At the Stop & Shop

 

I'm on my way home from calling Greenwich/Fairfield Prep and I've stopped in a parking lot in North White Plains.

And, honestly, at 11:18 p.m., I have nothing to say.

I thought Chris Erway and I called a good game and, for once, I actually sat with Chris and Shawn Sailer at dinner and remarked that I thought our broadcast was good under unique circumstances.

Not everyone thinks so.

And that's fine.

Chris and I gave it our all.

I was really happy to have WGCH with us and work with a phenomenal setup at Prep that involved me juggling and creating answers.

You can't please everyone. So be it.

Maybe I'll address it tomorrow. Maybe I won't.

But this is all I have for tonight.

Playoff Panic

 

Rafferty Stadium (fairfieldstags.com)

Thomas Foster of Greenwich ran into the end zone and I blurted the words.

"On first down...Foster...IT'S OVER. TOUCHDOWN, GREENWICH!"

With that Chris Erway and I began to peruse the CIAC football website. Did the Cardinals actually make it into the playoffs?

Yes. Yes, they did.

So it began. Who would they play? For a brief moment, it appeared they were heading to New Canaan, a school that I've called many games from. That could be a safe landing for us.

Within minutes I found out that the landing spot would actually be at Fairfield Prep. The good (nah, great) news is that I know some people there. I thought that would work.

Still, it's a dance to make these postseason broadcasts happen.

First, of course, is the consideration that it's a four-day weekend. Nobody -- justifiably -- wants to talk about playoff coverage on Thanksgiving day or even that Friday.

So other than a quick text to Bob Small at WGCH I let the topic mostly go.

I did connect with my friend Eric Wuchiski who had me speak with Dave Houghton at Fairfield Prep. But Dave admitted that he was sort of waiting for guidance.

You see, in Connecticut, we just sort of call the school and say, "We'll be there if that's OK" during the regular season. The postseason is a little more of a crapshoot. The CIAC might not be OK with us being there and then there's NFHS, of course.

NFHS Network is the controlling factor in postseason broadcasts and they're not big fans of small-time audio streaming broadcasters (aka, Robcasting).

So as this morning hit, I knew I needed to strike. I shot an email to Tom Curran, the athletic director at Fairfield Prep.

Soon, I had a text from Dave Houghton, telling me we were a go. We arranged a quick phone call to go over some specifics, including space for Chris and me to call the game at Rafferty Stadium.

This, of course, is generally much easier when the broadcast is on friendly turf, such as Cardinal Stadium but we were at least safe given my relationship with Fairfield Prep.

It all worked out perfectly. Fairfield Prep will produce the broadcast (their first one featuring broadcasters) and Chris and I will send the audio to them. Audio will go to Robcasting and...WGCH. The game will be streamed live on NFHS.

Sadly, there can often be a clash of egos on days like this and even more so on championship days. As I recall, five broadcast outlets did the call of Shelton/Xavier in 2014, for instance. Four of us were in corners of the West Haven High School booth (with one broadcaster not using his inside voice) while the other one was out in the cold conditions.

There were three at the "Yale Whale" in 2018 for Greenwich and Fairfield Prep in the hockey state championship. Oh yeah, these schools have a history.

It's a lot of jumping through hoops to make it happen. 

I do love calling the games, of course.

It's just never that easy.

Thankfully, everyone at Prep is making this one be great.

We're live tomorrow before 6 p.m.

Oh and the last surprise is WGCH is returning for this game. We can at least say we've covered one game every year since 1964.

The winner plays either Hall or Shelton on Sunday.

That's a whole different thing.

Chrissie Hynde

 

Chambers, Farndon, Honeyman-Scott, Hynde

"...nobody cares about age if you dress cool."

Chrissie Hynde is a boss. 

First, she was the powerhouse lead vocalist, primary songwriter, and guitarist for the Pretenders. Then she basically became the Pretenders, holding the name close as members came and went, with two original members dying due to drugs. Original drummer Martin Chambers was in, then out, and is back in whenever the band gets together.

But, still, it's Chrissie, and she's a boss. She didn't fit the mold. She didn't care what you said or how you said it and she'd tell you that. She married Jim Kerr of Simple Minds, had a child, and divorced him.

She's lived a fascinating life, including being on the scene of the Kent State Massacre in 1970. Her friend's boyfriend was one of the victims.

Of course, the bigger thing with Hynde is the music. Simply "Pretenders" -- their first album -- would be enough to secure legendary status, with the thrash of opening track "Precious" hitting you right between the eyes. The album has landed on numerous "greatest" lists for good reason.

Their second album might not be the big classic the first one is but still holds up pretty well, with "Message of Love" being a personal favorite.

Then bassist Pete Farndon was fired in 1982. Two days later, lead guitarist James Honeyman-Scott was found dead. Less than a year later, Farndon also died.

Hynde and Chambers regrouped and did "Back on the Chain Gang" in honor of Honeyman-Scott. The band continued in the manner of a revolving door of members after that.

But Chrissie is still Chrissie.

Anyway, I'm babbling about all of this today because I saw Hynde posted on Facebook* a few hours ago with a message of love, titled "Reasons to be Cheerful." 

I love how one of her posts says that "I just send these ramblings to my office to try and do my bit. I write ‘em / they post ‘em. You read ‘em. Unless you’re like me that is."

*That's a link to her Facebook page. The post is dated 11/28/21 if you can't read the embedded link below.

I guess I just liked the positivity of the message, the little glimpses of her not caring and sense of humor, and her just being...as I said...a boss.

And I love that line about not caring about age if you dress cool. It's so true. I'm tired of the tropes of acting one's age. I'm 53 and sitting in a football jersey currently. 

To be clear, that doesn't mean I agree with everything she says and does and it's truly sad that I have to even add that caveat. What a world we live in.

Rock on, Chrissie Hynde, and thank you.

And They Went "We" "We" We" All The Way Home

 

I saw where Kate Feldman, a reporter for the New York Daily News, tweeted the following:

"I try so hard not to judge but it's always very telling when fans refer to teams as 'we.'"

I agree.

We've dealt with that word before.

"We."

So several fans -- especially of the Mets, who believe the media hates them -- were outraged by Ms. Feldman's tweet.

The thing is, if anything, the media is amused. I'm amused by that subset (it's always the same people).

I understand there are some exceptions but, as a broadcaster, I feel the word "we" is a huge no-no in the booth. But "we go to Chicago," as uttered by Vin Scully in 1959 doesn't imply he plays for the team. It states -- plainly -- that, as the broadcaster, he is indeed joining the Dodgers in their World Series broadcast in the Second City.

However, using "we" as if you'rea part of the team just isn't something I believe in.

Say you opine on the interwebs that "If we don't land (insert player) it won't be for lack of trying." So, based on that, if "we" do land that player will you be signing his checks?

Now say if you're talking about a player leaving and it "broke our hearts," well now that's different because fans can indeed be sad.

For what it's worth, I never liked it when I heard Phil Rizzuto say "we." I didn't like it when any colleague of mine uttered it. Again, I got it, but that didn't mean I liked it. Both are allowed to be true.

Personally, I think it's insulting to the team. The players are "we." They play for the team. The front office and team broadcasters are "we" but in a different way. They don't play for the team and that's where I struggle with the term in the booth.

In the case of Greenwich or Brunswick or the Renegades, the "team name" is on the field. They're the players and coaches and staff. They do the workouts and practices. They're in the locker room and the trenches. They're the brotherhood/sisterhood.

I show up and talk, even when I'm invited to be a part of the extended family in one form or another.

"We" is used in how I will participate, overall as a broadcaster. "We'll be at Fairfield Prep Tuesdsay night for Greenwich/Prep" is an accurate statement if I'm going to be there.

So from the comfort of my living room or in the car or on Twitter, even as a fan, I simply don't believe in "we."

Again, there are exceptions.

But "we" can agree to disagree.

It's Too Quiet

Yesterday was controlled chaos.

The sounds, the cheers, the overtime, the touchdown.

