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Alumni Hall, Dec 2017

As I've said in recent times, I go where I'm wanted.

Brunswick wants me, so I've already called four games for their hockey team and there are six more beginning next Saturday.

Fairfield Prep wants me, at least for basketball, so the headset (and other necessary equipment) will head to Alumni Hall tomorrow night.

It's only because it came together so late that I can't do more, as they asked for a few other games this week.

East Texas Baptist University hockey is interested in having me come to Texas (!) and if it works out, I'll go.

And, of course, there's that baseball team in May.

And I know Mahopac baseball wants me (and so did their hockey team) but some of this stuff is also out of the control of those who would like to make those decisions.

But, let's circle back to Fairfield Prep. The thing is they asked, so I'm making it work. Part of my goal is to demonstrate how much better a game sounds and looks, especially with a voice that is on-site. There's a value to it, as people from Brunswick have said to me.

Hopefully, they'll view it as sounding professional also.

There's still a job like that for me out there. I still believe that. Call the games and teach the students how to do it (and other duties).

I popped on a game before I started writing. Having recently turned over a new leaf I will offer that the individual could use a mentor. I'm here, as I've said.

If it works out, I'll be at Trumbull on Friday for basketball.

But I've got a good one tomorrow in the SCC between Prep and Notre Dame of West Haven and I look forward to it. ND is perfect on the year and Prep has looked good also.

Thanks to Eric Scholl and Garrett Hickey for being fans of my work and pushing to make this happen. I'm pleased to do it for them.

With that said, I'll be rolling in with a computer that has a new hard drive in it.

You see, I don't consider myself very handy. I can "MacGyver" stuff and I try to fix things but in reality, my big ideas are often just that. My trusty MacBook had become anything but. I first tried to give it new life with a memory boost roughly a year ago. It helped but it certainly didn't stop the constant "rainbow spinning wheel of death."

I read that it likely could use a new hard drive.

Again, I did my usual obsessive research. I talked to people.

Then, the other night, I purchased one on a whim.

As I alluded to last night, the first installation didn't exactly go well. I needed to be able to reboot with a new installation of the operating system. Plus there's a specific tool for some Apple screws.

As I wrote, I decided to sleep on it.

I started early this morning. Things didn't quite seem right. 

So, I ran to Kohl's and returned the incorrect power cable I bought (super easy to do!), stopped at Home Depot to pick up the right tool for the Apple Screws ($6), and came home. Then I got to work.

It took some trial. Error. Patience.

I watched this thing called YANKEE BASEBALL (WOOOOOOO!) as I worked. I did laundry. The Cat continued to make sure I didn't throw him out (we're good -- I promise).

There was more trial and error and fear that this would be a bust. Maybe I'd have to get help.

And then it all seemed to come together. The laptop is sitting right next to me, humming away.

All of the files that I backed up have been reinstalled. A brand-new solid-state drive is working, installed by me. What that means is, anyone can do it.

Should it all be OK, it will be the means that I bring you Fairfield Prep and ND-West Haven tomorrow night.

And, me being me, I'll have backups with me in case it doesn't work.

Game time is 7:00 p.m. There is a video stream and, of course, you can hear the audio at mixlr.com/robcasting-radio.

The Saturday night sillies

Let me assure you that's not his calm pose.

I've been home for probably two hours, following an adventurous hockey broadcast.

Since I've been home...

- Almost an entire order I received from Amazon has been a disaster (wrong power cable for my computer, the hard drive that I bought isn't installing nicely, I got the wrong audio cable and I'll just keep it because "you never know"). You know how it goes. Thankfully, the returns can go to Kohl's and I'll try the hard drive again tomorrow with a fresh brain.

- The cat. I had to get a cat, right? Well, our little Rascal knocked a TV off a shelf in Sean's room. The good news is the TV is probably 15 years old and it's not that good. Sean doesn't use it, other than it has a DVD player built-in. So, OK. But, still.

- I was ready to throw a cat out of the house (see above).

- With all of this, my dinner got cold.

- I've tried to help someone with an internship and am working on a basketball broadcast that I will probably confirm tomorrow.

As for the hockey game...

- Is it me or are 22 penalties a bit excessive? Most of the calls seem to come from the same referee for what it's worth. Now, I'm not criticizing so don't play the "it sure seems like it" line (and you know who you are). But...twenty-two penalties over 54 minutes of play?

- Brunswick led 3-0 and won 4-2. For what it's worth, a late penalty sort of took the spice out of the game and Brunswick capitalized with a power-play goal to seal the deal. Look, a happy Brunswick is probably best for me but from a drama perspective, well, yeah.

- Despite all of the preparation in the world, I was still missing four players on the opposing roster, including the goalie and the player who served a penalty just a half-minute into the contest.

- Late in the game, I discovered a text from my Local Live producer, telling me my audio was barely audible. Now, the Robcasting feed seems OK but that still meant I was trying to resolve this as I was calling the game. If you don't know, I'm a one-man crew. So there's no analyst or engineer to help me out.

My point behind all of this is, no matter how prepared you are, if you're not -- ahem -- prepared to adjust and improvise, you're screwed. That's the very lesson I constantly teach. You make plans and Scully (God, of course) laughs. At that point, any script goes out the window.

I'm back on hockey next Saturday. There could be some basketball this week (I first called hoops in 1999 so I'd like to do some).

I'll "reboot" and try again tomorrow.

Oh, before I go, I found out earlier today that an old family friend died. I called her "Ma," because, at one time, we were all that close. The relationship is a little more convoluted but, in a strange way, we were sort of related for a while through marriage. Anyway, time and circumstances split everything up but she remained in my life via the interwebs. 

She frequently watched "Doubleheader" and would often post a hello. I'd always wave to her if I didn't come right out and say hello. Though I haven't seen her in probably 20 years, I have many fond memories of a lot of days of miniature golf, bowling, and a lot of family gatherings.

She was also the person who told me my father had died when I wouldn't let her off the phone that night because I wanted to know what was going on.

My condolences to her family and loved ones.

Last thing, my niece admitted online that she's having surgery this week. She's been through a lot and still has a ways to go. Beyond that, it's her story. But know she's as tough as they come. Please do whatever it is you do that can bring peace to her.

I know. I'm just full of great news.

Sorry.

My "Doubleheader" issue

 

"Doubleheader," the talk show I've hosted on WGCH, will turn five in July.

Big deal. As I've mentioned, I've done talk shows since 1999.

But I bring it up because we (starting with the team of Paul Silverfarb and me) planned to have interviews and debate topics and generally have fun with sports, pop culture, and even news.

We would also handle breaking news as needed.

We've done all of that. 

But, due to my crazy life, the interviews have dried up and that bothers me. We're better than that.

These days, "Doubleheader" is a 55-minute collection of thoughts from me, with input from a group of commenters on Facebook Live.

And that's fine. People seem to enjoy it. Yet, I still think it can be better.

So, let me cut to the chase. I'd like to start taping interviews and get "Doubleheader" back to being a very prominent voice in Connecticut and New York sports. And, of course, beyond.

As I sit at my desk most days, it would be easy enough to jump on Zoom or Microsoft Teams or Skype or even a cellphone or FaceTime call. Then they can be recorded and played whenever I next do the show.

They can be easily pushed into a podcast as well if doing it live isn't possible. I'm rethinking my whole part of podcast-land. I currently host two, as I've mentioned. 

