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WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION? (Found via Google)

We all deal with criticism in the media and have to develop a thick skin to survive.

Recently, I was calling an event when a person I'd never met approached me out of nowhere. They introduced themselves and said they had a title that I figured could matter.

But this person didn't stop by -- mid-game, mind you -- to thank me for the efforts on the broadcast.

"Someone once advised me to stick to the task in front of you," they said. "More baseball. Less bullsh*t.

"So. That would be my advice."

For what it's worth, the sport was not baseball. So. Yeah.

And that was it.

My new friend didn't exactly bring sunshine into the room and it was sure nicer when they left. They seemed to bark at everyone, and then everyone was expected to laugh at them.

Oh yeah, that type of person. My favorite.

Instead of getting into a conflict, responding with sarcasm, or doing literally anything, I just put my headset on and got back to work.

I felt bad for the person that I was working with because the attack was aimed at both of us. The broadcast, frankly, suffered as a result of the approach.

Instead, my plan of attack turned to being as vanilla as possible. This person, who portrayed themselves as "an executive producer" (a little research indicated that wasn't true), had a certain level of power in that moment, and I wasn't going to cause a scene.

"You want boring," I thought? "I'll give you boring."

I decided they were clearly jealous. They probably wanted to call this and felt threatened by me. Vin Scully probably would have gotten crap from this clown.

"So, um, that story you told about Pearl Harbor, Vin? Don't do that again. Nobody cares what happened in 1941. We just want to know what this player did on a sunny day with a blue moon and the wind blowing under 25 miles per hour with temperatures at EXACTLY 46 degrees."

Red Barber once told Mr. Scully that he brought something into the booth that nobody else brought. Astounded, Scully wondered (and worried) what that might be.

"Yourself," Barber said, firmly.

And so do I, for that matter. Sports isn't rocket science. It gets treated professionally with respect and reported accurately, but my job is to also to keep you engaged. So talking about a player who might be from Manchester, CT might lead to a conversation about traffic in Connecticut -- certainly, a worthy discussion if the analyst is still learning their way around.

That's sort of what caused this kerfuffle.

I've worked with magnificent partners over the years who came into my booth, or I into theirs. We've reported and cajoled as necessary. But as my old hockey partner John Spang always noted, the look in my eye changed when things got serious.

There was literally no reason for this "executive producer" to handle this as such, and it certainly took me to a bad place. The right thing would have been to meet with me before the game, or perhaps after. Or, maybe, accept different styles.

Baseball (and softball) aren't called like hockey, which isn't called like football, which isn't called like basketball. And so on.

To be honest, if I had a say, it would have gone to a higher level because it was unprofessional, and even bullying.

As I'll likely never deal with that person again, it's over and done with, and I'm writing it here as a cautionary tale. How we treat people matters. Acting like a spoiled, entitled bully won't be forgotten.

Treat people as you want to be treated. I've tried. I occasionally screw up.

Trust me. I learned the name. I'll never forget it.

I've dealt with this nonsense before. Before games. During games. After games. In texts and emails and in-person.

I bring myself into a broadcast, and I'm keeping it that way.

(P.S., I hit my 22nd anniversary at WGCH today, so I'm doing something right)