It's Not Happening

 

Even he's not feeling it

I've been home from calling basketball for a few hours.

Brunswick won again, this time beating Greens Farms Academy. Since GFA isn't far away and they've always been nice to me (plus John Nash is there), I enjoy the chance to call any event of theirs.

Oh yeah, and AJ was my producer for LocalLive. So there was a lot to like.

Otherwise, I made a quick Target run and came home.

And had no energy.

Well, I barely had enough energy to concoct a meal.

Since then I have yet to write a word until now. 

Some of it is just being tired while some of it is just not feeling a profound post of any extent tonight.

Burned out? Nah. 

More like a little run down I suppose. Life has a way of doing that. Things happen and you worry about loved ones and you just don't feel the urge to conjure up a happy-go-lucky post.

Explaining the "why" of this mood of mine would be to violate others' business. It's their situation. Not mine.

So I put my feet up. I didn't even turn the TV on.

Oh yeah, remember how I said I had to calm down and not pack for a trip that is five weeks away? I went up into the attic last night and brought some shorts down. I'm just staying ahead of the game that's all.

There's more to today but I'm going to wait to tell you that story. I don't want to get ahead of myself. I'm hoping that resolves itself and then perhaps I can explain.

So that's my story tonight and I'm sticking to it.

I'm fine. Really.

It was a good day despite how this post sounds.

Tomorrow will be of a similar theme with Brunswick basketball once again taking center stage.

The Catchprhrase

 

"Hello, friends" Jim Nantz and Tony Romo
(Photo: Mary Kouw/CBS SPORTS)

"It is HIGH! It is FAR! It is GONE!"

"See ya!"

"It's OUTTA HERE!"

"You can put it on the board ... YES!"

Those are all home run calls by different broadcasters. Each one is easily recognized (John Sterling, Michael Kay, Gary Cohen, Ken "Hawk" Harrelson"). Each one is a trademark. It's their catchphrase.

And there are plenty of others all over sports.

A member of the Play-by-Play group on Facebook asked about developing one and, to be honest, there are enough people to answer it without me getting involved. In this case, specifically, it was about developing a signature touchdown call in football.

If I were to answer, it would largely be this:

No. Don't do it. You don't need one.

First of all, you can't just magically say, "I'm going to start using a catchphrase" and whip one up! Things have to happen naturally.

In truth, I said "hi friends" on the radio before I knew Jim Nantz "Hello friends." Now, he's more famous and has a better claim to it than I do but it's not trademarked. Also, I don't really think of that as a catchphrase even though, I suppose by definition, it is one.

The earliest catchphrase -- the canned play-by-play call, if you will -- was the "that ball is going ... it is going ... it is GONE!" of Mel Allen. It certainly worked well for him, just like his "Hello there, everybody" did.

"Oh my!" worked spectacularly for Dick Enberg as an exclamation to any big moment.

"BANG!" from Mike Breen for a huge three-point basket made is actually fantastic. Yes, I'm guilty of using that one a few times.

Still, they've just never really been for me. That's not to say I don't have a few things that I've apparently used consistently over the year.

Somewhere along the line, I started using "stanza" to describe a quarter of a game (or a period of hockey). It was just a way of changing up terminology and I liked the nod to poetry. One time, I didn't use it for some reason during a football game and Chris Erway was disappointed. He chided me about it on the air.

He was legitimately disappointed and I've rarely missed it since, normally slotting it in the first quarter, er, stanza.

I also, according to Susan, tend to say that "we'll put a ribbon" on a game as we get ready for the post-game show. I suppose that grew out of saying "wrap the game up." 

I'm sure there are a few others, such as my saying the name of the town or game site along with a term of farewell at the end of every broadcast: "From Greenwich, Connecticut, good night everyone." AJ pointed that one out to me.

But the closest I have to any kind of an "in-game" catchphrase is simplicity.

"Touchdown (team name!)!"

"Gone!" (for a home run. Incidentally, that's what Vin would say.)

"Score!" (hockey, soccer, field hockey, water polo, lacrosse)

And so on. I don't need flashy one-liners. I'd rather come up with things that are natural, like "It's insanity in here!" after the Ryan Preisano playoff buzzer-beater that got me on SportsCenter.

I don't like having nifty little quotes that I've written down ahead of time. If something pops in my brain, I'd rather use that.

I'd also be fumbling over my notes to get my fancy line prepared. I think Red Barber would come down from the heavenly broadcast booth and unplug my microphone.

So my advice to the poster on Facebook is to overall avoid catchphrases unless one happens organically and sticks. Personally, I'd rather be known for the quality of the broadcast.

