Home All Day

He's a "Rascal." Just like the Renegades' mascot.

I started writing earlier and deleted every last word.

Honestly, I don't know what I want to say tonight.

I did two radio shows today and mowed the lawn and lifted four air conditioners and cleaned and threw stuff out and simply occupied my brain.

There was some connecting with the cat -- it looks like "Rascal" will be his name here -- but he stayed hidden under a desk for most of the day.

My first draft of this post was just babbling. There was no rhythm to it and, frankly, no narrative. Not that this is exactly The Great Gatsby.

I'm hardly Nick Carraway, I can tell you that much.

So I think I'll just keep this short tonight. I did "The Clubhouse" and "Doubleheader" and planted the seeds for some more game broadcasts.

And there's the football news in Connecticut, which is basically, "We're not going to authorize you playing but we're not going to stop you from playing if you form your own league."

You can just hear the wheels turning towards a league in Fairfield County and Chris Erway and I will call whatever we can.

You don't have to be Woodward or Bernstein (ah, they're priceless, aren't they?) to know that a private club league is forming as we speak.

But that's for another day.

This is where this one ends.

“No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.” -- Nick Carraway, The Great Gatsby