Most interviews are over within 20 minutes but there are times they go over. That's why I have a basic Zoom plan that only goes to 40 minutes!

Does this mean I won't do a live interview? Not really, but my life is such where I almost never know if I'm doing a show from day to day.

Or, today, where something had crawled into the internet. We gave up on doing the show roughly eight minutes in.

I've been a big part of sports broadcasting in this area for over 20 years. I understand my role.

In some ways, I'm the voice of...something. I'm not sure what, but 20-plus years stands for something.

Yet, in many ways, I've frankly been lost for some time. I'm trying to dig myself out of that rut.

I still teach at CSB (and anywhere else -- HI!) because I enjoy mentoring people of all ages. I suppose it's not unfair to say I got turned off by a few things, but bad apples shouldn't ruin it. My passion to teach broadcasting (and news and journalism and being a radio DJ and whatever else) has never wavered.

With my truest passion being play-by-play. I don't need anyone to tell me how the Dodgers did a simulcast of the first three innings of any game Vin Scully was on (I saw someone lecturing about that on Twitter earlier today).

It's why I still listen to tapes and talk to broadcasters.

Again tonight, some guy in the play-by-play group on Facebook Live asked for "...someone who calls D1 (or higher) football or basketball to review some of my tape." This attitude is, sadly, pervasive in the business. It's elitism. 

There are a lot of people who have plenty of salient advice on assessing your broadcasting credentials.

For what it's worth, I have called D1. That doesn't make me anything special. 

But that's the attitude that I've encountered, and it began to wear me down.

So, for the rest of you who would like a friend in the business who will give you an honest assessment and be a cheerleader for you, reach out.

And for those of you who have a story to tell who would like to be on "Doubleheader," let me know. Let's make it happen again.

If not, I'll keep going as is.

But I think I have more to offer.

Not tonight, Episode 2, The Blog Strikes Back

 

I tried to write this from CSB

I sort of just want to write, "Nope," and publish it.

But there would be questions.

So the deal is I didn't budget enough time to properly write tonight. As a result, I'm sitting outside of a TJ Maxx in Monore, CT. 

In fact, I started writing in the classroom of the Connecticut School of Broadcasting Stratford campus but the internet stopped working. So, yeah.

And here I am, in an otherwise empty parking lot.

I did my teaching gig tonight.

Now I'm on my way home.

The cat awaits.

That's really all there is to report. No great stories to tell. No thoughts on my mind except getting home and making sure the recycling is left by the curb.

After that, maybe I'll sleep.

Maybe.

I better get back on Route 25 before the cops stop in to question the strange guy writing a blog post in his car.

Perhaps there will be something meatier with more quality tomorrow.

One can always hope.

The "Not Tonight" series

 

Simple Minds

I think we should have a series called "Not Tonight," where I write something small because it's a daily habit and a commitment that I've made but also something is off.

In this case, I'm just tired.

Up with a job until after 2 a.m. but too wired to sleep until 3. I'm also unable to really sleep past, say, 8 a.m. under nearly any circumstances.

So, knowing I didn't have a job until close to 7 tonight, I decided to close my eyes again after breakfast. I settled down on the couch.

The phone rang.

"We need you now," came the reply.

So, I jumped up, showered, and got on the computer where, sure enough, I was the savior of a case.

It was over a few hours later when I decided I should grab some food before "Doubleheader" and the night case.

So I ran to the deli and, as I'm waiting for my food, I get a message that the night case is off.

Relieved? Well, sort of.

There's more to all of this, including having other things going on tomorrow that make it tough to take a case, so I was glad for the double duty of today.

And that's when I tried again to shut my eyes for a few minutes when...yup...my phone rang again.

Then I was grumpy for "Doubleheader" and now here I sit.

These are the days when I ponder either a full break from social media or a reduction for...reasons.

Nuisances, annoyances, hypocrisy. To start with.

Feeling like I'm just spinning my wheels.

So, yeah, "Not tonight."

*****

Oh, why do I have Simple Mids at the top of the post?

Because a poll (it's brackets season) is running on Twitter for the "Ultimate 80s Song" and who am I to pass on that, especially after I saw that "The Power of Love" was placed as an 11 seed.

And then they lost to "You Shook Me All Night Long." I mean, really?

Anyway, I did my own mock bracket and my champion was, ultimately, "Don't You (Forget About Me)" over "In The Air Tonight." The thing about brackets can be that your ultimate song might get nudged out by something else.

There's a much longer post within that but, again, "Not tonight."

Hey Nineteen!

 

At Sean's first Yankees game

Sean Adams turned nineteen years old this morning.

The events of the early morning hours of Feb 23, 2002 live in my brain more than the dirty diapers and 2 a.m. feedings.

Every step of it -- highs and lows -- have been worth it.

I wanted to be a dad and Sean made it easy to be one.

We're not best friends. For some, that works. For us, it's not what we want. I always want to make sure Will and Chris (who calls me, "The Big Man") are "his boys." But we have a remarkable relationship for sure and, no matter what, we always would have.

I'm apparently unique in the father department, or so I've been told.

There have been growing pains. Of course, there have been. He has made mistakes and so have I. But we never wavered in our steadfast connection and support for each other.

When people ask me about Sean, my answer is always the same: "Sean is Sean." He's quirky. He's quiet. He is deadly with a well-timed joke or pun. He does things on his time and does them his way.

He decided to stay close to home for college at Dutchess Community. That was the absolute correct move.

He waited to learn to drive, not getting his license and a car until he was 18. For him, it was correct.

He still hasn't driven the Taconic Parkway, while I was doing that when I was 16. But, for Sean, it's correct.

He is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma (paraphrasing Churchill).

I often don't know what's going on in that brain. Where I ooze emotion, he hides it.

Where I apologize for being nervous about dealing with ice on PA Route 896 last Saturday, he yells at me for apologizing.

When I express concern over letting him down as a father or screwing him up, he tells me to pipe down (basically).

He's never disrespectful. Ever.

He's shy and still trying to climb out of that shell.

I still feel sadness over lost time. I didn't really have to help with homework or getting to doctor's appointments (even if I said I'd go to every one of them). I wanted to be a part of everything but that just didn't work. 

Things changed what kind of father I would be. 

No time to lament it.

He came into the world quietly, yet still found a way to be heard on a radio audience within the first 48 hours of his life.

That's the way he likes it.

The second decade of Sean Adams is wrapping up.

You've yet to see the best of him as he still figures it all out.

And he will. Will he ever.

No big deal

 

From the 1946 Looney Tunes cartoon "The Great Piggy Bank Robbery"

My goal is to keep this short tonight. After exactly what I promised myself in terms of a crazy day, it's now approaching 10 p.m. and I'm basically on fumes.

Earlier today, with no fanfare, I did my 800th edition of Doubleheader. At least, what I'm calling the 800th.

You see, I had the shows numbered in a notebook and, well, it got lost. So I did the math a few years back on the number of shows I've saved and added in a few shows that didn't get saved (computer or program crashes and so on). I was comfortable with the number I had, so yeah, 800 was today.

It's not a big deal, except it's probably the show that I've done the longest. We've been at this for nearly five years (and have been doing talk shows for over 20).

Me -- who didn't intend to do sports talk.

No, really, I didn't. I only really wanted to do play-by-play but, as I always tell students, be open-minded.

So, when I joined WGCH, I actually first ran the board and served as a sort of co-host for a -- wait for it -- home improvement show!

