Storm Coverage

US Highway 51 is flooded near LaPlace, LA, on Monday morning Aug 30, 2021,
after Hurricane Ida came ashore on Sunday Aug 29, 2021
(Photo: Mickey Welsh, Montgomery Advertiser via USA TODAY Network)

 Katrina, Sandy, Harvey, Andrew...

Those aren't the members of ABBA. They're some of the stronger hurricanes (and "superstorms") in recent memory.

Now Ida becomes the fifth Beatle.

I've sat and watched or listened to coverage of these and many more, normally fascinated by everything but also horrified at the fury and the damage.

I admire the work of the journalists who are out there covering these events. Remember, they're not being forced to do what they do. Jim Cantore isn't that crazy.

I take it all in. There's often the one public official who rises above everyone else and becomes the face of it all. Need I remind you of Ray Nagin, the disgraced former mayor of New Orleans?

Tonight I find myself thinking about places like LaPlace and Houma and Lafitte.

And Grand Isle.

It took basically the perfect storm but Grand Isle, LA is currently inaccessible and considered uninhabitable. Reports say that 100% of structures there are either destroyed or damaged. 

Their Police Chief, Scooter Resweber, has become a minor sensation. In an interview on The Weather Channel on Sunday, Chief Resweber told Meteorologist Paul Goodlow that they couldn't hang in there for three or four more hours of the storm, despite being in the station that could absorb winds up to 200 miles per hour.

"We're watching the roofs peel off buildings next to us. The flooding is catastrophic," Resweber told The Weather Channel in a phone call. "We're in bad, dire shape."

Though it appears he and those still left on Grand Isle are ok, communications are cut off. The only way to reach the area is via air, as Weather Channel cameras did get there today. 

It's harrowing to watch though and I can't see where the reaction will be what it was for Katrina, for instance.

I doubt there will be a star-studded telethon. No chance for Kanye West to say that George Bush or anyone else doesn't care about Black people.

And, yes, Katrina was devastating. What it did to New Orleans was indescribable. The flooding. The desperation. The scenes at the Superdome and Convention Center. It was terrible.

But this storm is said to be every bit as bad.

If not worse.

I'm not trying to make any grand political statement here. I'm noting how much I've observed storms over the years, even remembering how I was ready for Hurricane Gloria in 1985. In the end, that didn't quite hurt us here that badly.

Of course, I can never forget the night of Sandy, as I anchored the coverage with Jim Campbell, Tony Savino, and Bob Small. I sat down in that chair at 3 p.m. to fill in on a show and, basically, didn't walk away until we lost power after 10:30. We just stayed, talked, reported, took calls, and kept going until the lights went out.

Then I slept on the floor of my office.

Total money made that night? $0.

I find it all fascinating.

Tonight I also find it sad for the good people of Louisiana as well as Mississippi, which was also impacted.

We get Ida's rain tomorrow and I suspect it will be heavy. I suspect our oversaturated ground will be in some danger and will keep an eye on things.

But it can't even compare to what's going on in Cajun country.

Amazin'

 

There's a stone tablet inside Stew Leonard's, the CT-based grocery empire/petting zoo. It reads:

"Rule 1: The customer is always right. Rule 2: If the customer is ever wrong, reread Rule 1."

I got a little overheated today.

I was getting revved up all day thinking about the utter idiocy of Javy Baez, Kevin Pillar, and Francisco Lindor, among others. Those three aren't big fans of Stew's mantra.

There seems to be a belief among some where athletes can fight back against booing and negativity.

Er...what?

While Marcus Stroman can have at it on Twitter it's generally bad form to flip people off in the stadium or, in the Mets' case, give thumbs down to fans when doing well as a way of telling the customers to eff off.

Customers. That's what fans are. We sometimes say, "The paid attendance is..." So, paid, as in paying customers.

And, while they're not truly, always "right," booing (which I find stupid) does seem to harmless and acceptable.

I think about representing the Renegades, WGCH, Local Live, etc. and, on occasion, I'm sure I drop the ball occasionally.

Still, the customer is right, whether we like it or not. It's good for business and teams tend to like having customers in the stadium.

And so, after reading one silly missive after another, the cork popped around 4:06 p.m. today.

Oh, it was cathartic. 

I emphatically pounded the folding table that I use as part of my desk at one point.

Obviously, I said what I said as I made my point about the utter ridiculousness of everything.

What probably set me over the edge was that playing of the race card. Literally, that's just lighting the fuse with me. It was so obviously going to happen.

So, my point continues to stand.

But...maybe the message could have been delivered differently.

Or maybe not.

This is the conundrum of it all.

The words that generally make me cringe are, "I saw/read/heard your show/blog/game" because I then tense up waiting for the punch line.

Sometimes it's positive. Sometimes it's awkward or critical.

Despite a few messages about how good it was, I'm still feeling awkward.

But I still hold true to my belief: Lindor, Baez, Pillar, etc would be well-served to find another way to project their disgust with fans.

Privately would be a wise way to go.

And I'll have a much calmer show tomorrow.

Kind of a long day

 

Carson and his "great" Uncle. Who isn't really great but he tries.

It's just past 11 p.m. on Sunday.

The Yankees have lost.

The Mets are imploding (despite the fact that they won also).

The Renegades won.

And I'm just...baffled.

Nothing worth getting into tonight but that's the word: baffled.

I'm astounded at how Mets fans (some of them) can actually defend Javy Baez but I suppose I'll save that for tomorrow at 4pm. That will give me a few hours to chew on it all.

And spare me comparing it to Jack McDowell, 1995. That just proves that they don't know 1) baseball history and 2) what they're talking about given McDowell got ripped, including by me.

No. The blog didn't exist then.

Instead, I find myself keeping an eye on the Weather Channel and Hurricane Ida coverage. I'm generally a sucker for this stuff.

Of course, my first thought is that everyone is OK. 

I had to laugh at people freaking out over Al Roker covering the storm. People, pay attention, please. Al Roker has mega power at NBC and isn't going to do the show if he doesn't want to do it. To that end, he wrote on social media that he volunteered for it along with thoughts on how he and his crew were safe.

Also, "for those who think I'm too old to be doing this, try and keep up."

So, like virtually everyone else, take the "L" and move along.

Beyond that, I'm going to say no more.

I seem to have a way of getting myself in trouble, even when I'm not trying.

On Being Fair

How great does that uniform look?

I have this sort of war going on. I read these things on Twitter (which I think I heard Sean call "The Devil's Kitchen" or something like that) and I find them utterly ridiculous.

I often respond, if indirectly (such as...this blog post!).

My current favorite is the clown (yes, I'll use that word) who obsesses over managers not managing in baseball. It's impressive how much he has killed the horse in that it's long past the glue factory. I'm further impressed that he's the angriest person I've found, surpassing our dear friend Kato (by far).

But what I'm often astounded at -- not by the aforementioned circus performer -- is just how biased some are. Oh, sure, people are fans and I get that but I really strive for fairness. Why is it so difficult to have some respect for other teams and players?

Now, before you come at me, yes I've definitely stirred the pot but the truth is I've written at length about the respect I have for real fans. I also -- and you can look it up! -- congratulate every opponent after my team gets bounced. Damn, it hurts, but it's only fair.

So it is tonight that I saw Jerry Koosman, a fine pitcher for the Mets, Twins, White Sox, and Phillies, got his number retired. I dig it. I do. "Koos" is easily in the top five of Mets pitching all-time and was the guy who wrapped up the '69 World Series.

Why not tip my cap?

