s Caprice Classic was in the garage. An ashtray was knocked over, but my father’s cane was still by his chair. This was all strange to me, but I still wasn’t prepared for the worst. Was it possible that my father was so upset that he knocked over the ashtray (it was one of those stand alone types) and somebody took he and my mom out? That would be very odd.
It was time for answers. Who better than the aforementioned “Ma?” Though it was late, they never seemed to sleep over there, and I needed to know what was going on. She answered and I began to question her. Initially she wouldn’t give me anything, only saying, “they’ll be home soon.” At 20, I was impetuous enough that I wanted to know, so I kept pressing. This only lasted a minute or so before she uttered the words that forever changed my life: “Daddy’s gone.” Before I could react, she hurried off the phone.
One thinks that they’re supposed to cry, but that wasn’t what happened. My mouth went dry, and I grabbed a glass of orange juice (which would later make me sick). Then I punched the refrigerator. From there, I put my socks back on, because I had taken them off in the car during the night. Amazing the stupid things you worry about. Then I set about dealing with everything. The family – my mom, brother and sister – would be home in a few minutes.
The next few days would go by in a blur. Personal matter would be dealt with on Saturday, and the first wake would be Sunday night. This was also the first time that I would see my father with my own eyes. We would receive literally hundreds of people, from all walks of our lives. Monday would have two more wakes. As we closed up Monday night, I thought that we would close the casket, and that would be the last time I would see my father. Finally I broke down and for a good 10 minutes, was the sobbing wreck that everybody wanted me to be.
Only one thing stands out to me as truly bothering me. Tuesday, March 21st was the funeral. That happens to be The Wife’s birthday. I know she was just The Girlfriend then, but she had been around my family for over a year by the time of my father’s death, and wasn’t leaving anytime soon (and nearly 20 years and one child later, she’s still here). I don’t think it would have made a difference if I had put up a stink, but it just didn’t seem right. To her credit, she was nothing but decent about it, and continues to be unfazed by it to this day.
I was one of two people who delivered eulogies at the funeral. I remember speaking from the heart, and having several people compliment it. It wasn’t about that though. It was about representing my family, and reminding everybody of what a good man he was and will always be. Mostly, though, I wanted to honor his wish of keeping things lighthearted. While many cried by the time I was finished, many also enjoyed some laughs. Most of all, I honored his wish of having “Free Bird” be a part of his sendoff.
Life, while never being the same, has carried on. I pretty sure I know where he is proud of me, and quite positive where I think I would have let him down. I also think he had a strong notion that The Girlfriend would one day be The Wife. Speaking of The Wife, I can never forget how supportive and amazing she was through that difficult time. All of this was heady stuff for a young woman who turned 19 on the day her boyfriend’s father was buried.
Needless to say, we never forget the great man who remains my father. There’s far more to life though on St. Patrick’s Day. Too many great things have happened as well. We were on our honeymoon one year, and in London another year, and have had or gone to countless fun parties. I know it rankles some Irish folks that St. Patrick’s Day is often treated as an excuse to party to excess, but I think it highlights the fun of the Irish. Tell me what pub is better than an Irish one? So remember – tomorrow, everyone is Irish!
Before we move on, I’ve got this little nugget for ya. Besides The Quiet Man, there are many other movies and pieces of pop culture dedicated to the Irish that are quite, to quote the “Guinness” guys,
So with that in mind, allow me to show you the edited version of The Commitments, Alan Parker’s “BRILLIANT” 1991 movie about “The Saviours of Soul.” Now I know we here at “Exit 55” have long believed in being cautious with our language. Yes, we have uttered the occasional “shite” and “arse” and a few other edited words, but can we possibly add “fook” to the list? Perhaps. Anyway, watch this funny bit courtesy of YouTube, if you can stand the language.
Anyway, have a happy St. Patrick’s Day.
So A-Rod goes on with Mike and the Mad Dog on WFAN and tries to be more forthcoming and honest than ever before. What does he get in return? Hammered by the media! This guy cannot win here. I heard the whole interview and thought he was good, except for his stance of not wanting to talk about Derek Jeter. The media as a whole has a problem with A-Rod, likely a result of the contract, his agent (Scott Boras) and the fact that he often comes off as a phony. I think what this legendary player needs to do is tell the media to go to hell, and play like a man possessed. Put up the numbers, be honest and real, and New York will love you.
So day one ends in the NCAA tournament. How did your brackets fare? Mine were so-so. If you focused on no upsets, you were fine. If, like I did, you took a chance here or there, you got burned. I wanted to take Virginia Commonwealth (where my friend Jon went to school) over the Dookies, but I figured, they’re still Duke. They have Dave McClure, one of the finest players I’ve seen in person, having called a few of his games when he played at Trinity Catholic in Stamford. Yet there they were, losing to VCU. So I lost that one. My upset was the Oral Roberts/Washington State game. I thought maybe ORU could pull of the upset and lost that one also. So I went 12-4 overall. Not great but I’ve had worse days.
Oh, not be forgotten is Torey Thomas, point guard for Holy Cross, and a former teammate of Dave McClure's at Trinity. I loved watching these kids play, and it's a thrill seeing them on the big stage now, just as it is to see John Sullivan playing center at Notre Dame. It's fun to say, "I broadcast their games in high school."
