Sunday, January 28, 2018

Mahopac-Carmel Hockey (Hockey Fights Cancer)

In case you missed it, this is what you looked like (and sounded like) on Friday night, as Mahopac and Carmel met at the Brewster Ice Arena. Harold and I have the call. Harold wanted to try shooting video, and I was grateful for the effort. As for the call, though I was on about two hours sleep (not advisable), I was still proud and excited to be a part of this game.

Monday, January 15, 2018

Lots of Basketball Today!

Join the legendary Shawn Sailer and me today for the fourth annual Martin Luther King, Jr Basketball Classic from Webster Bank Arena in Bridgeport, CT.

We'll go live at 10:55!

11am: Fairfield Ludlowe Falcons/Bridgeport Central Hilltoppers
1pm: Career Magnet Panthers/Warren Harding Presidents
3pm: Xaverian Clippers/Notre Dame of Fairfield Lancers
5pm: Wilbur Cross Governors/Bassick Lions

Listen LIVE:

Robcasting Radio is on Mixlr

Plus check out our archive at or or

Thursday, January 04, 2018

On Faith and Good Deeds

A snowy and windy day led to a tough view out the window
I'm not known for being a man of faith.

A man of spirit? Yes, I'll buy into that, but religion and I tend to not be the best of friends.

Not to say I don't respect such. I count members of clergy among friends. I also ran the controls for several faith-based shows, including "On Faith," which ran for almost a year on WGCH, hosted by The Rev. Dr. Jim Lemler, who was the priest-in-charge of Christ Church in Greenwich.

He also became my friend, and I was pleased to interview him last summer as a way of sending him off into retirement.

Father Elias Villis, whose son Nick is a 2018 captain at Brunswick, has become a social media friend.

Further, I'm now a broadcaster for Fairfield Prep, a Jesuit school.

But there's some deep-rooted stuff here. No need to go through it all.

I'll only allow that faith played a role in the destruction of a relationship, but that was also 30 years ago.

So I've long made it known I belong to "the Church of Baseball," and when discussing "godlike" things, Babe Ruth is normally mentioned.

That being said, I've been known to have many a conversation with my late father, including a long graveside chat a few Christmases ago, when I spent the day alone.

So it's safe to say I'm (perhaps) confused, skeptical, or whatever.

I'm burying the lede here.

Perhaps you're aware that we had a pretty large snowstorm around metro New York today. Boston is getting pummeled, and there's snow all along the east coast.

As in parts of Florida.

Coupled with the snow is wind. Gusting, it is.

For the past decade, I've had a snow blower, but it hasn't worked for a few years. We didn't worry about fixing it because a childhood friend of mine would stop by and plow us out.

But his plow is shot.

So it was up to me, and that's fine. I made my peace with it.

I bundled up and prepared for bitter cold temperatures. I kept reminding myself to go slow, and lift with my legs.

Folks, the truth is that I'm the prototype for being in the news for dying of a heart attack while shoveling the snow. That is not to exaggerate. At all.

The snow was heavy, and trips down the road from the plow made the bottom of the driveway look really uninviting.

But I promised I would be patient. I shoveled some, then stopped and cleaned my car. Shoveled, then checked my phone (tomorrow's Fairfield Prep/Notre Dame-West Haven game is postponed to Saturday at 6:30 p.m...listen live at

I found out virtually every school has closed. What has happened to us?

The shoveling continued, and I made my way down the driveway (to be fair, it's not very long). In the meantime, a plow had once again come down the road. I was relieved I hadn't cleaned the bottom of the driveway just to watch the plow put more back.

He went to the end of the road and cleaned it diligently. I stopped and watched to catch my breath.

As I got to the bottom of the driveway, creating a column so that I could then go row by row across, the plow began to pass me. I stopped so that I could wave to him (and catch my breath again).

He stopped.

I resumed.

Then I heard a voice: "Take a step back."

I did as I was told. He backed up, angled the plow to his left, and pushed the monster pile at the bottom of the driveway to my left.

"That's all I can do," he said, and moved along.

I stood there, stunned. It was too late, but I wanted to offer him coffee or water or something.

He was gone.

I could do just one thing. I glanced skyward.

"Why do I think you had something to do with that?" I asked my father.

I finished up, came inside, and got warm.

I won't say where the plow was from, because I don't want anyone to get in any trouble, but I feel profoundly grateful tonight.

I'm not a heathen (I'm a baptized Methodist, for the record).

But I figure somewhere, both Rev. Lemler and Fr. Elias are having a divine smile.

Or it was a really nice coincidence.

I'm a tough egg.