Second Base

 

I moved from Mahopac to Greenwich over five months ago.

Still, I've been back every couple of weeks since, driving by to check on the mail. For the most part, the mail has stopped coming. 

Of course, I'm also driving by to see how things are coming along at the old house. While there is still a flood of memories, I'm also just curious.

A few weeks back, I was faced with the stunning reality that the paint had been changed from yellow to this grey and that a couple of windows -- one in my bedroom as a kid and one in my parent's bedroom -- had been sealed.

As I've said all along, it's the new owners' property now and it's their business.

But, well, today, I discovered a couple of trees had been torn down.

One was in the backyard, at the corner of the house. Honestly, I wanted to take that one down some time ago as it was clearly threatening to be a problem. It hung right over the back corner of the house and its needles could often be found in the gutter.

The other, well, everyone knew it as second base.

It was a tall evergreen that sat to the left of the house when looking from the road. 

It was a tree that my mother always wanted in the yard, even when I'd grumble about it being a bear to clean around when mowing the lawn. Eventually, my cousin Kris helped prune it so that I could run the lawnmower under it.

For what it's worth, my mom always hoped it would be taken by Rockefeller Center for their Christmas tree. Small note: my cousin in Westchester County did have their tree taken to New York several years back.

But our tree was also the centerpiece of the mini Yankee Stadium in the Adams yard.

How could I possibly be expected to grow up in a yard without a baseball field? Or a football field?

No, I'm not really that entitled. I was blessed to have a yard (and neighborhood) that was adaptable to sports like that.

The side of our house was prime for Wiffle ball games and any other type of ball/diamond game I could muster. The front yard of the house served as the outfield and, thanks to its rectangular shape, served as a good football field.

In the days before batting cages, I'd stand in the sideyard with a bucket of balls and self-hit. It was great hand-eye coordination.

Wiffle? Baseball? Tennis balls? Rubber balls? Yes to all.

The tree in the middle was second base. Yeah, it wasn't a perfect field but ask any kid who played on it and see if it bothered them.

Oh, I'll tell you what bothered them: hitting a ball up the middle -- on the ground or a liner -- and the ball getting stuck in the tree. Believe me when I say I crawled into and under that prickly thing too many times for an accurate count.

But the tree peak -- that glorious piece standing atop that would be perfect for an angel to rest upon it -- was sacred. Why? Because the house rule was that if a ball went over the peak of the tree it was a home run.

Hey, we needed quirks. Yankee Stadium had Death Valley. My Yankee Stadium had a tree and the front corner of the house.

Don't get me wrong, as I said, I lamented many Saturdays about mowing around second base. I wished it was gone so often. I wanted a field without it as an obstacle.

But, on the other hand, it wouldn't have been the same.

So, today, when I drove by to see it sitting there chopped into pieces, a small part of my youth felt like I had struck out.

I texted some of the people who I knew would appreciate the picture that I took. The general reaction was "wow."

With the tree gone so goes its secrets of eating the baseballs, plastic balls, rubber balls, football, golf balls, and whatever else it gobbled.

With the tree gone, I'm reminded of parties and picnics. Memorial Day, July 4th, Labor Day. Heck, if there wasn't snow on the ground on Thanksgiving I'd still be out there hitting. We were also out there for graduations and whatever other excuse we could fine.

I'm reminded of Kris and Kourtney and Keli. I'm reminded of the Wiffle ball games that even Mom played in -- something that astounds her younger grandchildren. 

I'm reminded of my nieces and nephews and friends and neighbors. 

I'm reminded of many - seriously, so many -- games that I stood out there and conducted on my own, practicing play-by-play out loud.

"That's where you started," a neighbor mentioned to me at my mother's funeral, which was both extremely sweet and quite embarrassing because I hoped nobody had ever heard me.

So goes another passage of life. We move on.

It's not ours to control though we can certainly pause to mourn.

I continue to be wowed by the changes and fascinated by what is coming next.

But this one stung.

Basketball Goes Boom!

 

There are those in the broadcasting business who think that certain things are beneath them.

I remember a lengthy discussion once taking place on the interweb about covering sub-varsity sports, for instance. But I've proudly called any level and, basically, any sport.

So when I was asked if I'd like to do fourth-grade girls basketball for Boomslang Basketball Club, based here in Greenwich, I thought it sounded like fun.

Look, my "have headset, will travel" mantra has always served me well in the willingness to broadcast, basically, anything and anywhere. 

The limits I have include anything that won't sound good or will somehow be embarrassing (either for me or the athletes). Otherwise, chances are, I'll give it a try.

The basic issue is too many in "the biz" are inflexible as they sit in their tower. They'd cringe at what I did today.

Not me. I didn't flinch.

When covering something like this, the details of what time the game will take place and where can be a bit late arriving. I confirmed late in the week that there would be a game today and it would take place in Hartsdale, NY.

The location was an added bonus, for Westchester County will always hold a special place in my heart. I worked in White Plains for years and could often be found around that part of the county.

Hartsdale, just south of White Plains, was also where my paternal grandparents lived and where my father was both in 1929. Their house -- on Central Park Ave (NY route 100) -- is still there, having been converted into a dental office many years ago.

That just added to my motivation to get up and go to the Leffell School in Hartsdale at 9:30 this morning.

Sure, after entirely investing in two football broadcasts this weekend, it was pretty enticing to take it easy and watch football on TV. But I fed Rascal and summoned the energy to walk out the door after being appropriately caffeinated.

I made the commitment. People were now counting on me. I'd be there.

I made my way into Hartsdale, passing my grandparent's house as well as the old-style IHOP that we used to eat at as a family, and was soon at the gym.

I guess I failed to recognize that the game was at 10, so time was a little tight, but I was set up in the corner of the bleachers in no time. Ryan Maloney -- my Boomslang contact -- assisted me with a roster that was loaded with only first names. I questioned that but got the expected answer: just in case parents didn't want their kids' full names on the air.

Oh, this would be different and it's possible that it will change in the future but I saw no reason to push the topic. This was, overall, a test broadcast to see if everything worked.

I lightly promoted the effort on Twitter and did get a few listeners on the Robcasting feed.

So with just first names, I got to work. A win for Boomslang (which, by the way, is a highly poisonous snake...blech...) would mean they'd play in a championship game later in the day in Yorktown. I was invited to call that one also.

From there, it was basketball. The game took a mere 45 minutes, with Boomslang falling to Born Leaders 9-2.

The broadcast became standard operating procedure for me. It seems Boomslang is happy as they posted the archived audio on their site.

Many years ago, WGCH had me broadcast the football championships in the GYFL here in Greenwich. I questioned the idea. Then we did it, had a blast, and learned that broadcasting anything was possible.

The other thing is if I didn't broadcast it, someone else would.

It's simply a matter of being armed with the right information. I had enough to make this morning work.

Let's face it. If I have a roster -- even one with first names only -- it just becomes the game from there. Just describe it.

Sure, I don't love being the subject of curiosity as many people in the gym took note of the strange "old" man sitting in the corner of the bleachers but, obviously, there were people to vouch for me.

With the Boomslang loss, there would be no trip to Yorktown (up near Mahopac, if you don't know). Instead, I went back past my grandparents' house and pulled into the driveway.

It's probably the first time I stopped there since I was a little kid. I snapped a picture from the driveway.

The house is on the left. The other structures were added later

Then I moved toward Greenwich and connected with my sister. Sean and I joined her for a nice late lunch in Darien.

Now, finally, I'm watching football and some hockey as well.

The best news about all of this is that it kept me from sleeping all day because each time I sat down in my chair at home I passed out.

My hope is I'll sleep well tonight.

I'm sure the cat will have something to say about that.

Memories of Sandy

 

Greenwich, CT, post-superstorm. Oct 30, 2012

A hurricane hit the area ten years ago tonight. That hurricane evolved into a superstorm. To be honest, I'd never heard that term before then and haven't heard it after that night.

