Anyone Can Do It

The Robcasting Radio banner hanging at a recent Mahopac High School game. (Not representative of the story I'm telling)

I recently called a high school game.

The site isn't important. Nor is the sport. To protect certain things, I won't give too much detail.

But holy cow, it's a cautionary tale.

Perched on the roof of a press box, I prepared to broadcast the game in question. Thanks to traffic, my arrival was much later than I would have preferred, but I didn't panic, and set about getting ready. Though I lacked a roster for one of the teams, I knew I could make it all work.

** Quick side note: We are literally begging for accurate rosters to be made available. Twice in the past week, I've had to fudge my way through a game where details weren't available and only had last names. In this era, that is simply unacceptable. In this game, I asked in the press box for a roster. Nothing. I looked around. Nada. Nobody was willing to help. I walked to the scorers table, where I took a picture of the scorebook, and worked off what I had. It was better than nothing, and I relied on what I could overhear for the rest of the details. Accurate (keyword) rosters in numerical order shouldn't be this difficult. In fact, it should be mandated.

Keep the roster thing in mind through the balance of this story.

Standing a few feet away from me were a few student broadcasters. OK, I'm all for that, and always happy to help. But in this case, I had to hurry to even get on the air. After dashing to the field to get any semblance of a roster, I literally started the game out of breath, and let the action on the video speak for itself.

I could overhear the young broadcasters nearby.

"Number eight to number 23 to number two."

Ugh.

Still I concentrated on my own call and got to a break.

With the students was an advisor/teacher who was clearly in charge. She stayed positioned in the booth while her young charges exploded out to do whatever they needed to get to.

"Would they like a roster," I asked?

"They would love one," came the reply.

Silly me, I felt that there would be a sharing of information -- the same thing I've done with countless other play-by-play "voices." Matt Levine, Don Boyle, George DeMaio, and numerous others know exactly what I'm taking about. You're happy to share. You talk about strengths and weaknesses of teams. Maybe little notes. Pronunciations. Anything.

Nope.

As they returned to the booth, I offered to help.

"Who's the play-by-play voice?"

A hand went up. Didn't even look at me.

"Do you want a roster?"

"Nope. I'm good."

Wow.

Entitlement aside, do you suppose, if you really want to do this professionally, that you might want to have accurate information, or is it just about your school, and accuracy be damned?

Where in the name of Marty Glickman was integrity?

I was astounded, annoyed, and frustrated. I would have felt worse if I were their advisor.

There is this belief, in our modern information age, that "anyone" can do "anything." You can be a writer -- thus, a blog (and I'm 100% guilty but have tried so hard to do this honorably). You can be a broadcaster -- go to any one of a number of outlets for that. Hell, with a do-it-yourself video, you can be an auto mechanic, or something else.

Still there's something to be said for training, preparation (I do far more than believed, cha cha), and...well...pride, as well as the aforementioned integrity. Have some. Anything less than what I expect sends me into fits, and giving my absolute best exhausts me**.

** Another side note: Many times, after a game, I stand in a parking lot and talk to colleagues and friends, and here's why. It's not a "gripe" session, as has often been believed. Sure, there is an airing of grievances, but it's mostly because I'm so worn out that I'm trying to find the energy to drive home. That's all there is to it. Often, it's a sign that I don't want the night to end, and I also don't want to be sleeping in a parking lot to find said energy to drive home. Do you know how many times I've stayed in a stadium/arena/field to soak it in and summon the will to drive? Too many to count.

So, to recap, while you, young plebe, just climbs down from the press box post-game in search of the free food or the cute girl, I'm climbing back into my car for a drive that normally includes a loss of all adrenaline.

And replaying literally every moment of that broadcast. And telling my friends how much I sucked.

Ask me about the aftermath of Salisbury and Brunswick last Friday. With two of the top three lacrosse teams in the world in front of me, a large audience, and a great production crew, I felt a ton of pressure to have a great call. I gave it all I had, and despite a few goofs, I drove home completely worn out (and, rarely, slightly satisfied). A 90-minute ride through Litchfield and Dutchess counties made for a long trip.

But I slept knowing that I did my best. That I cared. That I had the utmost integrity.

You think anyone can do it.

I used to think that.

You're wrong.