Yesterday’s coverage of the tournament on CBS was only so-so at best. Even the great Dick Enberg seemed like he was not at the top of his game, while Gus Johnson was in hyper SCREAMING mode!! Then there’s Kevin Harlan, who like the Barenaked Ladies and UB40, I just do not get the attraction to him at all. I’ve never heard a good word about Gus Johnson, but what do I know? Then there was James Brown, not the one who is now dead, but the one sportscaster that everybody likes. I like him also, but he was clearly lost as a play-by-play man yesterday. Of course sometime today we will get treated to Billy “I perfected basketball” Packer. Thankfully we'll also get some of Verne Lundquist and Bill Raftery. One could argue that they should be the Eye network's number one hoops team.
Oh, in case you’re wondering, my Final Four is lame. I initially had Florida, along with Kansas, Georgetown and Ohio State. That makes three number one seeds and a number two. Since then, I’ve pulled Florida (the defending champs) and inserted Wisconsin. My championship game is Ohio State and Kansas, and I figure the best player in the tournament will reach the Promised Land. I have no real solid reason to think this, so I’ll take Greg Oden and Ohio State to win the national championship. I know, it’s lame.
Looks like the vagina furor has died down in Cross River. The Vagina Three, as the young women are now known, have had their suspensions dismissed. That is probably the wisest way to make the whole dopey issue go away. Time to move on.
Am I the only one who sees Al Sharpton on TV and is always reminded of the Tawana Brawley mess in 1987? I know people deserve a second chance, but creating racial undertones when none existed killed any credibility that Reverend Sharpton has, in my mind.
Popped over to my friend Mick’s blog to see what his weekly edition was about. He jumps off baseball this week for the most part (gives me some love – much appreciated), and talks a bit about the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Thanks, Mick. You’ve inspired me!
First let’s head back to the Baseball Hall of Fame, which earlier this month chose to not induct any veterans. Shameful? Kind of. Dodgers fans will tell you that Gil Hodges should be in the Hall, while I will always pull for Roger Maris. What, there weren’t another 35 Negro League players that the PC Police could induct?
Anyway, the R&R Hall inducted their 2007 class the other night. I watched just a small piece of it, as Patti Smith sang, and just couldn’t stay with it. I know she is a seminal artist, but it was just painful to me. I would have liked to have seen REM, since original drummer Bill Berry was back for the night, and they have not been the same band since he left in 1997 after suffering a brain aneurysm. There is a new version of John Lennon’s “Number 9 Dream”, cut by REM and Berry plays on the track.
Mick’s main contention is that Rush in not in the Hall, and it’s a fair point. He also outlines who is currently on the outside looking in, and who is coming up for consideration. This hall of fame is perhaps the most irrelevant of them all. I made my pilgrimage to it in 1999, and it’s worth visiting, but it’s a very confused group. While everyone is celebrating the worthy induction of Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, it ‘s worth asking that if there’s a Hip-Hop/Rap Hall of Fame one day, will Aerosmith be inducted? Or Blondie? They both worked with Rap artists at one time or another, and gave them large prominence. I’m just wondering.
A quicky before we end for the day. The Wife and I had a chance to dine at Bennett’s Steak and Fish in Stamford, owned by NBA referee Bennett Salvatore. Thanks to a one-hundred dollar gift card that we won at the WGCH holiday party, we dined on Filet Mignon, enjoyed the wine selection, and finished with Tiramisu. I highly recommend it.
Admittedly St. Patrick’s Day always comes with a touch of mournfulness, but it’s nothing that I dwell on. For it was on St. Patrick’s night in 1989 that we lost my father to a heart attack while watching, of all things, The Quiet Man. I had last seen him on the previous Wednesday morning, when my cat woke me up to let him out. As I walked to the kitchen, my father was standing there, eating his breakfast. Not a word was spoken between us and I returned to bed. That Friday, I was going to stay home, having not seen him to talk to in a few days, but The Wife (then, The Girlfriend, of course) convinced me to take her out. So after I left work in Rye Brook, I drove to the Danbury Fair Mall to do some quick shopping for her birthday, and then picked her up. Back in those days, a night out could be some cheap dinner and a drive somewhere, or maybe a stroll around some shopping enclave. On that night, we had dinner at a Denny’s in Newburgh, then took a drive down Route 9W.
I can’t tell you for sure what time we got back to her house but as we pulled up, her father came out to the driveway and told me that my mother had called and that I was to get home. I would later find out that it was not my mother, but a family friend at the time whom I called “Ma.” My heart skipped a slight beat, but I assumed it was regarding my grandfather, who at almost 93, was beginning to slow down. I prepared myself for a probable trip to Florida for his burial.
When I got home, the first thing that stuck out at me was that the house was empty and all the cars were still in their places. My father’s Nova sat in the driveway, while my mother’s Caprice Classic was in the garage. An ashtray was knocked over, but my father’s cane was still by his chair. This was all strange to me, but I still wasn’t prepared for the worst. Was it possible that my father was so upset that he knocked over the ashtray (it was one of those stand alone types) and somebody took he and my mom out? That would be very odd.