Eventually, that led me to join the crew of "Tee Time," which was golf-based, hosted by Michael Breed, who has since made quite a name for himself. I climbed from being a board-op to a full co-host eventually.

Then I started getting my own shows, with too many different names...

- "Coach's Corner"

- "Spotlight on Sports with Rob Adams"

- "The Press Box"

- "The Press Box with Rob Adams"

- "Inside Sports"

- "Sports Weekly" 

- "Nutmeg Sports"

- "The Clubhouse" (we'll come back to that)

and, finally, "Doubleheader."

Paul Silverfarb was my co-host as he was when we first started "Nutmeg Sports" at HAN.

We needed a name so I asked Sean for a suggestion. He's the one who picked "Doubleheader" because he said there were two of us and it's sports.

I loved it. It made sense, even if I do occasionally get questioned what the title means.

Paul couldn't really stay with the show due to his newspaper editorial commitment and, once the radio station and newspaper severed their relationship, that ended that.

However, WGCH wasn't done with me or the show, and we've stayed on ever since.

To be honest, I think it's the longest I've done one continuous show with the exception of "The Clubhouse."

I've become the co-host of "The Clubhouse," but that show really was the baby of Brian Crowell and Mark Jeffers. I came along as an engineer and "third wheel" when they came over to WGCH. Eventually, Brian stepped away and I stayed on. Amazingly, I've been associated with that show for 15 years and consistently for almost a decade. However, keep in mind we're a seasonal show that does maybe 20 episodes a year as opposed to the (somewhat) daily commitment of "Doubleheader."

I question my sanity on doing "Doubleheader" sometimes. I constantly question my approach because it doesn't have enough guests due to my often frustrating schedule.

I'm beginning to give strong thought to connecting with guests via Zoom and taping the interviews.

I realize that doesn't always make for the best show on Facebook Live -- watching me play a recording -- but there's only so much I can do.

I keep doing the show because there are people who like it and even count on it.

That's why I kept going after the pandemic began.

I expect to be right back at it tomorrow for show number 801.

Honestly, this number isn't a big deal. Most show hosts would chuckle at it.

But I just thought I'd share.

There's always tomorrow

 

Just another day near Lancaster, PA

It's after 11 p.m. here in New York and I'm back home.

Sean and I returned from a not-quite 36-hour jaunt to Pennsylvania around 5:30 this evening.

I'm sitting at the computer not only to write this post but because I'm starting work.

Read that again: I'm starting work and it's after 11 p.m.

I have no idea what time I'll be done.

I also have a Hunt Scanlon podcast to record at 11:30 a.m. tomorrow.

Then I have to take Sean home since he opted to come back here with me tonight.

Then -- maybe -- I'll do "Doubleheader" and I'll tell you right now I don't have the first clue what to talk about or who to talk to, in part because I don't know if I'll be awake.

Then -- and let's not even speculate on what condition my condition will be in (1) -- I will host a taping of "The Owners' Box Horse Racing Podcast"(2) at 8 p.m.

Like, am I out of my mind?

(1) I'm paraphrasing Kenny Rogers and the First Edition.

(2) I might leave my video off because I'm yawning too much through these Zoom sessions.

Next week -- hahahahahahaha -- I am recording...ready?...podcasts for Hunt Scanlon at 9 a.m., 10 a.m., 1 p.m., and 2 p.m. Then "Doubleheader." Then "Owners' Box."

Seriously. WTF is wrong with me?

I'm grateful for all of the opportunities. Believe me. I also love helping (and this shouldn't be seen as my not wanting to assist on other projects). But both ends of the candle have met in the middle. 

Honestly, I should have stayed true to this weekend. To a point, I talked myself out of what should have been a three-day weekend. I should have taken care of my own mental health, and I'm not.

All in the name of making money and not letting anyone down.

Except myself. Because, hey, who cares?

Sean is content, so I'll leave him out of this. As good as it all was -- with hiccups for sure -- he didn't push for another night. That's not on me. I should have stayed true to the train car last night and "Pricelined" a room for tonight before making our way home tomorrow.

I try to make everyone happy. Believe me, that's why I do "Doubleheader" more often than not.

PA Route 896, where we encountered ice last night

The takeaways from this are meant to be positive, in that the weekend was great and I wish it had been a touch longer. It's also great in that I recognize that I need to "do better" at taking care of myself.

Easier said than done, of course.

But I'm also happy that I didn't panic over money as we traveled or anything like that. We enjoyed each thing we did. I didn't pull back over concerns for the money. We took on whatever traveling brought us and we -- ahem, I -- need to do it again.

That's part of why I want to do road games with the Gades -- even if it's just a handful. They're road trips to me. I get the little nuances that make me happy:

- The early departure and the (hopefully) empty roads.

- The food (that which brings much playful scorn).

- The sites.

- The freedom to go whatever route I want and boy, did I have fun with that.

I wasn't even entirely "me" on this trip. I didn't track miles and time on the road. I took very few pictures as I drove. Honestly, it's OK. I sort of decided to just let it all go on this one.

I didn't have us out of bed early this morning (and I probably should have to avoid a wait at breakfast).

But there were moments of peace as well, where father and son weren't constantly in each other's faces. The setup of the room had us back to back, so Sean put headphones on and did computer stuff. I wrote the bloggity and watched TV. 

Then we both slept. I woke up, sat in bed and looked at my phone before getting ready and taking a walk around the Red Caboose Motel. I found cats to pet and took pictures of some of the cabooses.

A cat followed us to our room door and Sean visited with him.

Then we began today's adventure

Which should have ended at a random, but a decent, hotel.

Which is where I should be writing from tonight.

Lesson learned.

The ghost train

STRASBURG, PA -- This one is for Mom. That's the first thing you need to know.

I'm sitting in a baggage car as I type on a brief vacation that needed to happen. It was overdue.

I realize COVID-19 is still very much a thing and we need to be cautious, but we can also live our lives if we're smart.

Last June -- Father's Day weekend, in fact -- Sean, Mom, and I went to Waffle House in Allentown, PA. It was a goofy long day of food, a stroll through the VF Outlet in Reading, a Wawa visit near Easton, PA, and a lot of driving. I also made sure -- for some prophetic reason -- that we drove through Butler, NJ to see the house she lived in as a little girl.

By August, she talked about doing it again. We also talked about staying at the Red Caboose Motel in Strasburg, PA, which has -- you guessed it -- repurposed cabooses and other train cars. My mother was the daughter of a railroad man so she was always fascinated by trains. I knew she'd love the Red Caboose Motel.

But as the summer began to reach its own dusk, Mom said she wasn't quite up to the trip.

"You and Sean should go," she told me. I knew that was a terrible sign.

I knew she was concerned about getting in and out of the train cars and, yes, stairs were a difficult reality for her. She used a chair lift at home and any other stairs required the help of Sean or me or someone else.

She died before we had a chance to convince her that we could make this trip happen.

For nearly six months, Sean and I kept thinking about it. I know for a fact that a little birdie would whisper in Sean's ear occasionally to encourage him.

"Yeah, we'll make it happen." That quote could be attributed to either of us.

Sean thought maybe we'd do a day trip, but I decided to go all-in and give the Red Caboose Motel a try. Granted, I'm one for doing my research and normally staying in chains but everything looked good about this.

After a prolonged process in which rooms dwindled down and prices went up, I reserved a room and we left this morning.

