The maddening inconsistency of it all

Yeah...about that...

 I went off today.

Like, head-spinning theatrics.

And, like a tornado, everyone and everything was in my path.

I'm really happy for Connecticut that high school sports (specifically, CIAC member schools) can get going again. Selfishly, I hope I get to call basketball and ice hockey and whatever else.

But it won't include wrestling, because that's still high risk.

Competitive dancing and competitive cheerleading are also out.

The promised "alternative season" that we all knew wasn't going to happen also got yanked, meaning no football, once and for all.

And, well, that's where I snapped.

I still don't understand what makes either hockey or basketball -- sports that I love and can't wait to call (in case I didn't make that clear) -- any less of a risk than football, which is played outside, for what it's worth.

I just want everyone to play.

And none of this stuff makes sense to me.

And now I sit here feeling like I just waste my breath. 

I don't play "the game." For whatever it's worth, I never have. I don't need to be the popular kid in the room.

But you sure as hell better believe I'll be the honest one in the room with my integrity keeping me company, even if we're alone.

So, while picking my battles, I chose this one today. In my defense of Tony Morello and James Rinello and Greenwich and Darien and Stamford and Ludlowe and Ridgefield and Warde and New Canaan and on and on and one, I snapped.

This one was for Amistad, whose athletes won't be playing any sports -- regardless of sport. Same with any other school that does the same.

This one was for the athletes who felt betrayed in March...and then in August...and now again in January.

This one was for all of the supporters, from the coach opening the weight room before dawn to the players who have been waiting...and waiting...and waiting for the rink to open.

Was it my finest hour? Definitely not. I pissed people off (no doubt, and nothing new there) and probably looked like a raving maniac in the process.

But it was bubbling under the skin all afternoon, as I listened to the press conference. And I was on-board until I heard the alternate season piece.

Then? Well, that's what this post is about.

I couldn't listen to the fawning on the call anymore.

The gag reflex began to trouble me.

My blood pressure began to rise.

And I had roughly 3.5 hours to burn my way back to the home studio.

And then?

Boom.

So, as I said at the end of the show, I'm here for anyone to talk to. I'm approachable.

I'm passionate. That's for sure. But I'm also fairly reasonable.

But I feel terrible for the athletes of Connecticut, many of whom got a raw deal.

Don't even get me started on New York.