It was time for answers. Who better than the aforementioned “Ma?” Though it was late, they never seemed to sleep over there, and I needed to know what was going on. She answered and I began to question her. Initially she wouldn’t give me anything, only saying, “they’ll be home soon.” At 20, I was impetuous enough that I wanted to know, so I kept pressing. This only lasted a minute or so before she uttered the words that forever changed my life: “Daddy’s gone.” Before I could react, she hurried off the phone.
One thinks that they’re supposed to cry, but that wasn’t what happened. My mouth went dry, and I grabbed a glass of orange juice (which would later make me sick). Then I punched the refrigerator. From there, I put my socks back on, because I had taken them off in the car during the night. Amazing the stupid things you worry about. Then I set about dealing with everything. The family – my mom, brother and sister – would be home in a few minutes.
The next few days would go by in a blur. Personal matter would be dealt with on Saturday, and the first wake would be Sunday night. This was also the first time that I would see my father with my own eyes. We would receive literally hundreds of people, from all walks of our lives. Monday would have two more wakes. As we closed up Monday night, I thought that we would close the casket, and that would be the last time I would see my father. Finally I broke down and for a good 10 minutes, was the sobbing wreck that everybody wanted me to be.
Only one thing stands out to me as truly bothering me. Tuesday, March 21st was the funeral. That happens to be The Wife’s birthday. I know she was just The Girlfriend then, but she had been around my family for over a year by the time of my father’s death, and wasn’t leaving anytime soon (and nearly 20 years and one child later, she’s still here). I don’t think it would have made a difference if I had put up a stink, but it just didn’t seem right. To her credit, she was nothing but decent about it, and continues to be unfazed by it to this day.
I was one of two people who delivered eulogies at the funeral. I remember speaking from the heart, and having several people compliment it. It wasn’t about that though. It was about representing my family, and reminding everybody of what a good man he was and will always be. Mostly, though, I wanted to honor his wish of keeping things lighthearted. While many cried by the time I was finished, many also enjoyed some laughs. Most of all, I honored his wish of having “Free Bird” be a part of his sendoff.
Life, while never being the same, has carried on. I pretty sure I know where he is proud of me, and quite positive where I think I would have let him down. I also think he had a strong notion that The Girlfriend would one day be The Wife. Speaking of The Wife, I can never forget how supportive and amazing she was through that difficult time. All of this was heady stuff for a young woman who turned 19 on the day her boyfriend’s father was buried.
Needless to say, we never forget the great man who remains my father. There’s far more to life though on St. Patrick’s Day. Too many great things have happened as well. We were on our honeymoon one year, and in London another year, and have had or gone to countless fun parties. I know it rankles some Irish folks that St. Patrick’s Day is often treated as an excuse to party to excess, but I think it highlights the fun of the Irish. Tell me what pub is better than an Irish one? So remember – tomorrow, everyone is Irish!
Before we move on, I’ve got this little nugget for ya. Besides The Quiet Man, there are many other movies and pieces of pop culture dedicated to the Irish that are quite, to quote the “Guinness” guys,
So with that in mind, allow me to show you the edited version of The Commitments, Alan Parker’s “BRILLIANT” 1991 movie about “The Saviours of Soul.” Now I know we here at “Exit 55” have long believed in being cautious with our language. Yes, we have uttered the occasional “shite” and “arse” and a few other edited words, but can we possibly add “fook” to the list? Perhaps. Anyway, watch this funny bit courtesy of YouTube, if you can stand the language.
Anyway, have a happy St. Patrick’s Day.
So A-Rod goes on with Mike and the Mad Dog on WFAN and tries to be more forthcoming and honest than ever before. What does he get in return? Hammered by the media! This guy cannot win here. I heard the whole interview and thought he was good, except for his stance of not wanting to talk about Derek Jeter. The media as a whole has a problem with A-Rod, likely a result of the contract, his agent (Scott Boras) and the fact that he often comes off as a phony. I think what this legendary player needs to do is tell the media to go to hell, and play like a man possessed. Put up the numbers, be honest and real, and New York will love you.
So day one ends in the NCAA tournament. How did your brackets fare? Mine were so-so. If you focused on no upsets, you were fine. If, like I did, you took a chance here or there, you got burned. I wanted to take Virginia Commonwealth (where my friend Jon went to school) over the Dookies, but I figured, they’re still Duke. They have Dave McClure, one of the finest players I’ve seen in person, having called a few of his games when he played at Trinity Catholic in Stamford. Yet there they were, losing to VCU. So I lost that one. My upset was the Oral Roberts/Washington State game. I thought maybe ORU could pull of the upset and lost that one also. So I went 12-4 overall. Not great but I’ve had worse days.
Oh, not be forgotten is Torey Thomas, point guard for Holy Cross, and a former teammate of Dave McClure's at Trinity. I loved watching these kids play, and it's a thrill seeing them on the big stage now, just as it is to see John Sullivan playing center at Notre Dame. It's fun to say, "I broadcast their games in high school."
Yesterday’s coverage of the tournament on CBS was only so-so at best. Even the great Dick Enberg seemed like he was not at the top of his game, while Gus Johnson was in hyper SCREAMING mode!! Then there’s Kevin Harlan, who like the Barenaked Ladies and UB40, I just do not get the attraction to him at all. I’ve never heard a good word about Gus Johnson, but what do I know? Then there was James Brown, not the one who is now dead, but the one sportscaster that everybody likes. I like him also, but he was clearly lost as a play-by-play man yesterday. Of course sometime today we will get treated to Billy “I perfected basketball” Packer. Thankfully we'll also get some of Verne Lundquist and Bill Raftery. One could argue that they should be the Eye network's number one hoops team.