I packed in a suitcase that was Mom's to bring her with us somehow. I also had our route pass along Interstate 80 through Paterson, NJ. She was born there.

We were soon at Waffle House near Easton, PA. Breakfast was phenomenal. We were both pleased.

But we were also well ahead of schedule, as I had booked us tickets on the 1:30 train at Strasburg Rail Road, within site of the motel.

The time I thought I'd waste in Reading at VF Outlet, for instance, went out the window because it closed in December. That one hurt, for what it's worth, as we'd made many trips there, especially in the past 20 years.

Wyomissing, PA used to be known for outlets before it was known for Taylor Swift

The other thing I noticed was snow was drifting on a cold, blustery day in Pennsylvania Dutch Country. I slowed to a crawl a few times to avoid sliding.

We got to the Red Caboose much too early to be checked in but the woman in the lobby told us we'd be in "Room 31."

So, we took a look. From the outside, it was nondescript.

At best.

It concerned me.

We stalled. We headed over to Strasburg Rail Road. We approached the booth far ahead of the 1:30 train (it was 11:45 a.m.) but the girl at the window welcomed us on the noon train.

It might be the finest antique train ride anywhere. This was our third time on it, and I always think it's well-narrated, clean, comfortable, and expertly maintained. Plus it's very kid and family-friendly, including stopping to tell the story of a ghost train whose whistle can still be heard nearly 200 years later.

It's not inexpensive but it's worth it.

We wasted some time by going to lunch (Wawa, of course). We grabbed a pack of water for the room at Target. We drove around and watched Amish life.

We were in Intercourse at one point. Heh heh. Heh heh.

The official greeter of the Red Caboose

We returned to the motel and officially checked in.

I braced. Sean seemed bored at times and even a little short with me throughout the day (he's almost 19 so I get it).

I took the key and put it in the door. Yes, an actual key.

We walked in.

He gushed like a kid. He couldn't wait to text his friends pictures of how cool our baggage car was with two double beds and bunk beds. Six people could fit in here and it almost made me sad that we didn't have others with us.

But, to be clear, it was also important that this weekend was ours. We haven't done just father and son on the road in a few years and it was an annual thing at one time. For us, this needed to be a sort of pilgrimage, to honor our mother and grandmother.

The grounds include a small petting zoo and a converted silo that serves as an observation tower. If this turns out to be a good experience, we said we'd try to come back to stay in a real caboose, since -- as I said -- we're in a baggage car.

We had Golden Corral for dinner and we'll have Waffle House for breakfast tomorrow morning before heading home far too soon.

Work awaits. Thirty podcasts to record (I've lost count).

Incidentally, we encountered terrible ice going to dinner tonight and hit some more on the way back. I'm just glad we're safe.

Mom should be here.

We could have done it last summer.

We would have gotten her into the room.

Would have...could have...should have...

I know, I know. Mom is here. With us in spirit.

Maybe she is.

She's in the backseat, as always, with Sean riding shotgun.

Her mark is all over this trip.

Believe me.

Her train ticket is validated.

She's that ghost, blowing her whistle in the distance.

Closer to being real

 

The 2021 New York Yankees' Organizational Broadcasters

I know I've mentioned this before, including yesterday.

But seeing my name in print as a team broadcasting "voice" and, specifically, a broadcaster in the Yankees system is just too cool. It's why I really should frame the press release that announced my joining the Renegades in 2019.

It's why I've so enjoyed the stories I've seen online and in the newspaper.

It's because I don't take any of this for granted. My story is my story and my time is now.

And today I visited a website, not expecting to show up as the updating process was going on.

I felt like a stalker as I watched the Broadcaster 411 database get changed. It's a big process and I have no idea how they do it. You can certainly suggest edits as well for the editors to review. To that end, I added my information to a master database.

But I actually gasped as I started to see things change. Keep in mind, I was already in their database for being with the Renegades last year. Soon, I was "no longer" a broadcaster in the Rays organization...

Then the Yankees team names were changed, including the Renegades...

The tension was building! It was happening! But then, Spenser Smith ("voice" of the Bradenton Marauders) stopped updating. It stopped...where I should have been entered. Look where the cursor is sitting!

I went to the mailbox.

I made a cup of coffee.

I started preparing for "Doubleheader."

I told Susan and Mike Hirn and Shawn Sailer what was going on.

I talked to Sean.

I visited with Rascal.

Was this a sign? Were the gods telling me something? Were Mel Allen and Red Barber and Frank Messer and Phil Rizzuto having second thoughts about having my name associated in any way with theirs?

No, I say. For a short while later there it was...

I was going to film it as it was typed in, but I missed it. I gasped -- again! -- when I saw it. 

For this moment, even if it all somehow falls apart, I am recognized in a database as a broadcaster in the New York Yankees organization.

The New York Yankees, who first connected me to this game before probably most of the broadcasters in the league were even a thought (yes, I know I'll be everyone's parent/grandfather/crazy uncle).

I realize it says "'21" next to my name, and I suggested changing that to '20 since I had the job for the 2020 season that wasn't. Just for consistency but hardly a hill to die on.

Those edits will soon all be accepted (or not) and the database will settle down. All of those red/pink items will settle into glorious black.

It will be real in an unofficial capacity. It's silly to care but I'm still a kid at heart. In fact, I appreciate it probably even more.

It's another step to keep me warm.

There are only 74 days until first pitch.

*****

I'll do an update tomorrow but, effective now, I'm "on vacation" until Sunday.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I'll be back later Sunday and truly hit the ground running, heading towards likely zombie status on Monday.

I'll explain all as we go along but I'm looking forward to what I hope are two nice days with Sean, in part to celebrate his birthday (it's next Tuesday) and honor a few commitments.

That's what we call "a tease."

Let the voice be heard

FirstEnergy Park -- Lakewood, NJ (Lou Russo, 94.3 The Point)

I come not to criticize. No, seriously.

I'll screw it up and offend someone. I hope not.

I'm glad -- like, so happy -- that most high school sports are back in business.

I'm happy that many games are being carried on live streams.

I'm dismayed -- very -- that so many of these streams don't have a play-by-play announcer on them.

Let me further that point (here's where I'll offend someone). I'm very dismayed that true broadcasters --- those who have busted their butts practicing their craft -- aren't calling these games.

Now, don't jump to conclusions. This isn't about me (I mean, sure, but we'll get to that).

What I mean by that is I've heard the wannabes. 

I'm not knocking student broadcasters either. They need to start somewhere. They need to...well...be bad. They also -- bluntly -- need to learn to handle the scrutiny and criticism that comes with the gig, but that lands squarely in "just a kid" land and I'm not going on that roller coaster.

They need to be told that being accurate matters and told when they screw up.

(Oh is that a completely different post...one that I won't be writing)

As for me, sure, I want to call games and have had conversations with a few schools/coaches. I'm grateful for the interest.

I've offered to even call games off a monitor here at home.

I'm here if anyone wants to talk about putting my skills to use. And, yes, it's actually a skill.

Given I'm doing so much work from home, I'd be content to flip my setup to do sports after a long day. But, personally, I'm fine. I hope for some games later on, but I'm looking forward to a lot of baseball*.

*Put a pin in that.

Many of the best streams are hard to see. It's difficult to tell what's going on. It's up to us -- those who know what we're doing -- to narrate and fill in the blanks. We keep things moving along.