Then? Chris Erway had to get to New Jersey and Greenwich athletic director Gus Lindine locked up my booth and I stood there.

I finished packing and left Greenwich High School.

There's another game to come -- on Tuesday night at Fairfield Prep. I'm planning (hoping) to be on that call.

But I drove home in silence.

Then I walked upstairs.

The house was full. There was laughter and food and conversation and deep thoughts and jokes (some at my expense).

Then everyone was gone and it was down to Sean, Rascal, and me.

Then I wrote about it and probably got too personal.

Thanks for the responses and to the one person who thought yesterday's game-winning call was "iconic." I wasn't actually looking for the pick-me-up from anyone but I can't say I didn't appreciate it.

Now? It's silent. Rascal is quietly at my feet as I type in a cold house with one of my grandmother's famous blankets providing warmth.

I'm waiting for a pizza to arrive.

The scene is pretty glum, chum.

I wanted today to be more than it's been.

I wanted to do more cleaning of the house than I did. Not to say I didn't. The vacuum came out (again) and I wiped down the dining room and put things back to where they were before Wednesday.

All in all, Thanksgiving here was a rousing success.

Still, I didn't get to clean the basement or the attic or the office or anything else. I wanted today to be my own "Black Friday" by beginning what I think will be a cathartic purge of a lot of "stuff."

It didn't happen.

So, OK! Let's make different use of the day! The Lads will help!

I bought Disney + and have since canceled it because they can't make things easy. I will likely go back to it eventually but I have it for a month.

I'll get it back.

Get...Back.

Get Back.

Yeah. I kill me.

Obviously, I got it for one reason. Or four. Or five with Yoko. Maybe six with Linda. But, really, four (and Yoko).

It's an intense watching process that I've taken multiple breaks from. It's not something to live tweet during or treat as background noise. For me, at least, it requires paying attention.

It's a roller coaster of stuff going on.

With the TV off, it's incredibly silent in here, save for the sound of my typing.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I don't mind being alone. Really, I don't, and the presence of the squeaky cat keeps me company.

I don't like being alone in this way.

So I'll get back to The Beatles.

Where I once belonged.

Thanksgiving Leftovers

 

Postgame

I can't quite process today and, frankly, I'm too tired to try.

Greenwich beat Staples in overtime (to my knowledge, the first GHS game to go OT) in a game that's already being called an instant classic.

While I'll let that marinate it's hard to argue.

The Cardinals couldn't seem to take a lead and, as soon as they finally did, the Wreckers answered. It took a late drive for a touchdown and a two-point conversion to even things up at 28.

After a three and out by the Wreckers to start OT, Thomas Foster busted up the middle for a 10-yard score and the game. The Cardinals won 34-28.

With the victory and some other things going the right way, Greenwich now heads to the state playoffs where they will take on Fairfield Prep. Those two met at Cardinal Stadium in October with GHS getting the win. This time, the scene shifts to Rafferty Stadium in Fairfield on Tuesday.

Chris Erway and I plan to be on the call.

As usual, I'm beating myself up over the winning touchdown call and other things. Like I said, I can't process it.

But that aside it's hard to argue that this wasn't one to remember.

The rest of the day was basically like anyone else's Thanksgiving shindig. Family, food, etc.

I ate, I laughed, I talked, I smiled for pictures. Overall I can't complain.

I guess if there's anything I can offer (or repeat) it's that the holidays are tough for many and mental health needs to be monitored. I've been up since 3 a.m. because of demons dancing in my own brain and I expect to sleep tonight simply out of pure exhaustion.

Personally, I battle with telling you these things because I fear it's seen as a "Peter and the Wolf" case or "he's just making it all about himself." No, I'm explaining where I'm coming from while reaffirming that the holidays are very difficult.

People have losses or are lonely or can't afford to buy gifts or simply have anxiety or whatever reason and, you know what? You don't get to decide if it's valid or not. Some people just simply didn't want to see Al Roker on their TVs this morning or hear Mariah Carey caterwauling.

And some sure as hell don't want to hear about Grandma and reindeer.

Many will have a stiff upper lip and, sadly, it's simply too much for others. Putting on the brave face is the thing but they can easily cry the tears of the clown. I worry for my friends who have lost loved ones this year as this is their first holiday season without that person.

So that's my message: be kind and look out for each other.

I'm thankful to be sitting here tonight to relay that message to you.

Turkeys

"The A-Team" at the Thanksgiving tailgate in 2009

It's Thanksgiving Eve and I've finished up the game prep for tomorrow when Greenwich hosts Staples.

I've thought about a lot of things going into tomorrow.

Stuff that I wanted to talk about on "Doubleheader" today.

Oh, wait, you didn't know "Doubleheader" was on today? Good. It wasn't. At least, it was supposed to be. But then I -- the sports director of WGCH -- was alerted that a UConn basketball game was going to air starting around 2:30 p.m.

Despite the fact that I really didn't expect to get on the air, I sat ready to do an abbreviated show. Then UConn went to overtime around 4:45 and that was that.

No show.

Just as well because I had an annihilation planned for today. Mets owner Steve Cohen decided to air dirty laundry (and, basically, whine) on Twitter this morning. Now, if ol' George Steinbrenner had done the same, wow. Just wow.

So, being consistent, I called Cohen out. I never wanted to air dirty laundry publicly (something I still struggle with). I was horrified each time Steinbrenner did that as it embarrassed the team.

The Mets should be embarrassed today and, of course, you can probably guess the twisted little subset of Metsland (population: insanity) that defended Cohen. Sad people. Just sad.

But enough about them.

Tomorrow will be the 20th Thanksgiving football broadcast for me, having called a game every year from 2001-2019 before COVID put everyone on their couches last year. It was so weird. It was just bizarre.

Tomorrow, for better or worse (and both apply) we're back to a form of normal. It will be my 18th Greenwich football call on Thanksgiving, having spent the other two years (2014-2015) with Darien and New Canaan in Stamford. Both were remarkable games.

Greenwich and Staples have given us some thrills also and tomorrow should be a good one as well.

Still, I think back to the first Thanksgiving call -- the 21st one. Except it was on Thanksgiving Eve.

Prior to Greenwich playing the Wreckers from Westport (Staples) they played the Danbury Hatters and my first call was -- in 2000 -- in Hat City.

The stadium was entirely different than it is now. It was a wooden press box with a small side room that I recall was unlit or maybe dimly lit. I was told to go in there because that's where WLAD (Danbury's AM radio station) had done games from in the past.

One problem I'll never forget for both Sean Kilkelly and me was that the room had a sealed glass window that created two issues: 1) it held the chill of the night in that room and 2) I couldn't run a crowd mic out the window.

We did our best, got through the Greenwich victory, which put them into the state tournament, and got back to our cars to warm up.

There was really no Thanksgiving pomp and circumstance of tailgates or anything. It was show up, freeze, call the game, and go home. My toes defrosted somewhere between Danbury and Mahopac.

Tomorrow, of course, we won't have that issue, between the comfort of the new booth and the fact that the temperature will be in the 50s.

So many other memories come to mind for Thanksgiving. How can I forget that 2001 game at Cardinal Stadium -- the first FCIAC Championship game to also be a regular-season contest -- as Steve Longo and the Cards ran all over Danbury?

Or the epic battles of the early 2010s as Staples broke the hearts of Greenwich, with field goals and other nail biters?

The streak of shutouts that each team ran up in the last 2000s?

And, of course, the Darien/New Canaan games. What an intense honor that was to call. While the 2015 game was on video and was expertly produced by our HAN Network crew, I might feel something a little more special for the 2014 game.

Not only was it an overtime thriller, with the Trifone brothers helping to seal the title for the Blue Wave, but pre-video, HAN Radio was maybe -- I don't know -- more innocent. Though we missed John Kovach's sideline reporting, we had the duo of Eric Gendron and Chris Kaelin. Plus Chris Erway and I were on our game in the booth.