Incidentally, I'll always hear Koosman's name in Bob Murphy's voice. "Jerry Kooooozmehn is on the mound for the Mets."

Nope. The antagonist in this journalism drama -- written by Stephen J. Cannell*, no doubt -- will never see any good outside of his or her own little lair.

*Should it be a Quinn Martin Production? (If you know, you know)

I respect greatness. I've told this story before but it's worth repeating. I went to a bunch of Rangers games years ago. The first time was a preseason game against the Devils. I mentioned that it was cool to be able to say I saw Martin Brodeur, the legendary goalie. I wasn't going to cheer for him. I didn't applaud when his name was mentioned.

But wow did I get grief for it from the person I went with.

I felt the same about seeing other great stars. I loved watching Roger Clemens pitch against the Yankees. I enjoyed seeing Barry Bonds in person -- striking out against Mariano Rivera. 

Even George Brett, forever my arch enemy, received my respect. These guys -- in Cooperstown or otherwise -- are the legends of the game.

Why act like a ten-year-old all the time, booing these greats? I just stay silent if I don't like them.

So I wholeheartedly congratulate Jerry Koosman on having his number retired. As I am a tough judge of retired numbers, I respect the job the Mets have done in not overdoing it. I know I'm already reading how people like Johnny "From Brooklyn" Franco should have his 45 retired, along with Tug McGraw.

Look, I loved Tug, but stop. You know Tug actually pitched longer with the Phillies, right? It's his joyous celebration of winning the World Series in 1980 that is iconic in the City of Brotherly Love.

Shall we retire former Greenwich High School pitching coach (and former Met) Craig Swan while we're at it?

People just want to give out retired numbers and Hall of Fame plaques with little thought. Everybody gets a trophy!

(These are the same people who think Harold Baines should be in the Hall. Yikes.)

I respect the Mets and actually have long-lamented how the Yankees, Celtics, and others have gone to extremes. 

When -- I ask you! -- will Dooley Womack get his number 58 retired? Monument Park won't be right until then!

I've never even advocated for Bobby Murcer (whose number one is more deserved than Billy Martin, for what it's worth).

So there you go. I give the Mets and others plenty of credit where credit is due. Yet that's something I'm always having to fight.

It just doesn't seem...er...fair.

FREE AGENCY ANNOUNCEMENT

Rob Adams (right) and Chris Erway have been a part of
Greenwich football broadcasts on WGCH for over a decade.

From: SEE Agency (Scully/Emrick/Enberg)                                           

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

P R E S S  R E L E A S E 

Broadcaster Rob Adams announces he is available and open to opportunities

Rob Adams, known to many as the "voice" of Greenwich High School Football since 1999, is announcing he is a free agent today.

"It has been brought to my attention that, as of right now, WGCH Radio will not be broadcasting Cardinals football in 2021, as we have since 1964," Adams said. "While saddened, I understand the economic reality of the situation. I hope we can resolve this but, at least in the interim, I have to look into what's best for me, my son, my cat, and my audience."

Adams -- also considered the lead broadcaster for Brunswick School sports by many, as well as the "voice" of Hudson Valley Renegades baseball, will entertain offers at this time. No word yet on the status of his longtime football broadcast partner, Chris Erway.

#SEE#

Obviously, I don't have an agent nor is there an agency making statements about me, though I'd certainly like one named after the GOATS. Basically everything else in that "press release" is accurate. I hinted at this a few weeks back and, unfortunately, nothing has changed.

I write this with no malice for WGCH as my love (and occasional frustration) for the place I've called home since 1997 remains strong. Certainly, I'm disappointed and concerned but I also know it's nothing personal. There's always a chance that WGCH could put the pieces together to make it all work and get me on the air calling games eventually.

I'm heartbroken how the sports department I helmed that once did over 100 games a year has dwindled to, literally, nothing. The Red Sox, UConn, Fairfield University and Hofstra University had, at one time or another, become more important. Even the Bridgeport Bluefish at one point. 

But, staying on point, I don't know if I could do the first couple of Greenwich football games other than to help set up equipment and maybe say hello due to the Renegades. I've tried to map that out and even draw up substitute broadcasters if WGCH gets whatever is needed.

After that, there are plenty of scenarios. Barring anything strange (and assuming they want me), I should be set to return to Brunswick and call their football games if I can make it. I'm hoping they'll have space for me on other fall sports as well but those are conversations we need to have.

As for GHS, I can tell you I've talked to someone about other options. Could GHS move to Robcasting, even on a smaller basis? Sure. I'm solid for the last six games of the season (and maybe more) as well as the playoffs but there are definitely moving parts for me at the moment.

So with this open canvas...

Do I create a Robcasting Game of the Week?

Join Jeff Alterman on Trumbull High School games?

Do Mahopac (probably the least likely, unfortunately)?

Work something out with Local Live for something else?

Create a new opportunity somewhere else?

Or do I just stay home?

The truth is I'm a working reporter and broadcaster. That's where I belong. I should be calling games. I'd like to think I belong on all calls. Championship calls. Any call. So I'd like to believe I'm wanted somewhere and that's what I've always said. I want to be where I'm wanted. That's important.

I'd prefer to have my dance card fairly full with at least one football game per week if not two. As it is, dear friends AJ and Victoria are getting married in October and I plan to call Brunswick and then fly (via car) to the hotel that Saturday for their wedding on Sunday. That's just how I roll.

Any of these options (and others) are in play. It's a strange, sad, unique, exciting time. I'd prefer to not work for free, no question. I'll also be busy doing video depos once again for Craig and Dan, who'd like to have me back now.

So let's sum up:

- Greenwich football will likely not air on WGCH Radio. To my knowledge, it will air on Local Live but, I'm not sure I'm their broadcaster.

- I'm not necessarily done with Greenwich.

- Brunswick hopefully wants me.

- Maybe Greenwich wants me. Hopefully.

- I'm a somewhat open slate right now. (NOTHING IS FIRM YET)

There are only two weeks until the first Greenwich game. As it is, I probably can't broadcast it. Same with week two.

So how does this play out?

Time will tell.

McCartney 3, 2, 1

 

Rick Rubin and some other guy

I prepared myself for a documentary on Hulu called "McCartney 3, 2, 1." The six-part show features Sir J. Paul McCartney (you might have heard of him) and producer Rick Rubin, essentially, talking music in a studio.

Tonight, with some time on my hands, after nearly collapsing from mowing the lawn in the late August heat, I took the plunge on a free subscription to Hulu (and be prepared to for more of the same when Peter' Jackson's "Get Back" comes out later this year on Disney+).

The reviews have been great. The promo and trailer appealed to me.

Once upon a time, I co-hosted a show with my friend Craig Jones called "In Greenwich" on WGCH. Craig would invite musicians on occasionally and would, by his own admission, have basic questions for the artists. I'd stroll in and climb into breaking things down. People swore I was a musician.

In truth, as much as I'd like to be, I'm very much not. I can't read it. I can't write it (save for poems that can be set to music in my mind). I can barely even sing it.

For the record, Paul McCartney really can't read music either. Yes. That is true.

So, upon hitting "play" I began an epic journey into the studio. One that -- two episodes in (out of six) -- has scrambled my brain.

Rubin, for his part, is the perfect person for this. While so renowned for his work with hip hop, co-founding the legendary Def Jam label, the man knows his stuff and is a savant on The Beatles and McCartney. In short, I respect that he's no one-trick pony.

Of course, he does have rock bona fides and I'm not trying to say otherwise. That's all part of what I really like about him and why he's outstanding in this series.

