(Mandatory Photo Credit to Bob Luckey, Greenwich Time, because I don't want the photo gremlins coming after me)
Look closely at that picture. Closer...just to the left of the photographer in the shot. The guy leaning his mouth on his hand with the shiny object around his wrist (it's a watch). Yeah, that's me.
I feel dirty. It's more than just the sweat from the walk to the Boys and Girls Club, or the humidity. It is from the spectacle tonight in Greenwich.
It was fun to be a part of but it didn't seem necessary. I mean, why Greenwich? Still nobody has answered that, with the exception of the simple "wedding in NYC story" that I have heard.
I did my best with what I was given. Shoddy equipment, a cell phone, an intern who worked hard and had lots of questions. When my interviews disappeared, I improvised into play-by-play. It beat a lot of other things in sports I could cover or watch, and I'll avoid the urge to put others down.
On Twitter, I can't say I was all that pleased either. I read a couple of comments on "blacks in Greenwich." Please. I know Greenwich a lot better than those who wrote that do. I'm not going to tell you that Greenwich is a huge melting pot, but I thought the comments were pithy. Easy shots. Like the ones I could have taken in the previous paragraph.
Paul Silverfarb and Ken Borsuk of the Greenwich Post, Dave Fierro of the Greenwich Time, Nick Fox, WGCH intern Matt Byrne and I watched. We laughed. We reported. We did our jobs. We grumbled that only ONE local reporter got in (Neil Vigdor).
None of us left surprised. Paul and Ken were nice enough to give me a ride back to the station.
I recorded my story to run tomorrow. Now I'm going home, feeling a little less enthusiastic about my sports world.
Enjoy Miami, LeBron. Greenwich was ready for its closeup tonight.
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