That 2015 game was a high wire act, as we went to video and, at one point early that morning, found a piece of equipment had failed and the backup was in our Shelton office. Kate Czaplinski roared to Shelton, got the saving part, flew down the Merritt Parkway, and we were up and running just in time.

I kept saying to be calm but I was holding my breath. It all worked out.

I have other memories of that broadcast but what stands out the most is our call of Hudson Hamill's leaping touchdown grab in the fourth quarter.

I know that was a game that -- because of the pressure -- I was too amped at first but it all turned out ok.

I'm hoping there's a great tailgate tomorrow more -- a Greenwich tradition*.

Except for 2013 when I showed up at Staples High School three hours before kickoff to find...nobody. I texted everyone I could think of to prepare them (and find food). Chris Kaelin arrived with a bag of Egg McMuffin's that saved the morning.

Otherwise, Greenwich won 27-7.

So we turn to tomorrow and see what awaits. Hopefully a lot of fun, food, and football, with a possible playoff appearance in play for the winning team.

Chris and I will go live sometime around 9:50 tomorrow morning. The game will not air for the first time ever on WGCH but will be on Robcasting and Local Live.

Plus Sean Adams will be in the house!

New memories will be created.

The Lonely Person

 

It's a big Beatles week. Bigger than normal.

The documentary "Get Back" is coming out this week on Disney + and of course, I will be all over it.

Paul McCartney also released a collection called "The Lyrics" in which he breaks down so many of his songs. Sir Macca went to the BBC (the Beeb) and read passages from the books for a short-form podcast.

For a Beatlesophile like myself and, generally, a lover of most things McCartney, I felt I got to get this into my life.

Sorry. I had to.

As with the McCartney 3,2,1 series that he did with Rick Rubin, I'm simply the rapt audience listening to the GOAT. Funny thing about that term -- Greatest of All Time. In short, we overuse it. but, honestly (and be fair) if we can't apply to Mssrs McCartney, Lennon, Harrison, and Starkey, then exactly who can we apply it to?

Yes. Vin Scully, naturally, but I digress.

A highlight for me was the background of the dramatic sounds of "Eleanor Rigby." There has often been confusion over exactly who Eleanor Rigby was. Was she inspired by Eleanor Bron, the actress who appeared with the Lads in "Help!"?

Sort of, at least in the name. Initially "Eleanor" was going to be "Daisy Hawkins."

Equally fascinating is how he mentions Jane Asher, the actress who has dated when The Beatles exploded. He wrote many songs in the Asher's house at 57 Wimpole Street. Asher's brother, Peter, became part of the duo of Peter & Gordon and had the advantage of McCartney writing songs for them.

But I've rarely heard Paul speak of Jane Asher in any form -- and she of him -- so this was a bit of a revelation for me. Many of the early Beatle's songs that Paul wrote had to do with his relationship with Asher until he met Linda Eastman.

But McCartney and Asher were in Bristol, where she was performing. He spotted a shop sign with the name Rigby on it.

So, yeah. That happened. Paul admitted he liked the name Eleanor -- that's where Bron comes in -- and it stuck. While there is a real headstone in Liverpool with the name Eleanor Rigby on it, that's just a pure coincidence.

But the real inspiration for Eleanor Rigby was a woman who Macca knew when he was much younger. You'll have to listen to learn more.

For me, "Eleanor Rigby" holds a special place. Sean, when he was just maybe three or four, had a dream that involved the song. Plus he always loved the cat-petting scene as the song played in the "Yellow Submarine" animated movie. Additionally, I have a great-niece whose name is Eleanor and the poor thing has had to deal with me asking her where the lonely people are.

Wisely, she makes up an answer or ignores me.

Incidentally, Father McKenzie was initially "Father McCartney" but Paul -- uncomfortable with that -- found McKenzie in the phone book.

So it's fun to hear Paul throwing tidbits around in this series. For instance, he throws a bit of shade at John and Yoko, while breaking down the "diss track" called "Too Many People."

"The thing is," he says, "so much of what they held to be truth was crap. 'War is over,' well no it isn't. 

"'If enough people want war to be over it will be over?' I'm not sure that's entirely true."

"Too Many People" was an attempt -- halfhearted and almost upbeat, in pure McCartney fashion -- to respond to the digs John had taken at Paul. The most notorious version was "How Do You Sleep" in which John sings the lines 

"The only thing you done was yesterday

"And since you've gone you're just another day"

Ouch.

"F*ck you, John," McCartney blurts. It hurts to hear that but given their Northern blunt honesty that comes through it makes a lot more sense if you listen to the whole thing.

A later episode on the song "Here, Today" deals with John being gone. Having heard McCartney perform that one live -- steps from where they played at Shea Stadium in 1965, the emotion of the song is powerful.

He also gives a dig in at Bob Dylan, who he says he likes a lot but it still gave me a good laugh.

The audio series -- as well as the books -- includes passages on his solo work as well, which I've truly come to love more as time has gone by.

I don't read or listen to everything on The Beatles -- honestly, there's simply way too much -- but when Paul or Ringo speak or when Peter Jackson produces "Get Back" then I'm all ears.

And all my troubles seem so far away.

Again. I had to.

On This Day

 

Something else happened on Nov 22

I blew out the most unique birthday candle today at lunch and I loved it.

I'm not really one for being sung to like that but Sean likes seeing me be embarrassed in that moment so it is a small price to pay.

Earlier this month, co-conspirator John Nash began writing about things that he is thankful for. I took it up a few times this month but didn't really carry the ball much more than that.

Still, at this time, when an outrageous amount of people took the time to text, call or write, how can I feel anything other than gratitude?

And for those who didn't get in touch? I'm not bothered at all. In truth, I miss a lot of birthdays and I've always tried to be that person to wish one well. But life gets complicated.

So, in short, thank you all. 

Every year, around this time, I try to respond to each note on social media. It's something I believe in and I'll try to continue to do it as it's a small gesture to thank everyone.

Now, while I try, I'm bound to miss someone or commit a spelling error or make some kind of unintentional boneheaded mistake. I don't leave people out of things or ignore anyone maliciously.

That's why -- if you're familiar with me -- you know I'm not a big fan of listing people. Inevitably I'll forget someone for whatever reason. My best intentions  -- truly well-meaning -- somehow get me in trouble.

The amazing thing is that I'm capable of getting myself in trouble without even trying! I can be sharing happy and honest thoughts and, somehow, I wind up wearing the black hat.

It's not my intention.

*****

Nov 22 is known of course for being the day that President Kennedy was assassinated. Because of that it's an event that I've paid close attention to. I've studied it, especially from a media standpoint.

It's fair to say that there are probably three events that have changed how we disseminate information: Pearl Harbor, JFK's assassination, and Sep 11, 2001.

But, to me, it's 11/22/63 that seemed to be the dawn of a new world. 

Pearl Harbor was a radio event and there was a lot of scrambling.

September 11, 2001, was, basically, our last "pre-social media" event. While we saw some things change (the beginning of the "bottom line" that is now on basically every information program) it didn't reinvent the wheel.

The JFK assassination reinvented everything and you could basically see it all happening if you were watching (and listening on the radio).  Reporters scrambled to phone booths and programmers grappled with the best way to report what was going on.

The NFL famously went on and played that weekend -- a decision that commissioner Pete Rozell regretted for the rest of his life.

From the very first report -- on WFAA TV in Dallas -- it was clear this was like nothing we'd ever seen. Just watching everyone fumble their way through information gathering is fascinating. Watching as they try to relay what is being said on the telephone is merely a hint of how far we have come.

 

The networks would all soon come aboard, most famously with Walter Cronkite choking up as he reported that the President had died.

A YouTube user -- David Von Pein -- has a channel dedicated to the radio and television coverage of the event as it happened. It's an intense amount of items to watch and listen to. If you want to see news coverage literally change on the fly, I encourage you to go visit his page.

We've obviously come a long way since then. 

For better and for worse.

Has It Been Eight Years?

Rob, Bill Bloxsom, and Dave Stewart

I almost forgot about it but memories are splashed all over the socials these days.

