From Cardinal Stadium in Greenwich

 

Photo courtesy Butch Bozzuto on Facebook

It's Dec 8 and I started the day thinking about John Lennon and Monday Night Football and the culture-changing night that occurred.

I was planning to explain how it was Frank Gifford who was an MVP that night, as he implored Howard Cosell to make his now-famous announcement as the contest between the Dolphins and Patriots headed towards a potential game-winning field goal.

John Smith's field goal was blocked, the game went to overtime and the Dolphins won on an Uwe von Schamann 23-yard field goal. Final score: 16-13.

I heard about Lennon's death the next morning from my sister. I was 12.

It was forty years ago.

There would have been many more words but then my friend Butch Bozzuto texted me.

"Look at Facebook. (The) stadium project has begun."

I looked at his page.

I shared it to mine.

My heart felt something I didn't expect. I should have been dancing. YAY! The bleachers are coming down! Better days are coming!

Sure, I feel some of that and definitely will be anxious for the completed project as we get closer.

But, as I saw the booth had been torn down, I also got emotional.

I could count up the events. The games. Greenwich football, soccer, lacrosse, track and field, GYFL football, graduation.

I walked that field with my son. He and I spent a lot of time in the booth. I feel like part of him was raised there, and he immediately recognized it when I showed him a picture of lying on the bleachers.

There were even times that I climbed to the roof, having to call a game up there, but often to run wires for our old transmitter unit.

I didn't know when I called my last game there -- Greenwich vs. Westhill 7-on-7 football on Oct 17, 2020 -- that it would be my last time in that booth.

Maybe I should have stayed for an extra minute before leaving.

So ends 20 years specifically with that booth, beginning on Sep 22, 2001 when I called St. Joseph/Greenwich. It was the first game after Sep 11, as the Greenwich game at Norwalk had been canceled. 

I called a previous season there as well before a fire created a need for a new booth in those bleachers.

Twenty-one seasons of climbing those bleachers. I won't miss that.

But a flood of memories flew by. Of families and players and Sean (Adams and Kilkelly) and Chris (Erway and Kaelin) and coaches and Brian Kennedy and Dick Leonard and Evan Dubin and Nick Fesko and DJ Furano.

Of the athletic directors and many people who came up to the booth.

Of the people who worked those broadcasts with me.

Of George and Nancy Chelwick and a lot of Kit Kat bars.

I hated that booth.

But I loved that booth.

I loved the air conditioner and the heater. But I hated the view at night when the stadium lights were too bright and we had to use lamps to see because the glare was impossible out the window.

I loved my window -- the one that I would climb into to call action to the right.

The east end zone, of course.

I hated that window when people would come over to ask for announcements to be made (I'm not the public address announcer) or to turn music up or down (again, not my job).

Or the fans screaming at officials -- sometimes profanely -- outside said window.

But there were also the families -- Jimmy Capp, the Gioffres, the Riscicas, the Bernsteins, the Ducrets, the Warzohas, the Longos, the Weigolds and others who would wave to us and send us food and welcome us into their worlds.

I dealt with heavy snow there and crazy rain and thunderstorms and hot weather and cold weather and we were (mostly) safe in that booth.

But I remember rain coming through the hatch.

I'll tell people about 2002, when Greenwich and New Canaan played to a scoreless tie in a mud bowl on a horribly rainy day. Of 2000, when Staples won but Greenwich almost pulled off a miracle to win. Of the Greenwich/West Haven game in 2013 that started on Thursday and ended on Sunday with a furious Big Red comeback.

Of the great teams, especially those state champs of 2006, 2007, and 2018.

And I'll talk about the night that something kept knocking the power out in the booth during a game between Ludlowe and Greenwich. I think that was the night I got an email -- just to add a kick to the gut -- about how much I sucked. The veracity of that email was never verified and there were those who thought it was a hoax.

I get it. Really, I do. It's a set of crappy old bleachers and a booth that was too small for those of us who were in it.

Greenwich deserves better. They've been craving better for years. Now, they're going to get it.

Everything will be better in the future. 

I don't know how this will all play out but I do dream of a room for WGCH to broadcast games as we've done since 1964.

Yet, today, I find myself feeling a bit nostalgic as I watched video of the booth -- dare I say, "my booth" -- come tumbling down.

The neighbor is probably furious at the noise.

Derek Jeter spoke about memories when old Yankee Stadium closed in 2008. 

"There's a lot of tradition, a lot of history, and a lot of memories," Jeter said. "Now the great thing about memories is that you're able to pass it along from generation to generation."

So that's what we'll do. We'll talk about everything that happened in those bleachers. We'll talk about what we saw. I'll talk about the games in the booth, and the few I called in those bleachers. 

I'll tell people about John Sullivan and Pat Wilson and Tyler Robinson and Pete Salvatore and Joe Poletsky and Ricky Riscica and Jeff DeVico and Gavin Muir and Tysen Comizio and Coach Al and Coach Marinelli.

I'll tell them about the cake Jack Feda sent up to me for my birthday.

I'll tell them about the laughter and the sardine-like conditions.

I'll tell them the good and the bad.

Nothing is changing but everything is changing.

Things are going to be better at Cardinal Stadium. Much better.

The future is bright for more days when #FlyBigRed will ring out.

I hope my voice will be a part of that.