But to watch Paul-freaking-McCartney listening to his own music, singing along with it, marveling at some of it, and sometimes rediscovering how brilliant it was is, dare I say, awesome.

If you don't really know Paul (I don't but I've obviously studied him intensely) then sometimes his cheeky ways can be offputting. You can easily think he's obnoxious. I find it to be his own confidence being strong coupled with six decades of being told he's the GOAT. I only wish I could ever feel that.

"That's lovely, he says modestly," he says at one point. But even he discovers that magic of his music years later.

Listening to him talk of John and George and Ringo so lovingly is past beautiful. The anger and hurt of a chunk of the 70s are long gone. He gives each "brother" the respect and love they deserve. Given how it ended, hearing him talk about John can certainly be an emotional ride.

Watching old footage of John hamming it up on a TV appearance while Paul earnestly sings his lead vocal is endearing.

"John had a chip on his shoulder. Which was beautiful."

Cue the lump in the throat. 

Yet we're the ones with strong reactions. McCartney, as always, has the Liverpudlian stiff upper lip of a true scouser. You never see or hear the sadness of him being around without "mother" Mary (his mother, honored in "Let it Be") or his father or John or George or Linda.

If anything, he exalts at the sounds coming from the studio monitors, enjoying what he and his mates have created. There's a bit of a "We did that" attitude to an often astounded Rubin, laughing as if maybe he's amazed.

The whole thing is a roller coaster. When Rubin steps to the always-present mixing deck in the room and launches "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band," well, I'm probably happy to be watching it alone because I probably embarrassed myself by fully rocking out. 

Honestly, there are very few people I would want to watch this with for my first time (a few for sure).

A little side note. I often reset speakers and equipment (I've mentioned that before). My go-to song to make sure everything is set to my liking? "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" every time because of the mixing. If I can't hear the vocal or a guitar part in one ear then I know I've got it wrong.

They just began discussing the opening note of "A Hard Day's Night" and how they adjusted the tape speed for the guitar solo and I think I might pass out.

And really listen to "Another Girl" (from "Help") and you'll clearly hear the country (and Western) influence especially after watching this.

I'm trying otherwise to not give too much away.

The series also delves into Macca's solo and Wings work, from truly lesser-known pieces like "Waterfalls" to "Band on the Run" and "Live and Let Die."

It's literally all over the map through nearly 60 years of music. Incredible music.

My mind is exploding.

You'll no doubt know some of the stories, such as retelling the tale that "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" had nothing to do with LSD but was based on Julian Lennon bringing a drawing home of his friend Lucy sort of floating among stars. Still, it's always great to hear.

Anyone who gets so personally involved with music (or anything) can appreciate the emotions that pour out in this. From a personal standpoint, I'm a wee lad again, singing the "woos!" in my sister's bedroom or just glancing back on what I thought was a normal family upbringing.

Sadly so much of that is gone, especially since losing Mom.

I get it. You think the lads are overrated. You think McCartney is a snarky git. Whatever the case.

This is music history.

This is stunning television.

Maybe you'll respect the music more after it's done or become interested in listening to it more. Maybe you'll hate it more than you previously did.

Whatever the case I can't recommend it enough.

The necessities of the booth

 

Currently, everything I need to call a game fits in there. 

Normally around this time of year, I begin thinking about opening up the equipment bags and getting ready for football season. I've used the equipment a lot more in the summer the last few years, especially last summer when I was handling faux-American Legion games and Little League games.

You know, COVID games.

In other years, August had been fairly quiet for games. This year, of course, is not like that, given I have a schedule that keeps me buzzing with the Gades.

Still, I decided it was time to look things over (and I'll likely do so again soon). Armed with a new adidas duffle bag I got at Marshall's today, I began checking things to see what HAS* to go into a stadium with me.

*The thing is, what has to go can be somewhat negligible. For instance, there's already a mixer and headsets that I leave at Dutchess Stadium. There's also a headphone amp and mics and so on. That will (likely) get broken down in September but we haven't crossed that bridge yet (though I'd love to leave most of it intact and visit it during the offseason!).

But, OK, without being pedantic, what does one really need? 

- Mixer. It starts with a mixer, in my opinion, because even if you're going straight into a computer, you need to somehow mix multiple sounds together. It's just a question of which mixer. Lately, I'm all about my Zoom PodTrak P4, which allows me at least two mic inputs, a phone input (or another mic), and a computer connection (or still another mic). Plus it's really small. A backup mixer can come into play to expand the setup or I can go to a bigger mixer as needed.

- Headsets. This helps in terms of how many inputs you need on the mixer. Four mic inputs is always a nice sweet spot but you can always go with more. Still, my way of thinking is there's one for me (or whoever the lead broadcaster is), one for the lead analyst, and then input for a handheld crowd mic. From there, add as needed. Of course, given I've come to "Scully" so many games (work alone) I often need fewer inputs. At Dutchess Stadium, I have me, a second headset (if necessary), a handheld crowd mic, and a "shotgun" mic for the crack of the bat. I bring an extra headset in just in case (such as when Mark Jeffers and Dave Torromeo visited).

Storing the mixer and headsets is always a headache. To put them into a better case creates more to carry so that's also a consideration in all of this. Crushing either one can obviously damage them.

- Microphones. I sort of broke that down above. I try to carry two handheld mics. While I'd love to own a shotgun mic, I normally rely on trusty Shure mics and the like. Basically, just quality handheld vocal mics that will hopefully catch the buzz of the crowd. It's not perfect but it's fairly affordable.

- Cables. Can't have mics without them (unless they're wireless). So I try to carry a couple of different lengths. Maybe three. If necessary, I have extras that I keep in my car.

- A headphone amp. While my Zoom PodTrak P4 has headphone inputs I still like having an amp available. My preference is one that has both 1/4 inch and 3.5mm inputs but that's not always easy to have. I have an amp from Behringer that has 1/4 inputs and that works nicely.

- An extension cord. I keep a few available in case I have to string them together to reach an outlet but I normally keep one in the bag. I also have a long run of cord for certain situations (such as being 50-100 feet from where I'm calling the game). Don't laugh. It's all happened. However, I've also gotten better at certain circumstances where I can run off battery or computer battery. That is definitely not ideal.

- A power strip. Sean and I still laugh about an old HAN Network story where we couldn't find any power stripes in Cooperstown back in 2015. He wasn't even there but I guess the way I told the story brought it into being its own meme. "Everyone STOP. Where are the power strips?" Anyway, one that allows for several inputs is nice. Again, just if necessary.

- Tape. Preferably some kind of a "gray" or "gaffers" tape but also painter's tape is good for hanging notes.

- Now, how do you get all of this to the outlet broadcasting the game? Well if I'm putting it on Robcasting then I need a USB cable to go from the mixer to the computer. However sometimes it's not that simple, so I have a converter that will take audio from the mixer and convert it to USB as needed. In other cases, I need a 1/4 inch cable to convert over to XLR (mic cable) with a male end. Or it might need to be 3/5mm to XLR male.

What I'm saying here is I have a collection of various cables and adaptors, which is where I tend to become "MacGyver" with my ability to (hopefully) make sure the show still goes off without a hitch.

I'm sure I should probably give you even more detail than I have already but I'm hoping you get the idea. Sure, I can walk in with minimal items and make it work but I like to have a bit more in my bag of tricks (#Preparation, amirite?). Yet that being said, I've really tried to back down on just how much I carry due to it not truly being necessary. I've hurt my back enough dragging so much into various facilities.