Don't try to concoct some cute expression. Don't grab your yellow legal pad and scribble down a bunch of inane sayings so that you can go "viral." That clock will tick away quickly and run out. Your fifteen minutes will evaporate.

Here's an idea: call the game. Report it. Tell stories. Be excited at the right times. Don't oversell it. Don't exaggerate. Earn the trust of your audience.

And give the score. Constantly.

Also, hear the words of Red Barber, once spoken to a young Vin Scully.

"You bring one thing into the booth that no one else does: yourself."

Do that.

From the computer in Greenwich, Connecticut, good night everyone.

Conference Championship Sunday

 

(Photo: ESPN)

Oh, the Super Bowl.

I've watched them all since the 12th edition.

Today/tonight, of course, are the conference championship games. The Eagles already beat up on the 49ers to win the NFC. I think San Francisco was trying to get John Brodie to play quarterback at one point.

(Brodie is 87 and retired in 1973 before becoming a very good broadcaster)

Just now, the Kansas City Chiefs finished off the Cincinnati Bengals to win the AFC. Oh my, but we'll be talking about that game. It's always the officials' fault, right?

Anyway, for me, this is the best possible outcome: Chiefs/Eagles. Super Bowl LVII.

As you likely know, I am a Pittsburgh Steelers fan and have been for over 40 years.

So there was no way on Arthur Rooney's planet that I would pull for the Bengals. At least not now.

OK, I have to be fair. Once upon a time, I appreciated the Bengals of Super Bowl XVI when Ken Anderson was their quarterback. To be clear, we're talking in 1982. They lost to San Francisco in that game in Pontiac, MI. That was the 49ers first Super Bowl title and they went on to win five.

The Steelers still lead the charge with six Lombardi trophies. Oh, I know, the Patriots have six also but let's not go down that road. 

Regardless, I'm not going to root for the Niners to tie the Steelers.

So, yes, the best scenario is Eagles/Chiefs.

It's also a different matchup as we've never seen this one before.

I like having no rooting interest. I'll be able to kick back two weeks from tonight and just let the game play out in front of me.

I can enjoy food and drinks wherever I watch it.

Then I can root for drama as the night goes along. 

It's perfect and I'll take it. Now, just give us a great game.

*****

Just a quick note about calling Boomslang Basketball Club in two games this morning in New York. The girls from Boomslang defeated the Grey Wolves team in the first game while holding on to beat a tough Greenwich Stars game in the second one.

In between, I popped in my AirPods and listened to some music. One of these days I need to do a deeper dive and a post on the station I listened to: Arctic Outpost Radio (AM 1270) from Longyearbyen, Norway. I was introduced to it during the pandemic and listen to it occasionally for its eclectic mix of old records prior to 1958.

Count Basie? Oh, yes, please. Just for instance.

But, more importantly, the basketball games were a lot of fun and I'm pleased to be their play-by-play announcer, despite the continued curiosity and awkward looks I get.

A new week dawns tomorrow with game broadcasts stretched out all week. In fact, the next couple of weeks will be like that.

And another Super Bowl is on the way.

The Cart Before The Horse

George M. Steinbrenner Field, Tampa, 2012

 

I made the commitment to go to Florida officially a few nights back.

I actually bought plane tickets and head down for some Spring Training and nostalgia and Waffle House and whatever else we have in store.

That's significant in that there's always something holding me up so the fact that the transactions were completed was cause for a smile.

But, me being me, I couldn't just buy the tickets and let it go.

Oh no.

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no.

So I began to immerse myself in rental cars and what we'll do with our cars here in Connecticut and who will look after The Cat and what we'll do in the Tampa Bay area and...

"It's OK. We've got time," I was told.

Yes. True.

I need to calm down. And yet...

Heck, I started trying to remember where some of my warmer weather clothes were stored. In the attic? In my closet? Could I begin assessing things and even pack today?

Good lord, what is wrong with me?

We've got time.

Yes. Yes we do.

I'll be OK. It will come and go in spurts. 

We'll have to figure out where we're positioning cars and how we're getting to and from the airport.

There will be time for that and deciding on a rental car. 

I've talked with someone about visiting our trusty cat.

There will be time for figuring out things to do but we kind of have a general idea.

Yes, besides Waffle House.

We'll no doubt drive out to see my grandparents house and perhaps their gravesite as well. We'll visit the Tarpon Springs Spong Docks and nearby Fred Howard Park. 

We'll probably get down to Tampa to watch the Yankees in workouts and/or in a game. Shockingly my previous Spring Training experiences were the Phillies in Clearwater and the Blue Jays in Dunedin. So, no, I've never seen the Yankees.