Someone recently approached me at Brunswick. "We did a couple of games without an announcer back in November," they said. "It's just so much better with you on it. The coaches, athletes, and fans all love it."

Bingo.

Maybe you know that NBC once tried an announcerless broadcast on an NFL game. It didn't go well, so what makes anyone think this is the way to go?

Play-by-play is a skill. I used to think anyone could do it. More than ever, that's the very problem. Everyone thinks they can do it and many have the resources. That's a dangerous and slippery slope.

But these games could use voices. 

They deserve them.

*****

Back to lots of baseball. The Minor League schedules came out today. If all goes according to plan (weather, COVID, whatever else) the Hudson Valley Renegades will play their first game in 606 days on May 4 in Lakewood, NJ.

The Gades will play the newly-rechristened Jersey Shore BlueClaws at FirstEnergy Park.

Assuming I'm only calling home games, I'd still like to be sitting there that night. I truly -- and can't say this enough -- believe that Opening Night should be carried live, even if I don't stay for the road trip.

Oh, to be clear, the traditional shorter regular-season series is gone for 2021. Every series is a six-game stand. So the Gades will play in Lakewood from May 4-9. Every Monday is an off day.

I could either make the two-hour drive and come back after the game (I've done it before for games in Aberdeen, Troy, and Oneonta) or I could treat myself to a room, I suppose. A quick glance shows some reasonably priced rooms.

There are also road trips to Brooklyn, Wilmington, Aberdeen, Greensboro, and Winston-Salem. Me being me, I'd like to go to all of them but would also be happy with road trips to each one once (or more).

Market it as "Rob's Sunday Road Game." Get it sponsored. Make it worth it. I've worked in marketing, after all!

Those critical of the new MLB/MiLB and criticizing the High A East can come down off their ledge now. They did, overall, control travel, which was the goal from the outset. That's why there will be six-game series. Also, if you noticed, most of the southern leg of High A East won't get a visit from Hudson Valley.

Therefore, there will be no trip to Greenville or Hickory or Asheville or Bowling Green or Rome. Honestly, I get it and it makes sense but I'm bummed. I wanted to see all of it. I wanted to go to "Little Fenway" in Greenville and historic McCormick Field in Asheville.

It would have meant big road trips and new states and exciting things to visit but it's not meant to be, at least for now.

Again, me being me, I love the thought of calling games in many different states.

Besides, honestly, given MLB's desire to milk Yankees/Red Sox for all it is, how do you not have Hudson Valley (Yankees) and Greenville (Red Sox) playing each other? So it goes, I guess.

I talked with Brooklyn Cyclones "voice" Keith Raad via Twitter today to exchange notes and told him I'd like to arrange a Zoom meeting (suitable for broadcast -- rain delay material) with all of the High A East broadcasters eventually. But, as we both figured out, some jobs still seem open or undecided.

But Hudson Valley's job is taken. Now the work begins on sculpting the broadcast. Now I can get down to talking to those that I want to join me for a game or more. Plus I can figure out which games I'd like to "Scully" (that is, call alone). Now we can begin to fill in all of the blanks leading up to May 4th in Lakewood and May 11 at Dutchess Stadium.

These broadcasts are going to sound good. I'll tell you that.

Keith Raad said I'll see him in Hudson Valley when the Gades host the Cyclones. I hope to visit the "Catbird Seat" at MCU Park a lot as well.

There's a site called Broadcaster411 that lists the announcers for each team. It hasn't been updated for 2021 but I'm looking forward to seeing that famous top hat baseball logo with "Yankees" in script in it next to my name. I hope the new Baseball America directory has my name listed as the broadcaster for Hudson Valley. I hope to see my name on the team website. These are the little selfish things that come with not taking this opportunity for granted.

There's much to figure out but we're so much closer.

Only 75 days to go.

I was wrong

 

I couldn't wait to get on the air when I heard the news.

It was 2016 and the Mets had signed Tim Tebow to a minor league deal.

I reveled in it. I destroyed the whole thing.

Ugh.

Tebow retired from baseball today. He played in 287 games, batted .223, and belted 18 home runs. The numbers are literally meaningless.

Yes, there's no question he took up a roster spot that could have gone to someone else. That really can't be debated.

Yet, baseball, well, #ItsABusiness, amirite? To that end, Tebow accomplished a goal for the Mets. He was good for business. People bought merchandise with his likeness. He said every right thing. He posed for every picture and he signed every autograph.

It's literally impossible to dislike the guy. He represented the Mets, his teammates, his family, and baseball with charm and grace and dignity.

In the end, I'll admit I goofed. I misread it. No, he wasn't going to make the majors, at least not legitimately. He had the advantage of being Tim Tebow, likable college athlete. He spent time playing in Columbia, SC. Hello, Bible Belt.

The cash registers rang. It was irresistible.

Maybe he should have gotten an at bat in MLB, though admittedly that might not have been the best look. But, honestly, in a sport that once had Eddie Gaedel walk on four pitches would it really have hurt anyone to have Tim Tebow strike out or bounce to second in a meaningless game?

Yes, there would have been outrage. I might have even screamed about it on "Doubleheader." But, when baseball is desperate for good marketing, what would the harm have been if -- heaven forbid -- he got a base hit in a game with nothing on the line? 

So, I'm sorry, Tim. You had the means to live out the dream of taking a stab at playing professional baseball and you did it for all the right reasons.

I'm sure there are many tonight happy that a so-called "sorry sham" is over. But I'm actually thinking you sort of accomplished a lot. You made people smile. People cheered the home runs. Heck, they even cheered the outs.

You were a bit of a circus, but not in a bad way. You never disgraced the game.

What I'm saying is, you did good and you were harmless.

And I applaud it.

(And I still don't forgive you for burning the Steelers in overtime in that playoff game but time moves wounds around)

The pen is mightier

 

Screenshot from YouTube

I composed a rather firm letter to a company today to discuss some of their business tactics.

It was firm -- not mean -- and represented pretty much everything I wanted to get off my chest.

I had someone review it for any necessary edits and they agreed it was good. So off it went.

I won't post it here or mention anything on the air...yet...but I did mention that could happen.

Will it have any impact? Given COVID-19 and the previous year that we've had, I'd say it might at least have a slight impact. Maybe not much but I'll get my point across.

Occasionally, we have to do such things, I suppose, whether it's regarding a faulty product or unacceptable charges or lack of payment.

I wrote what I thought was a very fair email last month about that last topic. 

I'd very much like to discuss that topic and even run that email here but I've been dissuaded from doing so for now.

It isn't something I prefer to do. In fact, I prefer to do none of this.

Yet sometimes -- short of lawyers getting richer -- it must be done.

And so, writing is the preferred measure for me. I find that I can handle such things best by organizing my thoughts (#preparation) and having the trusty delete key nearby.

I really don't like being a jerk. Honestly. Frankly, I joke about being "an ass" but I don't like being that way. It's basically a defense mechanism, I suppose.

Feeling taken advantage of will always produce that emotion.

I also don't think it's wrong to expose those -- big or small -- who do things that aren't above board, shall we say.

Anyway, I'm being deliberately vague with good reason. I specifically wrote two items: an email looking for long-overdue compensation (it was ignored) and a letter to a company to let them know I didn't like how they handled certain things during the pandemic (mailed today).

To be sure, I have a great working relationship with everyone I'm currently with. I just want to clear that up.

Will you ever read them on here? I can't predict though I suppose it seems unlikely.