It's nice -- especially with Local Live -- to make sure I have the right mixer, headset, and adaptors to do a minimal setup for the ease of everything. Yet, given how I am, you can probably see why I like to do my own setup and breakdown. It's a time of peace for me and I've gotten pretty proficient at wrapping up and getting out of the facility. I know where everything goes.

It's from this point that the kit can expand. For instance, what about the weather? To that end, I keep a few towels in the bag for spills and anything else. Those also come in handy when it's super hot and I'm roasting. I mop my face with them. Additionally, I've added a small tarp for when I need coverage. Now that's not as necessary if I'm using my pod or if I'm indoors. Also, I can utilize my Pelican case as necessary. But those are all considerations.

Of course, there are also banners if I'm hanging one for either WGCH or Robcasting or someone else. But now we're expanding the limits of what we need.

So what did I miss? There's probably something I forgot to mention or perhaps you have a better idea. I'm always looking to get better at this but, at the same time, I like my system also. Still, my system constantly evolves and I guarantee I will unpack and examine it all next month when baseball season is over.

Cruel Lessons

 

The sports business is cruel.

It's a tough lesson to learn but it's quite real.

My world, traditionally, is the high school sports world, littered with some college and professional work. Of course, there are also youth sports sprinkled in there as well.

In that world, the worst I deal with are obnoxious parents and grumpy coaches, and some over-the-top media types. It's a strange land in and of itself but I'm used to it.

Of course, I'm spending my first full season (60 home games and one road game) in minor league baseball. I've seen two players that I have liked get traded and head to different horizons. Ezequiel Duran is in the same league as the Renegades but is with the Hickory Crawdads.

Josh Smith was in Hickory but has been moved up to the Frisco RoughRiders.

The game moves on.

But we were dealt another blow today with the announcement that Kyle MacDonald -- one of the most popular players on the team -- had been released from his contract.

That, if you don't know, means he's no longer with the Renegades. He's no longer with the Yankees. 

His number 28 is available. His locker has been cleaned out. He might be heading back to Canada if he can to be with his family or he'll go somewhere else.

But he's not here.

It wasn't like this in the New York-Penn League days. There was very little movement for 76 games. A player might arrive or depart.

I've changed the roster too many times to count (though I know someone has). I've changed it for players coming and going and for numbers changing and other things. I've changed it a few times in a day. 

I see things on Twitter and prepare myself. Nothing is official until I hear it from the Yankees (my God but that's cool to say).

I've had to outright remove players and put them on a tab I created called "REMOVED PLAYERS." That's where Oswald Peraza, Duran, Smith, Josh Breaux, and even Luis Severino all reside. My thinking was that they might come back and a simple cut and paste will do the job.

It's also where Isaiah Pasteur went when he was released.

Today, I added Kyle MacDonald.

Kyle just had that thing. He got it. He played hard and had a good sense of humor about it all. Plus he was incredibly approachable. When Talkin' Jake and Jomboy visited to shoot their video, Kyle volunteered to be a part of the Blitzball game. He was the perfect person for that day. 

He was easy to root for.

When we visited Brooklyn last month, we stepped down to the field to watch batting practice. Nobody had to pay any attention to us, but Kyle not only said hello but he thanked us for being there.

When he came on "Rob's Roundup" he knew the drill. He handled the questions from me and laughed when I referred to him as a pitcher (he pitched two-thirds of an inning in a blowout loss the night of the Smith/Duran trade).

He told me after we recorded that it was his grandmother's birthday and everyone would be watching back home near Toronto. That was all I needed to hear.

He got an RBI single after I talked about his family. 

Kyle was hitting .266 with four homers and 25 RBIs when he was released. Perhaps there were other numbers that didn't appeal to the Yankees. Honestly, I don't know.

I just know what I read in the email.

I texted Sean. He had come to view Kyle and Derek Craft as probably his two favorite players because he had the most interaction with them. Sean sees all of this through the eyes of them being people, as opposed to ballplayers.

Sadly, it's still a business. A cruel business.

What's next for Kyle? I don't remotely know. We follow each other on Twitter but I don't know if we'll ever speak again.

But, man, when I look back in this wild, wacky, wonderful first year of being the Renegades broadcaster, I'll remember Kyle MacDonald.

I'll remember that night he made everyone relax a little with his bat and his arm. I called him "Shohei MacDonald" on the air.

It's a business and, hopefully, he'll latch on somewhere else. Or he'll do something else and be great.

Either way, it's a business. 

That doesn't mean I have to like it.

You don't know me

 

The only things I see today that are bitter

I read the tweets today, oh boy.

Quite the world we live in. Just constant virtiol.

I'd love more kindness.

I had to laugh at some of what I was reading -- not just on Twitter but elsewhere. It just feels like all we want to do is fight.

I could literally say, "That blue shirt isn't my style but I hope it does well," and have people screaming, "HE HATES THE BLUE SHIRT."

It's the dumbest example but it works for me.

And, thus, I mostly shut up more than you realize. You try to say something fair and supportive and still get excoriated.

I keep reading tweets about "bitterness" over last night's ESPN broadcast. Funny thing is, I've seen 99% positive remarks. In fact, I just tweeted my own congratulations. 

I'd like to see opportunities like this go to all who deserve it, including those who might not be able to afford it, but that's for another time.

But I like seeing people make it -- especially people I know. I want them to succeed. I like seeing those who have worked their tails off and deserve opportunities have those doors open. I detest entitlement and disrespect. 

Earning my wrath is achieved when you're obnoxious and disrespect this business, especially when you make it all about you.

Otherwise, count me in the "I knew them when" department. It's part of why I teach and pay it forward. Ask around. Start with Matt Hamilton or Jake Zimmer of Dan Gardella. Keep asking. There are others. Others who have basically broken themselves to go to CSB who send me audio and ask for advice and I literally never say no.

It's why I shout out a lot of people, such as Colby Smith, a young broadcaster from Oneonta, NY who I mentioned the other night.

It's why I push for my friends to work with me in the booth, even if it's not going to work out with the Gades this year (though it's not too late).

I love teaching this stuff. I love passing stories and knowledge along. It's 31 years of chaos for me on Sept 2.

It's amazing how people think they have you -- me -- figured out. The truth is, I'm not difficult if you get sort of past my walls. At least I don't think I am. 

Try getting to know me. Understand me. Then? Have at it.

But when I read such passive-aggressive things, well, then it's obvious to me that it's not me.

It's you.

*****

Twelve years ago the world met a little boy named Gabriel. We lost him not long after he arrived and the pain is more palpable now than it was then. He was the son of my niece and her husband. I was in shock. I honestly couldn't process it.  I still can't. 

I hope he's smiling and playing somewhere.

Be kind to each other, at least for Gabriel.

It's worth it

 

Rascal stands at attention as "Taps" is played following the game

Let me cut to the chase: last night was great.

Like, simply put, wonderful. Was it a broadcast I want to go to a Hall of Fame? No, of course not. Of course, I questioned myself for getting hyped up on a grand slam in the first inning but when you consider James Nelson hadn't gotten a big hit in a while and the Gades were down 4-0 already?

Yeah. I can justify it. It turned the entire game.

But it was more than the game.

Last night was about veterans, as the Renegades donned special uniforms that were auctioned after the game was over.

I was actually tempted to pursue getting one but, ultimately, I'm glad I didn't as the prices got a little too high for my taste. The one jersey that I thought that would fit -- that of closer Derek Craft (whom I've gotten to know) -- was too expensive. I also heard he was pursuing getting it himself as he has family members in the military.

But watching the parade of motorcycles on the field and the first pitch ceremonies and the smiles on everyone's faces brought me a lot of joy.

