Fourteen Years

I was happy to call Ernie Banks (Mr. Cub) a Facebook friend.

Today, it's the podcast.

It seems like everyone (or, most everyone) is trying to do one. Heck, I host two and have guested on several others.

Back then, everyone else was trying their hand at something else. I was intrigued but, in my usual cautious way, I decided I wouldn't try it until I was truly ready.

The last thing I wanted to do was start it and quickly stop (you know, like my "Tales From the Booth" podcast, and I'm ashamed of that).

So, on this very day, I finally jumped in and wrote my first post on Exit 55.

It was Thursday, Aug 17, 2006 when I convinced myself to press "Publish" on a post I wrote on Aug 16 while watching the groundbreaking ceremony for the "new" Yankee Stadium.

I knew Babe Ruth was turning in his grave. I was turning in mine, if only because I knew part of me died that day.

I poured that sadness, rage, and bitterness into post number one, put online nervously at 7:00 a.m.

Two-thousand nine-hundred forty-three more posts have emerged since that first day.

I don't know if I'm a better writer than I was then.

I feel less confident as a writer than I did in 2006, I'll tell you that with complete certainty.

I believe there have been some good posts but nothing that great. Just a guy at his computer, writing down thoughts that are -- YUP --various and sundry.

Giving just enough that you "know me" but not giving everything.

I will tell that when I feel something emotional -- normally choking back tears -- I've hit a good note.

I've bled for you. Yes, true. I've exposed embarrassing things and sad things and poignant things and triumphant things and funny things.

I know I've written things that were dumb and, quite often, I said more than I should. I took risks I probably shouldn't have taken. I've written things in a style that has opened questions.

"Was that post about me?"
"What was that post about?"
"What's going on? Are you OK?"

I don't know -- when you get right down to it -- if the blog has been a good thing or a bad thing. Perhaps both, I suppose.

And I was truly close to ending it. I thought about it many times.

By 2018, I was down to just a total of 35 posts. I felt uninspired and generally worn out. I felt I had nothing to say. I also felt that nobody cared what I wrote and, in truth, the blog had become passé.

I read the work of Jeff Pearlman and Susan (she doesn't need a last name) and others and just felt embarrassed. I can barely talk, let alone write.

The words of my professor from my freshman year of college about being a good writer felt like a distant memory. Even now, I'm still stunned at those words. I'm not sure I believe them.

As we sit here in the midst of a pandemic, I don't know where I fit in, but here I am nonetheless.

I took a final stab at a couple of last posts in 2018. Once again, I planned to hit the ground running in 2019.

I had long considered doing a post-per-day and then stopped every time.

John Nash challenged me, even if it was halfheartedly. It was the kick in the backside I desperately needed to give the blog one last hurrah.

That went from being an encore to my second act, one that has gone on for 596 consecutive days.

I've evolved personally and professionally. My life was entirely different 14 years ago. Many of my beliefs were soon shattered.

I became a survivor and reinvented myself, with radio and my love of my inner circle sustaining me. But I also became far more cautious with people, and all of that is reflected in my radio.

And so, we will roll on into tomorrow, bad grammar, awkward punctuation, and other writing flaws be damned.

I thank you, loyal reader, for hanging in there with me. I know some of you.

I'm grateful for all of you.

Nothing is guaranteed. But, if there's a tomorrow, then I suspect they'll be a post.

See you then.