Oh, in case you’re wondering, my Final Four is lame. I initially had Florida, along with Kansas, Georgetown and Ohio State. That makes three number one seeds and a number two. Since then, I’ve pulled Florida (the defending champs) and inserted Wisconsin. My championship game is Ohio State and Kansas, and I figure the best player in the tournament will reach the Promised Land. I have no real solid reason to think this, so I’ll take Greg Oden and Ohio State to win the national championship. I know, it’s lame.
Looks like the vagina furor has died down in Cross River. The Vagina Three, as the young women are now known, have had their suspensions dismissed. That is probably the wisest way to make the whole dopey issue go away. Time to move on.
Am I the only one who sees Al Sharpton on TV and is always reminded of the Tawana Brawley mess in 1987? I know people deserve a second chance, but creating racial undertones when none existed killed any credibility that Reverend Sharpton has, in my mind.
Popped over to my friend Mick’s blog to see what his weekly edition was about. He jumps off baseball this week for the most part (gives me some love – much appreciated), and talks a bit about the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Thanks, Mick. You’ve inspired me!
First let’s head back to the Baseball Hall of Fame, which earlier this month chose to not induct any veterans. Shameful? Kind of. Dodgers fans will tell you that Gil Hodges should be in the Hall, while I will always pull for Roger Maris. What, there weren’t another 35 Negro League players that the PC Police could induct?
Anyway, the R&R Hall inducted their 2007 class the other night. I watched just a small piece of it, as Patti Smith sang, and just couldn’t stay with it. I know she is a seminal artist, but it was just painful to me. I would have liked to have seen REM, since original drummer Bill Berry was back for the night, and they have not been the same band since he left in 1997 after suffering a brain aneurysm. There is a new version of John Lennon’s “Number 9 Dream”, cut by REM and Berry plays on the track.
Mick’s main contention is that Rush in not in the Hall, and it’s a fair point. He also outlines who is currently on the outside looking in, and who is coming up for consideration. This hall of fame is perhaps the most irrelevant of them all. I made my pilgrimage to it in 1999, and it’s worth visiting, but it’s a very confused group. While everyone is celebrating the worthy induction of Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, it ‘s worth asking that if there’s a Hip-Hop/Rap Hall of Fame one day, will Aerosmith be inducted? Or Blondie? They both worked with Rap artists at one time or another, and gave them large prominence. I’m just wondering.
A quicky before we end for the day. The Wife and I had a chance to dine at Bennett’s Steak and Fish in Stamford, owned by NBA referee Bennett Salvatore. Thanks to a one-hundred dollar gift card that we won at the WGCH holiday party, we dined on Filet Mignon, enjoyed the wine selection, and finished with Tiramisu. I highly recommend it.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Cowherd goes to The Big Town
So much for my nice little Monday blog post that I was planning. As I checked my email this morning, I found a little something from an old colleague of mine. A huge fan of Arkansas sports, the Boston Red Sox, and the Chicago Bears, he knows his stuff, and is extremely smart about it. Like me, he really doesn’t buy into talking smack. We enjoy the results on the field, and if you try to talk smack, you get smacked back. Hard.
Not to say he’s innocent. I returned from a vacation one time to find a framed picture of my family in full Red Sox regalia. Amazing what Photoshop can do, right? Oh, and I laughed out loud at it.
When he comes across things that make him laugh, or boggle his mind, or whatever, he sends it out to the masses – meaning me and a few other former cohorts. Among us, we have a Mets fan, three Yankees fan, and the one Sox fan. Now what you’re going to see comes courtesy of Colin Cowherd via YouTube. Before we get there, let me explain that, if you don’t know, Colin Cowherd is a radio broadcaster. I also, frankly, think he’s a jackass. His one smug little comment of how “The Pittsburgh Steelers can’t afford any free agents because they’re too busy paying off referees in the Super Bowl” just makes him sound like a punk. Think Christopher “Mad Dog” Russo is an ass? Listen to “The Herd” sometime.
That said, Mr. Cowherd is spot on with this rant. Now before the Mets fan gets the old David Wright boxers in a bundle, let me say that you have to focus on listening comprehension. Mr. Cowherd is saying that the Mets are better than the image they portray. I have railed about this for years. As hard as I laughed at this, I also sat and nodded my head at it. The Mets are not, say, the Kansas City Chiefs, who are a college team in a major league uniform, and that’s fine. They are the New York Mets, playing Major League Baseball in New York City. This kind of cheese whiz doesn’t really fly here, or in Boston, or it Philly, or even in Chicago.
Anyway, listen and watch the effort of this person from YouTube and we’ll talk on the other side.
If you can pull yourself away from being a fan for a moment, you can see the humor in some of this. It’s also fairly obnoxious at times. Anyway, he’s wrong about one thing. The version of “Meet The Mets” is not the one that he heard. The one that is played now on WFAN is one that they’ve used for a bout 15-20 years, featuring a women’s voice. The old version is kind of snappy. This newer version can make you attempt to put your fist through your radio, like you’ve popped on the wireless (that’s an old term for radio, kids) hoping to hear something different and cool and instead being treated to “Walk This Way” for the seven MILLIONTH time.