In those times it's easy to forget the behind-the-scenes work and the grind of the pregame things. At that point, the technical issues become a small but frustrating part of all of the joy that goes into what I do.

All I saw was happiness everywhere. This is a week in which my child high-fived me -- TWICE -- once when I told him the Yankees had won and once because he loved my call of Anthony Volpe's home run call on Thursday night. Exactly who is this guy?

Derek Craft warms up before the ninth inning

The night ended with Derek Craft -- who told me he hoped he would pitch last night -- closing out the Brooklyn Cyclones in the ninth for the save in a 6-4 win. "Big D" gave his trademark salute, fittingly, after the final out.

It also meant that the homestand was over because the team announced that today's game was postponed due to the hurricane/tropical storm that was on the way to the northeast. Specifically, we knew there would be too much rain to play so the decision became a no-brainer. It will be made up as part of a doubleheader on Sep 8.

It also dawned on me that with this homestand coming to a close that there are only 13 home games left -- with 12 actual home dates (the doubleheader counting as one). Barring a trip to the championship, this wild first season is winding down.

I drove home and found myself thinking not about the storm but about how lucky I was to be enjoying this summer of baseball with family and friends. I was also grateful for the opportunity to thank veterans -- including my dad, uncles, cousins, and friends (including Susan's dad) -- who have protected this country.

The Gades are off to North Carolina for two weeks before the final homestand begins on Sep 7.

The calm...

 

I'm sitting at home and have just finished some game prep.

I wish I could tell you that involves actually researching players and storylines, etc. It actually includes creating stat packs and writing three versions of the game lineup along with doing a few things around the house (I just did the dishes, for instance). The rest of it is done on the fly and I make it work.

This is why I laugh at those who spend hours on prep and fancy charts and graphs. I admire what you do but my current life doesn't allow for it.

Now, I'm getting ready to leave.

To add to the fun of a Saturday, I'm preparing for hurricane/tropical storm/superstorm/rain and wind event Henri to visit tonight into tomorrow.

I'll likely be riding this one out alone and Sean went to his other home. He believes both houses are "home," especially now that he's literally splitting time between both and actually spends a little more here.

But I'm checking on batteries and charging devices and checking any points in the house that might flood and ensuring there's enough to eat or drink.

I'm a little off on that last point but I fear we're going to have to keep our fingers crossed. I have food for Mr. Rascal and there's enough around here for me (I think). The grill can be used for hot dogs, for instance, should we lose power.

We'll figure it out from there.

We've dealt with a few fun storms over the years which I've writing about on this very corner of Interweb City. The experience of Superstorm Sandy can never be forgotten and is a story I always tell when teaching.

As I have no illusion of baseball tomorrow (not that I have any inside knowledge), I'm loaded up with things to watch, listen to, and do if we still have power.

If we don't? Well I have books to read and so on.

Remembering last year's tropical storm that knocked power out, we'll see if there's a post going online.

So we'll make the best of it. We're all in this together around the Tri-State Area.

Stay dry and safe.

Go home, Rob

 

Anthony Volpe hit a game-winning home run last night

It's near 11 p.m. on a Friday night and I'm still in Dutchess Stadium.

The smoke from the fireworks show has cleared and I should leave but there are posts to be written (Hi!) and I'm trying to get them done.

If you haven't glanced at the weather please do so...like, now. A hurricane/tropical storm/rain and wind event is approaching for tomorrow night into Sunday.

I would say Sunday's game doesn't look very good. Tomorrow's, on the other hand, looks OK. That's good because the Renegades are honoring veterans and it will be a nice night here. Plus the team will wear special jerseys that will be auctioned off (visit hvrenegades.com for more info).

But Sunday? No. I deeply doubt it. Raining dogs and cats and all.

So on a night in which a run was scored due to a ball lodging in catchers equipment and home plate and two ejections and a bad call at second base that, literally, the whole stadium and people watching online could see, I need to just wrap things up and go home.

Sean has already left.

It's time for me to do the same.

I've been at it since 7am when I got ready to go teach at CSB, then I stopped for lunch (that's the picture above).

Time to wrap it up.

See you tomorrow.

Waking up to an alert

 

Last night's game was brutal.

The broadcast was 4:30 minutes total for an 11-7 win by the Cyclones that just dragged along.

So, by the time Sean and I left the stadium, stopped to pick him up orange juice, and stumbled into meet Rascal the cat, it was heading for 12:30 a.m. Now add in the time to decompress and write and post a game story, and we've soared past 1 a.m.

So it was that my brain exploded at the sound of a shrill alarm emanating from my phone around 4:45. It was a tornado warning!

A twistah! It's a twistah!

I sat in bed. I looked at Rascal.

"Well," I said. "What now?"

Oh, I know I could have moved to the bathtub or gone downstairs. While we don't get that many tornadoes around here, I knew the drill. I listened in the early morning air as the fans whirred in my room. 

I also considered Sean, who was no doubt passed out. I used to sleep like a rock also. Used to.

So I stayed in bed and monitored things. I listened as the rain intensely fell outside. Then -- right around 5:15 -- it let up.

That's when the warning expired.

There was no need to call Auntie Em. No cows flying across the road.

No tornado. No yellow brick road.

I was able to curl up and sleep again for a few more hours.

*****

The first of the Jake and Jomboy videos hit yesterday. In what was a bad move, I read the comments that poured in and thought one of them could have been a shot at me (about an annoying voice).

Actually, in the end, I don't think it was but either way I had fun with it. I expected something to be said and I know it's the nature of the beast. I was scolded for reading the comments but I really didn't mind. In fact, I interacted with a few of the commenters and got some nice compliments.

It was all in good fun for me. I expected something mean -- it's bound to happen -- but otherwise, I enjoyed reading it.

Keep in mind this was a gig in which I was told to go call a "Blitzball" game and those on the field would keep me updated where rules interpretations and other things were necessary. It was, frankly, hard to keep track of, but Tom Prizeman's editing was also huge in the video itself.

I was also told to stay, essentially, a professional broadcaster (meaning, don't do what I normally do). So I did and the response seems good so far.

It was fun and there's more to come out from Jomboy Media (and JM Baseball).

Great stuff.

If George were alive...

 

**Please note this post is not meant to criticize the New York Mets or their fans. It's to question the tweet of Steve Cohen and wonder how the late George Steinbrenner would react. I won't be taking questions at this time. Thank you for your consideration.**

So "Uncle" Steve Cohen, owner of the New York Metropolitans (don't call them the "Metsies"...they're sensitive) popped off on Twitter regarding his flailing ballclub.

Look, I said all along that the Mets were a good team and there's no way they should be this bad. They've fallen to one under .500, have lost five in a row, and are 4.5 games behind Atlanta in the NL East.

But, ahem, that's baseball, Suzyn.

Yes, Jacob deGrom has been out for some time. OK and it's devastating to lose him.

But it's not like this team is bogged down with injuries otherwise.

The one thing I'll grant the Mets is that they've been up against the Giants and Dodgers recently and both teams have well over 70 wins as we sit in mid-August. They're quite good.

Still, what's troubling is how lifeless the Mets look (OK, that's criticism of the Mets). That will earn the ire of an invested owner every time. I respect his passion.

So the question many have is: "How would George Steinbrenner react?"

George would have flipped. It's that simple.

Do I think George would have had Twitter? I actually don't. I think he would have continued to go through the media, as he always did. He'd utilize social media that way. Maybe -- perhaps -- you'd see his "missives" through the team account but I think he would have avoided his own account.

Oh, but he'd flip. 