I remember that it was a Monday and that I had a talk show to do that night. So, keeping the commitment, I decided I would go in.

But, I also figured it was possible I could be a help to WGCH. I called Tony Savino and he said to come on down.

I was there before 3 p.m., armed with a sleeping bag and an air mattress.

Not long after I got there, Tony told me that a radio station from Vancouver, Canada had called and asked for a guest to go on to talk about preparing for the storm. I was that guest.

I appeared on the Simi Sara on CKNW radio. I was asked if I would be interested in appearing again the next day after the storm had passed.

The next hiccup was when our own Mary Anne DeFelice -- host of "The Mary Anne Show" -- wasn't comfortable with coming in. So, would I do it?

I went on the air at 3 p.m. for the first time and hosted the show. My goal was to inform listeners about the status of the storm while remaining topical and relaxed. After all, I jumped in literally with no preparation.

So began my long night of radio. WGCH Assistant News Director Jim Campbell eventually joined me for the evening. At that point, we were two journalists who talked news and the storm. We took phone calls and monitored the local power utilities for their outages map.

Eventually, all power would go out.

My talk show colleagues -- Chris Erway, Ryan DeMaria, and Chris Kaelin -- all told me they weren't going to the station but each one chimed in via phone. The conversation remained professional but at times we also tried to keep things light and entertaining.

This was a fairly important gig. My car sat outside the building and I remembered wondering if it would get damaged (it didn't). 

Jim and I also stayed in touch with Tony all night, who was anchored at the Public Safety Complex several blocks down Mason Street. Tony elected to walk there and, while I've done that walk, I can't imagine it was fun in a hurricane/superstorm.

I felt this was one of the more important community service things on radio I'd ever been a part of and I remain proud of the whole thing. 

What didn't thrill me was that, as we were slogging through our eighth hour on the air, and heading towards 11 p.m, everything went black.

Tony had fought through the rain and wind to get back to the station and we were just beginning to discuss how much longer we should stay on the air when the power went out. I'll always remember the traffic light at the corner of Lewis and Mason Streets remaining on via battery backup for some time after everything else went dark.

With that, we were off the air and our coverage was also. Also with that, any hope of archival audio was gone.

We gathered in the office after that for a few minutes, beginning to assess what had just happened. for some reason, and I never did know why, a Greenwich police officer came in the door.

Jim and Bob Small -- who'd also been around the building most of the night -- both lived in Greenwich.  With that, Jim looked towards the cop with a flashlight on to light anything we could and began to speak.

"Officer," Jim said, "I live in..." 

"You're not going anywhere," the officer replied.

I knew I wouldn't be back in Mahopac that night. By definition, the roads were closed due to a state of emergency. I felt no reason to test that in the dark. To that end, I checked on Mom to make sure she was OK. Except for some down branches and no power, she was fine.

Incidentally, Bob was able to get home. But by 11 p.m. Tony, Jim, and I faced the reality that were sleeping at the station that night.

Eventually, each one of us headed to a different room to sleep. If I recall correctly, Tony took an office, Jim took the main air studio, and I headed into the office that I had at the time.

I hadn't inflated the air mattress because I felt sort of guilty that I had brought it but the others didn't have such an extravagance. I loaded batteries into the air pump for the air mattress, turned it on, and ... 

Of course, the batteries were dead and the pump didn't work.

I heaved a sigh, unrolled my sleeping bag, and hunkered down on the floor. The light of the dying traffic signal keep a green, red, and occasional amber hue coming through the window.

As I'm sure you won't be surprised, I didn't sleep much as Monday, Oct 29 faded into Tuesday, Oct 30, 2012.

I got up and, ultimately, decided that there wasn't much more I could do at WGCH that morning. We couldn't get on the air but the question now was if I could drive home.

There was only one way to find out.

Before leaving town, I drove around to see a little bit of the damage. I saw downed trees and very little life due to no power.

Otherwise, it was pretty unspectacular.

I got on I-95 and began to head home. Despite the continued state of emergency, traffic moved swiftly. I went back to Mahopac without incident.

Eventually, Simi Sara's producer would call and, with some battery still on my phone, I spoke with the CKNW host while pacing in my yard as I picked up branches resting on the ground.

Power eventually came back on later that night and life moved along.

I was lucky in that the damage in my life was minimal. So many others -- especially those along the shoreline -- suffered incredible damage and loss. In New York State alone, the reported numbers were 53 fatalities and $32 billion in damages in 2012 dollars.

Staten Island, lower Manhattan, parts of Brooklyn and Queens were especially hard hit.

The Fairfield County coastline of Connecticut also got walloped. I specifically recall a bad fire in the Old Greenwich part of town while we were on the air. I recall the town of Fairfield got hit hard also.

It was spectacular but not in a good way.

But, as a broadcaster and a journalist, it's an experience that I have relived many times since, especially to broadcasting students. I use the superstorm as an example of covering breaking news and being prepared for anything. 

I also use it as an example of how nuts you need to be in broadcasting. Sleeping on the floor of a radio station wasn't ideal but things could have been much worse.

I find -- 10 years later -- myself wondering about that first weather experience now that I live here in Greenwich and how I would have handled that night. We live slightly close to the shore of Long Island Sound now.

Unforgettable.

I'm content to not go through it again.

*****

Greenwich beat Darien today in football. The significance of that can't be minimized for the Cardinals.

I hadn't been back to Darien High School in a few years. I was once there covering games on what felt like a weekly basis.

There are memories. 

I've written enough for tonight but that's where I'll leave it: memories.

My Senior Discount

 

The press box at Cheshire Academy was too small so we roughed it

It's Friday in Connecticut.

If you need to go anywhere, well, you know the drill. 

Traffic is terrible.

So, in my case, I had to get to Cheshire for the call of Brunswick at Cheshire Academy. Chris Erway and I had a 6 p.m. kickoff. After checking the maps, we decided to ride together, leaving his stately manor at 2:30 p.m.

I was hoping to be there around 4:00.

The idea is to be at the game site at least 90 minutes early to set up and hopefully visit the field, among myriad other pregame things.

Shockingly, we rolled into Cheshire earlier than expected. I thought a coffee and a bottle of water would be a good thing so Chris and I went to a Dunkin Donuts (which should always be the name in my opinion).

I stepped to the restroom while he ordered. As I emerged, Chris asked if I wanted anything to eat. At first, I didn't.

Then Chris ordered a pumpkin donut.

Dammit. I caved.

Tiffani -- the nice staff member serving us -- was charmed at the notion of Chris convincing me to get a donut also.

Seconds later, my injury (grabbing an unnecessary donut) was further insulted.

She gave us a senior discount, announcing that I saved us something like 56 cents.

I was happy to save the money since Chris was buying but hold on now.

Do I look like I should get a senior discount?

I'm certainly aware some salt has mixed with the pepper (which I'm always told is "distinguished") and yes there are some signs of aging but I thought I still looked reasonably young at heart.

By the end of the night, I essentially had one foot in the proverbial grave.

Chris, who has called me old for years (and I do have probably 17 years on him), was now absolutely in his glory.

He was overjoyed, to be clear.

Here I am, not deserving of a senior discount from Dunkin Donuts, not an AARP member, and under 55 years old, now receiving such status.

Sean -- my lovely child, who has long mocked my age -- was also delighted.

So I put the two of them in touch via text so they could enjoy the moment at my expense. I figured I might as well have fun with it.

We also prepared to discuss it during the Brunswick/Cheshire Academy broadcast. The game didn't allow to note it for long though I did drop it in later in the night. I believe the topic of my mortality was briefly touched on.

So, yeah, sense of humor and all.

It was a night in which there were problems with the video feed. I can't quite make this clear enough that Chris and I don't control such things. I can only control things in "the booth" and, even then, a lot of it is out of my hands once we're on the air.