Eight years ago this morning, I nervously got in my car and drove to New Canaan, CT. Though I still worked as a (s*itty) reporter for the Wilton Bulletin, I had quietly been involved in a project and this was to be the soft opening.

Prior to that morning, I'd had a conversation at a softball game, seen equipment get purchased, and practiced in a closet at the Wilton Bulletin office in Ridgefield. That, of course, brought questions and scrutiny and even straight-up nosiness* about what I was up to. In fact, I was under instructions to not even tell my editor at the Bulletin, which also brought my grief.

*My former co-worker Patty Gay just somehow opened the door to the closet one day and played dumb. Sorry, Patty. I knew it then and I know it now. People were talking and you decided to just stroll in to see what I was up to. All good.

Ah, but back to the morning of 11/21/13. In truth, I was heading up what was to be a company-changing venture. Me and my dumb idea would galvanize, divide, exhilarate, and frustrate everyone. Me included. 

I'm still blamed for things, sadly.

I was ushered into a conference room in the New Canaan Advertiser offices that day. I organized the equipment, tested everything, and got ready for a huge broadcast. Huge to me, that's for sure. The big idea -- Hersam Acorn Radio -- was ready for its debut.

Up until that point, our broadcasts had consisted of going live from that closet in Ridgefield and one football game at Brunswick that almost nobody knew about. Each broadcast was heard by maybe five people. In the case of the Ridgefield shows, it was just me talking to make sure people could hear me and that the quality was good. At Brunswick, Paul Silverfarb -- instrumental in helping guide me to make this happen -- joined me for a true football broadcast that I've since published and has been heard for real.

Now it was time to go live. Dave Stewart and Bill Bloxsom joined me as we broke down the upcoming FCIAC football championship between New Canaan and St Joseph. That game would be played the next night at Trumbull High School and was the true grand opening. Paul, Chris Kaelin, and I called it and we held on for dear life as the internet gave us issues and we received a few harsh reviews for that.

I thought for sure I was destined for a life of board of education meetings in Wilton. To be sure, I could do those and report them well but, let's face it, this broadcasting thing -- especially sports -- was supposed to be my strong suit.

Our show on Nov. 21 is otherwise unmemorable and I mean that in the best way humanly possible. I nervously posed for pictures that ran in some of the papers and online as we began to promote the new radio station.

I have other memories of the day, but most memorably was the end of the show. I wrapped up and turned the microphones off when applause broke out in the office. 

Bill and Dave stood up and left the room.

I sat there, almost anchored in my seat as the adrenaline drained from me. I think I hugged Tracey Iaizzi when I finally emerged from the room. I remember watching Marty Hersam -- the namesake of the company -- pacing nervously as the broadcast went on as he listened.

In short, it was a success and, internet issues aside, Hersam Acorn Radio -- later HAN Radio and the HAN Network -- was a reality. It became my full-time job roughly six weeks later. Around the same time, I also slept in the Ridgefield office for coverage of a big snowstorm that we carried.

The stories are plentiful through my departure in July 2016. I feel sad for the way it ended and the things that happened over roughly the ensuing year. For my part, I'd love to go back and fix that. I'm sad that it all ended by 2018 as Hersam Acorn was purchased by Hearst.

But like with any story, there were lots of good and bad. 

For a stretch, I'd rarely, if ever, been happier.

So tonight isn't about whatever nonsense happened. Tonight is about those great early moments of the first show, which led to the first game, which led to doing a show on the night before Thanksgiving and looking Susan in the eye for the first time (all of our previous conversations had been over chat). Then came the football playoffs and hockey and basketball and this whole thing became a reality.

That's what I want to bask in tonight. It's part of whatever legacy I have and I helped start it.

To be honest, it was my idea. I lament what could have been. I marvel at what was.

It became real eight years ago today.

The "A-Team" eventually became the go-to duo for football

What (or Where) is Home?

 

In the booth: Mahopac (top); Brunswick (bottom)

The hometown voice had returned. It's just that nobody knew it.

I was in the booth at Mahopac High School's football field last night for the New York Class A Regional Final. It's the booth I guess I wanted to work in nearly 40 years ago but such opportunities didn't exist at the time.

I last worked there in 2004 (not including baseball, which is played down the hill at Mahopac Falls School). The bleachers and press box were different back then. They were much closer to what they were when I went to school there.

I got a room to myself with heat, though I left the windows open for the natural sound as Somers throttled Burnt Hills-Ballston Lake. Despite having to frequently open the door to let people in and hearing about how the broadcast wasn't on the air, it was a pleasant situation to be in.

Funny thing about those games in 2004 was that we recorded broadcasts on cassettes on WGCH at the time. On that night, we had no cassettes and thus I don't have any audio. 

I'm happy to say that I have last night's broadcast.

Those 2004 games (there were two) are lost to history.

It was on that site that I graduated from high school. I played pickup football games there and did various activities on the track. I probably rode my bike around it also but don't tell anyone.

Behind that press box was where I'd climb on the bus to go home. The field where I played a lot of baseball also sat quietly, closer to what used to be known as Mahopac Junior High School. Now it's Mahopac Middle School.

I was treated well by everyone.

Still, I was a stranger in my own town. The commute home took -- no exaggeration -- five minutes.

I'd love to call more events from there. It's my hometown but, at this point, it's where I sleep.

*****

I went to Brunswick today. If you don't know, the Brunswick football field is in Greenwich, CT, right next to Westchester County Airport.

Mike Harris -- the man, myth, legend, and, in this case, PA announcer, welcomed me with a hug and a combination of strange, funny, and bizarre things. There was plenty of laughter even in the result wasn't to the liking of the Brunswick fan base as Deerfield Academy beat the Bruins, 35-28 in the Mike Silipo Bowl.

Oh, for the record: I have some of today's broadcast. For whatever reason, roughly an hour didn't air on the audio side and I was completely unaware of it. So, yeah, I'm pretty unhappy about that. But I digress.

With that, the season is over. I have at least one other football game -- on Thanksgiving morning -- Greenwich hosts Staples. I might have a second on Friday morning if things come together.

It's been an odd season. I'm truly crestfallen about WGCH not covering football or any other sports for that matter. I feel like, somehow, I've let the town down as sports director.

And, as such, I find myself feeling like I'm in a true transition period. Being nomadic -- personally and professionally -- gets tiring I suppose.

I've said it before: I'm going to go where I'm wanted and I mean that in literally every facet of my life. Oh, I'm not trying to say that Mahopac was some horrible experience. It was anything but. Everyone couldn't have been nicer. Same goes for Brunswick.

In reality, not many know me in Mahopac. 

As for Greenwich, I can assure you that many people said, "Who?" when I was introduced at the Greenwich Old Timer's Dinner on Thursday night.

I guess what I'm talking about is that I want to settle down. Not a bit. A LOT. I don't mind being the freelancer and hired gun. I love being able to adjust to calling literally any game at any time. Someone asked me how I do it the other night. I don't know how I do. I just do it. I wake up, collect notes, and go.

I'd just like a more permanent base.

I don't enjoy uncertainty.

I've long thought I'm patient to a fault but also quite impatient. It's hard to explain.

Who am I? Where do I belong? Who's going to be there with me?

I'm tired of waiting.

I'd like to find out.

It's time for me to take charge where I can.

Some things I can control. Some things I can't.

In those cases, it's time to know when to walk away.

Focusing on Football

 

I'm calling a game here later. I graduated from high school on that field.

I'm aware of what happened today.

I have thoughts on it.

Generally speaking, as has been my thing, discussing them on a blog or on social media does absolutely no good, especially when I think about what I do professionally.

While I tend to think nobody cares about my opinion, well, let's just say it's dangerous to go down any road these days.

So I'm sitting here, working a deposition while prepping for football.

It's not burying my head in the sand. It's, essentially, keeping my thoughts to myself.

And, more to the point, it's keeping my thoughts off social media. Honestly, what good has it ever done, especially when dealing with political lightning rod issues?

