What Do I Know?

There are actually wrestling references in here. I can smell what The Rock is cooking!

I'm nobody.

I'm not going to get asked to do a InstaZoomaBook thing to tell my stories because, well, I'm (again) a nobody. I'm not going to be asked to be on American's Next Broadcaster That Nobody Will Remember or whatever

I know that. But I've seen a thing or a thousand over 30 years in broadcasting and I can build a damn good announcer. I have advice and stories worth listening to.

(And we'll come back to that, but first allow me to bury the lede)

Every now and then I'll get asked why I'm not "further along." Trust me, it's a lovely thought but I'm (mostly) OK because, to quote Sinatra, "I did it my way."

I didn't have the encouragement of being financially stable. It just wasn't a reality. My father was a very hardworking blue collar soul. We were always comfortable but careful. There were very few frivolities and we learned the value of a dollar.

So when it came time for college I wasn't encouraged to go to Syracuse or Fordham or any well-known broadcasting school. I felt that Westchester Community College would suit me.

I went to the Connecticut School of Broadcasting as well as a sportscasting camp at Syracuse but, if I'm being honest, I think most in my world thought I was crazy to do so.

This isn't like today. I'll leave it at that.

There's a much longer story in there of how I got where I am. In the long run, I chose family and, eventually, raising a son. Thus I never wound up in a minor league town. I stayed in the Hudson Valley and, specifically, in Mahopac/Carmel. I've had two zip codes and one county.

So, for whatever talent I have and why I didn't go "farther" I'm a product of decisions and a lot of hard work. None of it was handed to me, even to this day where I feel a certain level of disrespect from places that I should never feel that.

Anyway. We now return you to Rob's Wasted Advice, Driven By Jeep.

I want to talk about something I saw without calling anyone out. Believe me, some days I want to explode. I want to say to (insert name here),"You are a product of privilege and you lack the first f****** clue of how good you've got it so stop acting like an obnoxious ass since everyone is talking about you behind your back. TRY being humble."

But no. They'll learn.

They're reading it now and saying, "Wow, whoever it is, I hope they wake up" without realizing it's about THEM.

To that same end is talking about politics, etc on our big ol' fancy world wide social interwebs.

Look, even I dabbled in discussing Mr. 45 last week and delivered a bit of criticism. I actually expected my friends in the left-handed batters box to break into the conga line in "Baseball Bugs."

But in our profession, politics can be a dangerous leap to take. That's part of why there are so many vanilla broadcasters today.

You never -- literally, ever -- know who is reading, watching, listening. Hiring managers will see you bashing away on your Twitter account about the president and get scared away.

Given that you, sort of, er, beg everyone to look at your stuff, it's a dangerous paradigm.

(I'd prefer "suck up" to "beg" but we're talking semantics at this point)

This could all be the same person I'm talking about.

Or not.

Or it could be an amalgam of characters. Happens in movies all the time.

Take it from your old Uncle Robbie: I make mistakes but I've walked these lines for years.

Sometimes that means not talking at all. Other times it means you leayeth the smack down.

Or is it "smacketh?" The interwebs didn't have a consensus.

(Bygod, did I just say that? What is wrong with me?)

And, still other times, as much as I hate it, you vague tweet/write/book. You invent characters. You get it out of your system without saying it.

You're begging for attention.

Sometimes that can bring the wrong attention.

Buyer beware.