In this case, we definitely had no control. We did, however, have an audio feed available (you know, as in Robcasting).

Despite my advanced age, I remembered to put the broadcast on the Internet.

Oh, and the game was pretty good, with Brunswick winning by three.

Plus family stopped by, though briefly. So great to see Michael, Ashley, Isabella, and Gabby.

Chris and I grabbed dinner after the game and laughed basically all the way home.

We're on to Darien tomorrow for Greenwich and the Blue Wave. Listen to us on WGCH and Robcasting.

I will have my walker with me.

Oh Yoko!

 

Arguably the greatest album in music history -- "Revolver" by The Beatles -- is getting a deluxe re-release tomorrow.

CDs, digital, and vinyl will be available in various "deluxe" editions. For the record (ha! I kill me!) I haven't purchased any of them.

To be sure, "Revolver" -- the first of the Fab discs I bought when the albums were released on CD -- is a significant work to me. Coming off the brilliance of "Rubber Soul," I feel like "Revolver" upped the game even more, preparing them for "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band."

And I could write about it all night, from the opening count-in of "Taxman" to the master studio work of "Tomorrow Never Knows."

Yet, I found myself thinking about Yoko Ono.

Ah yes. Yoko. The often-loathed better half of John Lennon. Loathed, essentially, because John fell head over heels for her, had her in the studio constantly, and left his first wife Cynthia (and son Julian) to be with her.

Along the way, she became responsible in the minds of many for breaking The Beatles up and spawning myriad memes and jokes.

I am absolutely guilty of calling a theoretically overbearing partner "Yoko Ono."

The funny thing was while talking about this, I heard words that aren't often uttered: "Poor Yoko."

But, with the recent "Get Back" documentary, we saw that Yoko was there but wasn't the annoying presence that she had been made out to be during the making of the titular album (later renamed "Let It Be").

So I think Yoko is being seen at least slightly through a different lens. No question Beatles fans have been long-been conflicted over Yoko. Did she break up The Beatles? No. Did she help things? Nah, probably not.

But it was John who adored Yoko. It was also John who wanted out of the band.

Oh yeah, Paul was accused of being the first to leave when he released his "McCartney" album in 1970.

Of course, on the other end of the spectrum is Linda McCartney, who was 60s chic, a fine photographer, and, well, less dangerous. By comparison to Yoko, Linda received little fan grief though one could have also suspected she helped break the lads up.

In the end, it really came down to the four Beatles, who had been on a rocket ship "to the toppermost of the poppermost!" They were the only ones who truly knew what the mania was like. 

Yoko was omnipresent, mostly due to her husband. 

And she became the running gag well past when she was 64.

Given that she's 89 now.

Big City. Big Topics

 

(Photo: LinkedIn)

Another lanyard.

When you're involved with conferences -- attending, presenting, or moderating -- you get lanyards. Lots of them.

I've got a bunch now and I added one more to the collection today.

It was the final conference for Hunt Scanlon in 2022 at the Harvard Club in Manhattan.

From New York to London to San Francisco and back to New York, we all logged a lot of miles via air, rail, car, and by foot.

The main conspirators in this buddy film are Chris, Scott, Mike, Erik, and Walker.

And me.

There are other supporting players but you get the idea.

Today's topic was diversity, equity, and inclusion -- also known as DE&I. It's safe to say those three words are more than just a catchphrase. It's a topic that had been a train on the tracks before 2020. Then it picked up speed.

The presentations -- individuals, duos, and panels -- were each powerful and prescient. Most who read this little enclave of the interwebs know that this should be common sense but, then again, we know the drill.

Common sense isn't always common.

What I really appreciated about the day was that it truly was a day of inclusion. While I wasn't a presenter, my voice was as welcome as any voice in the room. Everyone could be heard and many were.

Oh, don't get me wrong, my voice matters in that I'm steering the bus through the day. I've said before what it's like for me. It's a day that is exhausting mentally because I'm constantly watching time while multitasking with messages and texts flying around. It's also a bit of walking (to and from train stations in New York and Greenwich) and a lot of shuffling around.

It was also exhausting in that I was on almost no sleep and was up at 4 a.m. to be at the train station by 5 a.m. My back is sore and my feet hurt and, for what it's worth, that's good. I was happy to be active even if I'm in a little pain.

But, like climbing St. Paul's Cathedral or anything else in life, I'm proud when it's wrapped up. Sure, I get to play "the voice" or even "the face" to an extent and I'm grateful for the kind feedback but it's being a part of this team that I enjoy so much.

And guiding along a day with such important conversations. Again, diversity? Equity? Inclusion? Yes, yes, and yes. It's a humbling and rewarding day.

Oh, sure, I heard nice things about that voice of mine. No, I still don't get it. I think my voice is fine but I don't really think it's anything special. Still, a couple of attendees made sure to point out how much they liked it. One even said so to the entire audience of well over 200 people. I turned red, smiled, and sat down.

There's a nice payoff in gathering for the post-conference reception and chatting with attendees who gushed about the content. It's also at that point that guards come down and there's business talk combined with other topics. Relationships are fostered in those moments.

Now comes the winter break from conferences, with the next one lined up for March in New York City again. London and San Francisco are both on the docket for 2023 as we appear to be just as busy next year.

I'll be ready and we'll just keep getting better at it as I get even more comfortable.

There will be more lanyards to acquire.

Oh F***

 

I'm often picked on for my age.

Occasionally mocked for older values for sure.

And, to be honest, one of those values -- at least in media -- is about language.

No, not in person. Sure, I can "(work) in profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay." That's a quote from the movie "A Christmas Story."

But, yet, I struggle to do so here on the bibbidy bobbidy blog.

I think it's a hangup from working in the media. Obviously, profanity is quite frowned upon in broadcasting that is monitored by the FCC.

Thus a few of George Carlin's "seven dirty words" are "verboten" on the air.

And, as such, I've not used there here either.

Oh, I've even gone so far as to write them in the first draft. Then I delete them when it's time to publish the post.

Now, this doesn't mean you should flip out when and if I do write something here that's a bit blue (or if I have and have forgotten). There's no law against it. It's just how I prefer to conduct things.

Even on social media, I've worked mostly without it, even trying to not share things with "foul" language. Again, this is a guideline for me but it's not a definitive rule.

And, to be quite sure, I don't judge those who do swear in their work. Obviously, my eyes would open if it happened in broadcast media. Again, we're talking the major TV networks and all terrestrial radio stations. We're not talking about cable TV or Sirius XM.

We're also not talking internet streaming audio or video and, yet, I've always tried to avoid such language on those outlets as well. I've simply chosen to follow the FCC rules in those cases.

Still, I listened to a sports podcast earlier tonight where the host did use a few words that wouldn't pass the FCC censors and I found myself wondering, "why?"

And, of course, there's no right answer. If I hold anything against this podcast host it's because his work is ridiculous. 

This is probably one of those silly old hangups and, again, mostly nothing I'm going to get upset about, but when you come out of those uptempo g*dd@mn numbers, man...

Oh, sorry, I started to quote Casey Kasem's famous "f***ing ponderous" meltdown. 

Anyway, this "is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing." (Shakespeare, "Macbeth," Act 5, Scene 5)

So **** off and have a good night.

Hold Your Head High

 

The ball had barely reached Yuli Gurriel's glove before the mockup of Aaron Judge in a Mets uniform was on Twitter. I saw one later on him wearing a Red Sox jersey and hat.

Astros 6, Yankees 5. Season over in New York. The Astros and Phillies will meet in the World Series beginning on Friday.

The better team won and I congratulate the Astros on a four-game sweep.

My heart hurts right now but I expected it. I said the Yankees were a decided underdog before the series.

I've written about this feeling before. I said a while back that Mets fans need to be proud, give credit to the other team (in their case, the Padres), and move on.