That’s taking me off on a tangent, and I will resist.
Anyway, I’ve gone down this road with the Mets before, and I don’t want to get hit with the “bias” routine, so I’m done. My actual hatred for them has subsided a great deal. I fully expect them to win the NL East, and perhaps the World Series as well. They’re due, and they’ve done a nice job. They have a good manager in Willie Randolph, and a wonderful team. Someone actually tried to tell me that David Wright will be a full-on failure, like an A-Rod, but that’s just a clueless fan for ya. Wright, Jose Reyes, Carlos Beltran, Carlos Delgado, and so on - these guys are just too good. The starting pitching is a huge question, but don’t be fooled. If GM Omar Minaya can hold out for a good starter, or one of the young pitchers blossoms, the Mets are going to be better than fine. If Minaya can find a starter of Latin persuasion, even better.
By the way, that last line is a joke, because a look at the Mets roster indicates a large amount of Latino players. News Flash – the best players in baseball generally ARE Latino.
Like I said, I don’t really have an axe to grind with the Amazin’s. At least not until some fan makes me crazy again. Then we’ll see how my mood is.
Not to say he’s innocent. I returned from a vacation one time to find a framed picture of my family in full Red Sox regalia. Amazing what Photoshop can do, right? Oh, and I laughed out loud at it.
When he comes across things that make him laugh, or boggle his mind, or whatever, he sends it out to the masses – meaning me and a few other former cohorts. Among us, we have a Mets fan, three Yankees fan, and the one Sox fan. Now what you’re going to see comes courtesy of Colin Cowherd via YouTube. Before we get there, let me explain that, if you don’t know, Colin Cowherd is a radio broadcaster. I also, frankly, think he’s a jackass. His one smug little comment of how “The Pittsburgh Steelers can’t afford any free agents because they’re too busy paying off referees in the Super Bowl” just makes him sound like a punk. Think Christopher “Mad Dog” Russo is an ass? Listen to “The Herd” sometime.
That said, Mr. Cowherd is spot on with this rant. Now before the Mets fan gets the old David Wright boxers in a bundle, let me say that you have to focus on listening comprehension. Mr. Cowherd is saying that the Mets are better than the image they portray. I have railed about this for years. As hard as I laughed at this, I also sat and nodded my head at it. The Mets are not, say, the Kansas City Chiefs, who are a college team in a major league uniform, and that’s fine. They are the New York Mets, playing Major League Baseball in New York City. This kind of cheese whiz doesn’t really fly here, or in Boston, or it Philly, or even in Chicago.
Anyway, listen and watch the effort of this person from YouTube and we’ll talk on the other side.
If you can pull yourself away from being a fan for a moment, you can see the humor in some of this. It’s also fairly obnoxious at times. Anyway, he’s wrong about one thing. The version of “Meet The Mets” is not the one that he heard. The one that is played now on WFAN is one that they’ve used for a bout 15-20 years, featuring a women’s voice. The old version is kind of snappy. This newer version can make you attempt to put your fist through your radio, like you’ve popped on the wireless (that’s an old term for radio, kids) hoping to hear something different and cool and instead being treated to “Walk This Way” for the seven MILLIONTH time.
That’s taking me off on a tangent, and I will resist.
Anyway, I’ve gone down this road with the Mets before, and I don’t want to get hit with the “bias” routine, so I’m done. My actual hatred for them has subsided a great deal. I fully expect them to win the NL East, and perhaps the World Series as well. They’re due, and they’ve done a nice job. They have a good manager in Willie Randolph, and a wonderful team. Someone actually tried to tell me that David Wright will be a full-on failure, like an A-Rod, but that’s just a clueless fan for ya. Wright, Jose Reyes, Carlos Beltran, Carlos Delgado, and so on - these guys are just too good. The starting pitching is a huge question, but don’t be fooled. If GM Omar Minaya can hold out for a good starter, or one of the young pitchers blossoms, the Mets are going to be better than fine. If Minaya can find a starter of Latin persuasion, even better.
By the way, that last line is a joke, because a look at the Mets roster indicates a large amount of Latino players. News Flash – the best players in baseball generally ARE Latino.
Like I said, I don’t really have an axe to grind with the Amazin’s. At least not until some fan makes me crazy again. Then we’ll see how my mood is.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Off The Bench
I’d love to tell you that I took a minute out from packing for a weekend vacation in Maine to write.
I’d love to. But I can’t. We’re not going to Maine.
Simple economics and common sense won out in the end. In good conscience, The Wife felt that while the trip would be good for us emotionally, financially it wouldn’t work. So we’ll go with Plan B. Perhaps a day trip, then dinner on Saturday night. Sunday is our 12th wedding anniversary, so that’s why we were going to go in the first place. We’ve been there before, and it’s not going anywhere, so we’ll get back. That’s showbiz. The reality is that while one can say “let’s just go for it because we can’t take it with us when we’re gone”, we are still here. Gotta be smart.
So it’s Plan B.