I've also told Sean that he can do some research and is welcome ot offer his thoughts.

But there is plenty to do.

And I have plenty of time to prepare to do it.

As I said, this burst will subside and I'll head into a day-to-day mode until it will be time to ramp back up. Simply put, I get jumpy. It's my desire to always be prepared.

There will be time to go into the attic and get the shorts down and pack. 

It's going to be good.

All good.

Even great.

But all in due time.

Godfather? Me?

 

Nobody is sleeping with the fishes tonight.

There were no ambushes at the toll booth.

I called Norwalk and Trumbull in girls high school basketball tonight for the TEN Network, the home of Trumbull Eagles sports. I was happy to be back since I might be on the call of the FCIAC championships again this year and the conference has been a constant throughout my career.

The TEN Network is a channel I helped mentor to get up and running and I am sort of their honorary lead broadcaster. I jump on when Jeff Alterman (TEN is his baby) asks. With a quiet Friday on my hands, I'm happy to go do a game.

It's my passion to do such things and I enjoy hanging with Jeff so we teamed up once again. David Cohen, a friend of Jeff's rounded out our booth.

Jeff warned me that he had a special introduction lined up for me. Yes, he sure did.

At the top of the broadcast, Jeff brought me on by saying that I am "the Godfather of Connecticut High School Sports Broadcasting." I mean, that's pretty high praise and I don't take it lightly. Of course, I'm sure there are others who are probably more deserving of the title so I mention it here with all humility and a certain amount of tongue planted in cheek.

The "Godfather" didn't think he was at the top of his game tonight either. I mean I was fine but nothing worthy of such a compliment. 

The two teams played hard and there was a wonderful unified basketball game at halftime. Of course, I sort of called some of that also. The joy on everyone's faces was wonderful.

But, like I said, I wasn't my best tonight. That is enough to keep me humble. If I draw a little too much hubris there are ways to smack me right back down.

Attitude matters. I'd like to somehow explain that. 

So I called the game. I laughed and I enjoyed myself. When it was over (Trumbull won) I packed up and went home.

Then I'll get ready to do it again (Sunday, 10 a.m.).

I made my way home. I'll be back on TEN again soon. It's fun. It makes me happy.

I came home to have a small bite before sitting down to write.

I had a bagel.

No cannoli anywhere in site.

No Need To Talk

 

Tampa Bay from the Sunshine Skyway Bridge

OK, that picture has nothing to do with the post but I booked plane tickets to Tampa for the first time in 11 years while I was writing so yeah. 

I know the drill.

Let's face it. So do you.

For the past few years, I've used the #BellLetsTalk day to try to get us, well, talking about mental health.

And, basically, the words land with a thud.

Before you say, "Oh, but we read it!" I see the stats and, trust me, most of you didn't.

And it's OK.

We still struggle to talk about mental health and well-being for the very reasons I highlighted yesterday. Some of it is fear and some of it is in the "I'm fine! There's nothing to talk about" mentality. That is to say, nobody wants to talk about it. Or they're hiding.

So, yeah. I get it. 

Writing this blog every day means bleeding to an extent. I've done my fair share but, no, I haven't revealed everything in my life. No, I didn't need anyone to feed my ego but respond to the post. The post -- while including my own stories -- really wasn't meant to be about me. 

If anything, I only want to inspire and support in any way I can. So, in the small number of people who did read the post, if those words landed, then great. That's my hope.

But that bleeding can make me feel a bit raw. I'm a bit of an open wound at that point. 

It's not like I put out a poll to find out what content you want to read or what makes you click. This process is very inexact. Certain posts connect and others don't for whatever reason.

So I had a feeling last night was a swing and a miss.

"Bell? Is that the old telephone company?"

"Oh, they're a Canadian company? Well, you write an American blog!"

"Mental health? Oh, hells no!"

Those aren't real quotes. They're sort of how I see any conversation playing out.

While I make light of this, what I don't make light of is there are too many people hiding because they think they don't need help.

Help, of course, is best handled by a professional but sometimes it's as simple as speaking out and admitting you have a concern whatever it may be.

So my offer remains available. If you need someone to talk to, I'm here.

I did basketball today. I'll call more tomorrow.

Two more on Sunday.

Bell Let's Talk 2023

 

It's once again #BellLetsTalk Day. The "hashtag activism" was created in 2011 to raise awareness and combat the stigma surrounding mental illness -- specifically in Canada.

While it has had its share of controversy -- most notably Bell benefitting from free advertising as a result -- it's still an effort that I support here simply to raise the discussion about mental illness. Another controversy has been with how Bell treats their own employees struggling with mental health.