I'm here to do just that.

Oh, it will sting and I'll feel anger, etc. I'll likely rave a bit on "Doubleheader."

But that's sports, friends. It teaches you that, generally, you're going to deal with hurt, deflation, depression, and, in some moments, euphoria.

If it grabs you, then you embrace it and hold on, even in the bad moments when you want to jump off.

For all of the remarkable moments I've written about, there are moments of heartbreak.

Or, tonight, basically, disgust. I had limited hope but the Yankees showed a few promising signs in three of the four games.

On the other hand, there was the abysmal, heartless performance in Game 3. For many, that's when it felt like it was over.

For me, it just felt deflating. The odds were clearly stacked against the Yankees but all I could do was lean into one game at a time.

And it was not to be. The Yankees' season --  a fun, wild ride -- was over around 12:10 a.m.

The drought -- such as it is in Yankees Universe -- extends into 2023 at 14 years since a title. Nobody is going to feel sorry for us.

There's always that question of "Will I watch the World Series?" and the answer is, "of course, I will." I've watched them all since 1975 and it won't change. 

I love baseball and I love the history of the World Series so of course, I'll pay attention.

I'll likely be rooting for the Phillies since Sean and I were there in August for a game. But if Dusty Baker finally wins a World Series as a manager then I can live with that.

Yeah, I know, "cheating Astros," etc but that's an often exhausting way to go through life. While it won't be forgotten, it's simply best to move on. I hate losing to the Astros because they're a rival now and because I hate losing.

But I'm from the Derek Jeter camp of a season is a failure unless there's a championship. No American League East Division title will satisfy that craving.

It's championship or bust.

It was bust in 2022.

Oh, and I think Judge will be back with the Yankees. I've said it all along and I'm standing by it. There will obviously be other necessary changes in the offseason.

Which begins now.

Thanks, Jodie

It was never her fault.

She was "brilliant" (her first spoken word).

She is Jodie Whittaker, who embodied The Doctor, the titular character of "Doctor Who" from mid-2017, when she was first announced as the 13th Doctor, until tonight.

Her final episode is airing as I'm writing.

The character had been a collection of white men from its first airing in Nov 1963 and the announcement of Whittaker was met with a lot of misgiving.

The misgiving needed to be for showrunner Chris Chibnall, who seemed to take so much of what made the "modern" Doctor Who (beginning in 2005) great and blow it up. Change, of course, can be good, but it can also be dangerous when dealing with a beloved show with a rabid fan base.

Whittaker and her companions were very much not the problems.

The writing was.

But Sean, my expert on all Whovian matters, was not thrilled about Whittaker at first. It had nothing to do with Jodie but everything to do with the way the character had been constructed. I actually wrote about it on social media -- yes, I learned my lesson -- and it led to a lengthy back and forth with friends and with a couple of women taking my side.

I think Sean was also concerned about embracing a new Doctor, following the previous incarnations, all of whom he liked a lot.

Still, in the end, TV show rules are allowed to evolve. It's a TV show after all.

Sean and I watched the first episode with the 13th Doctor, "The Woman Who Fell to Earth," and were impressed.

Soon after, the quality dropped, and Sean lost interest. I continued to watch but, admittedly, with no Sean, I also failed to stay up on the episodes.

But regeneration is a big deal so I'm back in tonight.

If you've never watched one, the regeneration -- in which the show can carry on with a new actor in the role -- can be a deeply emotional thing. Virtually all of the regenerations since 2005 have been a remarkable ride. Personally, I found the departures of David Tennant, Matt Smith, and Peter Capaldi to be particularly gut-wrenching. I'm fairly certain I've quoted each of them at one time or another here.

Now, for the record, I've already seen the regeneration since the episode aired in the U.K. hours ago. The BBC posted it on their social media and, despite the "SPOILER ALERT" ("spoilers" is an important phrase to Whovians) I still watched it. 

Yeah, I was pretty blown away by what I saw. It was a fine way for Jodie to depart. Social media told me enough to know what happened after. I got Sean to watch that and he just kept saying, "What?" over and over again.

What, indeed.

I'm watching the full episode now to understand how we got to the regeneration.

More than anything, I want to thank Jodie Whittaker -- no, I have no thought that she'll actually read this -- for carrying on the character in such a wonderful way. She brought the humor, charm, and edge to The Doctor that fans have loved for almost 60 years.

And, if Sean were writing, he'd say the same. We both came to love Whittaker and I'll admit I'd be interested in anything she acts in. While I really appreciate her work as "The Doctor," I thought she was incredible in "Broadchurch," a crime program that included many pieces of the "Whoniverse." Whittaker and David Tennant were just two parts, along with Chibnall, who created the program.

Of course, this is a fun process, given the Yankees are trying to stay alive (2-0, bottom of the first as I write in Game 4) and the Steelers are playing the Dolphins (that's not going so well). So multiple devices are bringing me this buffet of riches.

While this era of "Doctor Who" will be seen through a difficult prism, I'm still hopeful that Sean will return to it as it became another thing that bonded father and son. 

While nothing lasts forever, there are always older episodes to keep us talking.

As for what's next, well, all I can say is "allons-y" which is French for "Let's Go."

A Whovian knows what that means.

Our Next Album Release

 

A captivating fall sky at Brunswick as we waited

You might be aware that an artist released an album the other night at midnight.

Many in the pop music world were simply agog (and, perhaps, gaga).

Blog friend Snakey Lucy had her mother's credit card ready to fire away at midnight for "Midnights." 

Then another edition dropped at 3 a.m. with seven extra songs. I weep for those who try to collect all of it.

Taylor Swift is remarkable in myriad ways and, while I have my criticisms, one can't deny her talent or her ability to keep her fans satisfied.

It's a little Beatle-esque, I suppose. And, oh yeah, those guys dropped two new tracks from the expanded "Revolver," their 1966 masterpiece (I know, most of the Beatles' works are masterpieces). But "Revolver" is next-level brilliant.

Anyway, they released an early edition of "Yellow Submarine" that is 1) sung by John Lennon, 2) is acoustic and dark and melodic, and 3) is nothing like Ringo's eventual child-like classic. They also released a version of "Got to Get You Into My Life" with no horns and a fuzzed-out guitar part. Pretty great stuff.

But, yes, Taylor. So her album cover, like the songs themselves, is being evaluated and analyzed. Some have created their own version of the cover.

That was all I needed.

I got to Brunswick three hours before kickoff today. OK, technically four hours, but three hours ahead of the scheduled start time. Their opposition got stuck in traffic.

The larger point is that I had some time on my hands. So I looked up an album generator and found one.

I decided, as Chris Erway and I were planning to call the Brunswick game, that we'd promote it using a mockup album cover based on Taylor Swift's "Midnights."

I found a picture of the two of us -- a selfie we took at Ridgefield a little over a month ago. Then I went about making up song titles. The result is this.

Now, you might wonder about the song titles. I made them all up but they each have something related to Chris and me. When Ms. Swift ("Tay Tay") was getting close to the album release, she did this daily (and charming) video where she would choose a track number, then pick up a telephone and tell us the name of each track. I don't have such dramatic showmanship. Nor do you care that much.

So, without Taylor's nightly "Midnights Mayhem with Me" or the telephone, let's dive in.

Track 1) "1-2-3 Dominate" This is something Chris always wanted us to say before every broadcast as if we were pounding each other on our shoulder pads to go run through a wall on our way to radio immortality. We still say it. Sometimes. But with less vigor than was probably desired.

Track 2) "Villains" We have a running joke in which we're the villains (aka, "Anti-Hero" for you Tay Tay fans) among the media. I don't think we are but we do keep it pretty real and aren't phony.