The greater takeaway from this is that I can't stand for it. I won't stand for it. I'm frustrated by it.

And you should be too.

Valentines and uncredited cameos and so on

 

Huey Lewis, Cyndi Lauper, and Kim Carnes record "We Are The World"

Unless you were really able to tune it out, you probably know yesterday was Valentine's Day.

And, in a related story, I didn't concern myself with it too much and the world kept spinning.

Don't misunderstand me. I wished a happy one to those with who I wanted to share such sentiment, but overall, it can be easy for V-Day to feel 1) vastly overrated and 2) a ton of pressure about it.

Furthermore, don't read this as a commentary about being a romantic. Oh, I'm a sap, quite honestly. That being said, my style doesn't have to be flashy. 

I'm also not denouncing Valentine's Day. I think that depends on if there's a special person and their own style. 

But I feel sad for those who feel lost or lonely or minimized on Valentine's Day. There's enough pressure in this world that V-Day can really be a drag and I guess I'm content that I felt the love of those who care about me.

So, I guess what I'm saying is I sort of felt I had a healthy approach to it for 2021. It was low-key. Maybe 2022 will be different.

I guess I'm also saying to those who felt such feelings that there are people who understand and that Valentine's Day is not some end all be all thing. 

*****

I was talking with a friend (OK, it was Susan) who popped an idea into my head for a topic for today's show to mix it up in the non-sports department.

Basically, come up with uncredited and/or secret and offbeat cameos on various songs. The obvious ones are things like Mick Jagger singing backup on "You're So Vain" for Carly Simon and Eric Clapton playing guitar on "Whily My Guitar Gently Weeps."

When it came time for the show, I brain locked and somehow forgot Eddie Van Halen on "Beat It." 

There are other fun ones, like Paul McCartney singing spontaneously, and sounding like a kazoo, on Ringo's "You're 16." Harry Nilsson and a few other lads name John Lennon and George Harrison also show up on that same album.

Harrison also shows up on Badge, working with Eric Clapton and Cream.

There's Stevie Wonder on Elton John's "I Guess That's Why They Call it The Blues" and Chaka Kahn's "I Feel For You."

While doing some research on this, I discovered it was Paul Weller -- and not Noel Gallagher -- who played the mid-song guitar solo on "Champagne Supernova."

And I could do a whole collection of Beatles appearances, like John Lennon on "Fame" with David Bowie.

Some of these might have been uncredited at the time and are so well-known now that we've forgotten or we simply thought they were.

And sometimes, you don't need to read the liner notes to confirm if it was credited or uncredited. Honestly, did you not immediately recognize Phil Collins just from his drumming on "No One Is To Blame" by Howard Jones, or was his backup vocal enough to cement it?

With little to no fanfare, both Joni Mitchell and James Taylor helped out on Carole King's Tapestry album. King and Taylor eventually performed the song together in concert.

Oh, there are others, and I suppose I'm going to throw it out to you to come up with those that I forgot or just didn't mention.

I guess where I'm struggling is there are those songs -- actual duets -- that are known. "Code of Silence" on Billy Joel's The Bridge album is a duet with Cyndi Lauper and Huey Lewis plays harmonica and sings backup on a couple of things, including "Down The Road Tonight" by Bruce Hornsby and the Range. I'll admit I bought that album as soon as I found out that fact about the latter.

So, have at it, friends. Duet with me -- uncredited or otherwise -- as we compile this collection of songs.

And why did I use that picture of Huey Lewis, Cyndi Lauper, and Kim Carnes? Because I could, I guess.

Classic TV comedies

 I wound up watching The Munsters tonight, probably for the first time in 30 years. 

Maybe that's an exaggeration but, then again, maybe not.

If you don't know the story, it was the rather farcical story of Frankenstein's monster and his bride, living with their werewolf son, vampire grandfather, and mortal niece. The idea was to plunk these misfits down in the regular world and let chaos ensue.

The show ran for two seasons on CBS, from 1964-1966. There were only 70 episodes and they've run in syndication ever since.

I watched part of maybe three episodes tonight and there were a few legitimate belly laughs to be had, but it led to a larger discussion about the shows that we watched in reruns along with new episodes.

For us, it was true classics: I Love Lucy and All in the Family and M*A*S*H and The Honeymooners and so on.

But there was also Sanford and Son and Good Times and Welcome Back, Kotter and Happy Days and Three's Company and Mary Tyler Moore and Cheers and Seinfeld.

And, of course, in my house, you couldn't get past The Addams Family (snap! snap!). It was a good show, of course, but when your last name is the same (just spelled differently) it became a bit of an albatross.

I had that damn theme song sang to me a lot.

Obviously, I'm just touching the surface of the comedies that I grew up with (Seinfield being later, of course).

This isn't an attempt to rank anything or create an inclusive list. Furthermore, there's no effort here to dump on any shows.

All of that can happen in other posts, I guess.

No, this is a straightforward effort to name some of the comedies that have come through my life. The latter-day ones for me were things like Modern Family, The Big Bang Theory and The Office.

I realize there are a lot of shows I didn't name, and maybe I did some of that with the purpose of having you -- the great readers -- name some other shows to further this conversation.

So, have at it. 

Memories and moving on

 

I was sifting through some pictures and came across one I wasn't familiar with.

My father is sitting in his trusty old "Archie Bunker" recliner. He's still in his work clothes having finished another day of driving a truck around for I. Burack, Inc. delivering plumbing and heating supplies.

In his arms sits a baby -- a toddler -- probably less than 18 months old. It's 1970, the picture says.

It's a lifetime ago.

The father is gone. The baby, now grown, is typing away in the same house, maybe 30 feet from the very site of that chair.

That was the spot the father was sitting the night he died. The spot his wife was found 31 years after that when she died.

Oh I'm not trying to bum you out, dear reader. The memories are lovely and, often, painful. Thus ww deal with them as best as we can. They have to be compartmentalized somehow as if placing them in a filing cabinet. They sit in folders marked as such:

- Good
- Bad
- Don't Go There.

"Numb" is the word that came up tonight. Numb. No feeling. Not unfeeling but just no feeling, as if I want to feel but can't.

Believe me, I know unfeeling, but that's not who I am. I feel yet somehow it escapes me.

I explained tonight how I felt a few months ago, wanting to break down but my brain wouldn't allow me to because I feared being accused of doing it all for show and making it all about me.

Unhealthy, I'd say, but that's what happened.

And so, for the most part, the feelings remain repressed, tucked under the scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind.

The way we were, of course.

But that's just it. That was then and this is now. There's much to do. More pictures to create.

More stories to tell.

Keep.

Moving.

Forward.

And wouldn't forward -- armed with the memories -- be a nice way to move?

It sure would.

Quite a day

 

I drove by Dutchess Stadium yesterday. OK, in truth, I pulled into the parking lot, gazed through the fence at the snowy field and soon left. As I did when I quietly visited last March (literally 48 hours before things really changed), I departed with hope in my heart.

Today brought news.

Major League Baseball announced that all 120 teams that have been invited to join affiliated Minor League Baseball had signed their PDL licenses.

With that, the leagues and divisions were announced. The rumors had been finally put to rest.