But we need to have productive conversations about our own inner struggles and demons and so, as I said, for that reason, I'm happy to endorse it.

There was once a time when people simply didn't discuss such things. Talk about depression? My goodness, no! That's just all made up anyway. You're looking for attention. Real men don't acknowledge such things.

Yes. Those things were said.

As I've known my own dark days, I can tell you I'm not seeking attention. Life isn't easy as we all know and while I think I'm in a much better place than I was, say, a year ago, it can be really easy to fall back down.

I'm always reminded of a quote from the movie Breakfast at Tiffany's (based on the story by Truman Capote) in which Audrey Hepburn's Holly Golightly is discussing the blues, and worse, "the mean reds."

"The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of."

Yup. Been there and I'd rather not go back. The mean reds are just ... dark.

And so I am the constantly available friend/big brother/crazy uncle to anyone and everyone. There's nothing heroic about it. To be clear: I'm not a professional. I'm just me and I just want people to know I'm here if they need someone to talk to. There will no be questions asked nor will advice be offered if it's not wanted. On the other hand, I'm happy to kick a tail as needed.

I dealt with the macho minimizing of concerns in my life and I find it unacceptable. As I said, such things weren't discussed. One thing I found out years ago was that I had no support system (shocking, right?). Part of that is often being my own worst enemy (oh, I still am). But while I'm still tough on myself I've actually let off the gas a little bit.

I've taken my fair share of losses. We all have. Some of them have just cut me to my knees and I needed time to dust myself off. I have come out stronger as a result. Some of them still hurt. Trust me. But I can find the silver lining as well.

My confidence is constantly shaky about the one thing that I thought I could do fairly well: broadcast sports. The reasons for this are varied and that's really not the point of the post tonight. But growth in me means a recent job that I looked into didn't even get a glance. It could be easy to get upset about it but I chose to remind myself that why people get jobs is a very inexact science. Is it a condemnation of the industry? Not necessarily. 

So, do I question my own talent (or lack thereof)? Of course, that's just me. But I'll also be right back under the headset tomorrow and Friday and Sunday for four basketball games.

I told a few people about the job application in question and let it roll right off. When I said to them "I'm fine" I meant it. And I am.

We still have major mental health issues in our own country. So while Bell says "Let's Talk" in Canada, we can take it upon ourselves to keep talking and get the help needed.

Our lives are just a short spec on the larger timeline. I've felt like I've been spinning wheels for years and I want to see all of us get off the treadmill with Astro the dog.

Lives are lost over these things.

Let's talk, friends and loved ones and even strangers. Then let's get you the help you need. Professional help.

But let's talk.

And keep the conversation going.

DM's are open.

It Begins With Cereal

I-95 streaks by the kitchen window

 

Tuesday morning, maybe around 8 a.m., I was sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast.

A visit with Snap! Crackle! and Pop! was in order after another delightful night of some sleep.

The Cat couldn't even be blamed. It's just my brain and my body.

I noticed a little kerfuffle had just happened on Interstate 95. I could see someone standing at the passenger side door of a car and I could also see traffic was slowing down on the southbound lanes.

As it appeared minor and too far from my kitchen window*, I went about my business. I grabbed my South of the Border mug filled with some coffee and headed back to sit in bed and read for a few minutes.

No, seriously, even if I wanted to help, I have to cross Metro-North and Amtrak railroad tracks before getting anywhere near a major expressway. So I'll leave it to the professionals.

The cat followed me as I walked out of the kitchen.

Despite the coffee, I had visions of possibly trying to grab a few minutes of sleep again.

Then the phone rang.

Could I work? I was needed on a deposition and the login time had passed already. The videographer scheduled to work had an emergency.

So I logged in and then pulled myself together. 

As I did, I noticed the police were out at the site on 95 and a tow truck was there. 

That's when I pieced it together.

The videographer with the emergency was one of the cars involved in the accident on 95.

Now, I obviously wouldn't be writing about this so flippantly if she wasn't OK but I'm told she is fine. The car, I hear, is a different story.

In fact, I texted with her a short while ago and she is, overall, fine. Her humor -- always a strength -- was in great form. So I'm comfortable writing about this.

But the world is mighty small.

*****

Also in the news today is the announcement -- though still not finalized -- of a new broadcaster heading to the New York Mets radio booth.

Keith Raad is expected to become the new number two, replacing Wayne Randazzo, to join lead broadcaster Howie Rose on the Amazin's broadcast.