Hell, I remember writing about the Orlando nightclub shooting. I was horrified and remember I wanted everyone to just chill out before doing the political thing. I got crap for saying that.

So, instead, I'm breaking down stats for Burnt Hills/Ballston Lake (BHBL) and Somers high schools. I'm looking at what kind of team each one is. I'm looking for little nuggets from the respective news sources.

I'm retyping BHBL's roster since the format wasn't to my liking.

I'm digging into why it was possible that BHBL's head coach might not be at Mahopac High School tonight (he will be but it took an investigation to resolve it).

I'm keeping an eye on the deposition and making sure I'm doing my job.

Oh, I'm plenty aware of the news. Most of the time, when someone says to me, "Did you hear..." I've generally heard.

Or seen.

So I know what's going on and I'm not happy about it. Take that however you wish. I'll leave it open to interpretation.

But I've got BHBL and Somers coming up later.

I've got Brunswick and Deerfield Academy tomorrow in a big bowl game. Some are calling it the biggest game in the history of Cosby Field in Greenwich.

There are other things in my life I have to give my attention to. Some of that trickles online.

Today, however, I'm thinking about football.

Kick-off is at 6 p.m.

Red-Faced Raiders

 

Photo: John E. Moore III/Getty Images

The last thing a broadcaster should ever want to be is part of the story. Yet I know there's a really ugly underbelly of narcissism that has worked its way into the play-by-play ecosystem.

Some desperately want to be known for their howling or their prepared witty one-liners. Some exaggerate to make them -- and the game -- bigger they are.

Some stepped too far out of their lane.

Texas Tech football broadcasters Brian Jensen and John Harris have been removed from the booth for this week's game against Oklahoma State due to comments made about officiating.

Those comments -- made during the Red Raiders' 41-38 win over Iowa State -- brought ire from Big 12 commissioner Bob Bowlsby. 

"I understand the roles of the play-by-play and color analyst," Bowlsby said. "However as University representatives they also have an obligation to adhere to Conference policy regarding comments about game officials. The comments by the Red Raider Radio Network booth announcers were contrary to expected levels of respect and professionalism. Questioning the integrity of Conference officials and specifically calling out members of the officiating crew is well beyond appropriate and permissible behavior."

The way I see it, Jensen and Harris would have been fine if they had stuck to simply questioning the officiating as they observed it. There -- as with everything -- is a line. I've been known to say, "Wow. I don't know about that call but the officials have a better view than I do."

Admittedly that diplomacy has come over time but I believe in it. I've chatted with many respected officials. They know what's going on. My job is to report what I'm witnessing and limit opinions on such things.

Jensen and Harris went too far, including calling out Bowlsby. 

Harris: "I'll say it right now, the Big 12 does not want Iowa State to lose this game."

Jensen: "Bob Bowlsby, you need to answer to this. This is ridiculous. The inconsistency of this referee crew in favor of Iowa State. Unbelievable."

You're now dealing with credibility. Bad move.

Somewhere along the line, we decided it was OK for a collection of broadcasters to simply be fans and not reporters. Thus I bristle because I believe my job is that of a journalist and not to wave pom-poms. It's especially why I become irate when I ever hear "homer" in regard to my own work.

The debate is raging in corners of the play-by-play world. Did the Big 12 have the right to do this? Did the Tech announcers go too far?

Yes and Yes. The Big 12 have the authority and they, essentially, suspended them, no matter how unusual it is. The conference gets a say. 

The problem was that Jensen made it personal by calling out Bowlsby by name. He also read each name of the officiating crew as a point of emphasis.

Now, the difference is that we often read the official's names at the beginning of a broadcast but in this case, it felt over the top.

I believe my role was the voice of reason. I am the glue/point guard/whatever metaphor. I try to stay grounded and let the analyst have the latitude that I can reel back in. Still, there's a line in all of this. For my money, Jenssen shot way over it as the play-by-play announcer.

Keep in mind, I say all of this as an observer and I'm probably being too judgemental in that statement.

The lead play-by-play announcer is the leader of the broadcast and I've come to understand it's a unique skill set. Not every PBPer is a lead announcer. There's a difference.

Do I think the conference could have -- and even should have -- rabbit ears and let it go because it did get personal? To a point, yes, but when you're whipping up conspiracy theories about "the Big 12 not wanting Iowa State to lose this game" then you've gone way too far, in my opinion.

I wouldn't let Chris Erway say that about the FCIAC or CIAC. Then again, Chris Erway wouldn't say that.

Criticism is a very dangerous weapon and it must be used carefully in a broadcasters toolbox.

Diplomacy would have been better served.

Instead, the Texas Tech radio "voices" get a week off.

Sound like it might have been deserved.

And they become part of the story. In fact, they are now the story.

That should never happen.

A Wednesday "Doubleheader"

 

"Welcome to Doubleheader on 1490 AM, 105.5 FM, and WGCH dot com. Rob Adams here and you there as we pay tribute to the Schmoozer, Steve Somers."

I didn't do "DH" today but boy I could have had a dandy. So let's sort of do that here.

We start with the CIAC decision to expand the football playoffs in 2022. Look, I get the issue. You think "everyone gets a trophy" and that's a very fair gripe. I agree with you to be honest. Yes, Connecticut is a state where it's tempting to say that four divisions are too many, let alone six or eight.

I remember the years of Class MM and the like along with the Class LL Large and Small. It's too much.

But, somewhere along the line, I'd like everyone to think about the people that we never seem to think about and that's the athletes. One can assume their AD's and coaches can speak for them but do they really?

So do the athletes want more championships? You know with that comes the risk of more blowouts and that's never a good thing.

The knee-jerk reaction is something I'm as guilty as anyone of and, at first glance, I rolled my eyes when I read about the expansion. Then I began to think about it. It simply occurred to me that we're all entitled to opinions (that seems to always get lost in the shuffle) but, at the end of the day, it's the people most closely associated with high school athletes who need to be heard.

I think anything more than four is too much but, then again, I'll go broadcast those games any day.

The athletes are the ones who matter.

We'll continue after this from The Money Store...

OK, welcome back to "Doubleheader."

Let's turn to Major League Baseball for a bit.

First, um, did I miss something? Did Tom Seaver get traded again? Jon Matlack? Jerry Koosman? 

Cone? Doc? Darling?

Wait. You're telling me Noah Syndergaard left the Mets to go sign with the Angels?

For the love of Babe Ruth, stop whining about it. Sure, I like "Thor" and wish him well. He's got a fun personality and is (was?) a good pitcher. But this isn't Sandy Koufax we're talking about.

He came to the Mets in 2015 and had a nice career for sure. I get being a little whistful as he departs for sunny California but let's not make him out to be something he's not.

Yes, he seemed to indicate that he'd accept the Mets qualifying offer to stay but, a the end of the day, the Angels gave him a deal that he likes and he took it. This isn't John Tavares bailing to go play hockey in Toronto.

I certainly get saying some sort of farewell on social media but otherwise, stop whining. He decided to take a deal elsewhere. He could have stayed and he didn't.

I personally wish him well but it just strikes me by a certain subset of fans accepts mediocrity (such as black jerseys). That's not to say Syndergaard was mediocre at all but he also has three years in which he made under 10 appearances -- 2017, 2020, and 2021. Yes, I know that he had surgery which kept him out until the very end of this past season.

Still, there's a risk and the Angels took it. It could be a very costly decision.

Doubleheader continues after this from the Dime Savings Bank on 1490 AM, 105.5 FM, and WGCH dot com.

We continue on this Wednesday edition.

Since this has become another edition of "Stupid Things Mets Fans Say," allow me to pause for a moment to call out my Yankees brethren.

In general, the past 24 hours or so have not been the best and brightest in the history of Yankees Twitter.

Or Mets Twitter for that matter but let's leave them out of this.

Let's stop proposing every dumb trade under the sun. Brian Cashman is in his job for a reason -- like it or not.

We all have a shopping list, whether it's wanting Matt Olson or resigning Anthony Rizzo or bringing in Corey Seager. Whatever the case, relax. I get that you're angry at no World Series since 2009. Trust me, I get it.