The Renegades will play in what's being called (for now) the Northern Division of the High-A East League. The teams are:

North:
Hudson Valley Renegades
Aberdeen IronBirds
Brooklyn Cyclones
Jersey Shore BlueClaws
Wilmington Blue Rocks

South:
Asheville Tourists
Bowling Green Hot Rods
Greensboro Grasshoppers
Greenville Drive
Hickory Crawdads
Rome Braves
Winston-Salem Dash

So, that differs a bit from what the so-called "experts" had said. The league wouldn't be just six teams, with the Lake County Captains from Ohio joining the "North Division" teams. No, Lake County is in High-A Central, and there's a whole "Waffle House Division" (my name for it).

This, I should mention, was exactly what JJ Cooper of Baseball America said would happen three months ago.

So, have all questions been answered? Well, no. We still need schedules and other things before a first pitch. And, we need to decide if there really will be a first pitch.

No, today provided hope and promise -- both dangerous things. But, I do think MLB knows what they're doing and they can't afford to screw this up. There's already enough scrutiny on them.

At this point, the past is the past. I feel like we say that way too often but it is true. If you're longing for the minor leagues of 2019 then you're out of luck. This is a new era and it could begin sometime in April or May (I've seen May for the Renegades -- again, I'll believe it when I see it).

There was much excitement for me today and I felt it. I appreciate it. I'm still taking a very measured approach but, yes, I let my guard down a little today. I don't know about road games -- even if I just want to go as a vacation on my own dime. Will opposing broadcasters be welcomed? That could be mandated as "no" by MLB or government authorities.

Still so many questions and we'll patiently wait for the answers.

Still, I edited the map of the league I created a month back. I put a spreadsheet together with various facts about the teams. Basic stuff right now, but one thing I wanted to know was travel distances and times.

And so...the closest team to Dutchess Stadium is Brooklyn (probably not surprising) at 93 miles. Jersey Shore in Lakewood, NJ is next at 126 miles, followed by Wilmingon, DE (187) and Aberdeen, MD (223).

Then there's the Southern Division, beginning with Greensboro (604), Winston-Salem (610), Hickory (680) and Asheville (737) -- all in North Carolina.

Greenville, SC comes in at 784 miles.

Bowling Green, KY is 888 miles away.

Rome, GA is 920 miles away.

But my mind also raced to the ballparks and the faces and the cities. Asheville's McCormick Field -- seen in Bull Durham -- opened in 1924. (Hi, my name is Rob and I like history). Greenville's Fluor Field at the West End is known as "Little Fenway" for exactly the reason you might think, right down to a little Green Monster. The Shoeless Joe Jackson Museum is next door, and that would be a must-visit for me.

There are stories to be told. Of players and managers and their quirks and lives. Of the road trips. Of the food and smells and sights and sounds. A veritable tapestry is there to be described and I desperately want to bring it to you in full or part.

The Renegades last played on Sep 6, 2019, when they lost 4-3 to the Brooklyn Cyclones in Game 3 of the NY-Penn League semifinals. That was 525 days ago.

So, what's a little longer?

Name a cat after the team mascot (Rascal, anyone?)

It's coming. Be patient.

At least that's what I keep telling myself.

The 'Weekend' might be coming to an end

 

It was with some sadness today that I read that co-conspirator John Nash will likely close up shop on his blog -- The October Weekend --  at the beginning of next month.

His writing has been a part of a diet of reading every time he posts something and his collection of memories about his late mother this month has been outstanding.

His reason for shutting down is something I've considered many times. As a writer -- and, more importantly, a broadcaster -- I work extemporaneously. The obvious advantage as a writer is that I have a delete button and an opportunity to think before I press the button to post anything.

This, of course, is a different writing style from that of a pure reporter where I  -- yes -- report the facts. But my true writing style is that of a columnist.

And, as a broadcaster? Unless we're taping or in some kind of delay, there's no delete key. It's out there.

It's terrifying and has been for years. Any joke, parody, snark, anger, or anything can be exposed and blown far far out of proportion. We see it so often.

Careers can be destroyed over things big and small. Puns -- often uttered without even knowing the etymology -- can ruin lives. Don't believe me? Google "Jeremy Lin in the armor." One editor was fired and an on-air voice -- whose wife is Asian -- was suspended for 30 days.

It certainly makes one believe that there is a "cancel culture" or even "callout culture" (and also, spare me the Republican/Democrat/Liberal/Conservative nonsense). You've seen it. I've also seen people from the left and the right get canceled, so you can't play that card with me either.

So, yes, there's a scary reality to this and I get where John is coming from. For me, one of the toughest and most disappointing things is having to control my mouth/keyboard/pen.

And I'd hate to scrub back through over 14 years and 3,123 blog posts. Or 44,000 tweets plus Facebook posts and comments and so on.

As it was, I recently went through and reconsidered some things I've written over the years. Just stuff on one topic or person and decided to clean up what I could. It's back to what I wrote last night about opinions, I guess.

Around that time, I also did a large purge of those who I follow on Twitter. It was time to do away with some bad things.

I think what scares me the most is the humor, which I have dabbled in my whole life. I've loved laughing about anything and anyone -- my included. I fear we've lost that ability.

And we're no longer authentic.

You see, phoniness might be my least favorite trait in a person. I can't just pop over to their social media page and act like things are cool when I know they tried to do something bad to me or my loved ones. It's just not how I'm wired and I admire those who can put that aside, even if only for a moment.

So I tried to make this place real for whatever it was that I was thinking at that time. 

But, now, one has to be careful and truly sanitize so much or risk the outcome.

Trust me, I've thought about ending this effort many times, as recently as a week or two ago, because of something I wrote. I've also pondered deactivating accounts or just walking away for a stretch. Again, it's normally because of something else.

We shouldn't have to live in such fear and John shouldn't have to stop writing publicly but that's where we are in 2021, I guess. It's a shame.

Facts, opinions, and pizza

 

Sal's in Mamaroneck, NY (their photo...sadly, not mine)

One of the biggest factors dividing us in recent memory is the inability to understand opinion versus fact.

Tom Brady has won seven Super Bowls. That is a fact.

Tom Brady is not the GOAT. That is an opinion.

But we live in a world where I've read numerous times: "Tom Brady is the GOAT and if you don't agree, you're wrong."

Oh, really?

Yesterday, Dave Portnoy -- chief stooge of Barstool Sports* -- wrote the following: "Let me settle this once and for all.  The pizza capital of the United States is New Haven Ct.    Anybody who says otherwise is wrong."

We could start with his double space after periods, but let's not be that pedantic.

* Before I continue, I love what Portnoy is doing with restaurants and small businesses called The Barstool Fund. I also laugh at his pizza reviews.

But, come on.

You love New Haven pizza? Nice. It's good. I've had Pepe's. I enjoy it. My mother loved it. I know they have other pizzas in New Haven. I've had some of them. All good. Great, even.

Still, as I tweeted: "I love people who pull the "any other take is wrong" macho crap. My pizza capital is New York. You want to say it's New Haven? Have at it. But I've got 10 -- easily -- from Staten Island, Manhattan, Brooklyn, and even Westchester that I want before New Haven."

And I stand by that.

So, to put my pizza where my mouth is:

1) Sal's -- Mamaroneck, NY. Still my go-to and nothing has changed. It's been my favorite for roughly 30 years. After this one, there's no particular order and I know I'll actually forget a few.