Keith, you might recall, has appeared on this blog before since he was the "voice" of the Brooklyn Cyclones. You know, as in the High-A affiliate of the Metropolitans and the closest rival to the Hudson Valley Renegades.

It's a phenomenal opportunity for a phenomenal guy. He was one of the first league broadcasters I met with the Gades in 2021. We also ran into each other when the Cyclones came to Dutchess Stadium. Even last year, when serving in the PA announcer capacity (duties I'll likely continue in 2023), he'd find me and we'd catch up. 

I'm thrilled for him.

I'll wait to say more once everything is official.

*****

Oh, that job I wound up on? Well it was being a doozy and I just finished a short time ago (8:30 p.m. as I'm typing). So I see it as a good long day of work.

That means no "Doubleheader" so we'll dive in tomorrow at 4 p.m. to catch up on the NFL and Hall of Fame vote.

How 'Bout Them...What?

 

Laughing at the Dallas Cowboys is sometimes too easy. They haven't won a Super Bowl since 1996 (I'd rather not talk about that game) and they've lacked playoff success since then.

In fact, the posting of Dallas Cowboys memes is almost lame. It's just too simplistic.

Still, there's a certain joy in watching Jerry Jones walk away in defeat.

So there they are yesterday, facing a likely loss at the hands of the San Francisco 49ers in the NFC Divisional Playoffs.

They were losing 19-12 to San Francisco. A miracle would have been needed to even get the score to within one. Then we would have had as scrutinized an extra point kick as we've arguably ever seen. Brett Maher, the Big D field goal kicker, had just gone through a run of missing extra points that would even make the hardest of souls cringe.

The side of me that loves drama was all in for that but I can't even imagine what the fallout would be had he missed it. Plus had hit it the game would have gone to overtime.

Nah. I was done.

So, one play.

They will discuss this train wreck of a last play for years.

Oh, we've seen some nail-biting final plays over the years. Hail Marys and the "Music City Miracle" and, although it wasn't the last play, the "Immaculate Reception."

You get the idea.

In this case, Cowboys head coach Mike McCarthy wasn't exactly making anyone think of Tom Landry.

McCarthy had Ezekiel Elliott, a running back, line up at center. Again, Elliott is a running back. Putting him at center, to snap the ball, is the essence of the kind of play we'd run in someone's yard. It made no sense.

The linemen, by the way, were all lined up on the right side of the play with receivers to the left. Quarterback Dak Prescott awaited Elliott's snap.

Again. From center. Where Elliott was playing and, as a result, isn't eligible to receive the ball. Oh, he was allowed to take it as a lateral but that comes later in this hair-brained idea.

So, again, what the hell was McCarthy thinking? What was anyone thinking?

The only thing I could think was that if it worked it would be the stuff of legend. 

So Prescott took the snap from Elliott. Under duress from a minimal San Francisco pass rush (again, Elliott was the only lineman who stayed in to block!), he threw to Kavontae Turpin, normally a kick returner, playing his first offensive snap.

So, now comes the laterals, right?

Yeah. Calm down there, pardner.

Turpin got hammered to the Levi's Stadium turf immediately.

Game over.

To say the play has received massive ridicule would be downplaying it. It's been getting destroyed. Look, it would have been mocked had a lot of other teams done it but to have it be so-called "America's Team?"

Yeah. It's not what you want.

One day it will make...no. Stop that. It will likely never make sense. The thing is I'm not even here to mock the Cowboys because those doing the mocking have sort of exhausted me.

I'd just like to understand.

"Music City Miracle" this was not.

More like "Bay Area Befuddlement."

Living My Best Life?

 

I was asked about my day and, well, my answer was purely...

something.

"Just sitting in my chair. Hella exciting."

That was basically the plan of the day.

Home stuff. Writing. Feed Sean. You know, stuff like that.

Oh, and two football playoff games.

And maybe catch a little sleep since someone (not going to name names *cough...The Cat*) prefers that I feed him sometime before 6 a.m. His efforts can begin as early as 4 a.m. Now, granted, he's not always the one waking me up -- I thank getting older for that -- but he's prowling the apartment as I climb out of bed.

I try to go back to sleep. No dice.

I'll grab my AirPods. I might even put an eye mask on. There's no closing him out of my room. Trust me.

No, really, this is my life.

He'll go sleep with Sean when he's not with me but he won't nag Sean to eat. Go figure.

Ultimately, I just cave in, feed him, and try to go back to sleep.

That was this morning's plan.

So after my text was appropriately laughed at, I figured it was OK to keep the gag going. Thus, the picture.

Ugh. What a mess. The bed hair. The old LL Bean robe. The pursed lips. The hand gesture. Utterly ridiculous.

