We Don't Really Have It So Tough

My booth in right field at Brunswick. It's the best scenario and I'm content.

I belong to a play-by-play group on Facebook. Mike Hirn, Don Wadewitz, Phil Giubileo, and a few other friends belong to it as well.

I don't contribute a lot, to be honest. I mostly read things.

Which is probably for the best.

There are truly some very well-meaning people in there who want to help their fellow broadcasters and broadcasting enthusiasts.

There are also some great stories that get exchanged.

Then there are others.

Without sharing the whole post, a member wrote yesterday about what he saw as the fundamental differences between high school sports, college sports, and minor league baseball. His rant was pretty basic: stats/lineups readily available in minor leagues, mostly the same at the college level, and high school sports is cluster****.

And there are schools that charge to broadcast.

In theory, it's not wrong (though I've never encountered a school that charges us to broadcast and I wouldn't tolerate it).

Now to the nuts and bolts of this.

I've worked in all three levels. I've done minor league hockey and minor league baseball. I've done D-I, D-II, and D-III sports in college. I've called youth sports and high school sports. I've called corporate league softball games.

I've also been in professional press boxes as well.

I've literally seen it all, and yet I haven't.

I've called games in stands and on flatbed trucks.

In rickety press boxes with flies and yellow jackets.

In an auditorium where I took one window, Sean Kilkelly took another window 100 feet away, and Chris Erway was on the field with a wireless microphone for him to take the call when the action got out of our view.

I've worked hockey and basketball with the view from top to bottom and nearly got into a fight over it.

I've worked in science classrooms and foreign language classrooms.

This is how I called the Babe Ruth tourney last summer. Seriously.

Look at that picture. I looked through chain link fencing, walked as necessary, and coaches would work to keep players away from my line of sight. The listener barely knew, unless I needed to explain why I couldn't see something. As always, I made it work.

While calling a college game, I had to hold a push-button phone to my ear for the entire broadcast because there was no other way. Their phone line couldn't handle the technology I brought with me.

In minor league baseball, I had to hold a cellphone to my ear -- twice (once in Brooklyn, once in Aberdeen). In Hudson Valley, they didn't have enough booths at one time, so Sean Ford and I would stand in a breezeway at the top of the stairs on third base line in the stands.

I've had days where stat packs -- yes, the beloved stat pack -- either didn't show up at all or showed up just before first pitch.

As for lineups, the same has happened. They show up with last names, wrong numbers, and are often right before first pitch.

I've had phone lines taken away as I was on the air.

I've been told to move within minutes of air time.

This has gone on at every level. In every place.

The thing I quickly learned was that there is no nirvana. Each place has its peculiarities.

Tech issues in Bridgeport. A makeshift press box made up of arena seats in Albany. Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with my analyst and graphics guy at Yale.

I told the story of my most recent Brunswick broadcast here.

And guess what? You learn to suck it up.

Because here's the thing. At the end of the day, the media is near the bottom of the priority list, and to be honest, we should be.

I show up and preach largely staying out of the way. But I also preach common kindness like cleaning up our messes and getting our equipment out of the way. Those small things go a long way.

Athletic directors, coaches, and players, as well as site directors, have literally 100 other things to do.

I adjust and, most of all, have learned to not panic.

Ask Shawn Sailer or AJ Szymanowski or Chris Erway or countless other people who have worked with me. We've seen so much and we adjust. Those who don't are doomed.

If -- for some reason -- I don't have a roster before a game (which is hit or miss in my coverage area), I either get in touch with the coach or an athletic secretary (or the AD) or I get to the game and nose around, depending on the sport.

For baseball, you get a lineup (again, it might be late, but you still get it). For basketball, there's a scorebook. Take a picture of it. For hockey, there's also a scorecard. For football, you make sure you have one before the game unless you want to risk getting a program.

For stats, guess what? They're not the end of the world.

Statistics are lovely. Really, they're great. Greenwich High football has done a remarkable job with live game stats. New Canaan also does that. A few others also. At higher levels, there are real-time stats.

Once again, allow me to let The Master speak:

And for the love of Red Barber, please stop with the "I prep for 10 hours" stuff. First, unless you've built a relationship, coaches aren't going to give you much. I worked with coaches for years and most of them knew they could trust me.

Root around for stories. Stand on the field or court and listen. Go to a tailgate. I get a lot of info there. Parents love to talk.

The biggest problem with broadcasters is that they don't know how to tell stories. They're so hung up on the unnecessary statistic that they don't know how to keep listeners informed and entertained.

So that's my rant. I'm so grateful to do the games that I get to do, and I'm glad I have the experiences to tell the stories that I can tell.

We learn from those stories. With them comes wisdom.