2) Joe and Pat's -- Staten Island. Susan told me I'd be blown away. I was dubious. So, in 2014, I broadcast a football game coached by her brother and, to thank me, a party was held to feed me Joe and Pat's, which "had to be fresh," according to her mother. I was blown away. I've had it a few times since -- reheated, sadly, as I'm fairly convinced there's a "No Rob Adams" sign posted at all crossings onto Staten Island (save for that one trip on the ferry a few years ago before I quickly departed).

3) Dom and Vinny's -- Valhalla, NY. Another place that I've gone to for years. I went on my first day of Westchester Community College in 1987 and I've kept going. Two slices and a soda: $3.05. Prices have obviously changed but I still go when I'm in the area. 

4) Patsys -- Harlem. Wow. An old brick oven that has been on 1st Ave since 1933. Yes, please.

5) L&B Spumoni Gardens -- Gravesend, Brooklyn. I realize not everyone is into "square" or Sicilian pizza. At first, I get it occasionally, but I'll happily take some from Sal's to go along with a couple of traditional slices. However, I don't think I've ever had the round slices at L&B. Oh, no, this is all about the square pie. I don't really miss trekking into Brooklyn like I used to do, but my God I do miss L&B. It's mightily tempting to swing by and get some should I have the opportunity to go to MCU Park for Renegades/Cyclones. The sauce is on top of the cheese with some Pecorino-Romano sprinkled on top also. Incredible.

6) Peppino's Pizza -- Somers, NY. It's not the closest place to home for me but it's pretty close. Besides excellent pizza, I've had more than a few meals and sandwiches from there, including perhaps my favorite chicken parm dinner/wedge.

7) John's of Bleecker Street -- Manhattan. No slices, but still worth it. Another NYC institution.

8) Grimaldi's Pizzeria -- Brooklyn. Admittedly it's touristy and I had to stand on line to get in, but it was still a solid experience.

9) Muscoot Tavern -- Somers, NY. Tucked off to the side of what's known as "Whitehall Corners" (nobody calls it that anymore) at the confluence of New York Routes 35 and 100 is a roadhouse that dates back to before 1925. While I can speak to the clams casino and the Montauk fish soup as well as some of the Italian entrees, the star to me is the pizza (that, by the way, is an opinion). It teeters between being a bar pie and a parlor pie. It eats so well.

10) Dough Girls (pizza truck) -- located around Greenwich, CT. Besides the staff being so friendly, the pizza is great. It's personal-sized and made while you wait and right in front of your eyes with a variety of topping options.

I could add in Heights Pizza of Darien, CT and Mario's of Mahopac and more. Beyond that, trust me, the list can change (except for Sal's and probably Joe and Pat's).

Of course, Colony Pizza of Stamford and, yes, Pepe's.

Now, since I've thrown out these ten (and there are so many more), this doesn't mean I don't like the New Haven options. They're actually all quite good and even great. I've had great pizza all around the country and even the world. Yet there's this feeling that New Haven is the "little brother" of the pizza world that feels the need to kick up dirt every time this discussion comes up.

So, while "El Presidente" can try to tell us, "Anybody who says otherwise is wrong," it is he who is, in fact, quite wrong.

Opinions are just that: an opinion. I think Babe Ruth is the GOAT but that doesn't mean I'm right.

We'd be a heck of a lot better if we could just offer opinions and agree to disagree at times.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I need to get some pizza.

And that's a fact.

The picture say a lot

Photo by Chellise and Micahel Photography, Westerlo, NY, 8/21/20

Maybe I've posted this picture before. I honestly don't remember.

It was late in the afternoon of Friday, Aug 21, 2020.

We were at Meaghan and Eric's wedding and we needed to arrive before many of the guests because my mother was needed for pictures with the bride and groom. Sure, Sean and I were welcomed but we know Mom was the necessary star of the show. It's why we drove up a day early -- so she could be at the rehearsal dinner in Albany. I mean, all of us could be there and we were wanted there, but don't kid yourself. I knew the deal.

Anyway, earlier that day, there was some debate about taking an Uber to the wedding. Mostly, the debate came from me. I felt fine and knew I could be responsible.

"Look," Mom told me. "You can relax this way."

Others told me the windy roads of Albany County, NY might be troublesome if I were unfamiliar with them. And, as was being implied, what if I had imbibed a little?

So, they won. We had an incredibly cool Uber driver who picked us up at the Hampton Inn and allowed Mom to ride upfront with him.

"I'm really not supposed to do that," he said, alluding to social distancing, "but I don't see any harm."

In other words, Nancy Lee Adams was the belle of the ball (besides the bride, of course).

"Dat's what's up," he kept saying as he chatted our ears off.

Again, I'm sure I've told some of these stories, yet tonight, I don't care if I repeat them.

At the site of the wedding, in Westerlo, NY, things proceeded as scheduled. The ladies were being pampered and the men were doing whatever the men do, which no doubt included taking care of baby Carson, Meaghan and Eric's adorable son.

We pulled up and got out of the car. Our driver was leaving us to drive to Pittsfield, MA to pick up his child for the weekend.

"Dat's what's up."

The duo from Chellise and Micahel Photography were leading Eric and Meaghan around. I snagged a picture of them in a natural moment but didn't interrupt any of the proceedings.

Mindful of Mom, who was clearly tired after a week of dialysis (that Mon, Tue, and Thu before we left) along with the trip, we kept a watchful eye on her, finding her a chair to sit on as we moved to where the family pictures would take place.

Keep in mind Mom also had us take her to Target that morning so she could shop.

As she watched the pictures being taken, she eventually struck up a conversation with one of the photographers.

"Can I ask you a favor?" she asked. "Would you take a picture of me with my son and grandson? They're my partners in crime."

The photographers -- one with the professional camera and the other filming video -- were all too happy to oblige. Of course, they're business people and hope to make a sale, but they were also very charming and decent.

But, yes, they'd make a sale. It took me five months since the wedding -- and four months after Mom's passing -- to take my debit card out and buy two copies.

When I saw the proof of the picture back in the late fall, it was exactly what Mom wanted. There we are -- her chauffeur and his assistant. One who was slightly annoyed to not have a suit jacket with him after discovering his father did bring a jacket.

But Mom is in her glory and the smiles on all of our faces make it a special moment. I knew all along we'd buy a copy of that picture, but I didn't expect it to take on a whole new poignancy just two weeks later.

They arrived yesterday, and I saw the mailman step out of his van with a special package that he left at the garage door.

I brought them inside and, today, I went to Target where I picked up two frames -- one for Sean and one for me.

When Sean gets here on Friday, he'll find his simple white-framed copy hanging on a hook just inside the door of his bedroom. He can look at it every time he leaves the room and I hope it gives him a measure of peace and love and a reminder of what a strong relationship he had with his grandmother.

Mine is also hanging up and I'll see it whenever I'm in my bedroom.

In her own way, she can haunt me.

But, in this case, it will bring me a smile.

The picture, and her willingness to ask for it, was like a last gift; as if she wanted this to be the way to remember the special bond the three of us had, especially in the final decade of her life.

It wasn't always easy (it never is) but let's leave those stories for another time.

We'd enjoy ourselves that night with laughter and tears (I really missed my dad that night for some reason and I think I have insight onto why now) and a few beverages as well, thus making that Uber a wise call.

The next morning, I took Sean to his mother's house so he could get ready to start college and I took Mom to dialysis again.

As I told you, the events of Summer, 2000 -- Sean's graduation and the wedding -- were her goals.

Within two weeks she was gone.

And now we have a picture that speaks to the end of the days when we were her partners in crime.