I said that I was "living large." You know, as in living my best life.

Again. Ugh.

But that was the exact idea. Besides, the presence of the cat next to me made it even more fun. He's looking at me with complete disdain. 

Justifiably.

I'm not afraid to dabble in silly. It brought the appropriate laugh and the mission was accomplished.

The rest of the day went as scheduled. Feed Sean. Watch football. 

Write.

By the way, I was rooting for the Buffalo Bills. Look, I'm no fan of the Cincinnati Bengals simply because they're in the Steelers' division. They're a very good team.

But the Bills, in my opinion, had become America's Team for a variety of reasons. The four Super Bowl losses and Damar Hamlin among them. It just feels like Buffalo has suffered enough.

Alas, scriptwriters and so-called "sports gods" don't care. The Bengals soundly beat the Bills today. Cincinnati goes to Kansas City next week.

The Cowboys and 49ers are tied as I write. The winner travels to Philadelphia.

Next week's winners head to the Super Bowl.

Lastly, is ripping on announcers the thing now? It seems to be growing on a weekly basis. If it's not Al Michaels it's Tony Romo. 

Anyway, football will soon be in the rearview mirror.

And then? Then? Spring Training follows!

But first I'll try to sleep again.

This Should Be Fun

 

There are many things I love about broadcasting, especially calling play-by-play.

One of those things has been how I can check out of the world while doing it. Most problems don't matter and I don't think about them when calling a game. The exceptions to this are very few.

Still, I love the things that make what I do such a blast. The prep. The research. The setup. The breakdown. The time with my friends. The impact our broadcasts have. Trying to find the nuggets to present to the audience. The great games are easy though I get stressed over creating a call that will be worthy of the moment.

Today's game -- Hoosac/Brunswick hockey -- finished with the Bruins winning 7-3. Such games with big scoring differences can be tough or mundane to call but they're a fun challenge since I have to create an atmosphere that engages the audience.

I worked solo as I so often do.

All of it should be a pleasure. A privilege even.

When it's not fun is when there are politics, egos, technical issues as well as other non-broadcast issues.

Worst of all, money. I just want to do the game and make a living.

What I can't stand is when any of this nonsense hangs over a broadcast like a bad smell.

We just want to focus on the broadcast. The game. Rooting through the internet looking for little gems to talk about. Trying to come up with different phrasings and words instead of repeating everything. I mean, a pass is a pass but there are other ways to say it. The great Doc Emrick found 153 different words to describe a pass once. 

I can't do that. Or at least I haven't done that. 

But it's part of crafting a broadcast that hopefully, fans enjoy and players will treasure knowing it exists.

It's far better than soothing egos and massaging situations.

That doesn't mean I don't like responsibility. On the contrary. I relish being the lead dog that heads things up. But, sadly, life isn't always fun. Nor is play-by-play. There are negatives. Always. Most days they aren't tangible. Some days they rear their ugly heads like Howard Cosell's ego at a jockocracy convention*.

* Howard hated athletes who tried to break into broadcasting. Along with myriad other people. "Jockocracy" was, in Cosell's eyes, the handing of a plum sports broadcasting gig to a former athlete who hadn't earned the position.

None of this is to mean that I didn't enjoy the broadcast today. Oh, sure, something hung over me causing me to feel a bit low on energy in the run-up to the broadcast. But once it was time to light things up I put the headset on and did what I do.

Brunswick 7, Hoosac 3. And it felt good to be in the rink. I'll be back there Monday afternoon also. The issues could wait until the game was over.

*****

I realize last night's post about Mahopac possibly (likely) changing their mascot risked going down the controversy highways. I'm also not afraid to have a debate. But I just simply hate politics as well as political correctness.

Still, I wrote a post that I felt I should write. I hit "publish." Then, I waited.

In the roughly 24 hours since the comments -- for and against -- have been fair, rational, and dignified. It should, in the long run, not be such a big deal but I'm smart enough to know that won't be the case.

As I said, I remain proud to have been a Mahopac Indian.

But I'm also really proud that last night's post didn't dissolve into a name-calling disaster.

Once in a while, I'm allowed to believe that we can have dignified conversations where we can agree to disagree.

So, thanks. 

The Times They Are A-Changin'

 

(WABC)

Inevitably, it is going to happen.

The Washington football team -- formerly the Redskins. They changed.

The Cleveland baseball team. Indians no more.

St. John's University. The Redman is in the past.

On and on it has happened over the years. Back in 1978, Syracuse University changed from the Warriors -- the Saltine Warriors -- to the Orangemen. Well, gender was eventually eliminated and Syracuse became just the Orange.