Look, I never loved him ripping the team, most famously Dave Winfield and the "Mr. May" remark. But it was more than Winfield. He went off on many players and managers and the whole team. Remember his apology for the performance in the '81 World Series?

From 1988: "People want to blame guys on the bench, but don't blame them," Steinbrenner told Newsday. "It's the guys making big money that have to produce."

He criticized Derek Jeter. In 2002. Read that sentence again. That was after four World Championships.

It was all embarrassing.

So, do I enjoy what Steve Cohen is doing? Meh. I appreciate the passion. I certainly don't want the "rah rah" that I've seen from Pete Alonzo either. I think there's a difference between, "Hey, we'll lace 'em up tomorrow and try it again then" and "We're fine! Just fine!"

As in this: "It’s frustrating for us, but just understand that we’re here together. We’re all in this together, and we got this. Just smile and just know that we got this.”

Er... "we got this?"

No, Pete, you don't "got this." That means all is well. You want to say you guys are scuffling and you're confident in your teammates? Cool. Do that. A leader does that.

But as for George? I found many of his antics embarrassing. Sure, I wanted the Yankees to win. I loved that the mission was a dogpile every October and anything else was a failure. No, it wasn't enough to make the playoffs or the World Series. It was to win and there was a lot of that, especially after George was pushed a bit to the background.

Remember the days of George's "baseball people?" Sigh...yeah. It took getting those "people" out of the way and leaving it to Stick Michael and Buck Showalter and Bob Watson and, eventually, Brian Cashman to rebuild the culture.

Then came the '94 run that ended with the strike. Then the '95 Wild Card. Then the nirvana of '96.

And five titles until 2009.

But nothing since.

George would be anything but happy.

My guess is social media wouldn't have been his approach personally but the message would have gotten out regardless.

I appreciate Steve Cohen blowing off the steam but, in the long run, in a time of hypersensitive athletes, this wasn't the best approach.

It just created more of an issue.

I'm content to watch from afar with a bucket of popcorn.

(And I'd still put George Steinbrenner in the Hall of Fame)

Crystal clear after 15 years

 

Apparently, crystal is the gift for a 15th anniversary, though I guess that's really for marriages.

If I'm married to this blog then I suppose that counts.

Oh, we've had our disagreements. There were the stretches in which we barely spoke to each other. It was like we'd grown sick of each other.

"Write more," the blog would say.

"I'd like to!"

"Well then do it! Try a post per day!"

If I recall, that conversation was probably back around 2011 or so and it didn't go well. We drifted further apart.

By 2018 I took one last swipe, writing two posts to end the year. Then came John Nash and his post-per-day.

It was like the blog and I had gone to therapy and we've never left. 

I struggle on a daily basis with this. I got into blogging because writing intrigued me. I had that voice in my brain for years telling me that I was a writer, all the way back to that professor in college. The blog would give me an avenue to jot thoughts down. Friends started their own, which was enough to get me to jump in, but only if I would truly commit to it.

Damn me and my commitments. My failed podcast still bugs me but I had to back off of some of the myriad (unpaid) things that I do.

Still, the blog opened doors and friendships. It's allowed me to tell stories and peel layers that haven't been exposed. Good, yes, but also bad. Wounds for sure.

All 3,310 posts are still online so no need to go back here. You can look it up. There are four drafts that sit in a folder and might never see the light of day. A few things -- some other drafts -- have been deleted. Otherwise, the wounds are there to be found.

If you were to review it all you'd see a person who has changed a bit in 15 years. I believe that. I know I've grown over the years and am mighty proud of it. That's something about our world that we don't give enough credit for. People can grow. They can "do better."

But I also decided many fights weren't worth fighting. I decided that I'd just keep many thoughts to myself due to our inability to have civil conversations.

Hell, just look at last week when I opened that "Field of Dreams" topic. That was personal for me and I decided to let you in. Some got it. Some didn't. Some took offense. Nature of the beast but it still had me thinking, "Why do I bother?"

Not that I've changed my opinion from that post or the defense of Joe Buck for that matter. 

There are no "rules." There is no "home office" that needs to rubber stamp said rules and opinions. I offer thoughts. You respond...or not. From there it can be a (hopefully) respectful debate.

Still, that's veering into a negative category and I'd rather reflect more positively today. Whether you've liked the posts or not wasn't necessarily the point. It was to get you to read and, maybe, think. Maybe it could inspire you to be better or do something or consider your own lot in life.

Or maybe it was just useless entertainment.

So why do I bother? That's a complex answer. It's habit and commitment and sometimes the desire to just write things down and hope there's an audience and often a need to just scream and hope nobody cares (re: "Field of Dreams").

There are also too many times when I just think about stopping. Maybe the views are low and it seems useless or the comments just aren't right or I'm just tapped out.

And yet I'm still here.

Fifteen years ago, shovels were put in the dirt at the corner of River and 161st to create a "new" Yankee Stadium and I was horrified. That was not long after I put "steelyankee.blogspot.com" together as the address for this endeavor. it was also after agonizing over what to call it. I realize it was the perfect name, reflecting the number that I've been identified with and the roads that have been part of my life. It was the perfect -- ahem -- marriage.

And so we sit here after 15 years of "Exit 55." Am I a better writer? I don't think so, actually. But I'm a better person. At least I'd like to think that.

When will the end come? There's no need to quantify that. Writers -- if I dare call myself that -- can write until they've lost that ability. For me, I tell stories and I often think that gets missed. It's the link between my play-by-play and writing. Sometimes those stories have opinions but they're never absolute and I think that's the thing that makes my blood run the angriest.

Babe Ruth is the GOAT to me. So is Jim Brown. Michael Jordan. The Beatles. Vin. These are opinions -- neither right nor wrong.

But we all agree Maroon 5 still sucks (you're welcome, John).

In the end, I often think that, as much as I'm a storyteller, I'm often an explainer, so it's easy to see why I've had to interpret some of these 3,300 posts.

And I guess we'll be interpreting for a while longer, as the 16th year of this gets underway.

By the way, next year's gift is wax.

In today's email

 

I'm trying to figure out how to tell you what I read today in an email without actually telling you.

Could I tell you to message me and I'll tell you privately? Sure, I could do that.

Could I just say what I read? Yeah, that also.

Let's say -- just suppose -- I've done something every year since 1999.

Specifically, almost religiously, every fall since September of 2000.

Last year is too hard to explain so let's not go there.

But let's say that, as of right now, it's not happening.

Have you figured it out yet?

It's something that I've thrown heart and soul into from essentially late August until early December some years. And I've very much been the "voice" of it.

But the outlet -- not the team -- hasn't committed to it. Is it starting to make sense?

See, I try to not burn bridges so I'm trying to tell you what's going on without saying it.

And when I was actually on their air today doing something that I make no money for and I read the email in question? Well, yeah, that didn't sit well.

See, I've watched as so much has dwindled. So...so...so...much.

For the most part, I've been a good but occasionally brutally honest soldier.

With today's news, well, it's time to consider other steps.

So it could be the end of an era or it could just mean that you'll go to a different place to get what has been delivered your way for a long time.

Suddenly, things are very interesting.

While I'm very sad on one hand (assuming this is how it goes down), I'm sort of philosophical on the other. A door likely closes and I'll slam it shut to go open another one.

I wish I could tell you more.

But you'll figure it out soon -- probably by September.

(I'll add this: if you like what I've done every fall, then I might need some help for that to continue)

This could be a very different fall.

Much needed

 

It's 9:55 pm and I'm falling asleep.

Midway through writing tonight's game story, I put my head down on my dining room table and crashed.