Track 3) "Filthy" In truth, there's a second word that goes with filthy but I kept it a family-friendly album. Chris has called me this and I've called him that and there's a chance we've called many others the same. It's generally pejorative but mostly humorous. I won't reveal the word because I don't want to give all of the secrets away.

Track 4) "Keep It" This is something that I recall Ryan Demaria saying a lot and we picked up on it. The term is a shorthand for an expression of disinterest. It's always another way of saying "stick it."

Track 5) "Ego" It's a nickname. Chris and I give each other a hard time about a lot of things. I sometimes call him "The Ego." He's the one who truly embraced "The A-Team" monicker, for instance. This is among the things I chide him about, including his moat and the creation of his own country and security.

Track 6) "Captain Greenwich" This, on the other hand, is a name Chris gave me, especially when he was still new to the broadcasts. He even sent me off to a Halloween party years ago, with a "Captain Greenwich" cape. It was a sign of respect at the time.

Track 7) "Tako Mumpsimus" I discovered the word "mumpsimus" in a word-of-the-day email I received several years back and immediately applied it to our friend Chris Kaelin. Kato -- I think the world of him -- but he's obstinate. It's part of his charm. "Tako" is an anagram of "Kato" and, as for "mumpsimus?" It's "a person who obstinately adheres to unreasonable customs or notions."

Track 8) "Playmakers" Ryan, Kato, Chris, and I did "The Press Box" for roughly four years on WGCH. We started calling ourselves "The Press Box Playmakers" and the term has stuck.

Track 9) "The Sports Insider" A former WGCH colleague had a show called "The Sports Insider." In honor of Ricky Fritsch, we've kept it alive. Ricky was also responsible for one day asking me if I remembered an intern named Chris Erway. So, yeah, blame Ricky.

Track 10) "First Stanza" I like that term since it's poetic and reminds me of Susan ("Skipping Rocks" is available on Amazon). Chris likes my tradition of using it in nearly every football broadcast and will actually chide me if I don't say it.

Track 11) "Get Off My Lawn" Occasionally Chris will say I'm an old man. OK, every time I see him he tells me I'm an old man. 

Track 12) "What Is It?" This is something that the great Steve Somers of WFAN would say and it always cracked us up. When Steve agreed to come on "The Press Box," the four of us sat in the production studio to do a special promo for that show. The outtakes, including Ryan riffing by saying "What is it?" in every way possible, had us crying and laughing.

Track 13) "The Whole Thing" Also a Steve Somers term, it was something we took as our own just because. 

I'm a big fan of such parody and this was a fun thing to do. It was quick and simple and Chris got a good laugh out of it. Superfan Snakey Lucy also seemed to give it her seal of approval.

Chris and I touched on it during the broadcast of Brunswick/Phillips Andover Academy.

Well played, Taylor.

And go buy your copy of Susan's "Skipping Rocks!"

(UPDATE! Here's our special edition 11 a.m. release!)

Dispatches From Beyond?

 

Is Michael Myers tweeting?

A sense of humor is always necessary.

If you're a reader of this little enterprise you know that one of my heroes -- Vin Scully, legendary sports broadcaster -- died back in August.

The sports world mourned his passing.

Towards the end of his life, Vin became active on social media, dabbling on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.

In fact, it was his lack of any social media posts this summer that led me to think he wasn't well. He passed a few weeks later.

So it was kind of weird tonight when I got an alert that Vin had posted on Twitter.

Was it a miracle?!

A missive from a heavenly broadcast booth?

Was it a family member or someone in charge of his account who decided to post?

Er. I'm going to say no.

I blinked. Briefly, I was confused.

But then it disappeared; deleted by whatever cretin posted it.

Oh, but they weren't done. Within minutes a new post appeared.

To be very clear, I didn't click on any of the links. 

Both tweets were shared quite a bit with a lot of outrage.

I mean, hacking Vin Scully's account is pretty crass but given the tweets quickly disappeared, well, that was that.

What flashed in my mind was just how nuts my mind is.

For what it's worth, I still have posting access to my mother's social media accounts and, well, I'll leave that right there. But let's just say I wanted to post as her on Twitter.

And, further, I'm absolutely certain how she would have reacted to it.

She would have been amused but there would have been mock horror as she exclaimed my name. "Robert!" 

Always "Robert."

If you heard it, you never forgot it, so the impressions of it that still linger over Mahopac.

Ask Sean about the hand that would magically appear from the backseat of her car with a bag in it and one question proposed: "Garbage?"

Again, if you heard it, you never forgot.

So while I obviously mean no offense to Vin or his loved ones, that dark sense of humor was what rattled in me as I saw these dumb tweets tonight.

I'm glad they've been deleted, of course.

Oh, and Vin's Hidden Hills, CA house is for sale. His daughter is the listing agent on the seven-bedroom, nine-bathroom house priced at $15 million. Read more from the New York Post.

Pocket change for me, of course, to buy the property called "Home Plate." As it should be.

It sits just minutes off the 101 freeway, which I've been on. No, for the record, I did not try to find Vin's house.

I made it to the parking lot of Dodger Stadium -- his other house.

That was enough.

No zombies were around that day.

A Good Call

 

Greenwich beat Trumbull in football.

The game was good and the night was fun.

This was one of those nights where I knew people from both towns and when it came right down to it, I'm broadcasting for both places. Oh, I know Jeff Alterman and TEN (Trumbull Eagles Network) were there but they did their call and we did ours.

I feel a responsibility to do my best to cover both teams fairly. 

Some like -- even love. -- what Chris Erway and I do.

Some don't. Opinions are just that. They're opinions. 

It felt like we were on our game tonight.

If you don't know any better, you probably don't know that even with the best of broadcasts there are still flubs of some kind.

You probably don't know that I was struggling to get connected to WGCH via the internet before the broadcast but finally connected right around 6:51. In fact, I wasn't sure if we'd do any pregame at all or would we just go live right before kickoff at 7:00.

Seamlessly, we pulled it off.

Chris and I had a nice, easy flow to our banter tonight, mixed with a hint of comedy. From day one -- now over 20 years ago -- I said the goal of the local broadcasts was "community." We want you to feel like you're hanging out with us. 

That means you can also be a part of the evening, just as we did with the family of Cardinals long snapper Sean Cowie. By the end of the night, Sean's grandparents were emailing us to thank us for including them.

My friend Mike Buswell -- Trumbull guy -- also stopped by to visit us in the booth. He brought others with him and we called the game. His son was among our visitors and he stayed with us for most of the second half, eating a burger and French fries.

As the second half was getting ready to kick off, I noticed our connection to WGCH had dropped so, with no panic, we got that fixed. Again, listeners and viewers didn't know. 

This is all growth for me because there was a time when I might have panicked. Oh, who am I kidding? My stomach would have been in knots. But a sense of calm comes over me and that inner voice says that it will be OK.

And it is.

It's hard otherwise to explain why a broadcast is just good. Chris and I were clicking as a duo and there's an obvious chemistry. We have fun together and we want it to come across. Tonight, it seemed it. I try to call the nuts and bolts with excitement and detail and he breaks it all down in detail.

It works.

And we make you a part of it.

Sometimes you don't want to hear about the non-football elements that we drop in but that's how we're going to call the game.

As I said, it works.

So, as I came home tonight, I found myself thinking about that.

About the texts, emails, and messages that I received thanking us for the shout-outs and the humor.

Most of all, just thanks for broadcasting the game. 

We get it. We're the conduits.

The athletes are the stars.

We're the voices that deliver the information.

And we had a pretty good night.

The ALCS

(Photo: MLB)

 It's the two heavyweights in the American League in a best-of-seven series beginning tonight.

The New York Yankees.

The Houston Astros.

In short, the two don't like each other. No, it's not exactly Yankees/Red Sox, but I'm willing to bet the Astros are in the top 3 most hated among Yankees fans.

But it got me thinking about my ALCS history. For the love of Bob Costas, look away if that's not what you want!