And now, thanks mainly to New York State governor Kathy Hochul, the Mahopac Indians will likely change their name.

The governor, in conjunction with the state education department, has threatened to withhold state aid from any school that is not in compliance with removing Native American imagery.

And, well, there's Mahopac.

The Indians.

The school I graduated from.

The school I have broadcast for.

Needless to say, the story has gathered attention. Of course, many -- both in and out of Mahopac -- are not thrilled.

Those who are against the change are being mocked and called racist.

On the other hand, those in favor of the change are being called woke.

You know the deal. It's standard operating procedure.

Now, you say, what do you think?

I'll be sorry to see the Indians name go. I'm sorry to see politics getting involved when I'd like to believe there are more pressing concerns but so it goes.

If I'm coming off a little more resigned as opposed to many others, well, yes, I guess I am. As pro teams capitulate, and as many of the schools surrounding Mahopac do the same, I figured it was bound to happen.

That doesn't mean I'm content with it but I also figure I don't really get a say in it. My hope is that whoever is in charge of this decision comes up with something that is pleasing but that will be dealt with at another time.

When I was brought on to call Mahopac baseball and hockey, both teams were kind to give me some swag. I have a hat and a couple of hoodies that mean a lot to me.

I'll continue to wear them proudly.

There are much bigger things to fight in life.

I always liked the Native American history of Mahopac, with the name an Algonquian word for “lake of the great serpent.”

I've always been proud of my hometown. I've always been proud to be from my hometown, even in those moments that were less than proud. Oh, I've seen the good and the bad. 

Like it or not, the change it's coming. It's going to happen. I had to laugh that this is coming to be after I moved out.

I see Mahopac -- my hometown -- for what it is. I see it honestly. I also don't take kindly to it getting dumped on.

Yes, change is coming and I don't have to like it. This post isn't to start a fight and I won't do so.

We'll move forward.

I can still always be proud of having been a Mahopac Indian.

"Let It Go"

 

Tiger Stadium, Detroit

I belong to a bunch of groups on the evil site known as Facebook.

I just got invited into the "official" Paul McCartney fan page, which is apparently run by Sir Paul's MPL, which is his publishing company.

Of course, I'm a moderator in the Play-by-Play group (accept no substitutes!).

Plus I'm in several baseball and sports groups where people -- each one knows more than the other! -- moan, complain, and try to outdo each other with their knowledge.

Look, I realize I have a lot of useless info in my brain and sometimes I get to share that knowledge. But there comes a point where it goes from simply being useful to playing trivial to being a know-it-all jackwagon.

I digress.

So I'm looking at one of the groups this morning as I was working when I saw a meme dedicated to old Tiger Stadium in Detroit. The facility, also known as times as Navin Field and Briggs Stadium, last hosted the Detroit Tigers baseball team in 1999. After being used for other events, including filming for the movie 61*, the stadium was torn down beginning in 2008.

To the credit of the people who cared about it, the site has been preserved, initially as a baseball field by a group called The Navin Field Grounds Crew. It has since been taken over by the Detroit Police Athletic League (PAL), which has built headquarters, installed a turf field, and turned it into a very small stadium called The Corner Ballpark. 

The site -- at the corner of Michigan and Trumbull, hence the nickname -- is sacred to those who loved it. It holds a special place in the history of Detroit.

Thus, the meme. And, thus, a comment from a know-it-all with too much to say whose last line of his thought was "let it go." You know, the stadium is gone. Get over it.

This is where there is another line. It's the line between living in the past and missing something that was so special while recognizing progress.

There are those who think Tiger Stadium could have been renovated and saved, a la Fenway Park and Wrigley Field.

You can obviously see where this is going: the corner of E. 161st Street and River Ave. in The Bronx. Post number one here back in 2006 was on the groundbreaking for the new Yankee Stadium.

Home

While I don't hate the new stadium and appreciate the many amenities it's just simply not the same. I don't think it's the "cold and sterile mall" that it is described as. It replaced an iconic venue. It replaced something that I felt was "home" to me.

I got to see the 1923 stadium as a very little boy and spent many nights in the refurbished 1976 building. I loved them both. I hold them both sacred. I wish we still had that.

While a shiny new building stands across E. 161st St, a soulless patch of land sits with a couple of baseball fields and small acknowledgments to arguably the most famous building in sports.

The tearing down of old Yankee Stadium was the very definition of greed. People begged for the City of New York to leave one gate up, which was the 1923 architecture.