For one thing, we're going to see a quick collection of signings, and then we're going to shut down because the sport is dumb enough to go into another labor war -- one that we've all known has been brewing for a while.

But stop with the moaning, Yankees fans. Just stop. You look irrational and ridiculous.

Like...

Oh, did you see the National League Cy Young Award was announced?

Corbin Burnes of the Brewers is your winner, as well as Robbie Ray of the Jays in the American League.

Congrat---you---er, what? What do you mean Burnes can't really celebrate it thanks to Mets fans. 

Mets fans, have you truly. -- I mean truly -- lost your mind? You think the Cy Young should have gone to Jacob deGrom?

You do realize he came in ninth, earning one FIFTH place vote, right?

That puts him a mere 150 votes behind Burnes.

All of the first place votes were split between Burnes, Zack Wheeler, and Max Scherzer.

Did you pick the wrong week to stop sniffing glue?

You don't help yourself when you act like this, guys.

We'll return to Doubleheader after this word from Manufacturers Hanover.

Well, we've just about run out of time for this edition of the show. What else is there to say? The Jets are laughable and will turn to Joe Flacco to run the offense this week. Richard Todd is apparently unavailable.

So that will do it for this edition of "Doubleheader." I'll be off at the Greenwich Old Timer's banquet tomorrow and football on Friday so I'll expect to talk to you again on Monday.

Remember -- friends don't let Mets fans wear black. 

See you next time.

Remember, "Kiner's Korner" is up next!

Adios.

Baseball History in One Scene

 

"All Stars Dream Scene" by Jamie Cooper

I don't remember exactly when I saw the above painting for the first time, but I remember my reaction.

I think I might have drooled.

Then I began naming the names. Most were easy. Some needed a closer eye.

But I love the detail of it. There's the famed photographer Charles Conlan on the stairs and Pete Rose hiding in the stands as a janitor.

Of course, looking on the field one sees the golden smile of The Mick, while The Babe is calling his shot with Shoeless Joe. Speaking of Joe, Joltin' Joe and Teddy Ballgame are in the dugout talking about who was really the MVP in 1941. Ted's .406 still stands as the last to top .400 in a season but Joe D. hit in 56 straight games and led the Yankees to the American League title.

A quick note about DiMaggio: The Yankees won the World Series in '41 (of course). But DiMag -- in a 13-year career (three years lost to WWII), went to TEN World Series and won NINE. The guy was a pretty great ballplayer. He also blocked me from number five, thus this place is called "Exit 55."

The fourth face of the Yankees' Mount Rushmore is on the left as Larrupin' Lou chats with Captain Jeter. Yogi is there also and appears to be making Stan The Man laugh as Denton True Young -- "Cy," please -- sits nearby.

I'm sure someone will say Jeter doesn't belong in the picture. Remember, he's overrated. Jealousy, people. 

Maybe you disagree with Greg Maddux talking on the dugout with Sandy Koufax and Christy Mathewson. Maybe you'd prefer Tom Terrific or Pedro or Bob Gibson. I'd be fine with any of them but I like seeing those three artists sitting there, just as I like the juxtaposition of Walter Johnson and Nolan Ryan -- fireballers both -- shaking hands nearby.

I mean, look, if I had it my way Eddie Ford (Whitey) and The Great Mariano would be included but I think the picture is great as is.

Plus what's not to love with three trailblazers and great players in Jackie, the Hammer, and Roberto at the corner of the dugout? Pioneers and heroes, all.

Michael Jack Schmidt stands out in his brilliant blue Phillies uniform and The Kid has his hat backward (of course) as he talks to the Say Hey Kid and Cal is looking over Jeet's shoulder at the Iron Horse.

Honus (Hans) Wagner crouches next to The Georgia Peach. 

Two other people are in this wonderful scene from Comiskey Park in 1933. I'll let the artist tell you the full story from here.

The glorious game has a history that is brilliant and sketchy and sometimes shameful. It is anything but perfect. 

Perfection in baseball is the likes of Don Larsen. He's too Goofy (capitalization intended) to be a part of this scene.

The picture will evolve. It has to. New faces can join it and will.

We -- the present -- have to make sure to preserve the past and embrace where we are.

And spread the game. 

Spread it.

"You can observe a lot by just watching," said Lawrence Peter Berra.

That picture is proof of that.

The 1933 American League All-Star Team

Monday Night Rob

 

Yeah.

It's one of those nights.

I've been sitting in my office at home working, essentially, since around 10:15 this morning.

Frankly, I like working from home and I'm quite good at it.

I was working on the breakdown and re-re-re-re-(I've lost count)-rebuilding of my home studio.

Which will be rebuilt again in the not-too-distant future.

Some of that is out of necessity and some of that is just me being me.

Oh, I did laundry also. Which is currently sitting in the dryer, likely done for a few hours.

I also tried to do a podcast (we rescheduled), hosted "Doubleheader," did some rearranging and cleaning, edited a few broadcasts (including the Stamford/Greenwich game from last Saturday), and caught up on some clerical stuff.

Keeping my calendar organized is a trick. Either nobody wants me or everyone wants me. I generally prefer the latter but sometimes crave the former.

Oh, there's no question I could use a true break. I ran to weddings and games and have not slowed down. I don't suspect I'll be slowing down in the near future either.

Thanksgiving could be a break. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. No, it won't! There will be things to do basically every day.

For instance, we're back to the routine that existed from 2001-2019. Up early on Thanksgiving morning and drive to a football game. Call game, drive to Thanksgiving meal, fall asleep.

Those game sites have been Danbury High School, Boyle Stadium (Stamford), Staples Stadium (Westport) and, of course, Cardinal Stadium in Greenwich. Did I miss anyone? That's it. Four different sites over basically 20 years.

I "check out" when I sleep and I don't do a lot of that lately either. I mean, it's not terrible but it's certainly not sound.

I've lined up what will likely be two games this weekend (it could have been three). They're not confirmed yet so I'll keep them in my pocket for now. Both are pretty exciting.

I'm nosing around the winter schedule to see what I can do. I'm looking forward to hockey and basketball.

I've plotted the next year of Hunt Scanlon conferences and teaching assignments for CSB.

I see the Winter Classic is happening again in Greenwich. I had a blast the other times I did those games. Do they want a broadcaster? Inquire within!

The times they are a-changing.

That's what I'm thinking about tonight.

Dead Horse Society

 

I have a collection of silly accounts that I follow on Twitter (aka "twidiots") that beat one topic to death after another. I literally follow them for entertainment purposes.

One, in particular, has a collection of topics that are thrown out on a repeated basis.

We get it. You don't think managers don't manage in baseball anymore. Well, no, they don't. At least not like managers of a distant past. A computer makes the lineup but they still get paid to manage personalities and make in-game adjustments. You know players don't wear wool uniforms anymore, right?

Speaking of uniforms, the other dead topic (his latest) is complaining about the new uniform number rules (or lack thereof) in the NFL. Previously, a linebacker (for instance) couldn't wear a single-digit number in the past. Now, basically, anything goes.

There's so much more I could say about that account but I won't.

Instead, I'm going to pick on my own "dead horses."

- "Black is not a Mets color." Yes, I've said that and it's become a signoff on "Doubleheader" for me. I'm fair enough to see that the New York Metropolitans have some sweet uniforms, especially from the early part of their life. So, basically, we're talking 1969. In the late 90s, the Metsies felt that black was all the rage. It was ugly then and it is ugly now. Also, for those wanting them back due to "tradition," you made a few playoff appearances and went to ONE World Series which you LOST. Who did they lose to? Hmmm...I think they wear pinstripes on their uniforms. Anyway, you got your wish and that tradition got you...another year without the playoffs.