The first ALCS I remember watching was in 1976 when the Yankees and Royals held the first of four battles over five years. This one was probably the most contentious, heading to a wild fifth game at Yankee Stadium (the ALCS was a best-of-five until 1984).

Of course, Chris Chambliss became a legend with a solo home run in the bottom of the ninth to send the Bombers to their first World Series since 1964.

They met again in a five-game dandy in 1977. The Yankees won that one as well as in 1978 when they beat the Royals in four.

It didn't go well in 1980, with George Brett hitting a blast into the upper deck off Goose Gossage to complete a three-game sweep. For what it's worth, that set things up for the "Pine Tar Game" in 1983.

The Yankees were back in the LCS in 1981, blasting the A's in three.

Then? With no wild card or any other way to the playoffs, the Yankees were out of contention for the next 15 years. They'd return to playoff action when the wild card came to existence in 1995 but they didn't advance to the LCS until the following year.

Oh yes, 1996. We know about Jeffrey Maier and Derek Jeter and umpire Richie Garcia and a call that would never happen in the instant replay era. But it did and it's part of lore and infamy. Regardless, the Yankees vanquished the Orioles in five games on their way to their first title since 1978.

The Indians got in the way in 1997 so the next LCS appearance in New York was a hard-fought 1998 battle with Cleveland. It took six games but the Yankees survived and moved on.

Baseball got its first look at a Yankees-Red Sox post-season series in 1999 and the New Yorkers took that in five. 

A third-straight ALCS for the Yankees in 2000 (this time, against Seattle) resulted in a Subway Series for New York as the Bombers bested Seattle in six games. The Mets won the NLCS and, well, yeah. Two New York teams met in the World Series for the first time since 1956.

The Yankees played in their fourth straight LCS in 2001, meeting the Mariners who had won 116 games that year. I don't know if Seattle was tired or the Yankees had a little something extra but, regardless, New York won the American League in five games.

While each one of these series could have been their own blog post, 2003 is a whole different animal. It was seven blistering games, including Pedro Martinez throwing Don Zimmer to the ground (and me spiking a microphone stand in the WGCH newsroom). Oh, there was also Manny Ramirez overreacting to an inside pitch, a fight in the bullpen, and...

Aaron Boone. There was Aaron Boone.

Then there was 2004. Yankees/Red Sox again. Red Sox won. That is all.

It took until 2009 before the Yankees returned to the LCS, winning in six games. They beat the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim of Orange County of California of the United States...

The Bombers were right back in the LCS in 2010, losing to the Texas Rangers in six games. I just remember feeling completely disgusted by that series.

I was even more disgusted in 2012 when the Yankees were swept by the Detroit Tigers. It was almost like they didn't even show up in Game 4, losing 8-1.

That brings our history walk (minus Dr. Costas) to 2017 and the first ALCS meeting with the Astros. Regardless of how they won, Houston took the series in seven games.

Those same two teams met again in 2019 and it took six games before the Jose Altuve home run off Aroldis Chapman resolved things. As much as people hated Chapman for smiling after he gave up the bomb, I got it. The smile said, "What the (bleep?)" to me.

I, however, was not smiling.

Nor did I smile when I saw Houston beat the Mariners on Saturday, punching another ticket to the ALCS.

And that's where we are.

The Yankees are in their 18th league championship series -- most by far. They're 11-6 in the previous 17. They were, at one time, almost automatic but times have changed. They are trying to make their first World Series appearance since 2009 and have to vanquish the Astros to do so.

Game 1 continues as I complete this post (and it's not going well).

A Donut

 

The picture? The post title? We'll get there.

I sort of don't feel like thinking tonight.

That's the conclusion I've reached as I sat here pondering -- you know, thinking -- what to write.

Sure, I sat through the Yankees' Game 5 win over the Ind...er...Cleveland.

I've read enough Bob Costas slander to last me for years. I accept that I'm in the minority as I enjoyed the broadcasts. I can't help but wonder what you all think of me as a broadcaster since I talk during the call, sometimes head down interesting paths to fill time, and love talking history.

You know. Like Bob Costas.

I digress.

I really like the Cleveland team. I love how they're feisty and use some speed with just a little power. Plus they have a dynamite bullpen, arguably the best closer in baseball -- trumpets not necessary -- and a Hall of Fame-bound manager.

They seem to get timely hits. They remind me of some of the 90s Yankees squads.

I lost no sleep over the "rock the baby" theatrics of Josh Naylor. I also didn't fret over the Yankees and their fans giving right back to Naylor tonight. "Let them play" is what baseball wants and, as such, it's what they're getting.

It was a fun five-game series. I would have rooted for the "Guardiac Kids" against the Houston Astros in the ALCS. 

However, the Yankees won so there's that. Now onto the best four of seven against Houston. Good times for my blood pressure.

We also tried to get my washing machine back in working order today and I think we're either there or very close. I'll likely try it out tomorrow to find out for sure.

So there was enough going on where I felt like I didn't need to put much thought into a post tonight.

Oh, and I'm sorry to say that I won't be in Trumbull this year for Career Night at Madison Middle School. I've gone several times, first at the urging (order) of Paul Silverfarb. After that, the school asked me and I kept saying yes. However, Greenwich is playing ... Trumbull on Thursday night in football.

So I'll be back next year.

I actually enjoy it because it allows me to spend, basically, thirty minutes explaining how cool (and challenging) it is to be a sports broadcaster. The students and families seem to like it as well. 

I'll miss it but duty calls at Cardinal Stadium.

Oh, the picture? The donut? That showed up in my memories this morning. Here's the caption that is associated with it:

My son missed the bus today because he wanted a donut. He texted me and I said I was on the air, so his grandmother helped him out. He sent a donut home for his dad. That kid is the best.

I really try to not wear people out with "Sean Stories" be it on social media, the blog, or on the air. I'm probably still guilty and apologize. 

There's no question we have an amazing relationship and I'm extremely proud of him.

But I really don't remember the background of the donut story. I think he was getting one at school and missed the bus. Thus my mom went and picked him up.

And he wanted me to have a donut. 

Sometimes, the simple kindness of a son wanting his father to have a donut is enough to bring a smile. There's no need to be heavy-handed.

I could use a donut right now.

Game 5

Joe Torre at Yankee Stadium on Sept. 25, 2001 | Art or Photo Credit: Getty Images

The fifth game of the 2022 American League Division Series has just been rained out. They waited nearly three hours before deciding that there was no window to play the game tonight.

The Yankees and Cleveland will play tomorrow at 4:07 p.m. The winner goes to Houston to open the American League Championship Series on Wednesday.

The teams wanted to play tonight but it wasn't meant to be.

Game 5 in this round is the equivalent of Game 7 in other rounds. It's a winner-moves-on and loser-goes-home game.

It reminded me that I once got to go to a Game 5.

It was 2001 and, well, I don't need to tell you what we were all feeling in Oct of that year.

I went to Game 1 of the same series. It was the first time that I'd been in New York City following the events of September 11, 2001. It just felt weird. As I drove through Yonkers, at a crest on the New York State Thruway near Yonkers Raceway that afforded a view of the NYC skyline, I saw for the first time the absence of the towers.

The Stadium was hopeful but it felt different that night. That extended to the field where the Yankees felt flat, losing to the Oakland Athletics, 5-3. They would lose again the next night to go down two games to none.

The next two games were in Oakland and the Yankees had zero margin for error. In Game 3, Mike Mussina and Mariano Rivera scattered six hits. The Yankees had just two hits but one was a home run by Jorge Posada. 

Final score: Yankees 1, A's 0. Oh yeah, Derek Jeter also completed "The Flip Play."

Game 4 went much smoother as Bernie Williams drove in five runs in a 9-2 victory. Thus, Game 5 was set for Monday, Oct 15 at Yankee Stadium.