As I mentioned, we’ve been to Maine a bunch of times. We’ve even daytripped it there. Yep, that’s right. Out of the house by 6:00, in Freeport by, say, 11:00, back on the road by 4:00, back home by 11:00. Long day, but fun. We’ve also stayed there several times. Lately, our luck has been to struggle with the weather. We outran a storm one time, had snow start as I turned off the car engine in Freeport another time, and was done by the time we left. Then came the time it snowed…and snowed…and snowed. The innkeeper at the Harraseeket Inn (an incredible place) refused to let us leave. We stayed for an extra night at a reduced rate.
One of the coolest things about Freeport, Maine – besides the great food and small town feel (despite the tourists) – is LL Bean. That is the reason to go to Freeport. Plus they never close. I think they threw the keys away in 1951, or something like that. I tested that theory one year. I woke up around 3:00 in the morning one night, and tossed and turned for a bit before deciding to get up. The Wife got up briefly and I asked her if she wanted to take a walk. Of course, her response was a firm “no.” So I got up, got dressed, bundled up, and headed out into the snow – at 4:00 AM!
The Harraseeket Inn is located right on US Route 1, up the road from LL Bean. It might be two blocks – not much more. Anyway, at 4:00, the only thing on route one was me. I walked down the middle of the road, and could hear the snow plows off in the distance. In fact, you can see the snow falling in the pictures I took. I reached Bean’s front door a few minutes later and, as promised, they were open. Just a few hearty soles stocking shelves, and ready to serve customers if necessary. One of them offered me a cup of coffee, looked out at the snow with me, and returned to her business. It was great.
I didn’t buy anything – I just enjoyed the quiet, and began to make my way back to the Inn. I was snuggled back into bed by about 5:15.
Route 1, Freeport, ME - approximately 4:10 AM
All stories for another time, I guess. Someday, maybe I’ll put some of my travel journal writing on here.
I know, some of the things that I do for fun are a little off the beaten path. I can live with that.
Onto other goodies.
Did you hear the story about the goings on in Cross River, New York? That’s where John Jay High School is, and where the latest touch of suburbia gone insane has occurred. Seems John Jay High School was hosting an open mic night and three young ladies wanted to perform a portion of Eve Enslers’ “The Vagina Monologues.” Supposedly the school told he girls that they could not use the “V” word in their reading. Then the girls went ahead and used it. The school responding by suspending them. Now the who-said-what-game is being played. Let me bottom line it here. The school district looks foolish and puritanical, plus they’ve given a whole new life to the word “vagina.” Let’s be real here. Vagina is not a naughty word. It’s a body part. There are other words for that particular part that are quite bad. I don’t need to spell it out for you, but one in particular has frankly replaced the “F” word on the holy-of holies list.
Way to get some much-needed attention there, John Jay.
Today’s Journal News featured a piece by Rick Carpiniello about a very human sports official. I think we all forget sometimes that those who overseeing athletic events, especially at the high school and youth level, make mistakes. We’ve seen too many arrogant umpires, referees, etc. Joe West, in baseball, thinks we pay money to see him run his mouth. And there are plenty of truly bad officials at every level. But what I read today proved to me that these people have a conscience.
The official in question ruled that the shot clock should be reset towards the end of the sectional basketball game between Lakeland and Peekskill. The reality was that the Peekskill shot never touched the rim, thus meaning the shot clock should have expired and the possession should have gone to Lakeland. Instead, Peekskill grabbed the rebound and put the ball in for the win. The official was able to see some video later on, and the conclusion was that he blew the call. After losing sleep, he called Lakeland’s Athletic Director and coach and apologized to both of them. But he went one step further and declined the opportunity to officiate any games in the state tournament.
These people are human, and they make mistakes. This man stood up and admitted it. I applaud him for it.
I listened to Montgomery Delaney’s CD’s and they are just tremendous. I don’t like putting labels on things, so I wouldn’t automatically classify it as folk. Sometimes words like that scare people away – unfairly, I think. So if you like James Taylor, for instance, or someone a little less known but very popular – like Martin Sexton – then you will most definitely like Monty’s work. Plus from our couple of correspondences, I can tell he’s a great guy. So tell me – what’s not to like?
I tread on tough ground here, but I am so disappointed and embarrassed that we didn’t do any basketball or hockey games on WGCH this year. There are reasons for it, but as a person who prides himself on our commitment to local sports, I am horrified. I thought I was going to do the Greenwich-Hamden basketball playoff game last Monday night on SportingNewsCT, but let’s call it a miscommunication that led me to not do it.
Again, life goes on.
As a country, we should be mortified. We’ll go rescue those who suffer in a typhoon, or Angelina will adopt more children, or Oprah can go open some school – all on foreign soil. But when our soldiers are recovering at Walter Reed Medical Center in Washington with rats and mold and filth, that’s OK, right? Yeah, let’s go save the rest of the world, but not take care of those who are trying to take care of us.
This should not be happening, and people in the military should be losing their jobs. It’s disgusting.
While I’m railing at things that we can blame on the Bush Administration, that sure was some compelling stuff with Scooter Libby, eh? Our Vice President just seems like a great guy. Not too paranoid, is he? The rifle thing in Texas takes on a whole new life, doesn’t it?
Thanks to those of you who touched base to offer condolences following my latest career turn. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. My spirit is fine, and I’ve put a few feelers out there. I’ll keep you posted.