- The Nike Swoosh. OK, since I've opened on a uniform gripe, this is another one that thuds in my sull. I get it -- baseball made $1 billion or whatever in their deal with Nike but did it HAVE to go on the front of the uniform? it's just more Nike obnoxiousness and MLB cluelessness. I still can't look at them without feeling a little ill. Especially on the Yankees, Red Sox, Dodgers, Cubs, Cardinals, and the other great unis. But put them all over the Mets black disasters. Feel free!

- The "Sunday Night Football" song. Yeah, "I've been waiting all day for Sunday night," which I don't think a single person has ever said. It was rough enough when it started with P!nk, then moved to Faith Hill, and now it's Carrie Underwood (full disclosure: not a fan). For the love of Pete Rozelle please stop. I thought Bocephus and his "Rowdy Friends" was painful enough.

- Maroon 5 sucks. This one is a running gag at this point, but yeah, Maroon 5 does suck. I was sitting with a friend recently (I won't sell them out by name) when a song came on the in-house music system. 

My friend: "The worst Super Bowl show ever." 
Me: "Who?" 
Them: "Maroon 5." 
Me: "Say no more. 

Seriously. Say no more, and I stand by my belief (backed up by my friend) that Adam Levine has the most punchable face in music. We even spoke more kindly of Justin Bieber (for his hockey knowledge; not his music).

- Waffle House and other "culinary" delights. This sits in the collection of pop culture dead horses that I'm known for:

    - Vin Scully. We get it. He's great and I know everything about him.

    - Huey Lewis. Say no more.

    - The Beatles. Really?

But, yes, Waffle House, etc. It's become a go-to thing for people to talk to me about (along with Scully, HL, etc). And I admit I thread it in wherever I can (or post pictures of its sumptuous goodness).

- Fights with Kato. Chris Kaelin and I haven't don't it as much recently, but I will say his spot as "angriest man alive" has been surpassed by the aforementioned Twitter account (another Mets fan). But that's just it. Kato doesn't have the "Metsies" fire as much in him anymore. Also, Kato really isn't that angry. This other dude? Yeah. 

- Play-by-play criticism. I actually try to stay away from this one but I always have friends reaching out with clips for me to hear or live games for me to tune into. I appreciate that they want my input and reaction. In fact, my initial idea tonight was to write about some things that bug me currently. They include the inability to tell a story and the need to rely on the myriad notes they've shown up with. Also, the constant need for talking versus letting the game breathe. Also, everyone wants to be Tony Romo lately. They think they can predict the game. Lastly, I'm all for people trying to be a broadcaster but too many -- especially newbies -- don't get the rhythm. They talk over the play. See what I mean? I can't help myself.

- My son, father, mother, cat, etc. Self-explanatory, I suppose.

- These twidiots. I often screenshot them and send them to some friends. Hypocrisy and other nonsense don't pass my smell test so I send the screenshots so 1) we can have a good laugh, and 2) I don't respond to them.

I'm sure I have other dead horses and things I post to excess but hopefully, they're easily ignored.

Just like this post.

Saturday at the Stadium

 

This football season is flying by.

Greenwich beat Stamford today on their combined senior day/homecoming and the score was very much what I feared.

With no disrespect intended to the Black Knights they were simply outmanned by Greenwich, 64-12.

The game started under comfortable conditions with the temperature in the upper 50s. Some wore shorts and I had to admit that I might have liked that also. To that end, I left my coat in the car.

Still, as the first half was being played, I kept noting how darkness was sweeping across Cardinal Stadium. "Foreboding" was the word I used, longing for a horror writer to pick that up and run with it.

As halftime rolled on, so did the clouds. A light rain started to fall, bringing our videographer, Dave, down from the roof to go into a booth to keep the equipment dry.

I ran cables to him in his room when the topic of lightning came up.

That would bring an instant delay.

And a few minutes later, the first flash hit.

The clock began running. The game could not resume until 30 minutes after the last sign of lightning.

In the Local Live world, there are (generally) no ads or promo breaks. When the game stops, there is just natural sound.  

So, in this case, we went to basically dead air, even on the audio side.

The storm -- which spawned a tornado on Long Island (Hi, Mick!) -- passed and the game resumed after a 40-minute delay.

Shawn Sailer (admirably filling in on color today) kept me company as we sat in the comfy confines of the Cardinal Stadium booth number 204.

Incidentally, the storm also brought the temperature down. Thus I was glad to get my coat as things dropped through the 40s.

With the win, this weird season turns towards Thanksgiving, which is when I'll next see the Cardinals. As for Brunswick, I'm hoping to hear about a bowl game broadcast next weekend.

Processing

 

Senior night ceremonies at Brunswick

I'm home from calling another exciting Brunswick football win.

Brunswick 28, Trinity-Pawling 20.

Nerve-wracking and so on, with the Pride of T-P driving for a late score, only to come up empty on fourth down in the shadow of the end zone.

There are those who think you have to go back and listen to it again when it's over. I did that years ago. Now? I pick out the highlights (if any) and move on.

I don't expect something magical to come out of it. I know where I wasn't good and that's it.

A night like this -- when there's so much going on -- I just try to stay in the moment. See the ball, call the ball. That's what a play-by-play announcer does.

I could have been calling a couple of New York Section 1 finals but Brunswick said they wanted me and it's nice to feel wanted.

It's nice when parents come to the booth, specifically because they want to meet you.

But, like with anything else, I pour everything into it. I fell asleep on the train home from the Hunt Scanlon conference on Wednesday. I was exhausted walking out of Cosby Field tonight. 

As I've said, there was a reason that we hung out in the parking lot after games. I took that time to decompress.

Giving heart and soul -- making sure the broadcast is getting the best I've got -- is what I believe in.

It was a night of adjusting. Ian Nicholas joined me for the broadcast. He's a good guy with a bright future and I hope he learned things as we worked together tonight. But it's an adjustment when you work with someone new.

I've said too many times how important chemistry is. That's part of what makes Chris Erway and I so good together. We know the rhythm and we're also friends.

The window I normally work in was taken by the videographer tonight, who produces a marvelous broadcast on his own, including running a camera and producing replays.

So, I adjusted. I stepped into the bigger room at Brunswick and grabbed a window, wedging myself in for the next three hours or so. Mike Harris -- the hysterically funny public address announce and my friend -- used the other window. The last room was for the scoreboard operator.

That left Ian to do analysis off of a monitor behind me. It wasn't ideal.

But, again. We adjusted.

So to listen to it again? No. I'm not going to do that.

I've uploaded the game and by all means, give it a listen (here's the unedited Mixcloud link, while the edited version exists on Archive.org). I know enough about it already.

Good game.

Now, I move onto Stamford and Greenwich tomorrow.

Shawn Sailer will be there.

Game time is 1 p.m.

Tell it Again. It's Veterans Day

 

The gorgeous retouched photo

I was going to simply repost something from 2019.

Instead, I'll simply restate it.

Today is Veterans Day and we're all thanking veterans, as we should. We know -- or should know -- it's different from Memorial Day, having first been Armistice Day. That, I hope you know, was the day to mark the end of hostilities in World War I in the "eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month" in 1918.

We all know it for what it is now.

Earlier today, I posted a picture of my father in uniform, shot outside of his parent's house in Lake Secor. My guess is it was taken sometime around 1951.

My Facebook friend and outstanding baseball author J Daniel, surprised me by touching up the picture and sending it back to me.

But, what I always want to make clear -- what I think my dad would always want you to know -- was that while he joined the Army and went to Aberdeen Proving Ground he did not serve in Korea.

Private Adams was ultimately honorably discharged due to "Disability existing prior to entry on active service and not aggravated by military service."

He returned to New York and resumed his civilian life.

So while he is indeed a veteran and a flag is placed on his grave to recognize his service, he never wanted to confuse his intentions with those who served and went to battle.

He served as much as he could.

I always feel duty-bound to tell you this in honor of him.

He'd thank all for serving, as do I.

I thank him as well.

Look to the Cookie!

New York smells like pot.

There. I've said it.

Whether in Times Square, strolling along 45th St, down near Madison Square Garden, or over at Hudson Yards, I smelled the "wacky tobaccy" a lot.

I almost longed for a whiff of cigarette by comparison.