I had no intention to be there but I was offered two tickets from WGCH and I couldn't say no. My friend Mike joined me and we made our way to upper deck seats near the right field corner.

The energy simply felt different from Game 1 but the atmosphere was tense. New Yorkers are known for being tough and resilient and the crowd was ready.

Then Johnny Damon led off with a double. Pretty soon, it was 1-0 Oakland.

The A's tacked on a second-inning run to take a 2-0 lead.

The Yankees struck back in the last of the seconds, stringing together hits to tie the game. Alfonso Soriano singled to knot it up.

The Yankees added single digits in the third and fourth to open up a 4-2 lead but Oakland cut the deficit to 4-3 in the fifth, spelling the end of the night for Roger Clemens. A David Justice pinch-hit home run in the sixth opened a two-run lead again.

Of course, Jeter (the guy with the bad defense, am I right?) made a diving catch into the crowd.

The crowd felt like a big community. While it's always that way among Yankees fans, it was different that night. Given the circumstances of where we all were emotionally in the fall of 2001, it felt like everyone was on even better behavior than usual.

In short, we all sort of wanted that victory really bad.

Still, it was tense.

The Yankees bullpen helped ease that as Mike Stanton led to Ramiro Mendoza. 

In the eighth inning, the bullpen door opened, and Mariano Rivera emerged.

While he's human and had failures, they didn't happen very often.

He allowed a leadoff hit in the 8th to Jason Giambi but made quick work of the next three hitters.

The Yankees went quietly in their half of the stanza. Three out remained.

By now, we were all on our feet. Strangers nervously and hopefully it could be closed out by the great Mariano.

Olmedo Saenz grounded to second.

Greg Myers was caught looking.

Pinch hitter Eric Byrnes was the last hope for Athletics, winners of 102 games that season.

Byrnes worked the count to two balls and two strikes. The crowd, as is custom, was clapping rhythmically. The anticipation of wrapping this series up was palpable.

Mariano dealt a belt-high cutter.

Byrnes swung.

And missed.

Game over. Series over.

With that, Rivera spun around like a top on the mound. Posada held the ball triumphantly high.

There was a cathartic release of noise. High fives in the crowd. New York mayor Rudy Giuliani (let's ignore who and what he is now) hugged those around him.

On the field, the triumphant Yankees were business-like. Though this wasn't a Friday night in May, it also wasn't a crazy dogpile either. We still didn't quite know how to act in those days following September 11. Most celebrations in sports were restrained.

Yankees manager Joe Torre -- recognizing the significance in this New York moment -- went and brought Giuliani from his seat onto the field to join the moment.

I just remember a lot of smiles. This one felt different.

Frank Sinatra's "Theme from New York, New York" was sung by 56,000 with zest.

Just about a month earlier, Mike Piazza had hit a home run that made Shea Stadium explode. 

The Yankees hadn't had that moment yet. I'm not sure this was it either but it was a start.

Oh, they'd get there. They'd beat Seattle to advance to the World Series and, if you know how it all played out, then you'll recall the series of events.

President Bush threw out the ceremonial first pitch before Game 3 of the World Series in New York.

Derek Jeter became "Mr. November" to end Game 4.

Scott Brosius tied Game 5 dramatically. The place shook. I was there.

And, in fairness, the Arizona Diamondbacks scuffed the great Mariano in Game 7 to win the World Series.

Game 5 with the Yankees and Cleveland will happen tomorrow and the tension will be felt throughout Yankee Stadium.

I'll feel it as well.

From my seat at home.

A Drive in the Park

 

(Photo: Town of Greenwich website)

It's Sunday and it's (hopefully) the last time I have to visit the laundromat for the foreseeable future.

In truth, it isn't an awful task. I load things in a couple of bags, drive the stuff over, stuff it in one washing machine for 30 minutes, remove it, and drive back home. Then I put it in my dryer.

My washing machine will be fixed this week.

While I wait I grab food at the nearby Greenwich Pizzeria or just sit in my car. Or, today, I sat on a bench as traffic whizzed by. 

I left the apartment in the fall uniform on a chilly morning: shorts, with layers on the upper body. Specifically, a t-shirt, a Steelers jersey* and a Yankees sweatshirt**.

* A Mean Joe Greene jersey because the defense needs to find the inspiration of the 70s to cause havoc on Tom Brady.

(Incidentally, I wrote this post back around 11:30 a.m. The final just rolled from Pittsburgh: Steelers 20, Buccaneers 18. I'm stunned.)

** Look, last night's loss was Yankees brutal. Historically brutal. As in the Yankees have never blown a lead of two or more runs when entering the ninth inning of a postseason game. They were 167-0. They're now on the verge of losing to a Cleveland team that has outplayed them. But I still have to show pride as opposed to whining about the postseason schedule or all other teams except my own.

I made my way through Bruce Park, which the Town of Greenwich describes as:

Robert Moffat Bruce donated his home (now Bruce Museum) and 100 acres to the Town of Greenwich in1908, making it the Town's oldest public park. Bruce Park includes sports & athletic fields, tennis courts, walking paths, ponds and waterways, and scenic views of Long Island Sound. The Bruce Park Playground is one of the most popular destinations in Greenwich for families with children. 

And, yeah, it was popular.

Kids were playing softball. dog walkers were out doing their thing. Bicycles and scooters dotted the roadway. Walkers and joggers moved around. Others were simply taking in the atmosphere.

I loved every piece of it as I slowly cruised through. There was a bustling but it wasn't overwhelming.

So much of what happens here will be compared to my hometown and, of course, that's because it was mostly all I ever knew. Yes, we had parks in Mahopac -- great parks. We had tons of wooded areas that I explored.

This is different for a variety of reasons, including how drivers on 95 can look right into the park as they move past Exit 3. 

As I came back from the laundromat -- mission happily accomplished -- the scene was fairly similar, though the softball game had packed up and left. 

Oh, believe me, it can be quite the "Greenwich" scene as well, as I've spied croquet being played. The participants decked out in their best all-white ensembles. Who cares? It's fun to see the whole thing, including tennis and whatever else I've noticed during the many drives through there.

I returned home. Sean is at work. The laundry is going 'round in the dryer.

Football awaits. 

Baseball later.

Preparations to take a deep breath after all is resolved will likely play out tomorrow on the radio.

Let the Haters Hate

 

(Photo: cbs8.com)

There are some walks of life where criticism can't be escaped.

Sports broadcasting is one of them and I am not immune to dodging arrows.

But we'll ignore the negative noise for a moment.

There were a couple of wonderful, meaningful interactions this weekend.

First, at Cardinal Stadium last night, I was greeted by a couple of fans as Sean and I got out of the car.

"I'm from San Francisco," the gentleman said. "I get to listen to you all the time out there."

He had kind words and, as if to prove he listened, he asked about my recent trip to the Bay Area.

I also enjoy pleasing fans. Now, while I don't want to be Phil Rizzuto, wishing birthday and anniversary greetings to every person, I'm not against the occasional fun note.

I got a tweet directed at me, asking for a happy birthday to a listener.

So I did it. Laughter was had, joy was extended, and the broadcast carried on.

Later, friend, colleague, and even boss Craig Jones told me he was listening and asked me to say hello to someone who had just discovered the LocalLive feed. Again, I was happy to do it.

Look, Chris Erway and I know what we're doing. We can dabble in distractions that can bring listeners a smile. It can also be entertaining but that's in the eye of the beholder. So long as it doesn't take too much away from the task at hand -- the game -- it's fine.

Again, we made people happy. Mission accomplished.

Greenwich won, beating St. Joseph by 10. The natives -- often restless (oh, and they were*) -- were happy as they left.

* Quick sidebar. A fan -- a few rows down -- was incensed at the officiating during last night's game. There was a huge disparity in penalties called, with Greenwich getting the majority of the flags by a wide margin. The fan below us implored public address announcer Nick Fesko to call out the officiating. 