I’d love to. But I can’t. We’re not going to Maine.
Simple economics and common sense won out in the end. In good conscience, The Wife felt that while the trip would be good for us emotionally, financially it wouldn’t work. So we’ll go with Plan B. Perhaps a day trip, then dinner on Saturday night. Sunday is our 12th wedding anniversary, so that’s why we were going to go in the first place. We’ve been there before, and it’s not going anywhere, so we’ll get back. That’s showbiz. The reality is that while one can say “let’s just go for it because we can’t take it with us when we’re gone”, we are still here. Gotta be smart.
So it’s Plan B.
As I mentioned, we’ve been to Maine a bunch of times. We’ve even daytripped it there. Yep, that’s right. Out of the house by 6:00, in Freeport by, say, 11:00, back on the road by 4:00, back home by 11:00. Long day, but fun. We’ve also stayed there several times. Lately, our luck has been to struggle with the weather. We outran a storm one time, had snow start as I turned off the car engine in Freeport another time, and was done by the time we left. Then came the time it snowed…and snowed…and snowed. The innkeeper at the Harraseeket Inn (an incredible place) refused to let us leave. We stayed for an extra night at a reduced rate.
One of the coolest things about Freeport, Maine – besides the great food and small town feel (despite the tourists) – is LL Bean. That is the reason to go to Freeport. Plus they never close. I think they threw the keys away in 1951, or something like that. I tested that theory one year. I woke up around 3:00 in the morning one night, and tossed and turned for a bit before deciding to get up. The Wife got up briefly and I asked her if she wanted to take a walk. Of course, her response was a firm “no.” So I got up, got dressed, bundled up, and headed out into the snow – at 4:00 AM!
The Harraseeket Inn is located right on US Route 1, up the road from LL Bean. It might be two blocks – not much more. Anyway, at 4:00, the only thing on route one was me. I walked down the middle of the road, and could hear the snow plows off in the distance. In fact, you can see the snow falling in the pictures I took. I reached Bean’s front door a few minutes later and, as promised, they were open. Just a few hearty soles stocking shelves, and ready to serve customers if necessary. One of them offered me a cup of coffee, looked out at the snow with me, and returned to her business. It was great.
I didn’t buy anything – I just enjoyed the quiet, and began to make my way back to the Inn. I was snuggled back into bed by about 5:15.
Route 1, Freeport, ME - approximately 4:10 AM
All stories for another time, I guess. Someday, maybe I’ll put some of my travel journal writing on here.
I know, some of the things that I do for fun are a little off the beaten path. I can live with that.
Onto other goodies.
Did you hear the story about the goings on in Cross River, New York? That’s where John Jay High School is, and where the latest touch of suburbia gone insane has occurred. Seems John Jay High School was hosting an open mic night and three young ladies wanted to perform a portion of Eve Enslers’ “The Vagina Monologues.” Supposedly the school told he girls that they could not use the “V” word in their reading. Then the girls went ahead and used it. The school responding by suspending them. Now the who-said-what-game is being played. Let me bottom line it here. The school district looks foolish and puritanical, plus they’ve given a whole new life to the word “vagina.” Let’s be real here. Vagina is not a naughty word. It’s a body part. There are other words for that particular part that are quite bad. I don’t need to spell it out for you, but one in particular has frankly replaced the “F” word on the holy-of holies list.
Way to get some much-needed attention there, John Jay.
Today’s Journal News featured a piece by Rick Carpiniello about a very human sports official. I think we all forget sometimes that those who overseeing athletic events, especially at the high school and youth level, make mistakes. We’ve seen too many arrogant umpires, referees, etc. Joe West, in baseball, thinks we pay money to see him run his mouth. And there are plenty of truly bad officials at every level. But what I read today proved to me that these people have a conscience.
The official in question ruled that the shot clock should be reset towards the end of the sectional basketball game between Lakeland and Peekskill. The reality was that the Peekskill shot never touched the rim, thus meaning the shot clock should have expired and the possession should have gone to Lakeland. Instead, Peekskill grabbed the rebound and put the ball in for the win. The official was able to see some video later on, and the conclusion was that he blew the call. After losing sleep, he called Lakeland’s Athletic Director and coach and apologized to both of them. But he went one step further and declined the opportunity to officiate any games in the state tournament.
These people are human, and they make mistakes. This man stood up and admitted it. I applaud him for it.
I listened to Montgomery Delaney’s CD’s and they are just tremendous. I don’t like putting labels on things, so I wouldn’t automatically classify it as folk. Sometimes words like that scare people away – unfairly, I think. So if you like James Taylor, for instance, or someone a little less known but very popular – like Martin Sexton – then you will most definitely like Monty’s work. Plus from our couple of correspondences, I can tell he’s a great guy. So tell me – what’s not to like?
I tread on tough ground here, but I am so disappointed and embarrassed that we didn’t do any basketball or hockey games on WGCH this year. There are reasons for it, but as a person who prides himself on our commitment to local sports, I am horrified. I thought I was going to do the Greenwich-Hamden basketball playoff game last Monday night on SportingNewsCT, but let’s call it a miscommunication that led me to not do it.
Again, life goes on.