So, here I am, less than enthusiastic about writing a 600-word post that will be of little interest.

We're off tomorrow, thankfully, but there's always someone else who wants my time. This is the gig.

I was pleased with the speed of today's game but not thrilled about other stuff. I know, I know, I'm probably overtired and whatever else.

So when I saw an unexpected tweet pop up (the one in the picture above) I felt a bit better. I, of course, lament every stutter and mistake. I, of course, get annoyed at myself.

That tweet brightened things, so thank you. I try to make sure to take care of the other teams' fans.

Let's not make this out to be some kind of pity party I'm having. It was otherwise a perfectly fine day with great weather and decent baseball. I just reached a bit of a limit in terms of exhaustion.

So, we'll let it go there and get ready for tomorrow.

There's no game but there's always something else going on.

Roast beef, baseball, and Walmart

 

The evening started so well...

I had a different post written from hours ago and decided to think about it.

It was, basically, in response to the events of Friday, but I'm going to hold off on it tonight.

Things started with a package from former interns Spencer Pierce and Conor Santoianni, who conspired with Sean to get me a Bobby Murcer t-shirt. Sean got to watch me open the package today at home.

From there? Baseball, after pursuing some kind of late lunch (after no breakfast). Our first deli didn't have roast beef so we had to go to another one.

Don't judge. 

We witnessed a weird one at Dutchess Stadium tonight. A game that was well into the sixth inning within an hour. Sean and I kept looking at each other, astounded at the pace.

I also almost got yelled at because I said, "Things are going so fast," off the air. Man, superstitions are silly unless Stevie Wonder is involved. 

The starting pitcher for Jersey Shore was perfect through six and I said so. I also said the Renegades were being no-hit.

But, in the end, it was a game that the Gades were one-hit and didn't get that hit until the 10th inning.

It was a game that was scoreless until the 12th.

A game that saw three runners out at the plate, including one off a rebound of a potential wild pitch..

A game with multiple runners at third with less than two out.

A game that Jersey Shore won 2-0.

It went from being a thing of beauty -- a well-pitched, close game -- to a bit of an ugly mess.

Jersey Shore -- 2 runs, 6 hits, 1 error, 11 left on base. They were 2-16 with runners in scoring position.

Hudson Valley -- 0 runs, 1 hit, 2 errors, 7 left on base. They were 1-14 with runners in scoring position.

I was craving the drama of the potential no-hitter (it was a perfect game through six) or a Renegades walk-off (which they had a few cracks at). Even the possibility of a walk-off while still being no-hit.

Instead, it sort of just ended and the potential two-hour game went almost 3.5 hours.

Oh well. They can't all be dramatic.

Sean and I stopped at the Walmart in Fishkill and picked up a few supplies for the house, including a frozen pizza, which we called our "(bleep) it" dinner because of the circumstances.

Don't judge.

By the way, it's a crime that Walmart in Fishkill is closing at 11 p.m. I know why -- and so do you -- but it's a shame to not have that convenience of the all-night store.

So I'm content to table the post I had already written and go with this.

Back at it in a few hours.

Field of **** off

 

No, the title of this post isn't about the game.

The less said about that, the better.

Look, I'm all for whatever "good" it did for baseball but, honestly, it was otherwise another Thursday night baseball game in August, albeit at a really cool site.

The game was a gut punch that I saw only a few pitches of. But I saw the last pitch, grabbed my backpack, and left the Dutchess Stadium office before any rage poured out of me. I kept my Olympic Phone Throwing skills to myself.

No, I'm here for the "Field of Dreams" slander that has gone on in the days leading up to the game and in the hours after it was over.

And seriously, screw each and every one of you sanctimonious clowns.

Wholeheartedly, please eat a decroded piece of...whatever, to paraphrase Napoleon Dynamite.

I get it. "Field of Dreams" isn't "The Godfather." It's a bit of a schmaltzy, syrupy story involving a field and family dynamics and "Murica" and James Earl-freaking Jones essentially playing J.D. Salinger (the character actually is Salinger in the book the movie is based on).

Yes, I know, Ray Liotta plays Shoeless Joe Jackson incorrectly. Duly noted. That's annoying but go look at the mistakes in literally every sports movie. Lou Gehrig didn't say he'd hit two home runs in the World Series for a kid in the hospital.

I have my own love/confused relationship with the film and I, frankly, don't need your I'm-too-good-for-this-baseball-movie hate.

And I'm happy to tell each of you high and mighty dopes that to your face.

Though, let's be real. "Field of Dreams" has baseball as a part of the story. The truth is it's more than that. It's about the father/son relationship and some of the torture that Ray Kinsella has lived with since his father's passing. 

So, tell me, haters...

Did your father die a mere month before the film was released?

Did you sit, unknowingly, in the theater in the Jefferson Valley Mall to watch it?

Did you know what it was about or what the ending was under those circumstances?

Did you grow up a crazy Yankees fan?

Did you grow up obsessed with baseball?

Would you do anything to have a catch once more with that father?

Did your father have arthritis so bad that he couldn't run around and have a catch with you? 

Yeah. That's my story.

I remember ONE game of Wiffle ball with my father, jackwagon. ONE. I might have been three. Perhaps four. His body was mostly a jigsaw puzzle not long after.

So when Dwier Brown shows up as John Kinsella, wearing an early 20th Century Yankees uniform in the film and he's asked by Kevin Costner if he wants to have a catch how would you feel?

Might you -- you self-righteous ass -- feel a little differently about "Field of Dreams?"

Might you need time to pull yourself together and be the last one to leave that theater in Jefferson Valley, NY that late spring night in 1989?

When you're all of 20 years old and your world has essentially been ripped apart?

You've gone to this little movie that baseball plays a role in because you're hearing the buzz about it and it seems to involve Shoeless Joe Jackson and a field and Darth Vader and you have no clue -- not in the least -- how it's going to wreck you at the end.

You might have at least an appreciation for the movie.

Save your Twitter hatred for something else that matters.

This is my clap back.

Leave Ray Kinsella, Annie, Karin, Terry Mann, and Moonlight Graham alone.

Simply the speech at the end of the movie about how "people will come" should be enough. It encapsulates so much about baseball and the romanticism with the game.

For what it's worth, I basically can't watch the final scene. Even now. Over 32 years later. I become a quivering, shaking mess generally because I miss my own father with every fiber of my soul and continue to mourn how he never heard me become a broadcaster or see me become a man or a father or meet his grandson and a whole lot of other things in which I could have used his wisdom and laughter.

"This field, this game -- it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good, and it could be again."

That's the redeeming value of baseball and of our world.

Maybe now you can understand why I'd be a little defensive of "Field of Dreams."

Sure, you're entitled to your opinion but why ruin it for others?

If you don't like the schmaltz and the positivity of that message, then keep walking, bud.

You're part of the problem.

Take two tablets of bleep you and don't call again.

Get lost.

It is heaven.

In Iowa.

No time, chapter three

 

Here is a picture of a stadium of green.

The most picturesque of scene.

They say that it's "Dutchess" it's called.

It's a house for enjoyment

Includes my employment.

And baseballs are generally mauled.

There are people a-talking 

And "voices" a-squawking

of Cyclones, BlueClaws and Blue Rocks.

But after the Gades

Have won what they've played.

I watch the Yankees lose to the Sox.

No time part two, baseball boogaloo

 

Current view

I guess I need to write in the morning.

Except, who has time or energy?

More often than not, this guy doesn't.

So here I sit, at Dutchess Stadium, after a 7-6 Gades loss, whipping together a quick post as the clock turns towards midnight.