The same fan also glanced toward me. I was having none of it. While I point out the number of penalties, I let that fact stand on its own. In the case of the public address announcer, he's not going to comment. Chris and I tried to make that abundantly clear on the broadcast but there may have been a hint of confusion.

In short, we were defending Nick. Hopefully, that clears it up.

We now return to the task at hand.

Today was Brunswick Day and the Bruins were 28-0 winners over Wyoming Seminary from Pennsylvania. 

The Crosby Field booth is set low, where a fan outside the window I use can hear the entire broadcast. To be honest, it always makes me feel awkward and interactions get my guard up.

To that end, I noticed a fan a few rows below me who turned around and looked at the booth a few times. Specifically, he was looking at me. Keep in mind, Chris wasn't with me today. He was with me last night.

After I ended the broadcast, the fan moved toward the window of the booth.

Immediately, I began putting bricks up to build a wall around me. It's nothing personal. I'm just more uncomfortable and shy than people realize.

All he wanted to tell me was that he was from Baltimore and watches the LocalLive broadcasts at home. He wanted to say hello and tell me that loved our work.

Nearby, a woman from Charleston, SC said the same and thanked me for the broadcasts as well as my own work.

These stories aren't to brag. They aren't to show off. If anything, I'm cringing as I'm writing them.

However, they're reminders.

Good reminders.

When the negativity comes in -- and it happens -- it can rattle. It has never mattered when or where. They can sting.

For me, anyway, I worry about the negative because I get concerned that it can impact my employment.

But -- more often than not -- there are many more words of kindness that fire me up to get right back to it.

These are just a couple of the stories.

For every bad, it's also always worth considering the source and the circumstances. That's why I see them, process them, and try to move on.

But they'll stick with me in the back of my mind.

Then either silence or kindness helps with moving on.

And oh yeah, my new friend from San Francisco told me to connect with him the next time I'm out there.

Yes. Some kindness goes a long way.

Country Mouse

 

Amtrak Acela rolls by

I've stayed in New York City. 

San Francisco.

London.

Chicago.

The point is that I've laid my head down in many more urban areas than where I grew up and lived most of my life. In Mahopac and Carmel, the nightly symphony was mostly created by nature.

In fact, literally, all of my homes were in fairly quiet neighborhoods. Oh sure, I had an apartment roughly across the street from a firehouse but they didn't sound their siren in the middle of the night.

Flash forward.

Greenwich, CT. 2022.

If you were to walk out in the backyard of my apartment -- and I very much DO NOT ADVISE THIS -- the first thing you'd come across would be train tracks. They serve Metro-North Railroad, Amtrak, and freight trains.

Beyond that lies Interstate 95.

After moving in, I quickly learned that the hum of traffic literally never stops. I've strolled into the living room in the middle of the night -- ah, peace and quiet -- only to have it shattered by the zooming of cars and trucks rolling by.

The trains are omnipresent but given that Metro-North does stop running trains overnight, it's not always something I hear.

Well, OK, let's go to last night.

I dozed off reasonably, only to deal with "Shadow," the new nickname for our over-named cat. Rascal, as I've mentioned, is fascinated by shadows from cars as they go by my bedroom window. To combat that, I have started putting a light on next to my bed that, for whatever reason, has been working.

With that settled, I was able to rest.

Then something awakened me in the 2 a.m. range. At least I think it was around there. It could have been the temperature, age, or whatever. 

I strolled to the kitchen and that's when I saw a bright light out on the train tracks.

Oh, and a crane. Clearly, trackwork was going on maybe a football field away.

I popped the window open nearby to see if the noise I was hearing was coming from there. Yes, it sure was.

OK, I thought, my room is away from that. We'll get through this. 

However, when something makes a louder noise on the tracks (like the train that is currently moving by as I type) then that's different. Sure enough, I could hear each crash of the efforts from the work.

Keep in mind this now, roughly, somewhere around three in the morning.

And a tip of the conductor's hat to the train that came by on another line and blew its horn!

Sleep wasn't happening. I read. I played Solitaire and Mario Kart on my phone. I read whatever nonsense had occurred online.

At least the cat wasn't a problem at that point.

It took some time -- I'm pretty sure it was well after five -- before my mind cleared and I slept for another hour or so. I was awake before 7 a.m. as I needed to get ready for my Friday morning sports chat with Tony Savino on WGCH.

As I said in the opening I have dealt with sleeping in New York and elsewhere and the hustle and bustle. To be clear, I'm also not saying the work on the train tracks was what kept me awake. 

But, I am saying it didn't help.

I should have put my noise-canceling headphones on but they're bulky to try to sleep with. Thus I need some earbuds but haven't caved to AirPods yet.

Well, I actually had an old pair that my niece gave me but they don't like going through washing machines. 

What this narrative comes down to -- as if you couldn't guess -- is that I'm just not a good sleeper.

With any luck, this will hopefully give you a peaceful sleep. 

I consider that a win.

(Football tonight at 7 as Greenwich plays St. Joseph. More football tomorrow at 1 p.m. as Brunswick hosts Wyoming Seminary. Catch Greenwich on WGCH, LocalLive, Robcasting. You can find Brunswick on LocalLive and Robcasting.)

A Poetic Gift

 

I went down to the mailbox right before I was due to go on the radio today.

A small box awaited. It sat there comfortably, not stuffed in.

I quickly returned upstairs with a bounce in my step.

A new book was in that box.

"Skipping Rocks: A lifetime of lines and verse" is the work of our dear friend Susan. She selected poems that she has crafted over most of her life.

I don't know how she did it considering she has multiple notebooks dating back to the 1980s on a variety of topics.

This project was something she had told me about a few times. So I was thrilled when she texted me not long ago to say she completed it.

As soon as I had the Amazon link I knew I had to have a copy.

Susan has shared some of her poems with me; her talent is unmistakable. Poetry is an art and, let's face it, most of us love poetry even if we don't know it.

Do you love music that includes lyrics? Do I need to point out that's, essentially, poetry? Now, granted, some songwriting is more poetic than others, but I think you get my point.

I've often said that Vin Scully's play-by-play was poetic.

So, yeah, poetry can be found in multiple ways.

I know Susan has a deep love of Emily Dickenson as well as a love of rhyme. 

And so this book was relevant and perfect for this time.

(I'll leave the poetry -- and rhyming -- to Susan)

While the book is 62 pages, I've been taking it in slowly to savor the words. 

I will assure you that you'll deal with a variety of emotions.

Each poem is a work of depth and the meanings can sometimes take a moment to register (at least for me). I'm fortunate to be close to the author if I have questions.

So far, "Service Roads" and "A Distant Highway" have especially stood out to me. Sure, in part because of the topic in the titles (hi, I'm a fan of roads) but additionally because Susan's work also contains surprises that pay off. It reminds me of her brilliant novella, "The Blacksmith" and the surprises contained therein. We still laugh about it.

I'm so proud of her for doing this. I told her it was a gift and I'm overjoyed to have a copy, just as I'm thrilled at the reaction it has received. I know what this meant to her. I know why she did it. I know the timing involved also.

It's so important to her and I'm excited to support it.

Additionally, the cover art is by her also, if you're not already bowled over by her breadth of talent (journalist, editor, poet, chef, artist, mother, Billy Joel savant, and so on). 

The book is available in paperback and Kindle form and, while I have come to really like Kindle, certain works deserve the physical copy.

Even when Sean is cursing me out for having so many books when we have to move.

Rhyme away, Susan. Keep the poems flowing.

Maybe it will lead to a second book.

My collection will be growing.

(Sorry. Again, you're the poet. I'll volunteer to read the audiobook if you ever want to do that.)

"Skipping Rocks: A lifetime of lines and verse" is available on Amazon and will also be available at Barrett Bookstore in Darien, CT.