As a country, we should be mortified. We’ll go rescue those who suffer in a typhoon, or Angelina will adopt more children, or Oprah can go open some school – all on foreign soil. But when our soldiers are recovering at Walter Reed Medical Center in Washington with rats and mold and filth, that’s OK, right? Yeah, let’s go save the rest of the world, but not take care of those who are trying to take care of us.
This should not be happening, and people in the military should be losing their jobs. It’s disgusting.
While I’m railing at things that we can blame on the Bush Administration, that sure was some compelling stuff with Scooter Libby, eh? Our Vice President just seems like a great guy. Not too paranoid, is he? The rifle thing in Texas takes on a whole new life, doesn’t it?
Thanks to those of you who touched base to offer condolences following my latest career turn. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. My spirit is fine, and I’ve put a few feelers out there. I’ll keep you posted.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
You Should Have Seen The Other Guy...
Last time out, I mentioned that The Son took a nasty fall UP the stairs. Now you can see the proof. As a parent, and a father, I honestly worried that somebody would try to accuse me of abusing my child. I can honestly say, with my hand on The Baseball Encyclopedia, that neither The Wife or I had anything to do with this. He was being a five year-old boy. This is what they do. Anyway, he's fine - he can see out of the eye, and there are no other problems.
Taken Friday morning.
This morning. Looks better...
On another front, I received two CD's from Montgomery Delaney in the mail yesterday. I'll be listening to them today. I already know I'm a fan of his song "Son of a Son", but any person who writes "Cartoon Song" and incorporates the great Bugs Bunny, along with the Road Runner into his lyrics is more than OK with me.
Belated birthday wishes to an-unnamed friend, though I will say that she is the wife of one-time Majic 105 legend John Harrison. Also special wishes to my friend Matt Hamilton. Now if Matt would only get his blog going again.
That's all for me for now.
Taken Friday morning.
This morning. Looks better...
On another front, I received two CD's from Montgomery Delaney in the mail yesterday. I'll be listening to them today. I already know I'm a fan of his song "Son of a Son", but any person who writes "Cartoon Song" and incorporates the great Bugs Bunny, along with the Road Runner into his lyrics is more than OK with me.
Belated birthday wishes to an-unnamed friend, though I will say that she is the wife of one-time Majic 105 legend John Harrison. Also special wishes to my friend Matt Hamilton. Now if Matt would only get his blog going again.
That's all for me for now.
Friday, March 02, 2007
(Insert Curse Word Here)
At 2:45 yesterday afternoon, my boss asked if he could see me. We haven't been doing well financially, so I thought it might be time to brainstorm. Then he closed the door. Still, tried not to panic. Then the conversation began, "This is not a very pleasant chat..."
A few minutes later, after just a mere five weeks, I had been laid off...again.
Ugh.
From there, I knew the drill. Pack quickly and quietly, say goodbye to my mates, and leave in a way that is so classy that makes me hold my head high. As I drove, I stuck to the plan: don't rage, don't be angry, no tears, not even time for fear. Just focus. My only issue was to tell The Wife. After all this time, she could have said "see ya." Since we were meeting at The Son's doctor (his 5th birthday physical), I wanted to tell her in person.
While frustrated, she was extremely supportive. Exactly what I needed. Now life goes on. After a stretch in which one of our cars was totaled and had to buy a new one, I lose my job, The Son falls going UP the stairs and gives himself a nasty black eye, and we have water in our garage following the rain, one can't help but feel like we're doomed.
But I don't.
At this point, our Maine vacation is in jeopardy. Deep in my heart, while it isn't smart fiscally, it is much needed mentally. I guess stay tuned on that subject.
Somehow, by the grace of whomever, we're going to move onto bigger and better things. S*it happens, they say. Now we (I) have to focus, stay positive, and we'll see what happens.
As I said to some friends this morning in an email, I'll accept prayers, good thoughts, humor, favors, and most of all, job leads. With the support of family and friends, I'll bounce back quickly.
What, you say, is my future in radio? Good question. Stay tuned!
A few minutes later, after just a mere five weeks, I had been laid off...again.
Ugh.
From there, I knew the drill. Pack quickly and quietly, say goodbye to my mates, and leave in a way that is so classy that makes me hold my head high. As I drove, I stuck to the plan: don't rage, don't be angry, no tears, not even time for fear. Just focus. My only issue was to tell The Wife. After all this time, she could have said "see ya." Since we were meeting at The Son's doctor (his 5th birthday physical), I wanted to tell her in person.
While frustrated, she was extremely supportive. Exactly what I needed. Now life goes on. After a stretch in which one of our cars was totaled and had to buy a new one, I lose my job, The Son falls going UP the stairs and gives himself a nasty black eye, and we have water in our garage following the rain, one can't help but feel like we're doomed.
But I don't.
At this point, our Maine vacation is in jeopardy. Deep in my heart, while it isn't smart fiscally, it is much needed mentally. I guess stay tuned on that subject.
Somehow, by the grace of whomever, we're going to move onto bigger and better things. S*it happens, they say. Now we (I) have to focus, stay positive, and we'll see what happens.
As I said to some friends this morning in an email, I'll accept prayers, good thoughts, humor, favors, and most of all, job leads. With the support of family and friends, I'll bounce back quickly.
What, you say, is my future in radio? Good question. Stay tuned!
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