Rumors of Old Reliable Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

 

Mark Twain

I'm horrifically embarrassed.

More often than not, I can be reached via text/cell/email. I'm prompt and occasionally fashionably late, or even quite early.

While "Old Reliable" was the nickname of a Yankees player named Tommy Henrich, I often thought it wouldn't be a bad name for me.

Well, I burned all of that tonight.

It's probably best to flash back to last night.

I left Greenwich a little after 2:00 a.m. Thanks to the clocks falling back, my job started and ended earlier. So, at least I wasn't leaving at 3 a.m. and I was relieved by that.

I did "Doubleheader," "The Clubhouse," and also worked overnight.

There's no question I was very tired as things wrapped up, but I drove home without any issue and was pleased to get to bed by 3:30 with the plan of waking up in time for a podcast recording at 10.

The Cat created a few disturbances somewhere during the night -- I'll say around 4:30 -- but I was able to rest some, climbing out of bed for good at 8 a.m.

I was fresh as the proverbial daisy and ready to go for the podcast, which went off without a hitch.

From there, I went about my day. Sure, I was tired, but I'm always tired since sleep is largely overrated (or a luxury) in my mind.

Tommy Henrich, right, is congratulated by an usher following his game-winning
home run in Game 1 of the 1949 World Series at Yankee Stadium.
Yogi Berra (8) and and Bill Dickey (33) await to congratulate "Old Reliable."

I felt it was best to skip "Doubleheader" today, given there's very little to talk about and I didn't think listeners wanted another edition of "Sports History with Rob."

Instead, I put my head down for a few minutes.

And a few more.

And a few more after that.

My phone was on vibrate.

A few more minutes passed.

I opened my eyes and I was groggy.

Now, if I've never mentioned this, you should know that I'm notorious for being hyperaware of time.

Normally.

I glanced at the clock it it said 5:30. It was dark outside.

Cool. I could sleep a little more.

Wait...It was five...thirty...IN THE EVENING AND I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE IN GREENWICH AT SIX!

Dan Macom had called a few times. Craig Jones had called a few times. Susan texted me.

I.

Was.

Missing.

Except, I was totally fine, except for having slept about as deep as I have in a long time.

I set alarms and never need them. Of course, I didn't set one today.

I called Dan.

"I'm on my way!"

To the Robmobile! To the streets!

To the Taconic...which was closed northbound but was blissfully open heading south.

So, you want the answer of the best case scenario for time between Mahopac and Greenwich?

Forty minutes, friends. That's what I've been seeing through each of these overnights, when the roads are wide open.

That's how quickly I made it here. I was due at 6:00 and flew in at 6:20.

In the meantime, Dan and Craig had actually taken to looking at police reports and checking hospitals to make sure I wasn't in any of them.

Again, back to last night. I left here a little after 2. Having settled into the rhythm of this, I didn't really want to bother Dan.

See, that's the thing. I never want to bother people. In a press box, I try to make us invisible, for instance.

But he texted me to check in. I told him everything went well, given I balanced "The Clubhouse" and the beginning of working last night. He left me with a "Talk to you later," which I took to say he was cool, given that I assured him I was 20 minutes from home, as I drove through North White Plains.

So I never followed up with a text to tell him I was home.

Dan and Craig were both relieved to hear that I was fine, allowing me to paraphrase Mark Twain from his often-misquoted statement of 1897 in the New York Journal: "The report of my death was an exaggeration."

Dan hugged me when I walked in.

"Next time: text," he scolded. It doesn't matter. I'm often walking the dog anyway."

I'm mortified to cause such worry. I'm used to being irrelevant; the author of a "dogs**t blog."

I'm fine. Embarrassed, tired, and fine.

And out a days work since they couldn't get hold of me to give me something for tomorrow. So I guess you can assume I'll be doing "Doubleheader."

Then off to Local Live (!) for studio duty as the anchor/play-by-play "voice" of Blair/Peddie Day on Saturday. Their rivalry is the oldest in New Jersey, dating back to 1903. I'll have tomorrow to prep for it. I get to cover tennis for the first time, along with cross country, field hockey and anything else.

I'll be back to the overnights for Sunday and Monday.

Hopefully I'll be considered reliable again.