Staying Quiet

 

Note: Not my stats

OK, OK. 

Message received.

Last night, I wrote a breakdown of "Help," the 1965 movie starring The Beatles.

It was received exactly as I feared it might.

*crickets*

Oh, I know, some read it and some liked it.

But, stat-wise, it was a dud.

I wish I didn't see the numbers but so it goes. Most of the time I don't see numbers in radio since WGCH doesn't participate in a ratings book. I also don't have access to the streaming stats for WGCH or Local Live. However, I see the stats for the online efforts on my own sites (social media, Robcasting, and the blog).

Do those stats matter? Well, no, not really. A lot of things I write aren't intended for a particular audience necessarily but, that being said, a good reaction can be encouraging.

And it's tough to not let a low number be discouraging.

I mean, nobody is going to weep for me over this nor should they.

Some things land and some things don't.

I don't regret writing the post as I had a little fun with it.

Just as I don't regret a tweet that I posted earlier that was critical of the sports broadcasting business and the constant entitlement that I witness.

Yet I should have stayed away from the keyboard.

Still, since I opened the box, let me say that some of what I've seen just makes us all look bad.

And I'll stop there because, clearly, I lack the tact to say either nothing or speak in measured tones.

So, yeah, tonight seems like a night to chill out.

I have a Renegades game tomorrow at 11 a.m. (!) so I'll need to be on the road during rush hour, even if it's going the opposite way. 

From there, I'll make my way to Trumbull to call Little League baseball since tonight's game was postponed due to the threat of bad weather. Babe Ruth baseball went on and played so I have to back up covering them to Thursday.

Somewhere, I'll have to find a few minutes to put more fabulous content together.

*****

Today is the 14th anniversary of Bobby Murcer's passing. The details are forever embedded in my mind as to where I was when I heard about it. 

His impact -- that of a man that I met three times -- is immeasurable.

Yet, I hasten to write about him since I feel like it's sometimes too much.

So, I'll just say that it's a sad reminder of someone I greatly admired.