I'm back from 24 whirlwind hours in Manhattan where Paul Silvarfarb and I walked probably 60 blocks, grabbed the most expensive drink I've ever had at a rooftop bar (I haven't exactly lived), and sat at a computer in the basement of our hotel at 11:30 at night trying to figure out how to print the conference speech.

Oh, and we got Krispy Kreme doughnuts and good burgers. I sent pictures of the Times Square Krispy Kreme to Sean.

We strolled B&H (dangerous to let the two of us go in an electronics store like that) and the NHL store (too pricey).

We were two wild and crazy guys (eye roll).

It was a fun night but I was in pain from the walking. Such is life.

I also got very little sleep for some reason.

The conference went off without a hitch today as the Hunt Scanlon team did a remarkable job of setup, breakdown, pressing the flesh, and presenting another great show.

(Side note to Chris Hunt, who reads the blog and is no doubt anticipating what I'm going to write: I have nothing bad to say. Great experience again! The behind-the-scenes work that everyone puts in on conference day is remarkable.)

As usual, I try to avoid mistakes (impossible) and otherwise facilitate as I stay out of the way.

We were basically all on-site by roughly 6:45 a.m. (some earlier) and I walked out around 5:20 p.m.

I was back in my car at 7:00 and home by 8:00.

But I had made up my mind that Sean needed a cookie. 

Wait, no. Not a cookie.

The cookie.

The black and white cookie. Nobody could explain it better than "Seinfeld."

JERRY: Uhm, The thing about eating the Black and White cookie, Elaine, is you want to get some black and some white in each bite. Nothing mixes better than vanilla and chocolate And yet somehow racial harmony eludes us. If people would only look to the cookie all our problems would be solved.

ELAINE: Your views on race relations are fascinating. You really should do an op-ed piece for the Times.

JERRY: Um, um, Look to the cookie Elaine. Look to the cookie.

Oh you can get black and white cookies in a lot of places. There are packaged versions that you can get in a convenience or grocery store. But any New Yorker knows that a true black and white cookie -- perhaps the original black and white cookie -- can be found at Zaro's in Grand Central Terminal.

I knew my son -- likely annoyed over the Krispy Kreme pictures -- would forgive all transgressions if I looked to the cookie.

So, yes, I walked in around 8 p.m. The cat popped up as I came up the stairs. Sean, headset on, talking to his friends, greeted me.

I gave it a moment. Then, I held the cookie aloft.

"Is that the real thing?"

He rarely gets this worked up; this giddy. He was actually electric in the moment.

"I haven't had one in some time!"

To be honest, I expected a smile. An "Oooohhhh." Polite and happy.

But this was more than that. It was transcendental.

It actually took me aback with a touch of emotion.

Dad gets one right once in a while.

He did then admit he was a touch jealous about the Krispy Kreme photos -- a reminder that we need to spend a day in the city. 

Maybe we can get a contact high. It won't be difficult.

Autumn in New York

 

I have a conference in New York City tomorrow.

I'm honored and (always) a little nervous about serving as the moderator for Hunt Scanlon's gatherings around the world. Yes, I can say "around the world" because of the numerous events in New York but also San Francisco, and (coming in 2022), London.

To that end, my passport arrived yesterday, a mere three weeks after I applied for it. I'm always amazed at the "gloom and doom" of those who warned me of "running out of time." I applied officially three weeks ago. I got it yesterday.

I'm going to London in April. I shudder to think about keeping "Project 365" kicking during that stretch as the Renegades will also be back in season and there are a ton of things to organize between now and then. "Come for the bad writing, stay for Rob's nervous breakdown." We should make T-shirts.

But, back to New York. I'm expected to be in the Harvard Club (site of said conference) before 8 a.m. but, given trains and always wanting to be ahead of schedule, I'm normally in the building by 7:30.

I think I walked in last time at 7:00.

So, do the math for a soul leaving from Mahopac. I need to be up and on the road by 5 to go to a train station (Croton Falls or Mount Kisco or somewhere else) and go from there.

Early start, indeed.

I've also taken a train from Greenwich but, unless I can leave my car at WGCH and hoof it, parking is otherwise an issue. Plus WGCH is limited on parking so this plan isn't ideal.

A few years back, I began considering staying the night before the conference in the city. 

Now, it's somewhat counterproductive, no? I'm going to NYC to make money but I'm going to drop money to stay the night before? In my initial research, the prices were, well, they were New York prices.

Ah but enter the always-budget-conscious Paul Silverfarb, who found a good deal for the last conference and told me about a deal for a hotel near tomorrow's gathering.

Seriously, Paul is savvy with that stuff.

And so, friends, your friendly neighborhood moderator shall hang with the hipsters tonight in the Big Town.

I'll be a mere block from the Harvard Club. Also, not too far from some Krispy Kreme.

I hate the thought of rolling a suitcase around but I'm willing to take the chance for once. 

Tomorrow is a long day, stretching from that early arrival until well after the post-conference gathering and leaving around 6 p.m.

So one night in a hotel while Sean holds down the fort in Mahopac (and keeps a watchful eye on Rascal) seems like a good investment.

New York -- while we're not always on the same page -- is truly a special place. I can't say I'm an expert on it but I have my fair share of stories and experiences. 

It has been more than a (New York) minute since I've experienced some of the good and great and grim that New York has to offer.

We know what we are. We're big and bold and obnoxious. We don't always see eye to eye for that very reason.

Still, we have our things that only New Yorkers know. Think of the Automat and Toots Shors and THE Garden and THE Stadium and Chock full o'Nuts and Manufacturers Hanover and the Ritz Thrift Shop.

We have knishes and the black and white cookie (Look to the cookie!) and bagels and hard rolls (and hard "R's") and...sorry, world...pizza.

Between you and me and the Staten Island Ferry, I'd still take the noir-induced New York of another time over the spit-polished Times Square that exists now.

New York, like other places, inspires creativity. Songs, poems, movies. You get the idea. Heck just thinking about leaving today was the inspiration for this post (and, to that point, negated the need for my computer to travel with me!).

I wonder if it can be quantified. Seriously, what city has inspired more? I'm genuinely curious. London? Paris? LA? 

Oh, don't get me wrong. I still love the suburbs and, in my case, the Hudson Valley. I'm just as content with summer in Highland Falls (figured I've quoted Billy Joel once so why not keep going?) as I am with summer in the city (Lovin' Spoonful, anyone?).

Thus New York City becomes a treat. An often overpriced, Saks Fifth Avenue/Breakfast at Tiffany's kind of treat.

So give me your tired (which I won't be as tired thankfully) and your poor (which I probably will be) tonight, Big Apple. 

Or, more than likely, find me in my room, ironing my shirt for tomorrow and letting my suit hang.

Wrinkles are bad.

New York, New York, isn't everything they say and no place I'd rather be.

I'm in a New York state of mind.

Mom's Wisdom re: Toilet Paper

 

It was the early days of the pandemic and Nancy Adams saw what was going on.

Home from the nursing home she detested but unable to get around without my help, for the most part, she would send me out on almost daily shopping trips.

I'd have to get her various items (which led to inevitable texts and phone calls from me to find out exactly what she wanted) and, inevitably, it would come up.

"Should you pick up some toilet paper?"

But, the thing is, we had TP.

A lot. Well, maybe not a lot but we had enough.

There was a large pack, bought via BJ's Warehouse (I think) that sat unopened for months.

Most of the time I talked her out of buying more but, occasionally, to pacify her, I'd pick up a very small pack. The last thing I wanted was to contribute to the Great Paper Products Hoarding of '20.

Alas, it wasn't necessary.

I know, mother is always right.

Well, in this case, I knew we'd be OK.

The large package was finally opened after Mom passed.

Well today -- finally -- I recognized that we were indeed starting to run out of the forever pack.

For the first time in a long time, I had to buy toilet paper. Not to appease my mother but because we were actually beginning to run out.

There's no great moral to this parable. It's just a simple story that made me smile.

Time marching on.