Moments of peace among chaos

 

Greetings from the stadium.

The Dutch.

Dutchess Stadium.

We are 29 hours and 20 minutes away from first pitch as I type.

It was pretty quiet when I arrived, shortly after 11 a.m. There were people working but things were peaceful. I came straight to the booth. Thankfully, it was open. It's never fun to run around wondering if someone has a key.

I tried cleaning the windows. That didn't go so well. 

I cleaned the visiting radio booth too because I like it when I get that same treatment. But, sadly, that booth is also prime real estate for storage. So, for now, there's that.

Having called a few games from storage rooms, I get it.

There's still more I want to do. There are wires I want to cut and a table I want to move and yada yada yada. But it's come so far already. I've swept the booth -- my booth -- and the visiting booth. I wiped everything down. I labeled the mixer. I set and reset microphones.

I decided the Sennheiser headsets I found yesterday would do quite nicely. Plus I have to do minimal setup and breakdown every night.

I found President and G.M. Steve Gliner walking around. After wishing him a happy birthday, I asked him how he was. I knew the answer.

"Oh, you know," he said. "The day before Opening Day."

I did my podcast with Zach Neubauer. That one is a lot of fun because we're just two guys talking about the team.

People complain about the protocols in place. It's not our call. 

People grumble about the lighting of the podcast. Zach was able to fix that.

Tomorrow, I'll speak with Gades' manager Dan Fiorito for the first time. Zach had him on the phone and said he'd be on "Rob's Recap."

"That's the name of it," he said. "I just made that up. Rob is laughing because he wasn't consulted."

Left hand, meet right hand.

A staff member -- I've been trying to meet everyone but can't remember names -- is currently trying to clean up the entrance to the stadium with a blower. The goal is to repaint it before tomorrow night.

The batting eye in center field is also being painted.

I was able to have a few moments to myself. After talking to Steve Gliner, he got pulled in another direction which gave me a reason to take a walk. I soon found myself out near the clubhouse. The gate was open to the field, and I stood there, in the rightfield corner.

It might be the only time I step on the field all year.

The emotions -- the enormity -- began to hit me.

I visited my parents this morning. I was able to see the fresh engraving of my mother's information on their headstone.

Nancy Lee

1937-2020

I told them I really didn't know what to say, other than I wish they could be at the stadium tomorrow night or settled into the living room to watch it on MiLB.tv, assuming we could get it on their TV.

I hoped they were proud of me.

Then I drove to the stadium.

Where I was now walking diagonally from the right field corner. I passed second base, then third, then I stepped back into the stands to return to the booth.

Workers were on the field in the dugouts. They saw me but paid me no mind.

In the middle of the madness, here were my few minutes of zen.

Earlier in the day, I texted Susan and told her I was "grumpy and anxious."

I've had six days of listening to everyone else.

It's my turn.

It's our turn.