Tomorrow, I'm driving to Stratford to teach at CSB. Class starts at 9:30 am. From there I'll come up to the ballpark and try to not wilt in the heat.

And maybe -- just maybe -- I'll find a few minutes to write.

So this is your post for tonight.

And you can tell everybody this is your post...

No time

 

"Move along. Move along."

Unfortunately, it's 11:26 p.m. as I begin typing so there's not really much time to do anything in-depth.

The downside of writing one post per day for 9,000 days or whatever it has been (it's actually around 950) is that the post has to be done generally by 11:59 p.m. in the time zone I'm in.

Thus, my post in San Francisco hit after midnight in New York. As far as I'm concerned it still counted.

And, in this case, I need to throw some thoughts down, realize there will be nothing "award-winning" about this (there never is), and move along.

It was great to be back in the booth tonight but the day was basically moving a lot of parts around. You know the drill: podcast, stat pack, roster updates, lineups, film "Rob's Roundup," call the game, etc.

There was, however, some great time in the middle where I basically shut down. It's something I need more of. Lots.

And then, when there's a spare moment, I spill some thoughts on a page to keep what's overall a good habit going (that's, you know, this blog thing).

In the midst of everything, I accidentally deleted the post from yesterday, so I had to recreate it (thankfully I'm still doing a WordPress version every day also). That means I lost the readers count and it will be likely the lowest-read post of the year, but I was hardly going to earn praise for a fairly pedestrian collection of thoughts.

As for events at Dutchess Stadium, I was actually sort of OK with tonight's broadcast. Again it was nothing award-winning (never is) but it was steady. There was a lot of good about it, including me I guess.

So you take that and move on to tomorrow and do it again.

Oh and we're going to look back and marvel at the time when we got to see Anthony Volpe play. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I still have a game story to edit and post.

Then try -- yes, that's the word -- try to sleep.

This is the grind.

Random Monday thoughts

 

It's International Cat Day. So here's a cat in an ice cream carton.

It's just one of those nights where I'm worn out and am sort of checked out.

It's nothing bad. It's just that I'm preparing to crank it back up for 12 games in 13 days.

OK, my sleep pattern is completely off and I haven't slept well over the past few nights. That doesn't help things.

I basically parked my car after making a quick run to the nearby store on Friday and haven't left since. That will change tomorrow, of course.

The schedule is just hectic at times. I have a podcast to record tomorrow morning. I have to be at the stadium and (most likely) do "Doubleheader" each day at 4. So I'll likely be at the stadium by 3-3:30 at the latest. On Thursday and Friday, I'm going to CSB in Stratford, CT to teach for roughly four hours each day.

Plus Doubleheader (maybe).

Plus the game broadcasts.

So it will be a bit insane but we'll get through it. Then we'll do it again next week sans teaching at CSB. Then we'll take a break for two weeks.

The key is to deal with it in small chunks. Keep an eye on the future and be prepared but stay in the moment. That's the best way to avoid getting overwhelmed. It doesn't always work.

- Sean and I have played with some sort of small getaway (it's his last chance before college begins) again. We're both feeling the need for another Waffle House, etc type of day (or days).

Look, scoff all you want at the cuisine choices but it's an important bond. I've said it before: one day, Sean is going to evolve into not traveling with me. I know it and it's natural. So for now I embrace it.

We weigh our options. We think about our priorities. For instance, Sean has wanted to take Amtrak somewhere but it's not like a train just drops you at a Waffle House. Also, a lot of hotel prices are, frankly, insane. We thought about running to Scranton for a RailRiders game but then I looked at prices to stay over and...nope.

So, it might not happen.

- I appreciate the thoughts on last night's post. I know there are some who would have liked me to condemn those who are unvaccinated. The thing is I want people to get the shot. Period. But I also know there are exceptions. I honestly don't have much patience for those not getting it for political reasons or some conspiracy. But I'm also not going to change anyone's minds.

Yet, here: get the jab, pretty please?

Better?

- Then there's the "Dinger" situation in Denver. Good grief but there are a lot of people redfaced today from the quick judgment and overreaction. I was as prepared as anyone to denounce it but, in the end, that would have been wrong.

Fortunately, I did my due diligence before saying anything.

- Joe Buck hosted "Jeopardy" tonight. Once more: Joe Buck is great at what he does. He won't get the job so he'll be right back rocking football and baseball on FOX.

That's probably enough babbling tonight. Hug someone. Have a laugh.

And listen to some baseball tomorrow (7:00 on Z93 and a little earlier online at milb.tv and on our Gameday Audio!

Not again

 

Anthony Rizzo (USA Today)

Anthony Rizzo is COVID positive.

Rizzo joined the Yankees a few weeks ago in a trade from the Chicago Cubs, where he had become an icon. He's a player I've longed to see in pinstripes and his arrival pleased me.

But now he's joined a list of Yankees who have either been on the COVID injured list or are currently on it.

With the announcement this morning, I couldn't help but groan.

Oh, we had to have Gov. Cuomo's fireworks and Mayor de Blasio's inane parade that nobody, frankly, cared about.

We have to run the commercials on how we're "New York Strong" because it's over.

It's over, right?

We could do a whole thing on both on these politicians, especially the mighty Bridge Namer in Albany. His day of reckoning is coming and we'll soon be done with de Blasio, who can go back to eating pizza with a knife and fork and not receive grief for it.

But the thing is, as you've gathered, it's not over. We don't know when it will be over. We're heading right back towards the mask edict coming back into effect.

Fortunately, I have not stopped carrying any of my masks. I still have the Mahopac one and a couple from the Renegades -- I thought those would be the last I'd need -- and two Under Armour masks, and a Yankees mask, and a Steelers mask made by Susan's cousin.

I might be forgetting one but you get my point.

Something told me to not get rid of any of them. I had an old saying, created by my friend Ryan Demaria who always said, "Keys, phone, wallet," when he'd leave the WGCH studio. Mine was adjusted for 2020 into, "Keys, phone, wallet, glasses, mask."

But what I worry about -- what really troubles me -- is what it will do to all of us mentally. Selfishly, I worry about my own mental anguish.

I mean, having to wear a mask is one thing but we can deal with that. I dread the thought of having to call games wearing it. Overall, I wasn't made to do it very often since I was sequestered away from most fans and athletes. But one of the times I did wear a mask I thought I was going to pass out. So, yeah, there's that anxiety.

But what if we go back into quarantines? In 2020, I had to take care of Mom. Even if I didn't want to go out, I didn't have the option. So it was a steady diet of taking her to dialysis, going to the grocery store, taking her to doctor's appointments, and doing other chores for her. 

When and if we were stuck in the house, we could eat dinner together and watch "Jeopardy."

This time? It's me and the cat unless Sean elects to stay here.

I'm not afraid to be alone. I'm not. I'm alone right now, save for Rascal. I could wind up being alone for the rest of my life, to be honest.

I'd like to believe we'll continue to do video depositions so I'd at least have work that I'm grateful for. But, more than that, what about schools? Students? Athletics (again, selfishly, that's part of who I am)?

Are we heading back into all of this?

It's simplistic to say the reason for it is the number of unvaccinated people. I get it. I've done my part. I got vaccinated and will get a booster if needed. That doesn't make me a sheep. It makes me smart. Responsible.

Yet I don't come here to judge those who haven't gotten the shot. I'd like to understand why but I doubt I ever will. We're all just too defensive and too angry.

We're also too full of conspiracy theories.

I'd like to avoid being housebound. It worries me.

I'd like to put the masks away.

I'd like this thing to be over.

I'm not sure how much more I can take.