So, no, I won't "let it go" and I don't think it's up to this guy (or anyone else) to tell me that. The key is to not obsess over it. I get that it's very much in the past but the doesn't mean I or anyone else should have to stop telling the stories and evoking the memories that stand so strongly in our own personal halls of fame.

I saw two games with my father in the original Yankee Stadium. I saw my favorite player there. I saw my favorite broadcaster there. I saw Jim Abbott pitch a no-hitter and Tino Martinez hit a World Series grand slam and Scott Brosius cap a Series rally and a title be won. All there. All on that site, be it the original or the refurbished.

I took my own son to his first game there. I laughed with family and friends as we cheered the Bombers on. I made lifelong friends there.

I sat through rain delays and a power outage. I also got to be a reporter there, walking on the famed field and visiting the clubhouse. 

Let it go? No. Not at all.

It's too important to me.

This occupies the site of Tiger Stadium

Where The Corner of Michigan and Trumbull has something organized and, apparently, nice, the old site of Yankee Stadium isn't exactly heaven. With a little care, the hurt of many could have been abated slightly. At one time, there was talk of leaving a small shell of the old stadium standing so that it, too, could be a PAL type of ballpark. That didn't happen.

I realize there are politics and lots of red tape embedded within this but I'd like to believe there could be some way to put some pride back into the land.

Alas, I'm supposed to, you know, let it go, amirite?

No.

There are those who, of course, still hold tightly to Ebbets Field and even Shea Stadium. Outside of New York, there are myriad other examples, from Crosley Stadium in Cincinnati to Memorial Stadium in Baltimore and the Boston Garden. The reasons are tinged with nostalgia and progress be damned.

The shiny new place doesn't always work out. I can speak lovingly of the 2009 Yankee Stadium but it doesn't remotely hold sound the way to old building did. Twenty thousand could roar and that sound would reverberate to be heard anywhere. The new stadium simply isn't like that.

We move forward. Yes. We honor the past. Both can be true.

So comes the meme about Tiger Stadium. The simplest thing for the commenter du jour is simply, well, let it go. Like, don't comment on it. Ignore it. I'm a pro at that!

I get eye-rolling at beating the dead horse. I see it every day.

Every.

Freaking. 

Day.

But I ignore it or I send it mockingly to someone else, thus allowing me to have my say without looking like a know-it-all saying "let it go."

Leave that to Elsa from Frozen. 

Make 'Em Laugh

 

I'm tapped. I'm out of ideas. The well feels dry.

I texted that to Susan and, bang, she had an idea.

"What's the funniest movie you've ever seen?" she asked.

I wanted to say, "Surely you can't be serious," but her name is Susan, not Shirley.

So like I've done in other situations, I'm simply going to spitball a few titles out and you can add more in the comments. My answer is not the ultimate nor are there any wrong answers. They're just opinions but we could probably all use some laughter.

In no particular order, I'm starting with Mel Brooks. Now, if Susan is writing, she's absolutely going with Young Frankenstein, and my God she is most certainly not wrong. It is a brilliant movie.

But I'm going to respectfully give that a harrumph. Then again, we don't have to pick just one Brooks film as I love Young Frankenstein and Spaceballs and so on. I revere Brooks. But if you know me then you know that Blazing Saddles will leave me gasping for breath.

Before you come at it with how it's racist, just hold on. I can laugh at basically anything but let's move past that. It's a movie in which the racists lose, thank you very much. It's also a movie in which no less than Richard Pryor helped write the screenplay.

Yes, I cringe at a few lines, especially as Sherriff Bart rides into Rock Ridge but I'm howling again seconds later as he "whips out" his proclamation from the governor to certify that he is, indeed, the new law in town.

There are so many funny moments. Too many to name. Simply the anachronistic appearance of Count Basie and his orchestra in the middle of the desert in the beginning of the film is a perfect gag. 

And Mongo. Never forget that he is simply a pawn in the game of life.

While there are some funny sports movies (Major League, Slap Shot, and Bull Durham come to mind) nothing tops Caddyshack for me for sheer laughs. Maybe it's that we all know the filming was one big debauched mess or that the casting was so incredibly stellar. Or that it's among the most quotable movies ever. It's probably all of the above.

But you're going to play golf and you're going to like it!

How 'bout a Fresca?

With Jim Thompson's passing last week, I was reminded how our former WGCH news director and morning anchor was reminiscent of the 70s-bound Ron Burgundy in Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy. Really, the reason for the comparison was that Jim was on WGCH in the late 1970s. Beyond that, he's really nothing like Ron but I still laugh at the thought.

And I laugh a lot at the movie. Again, it's super quotable, being in "a glass case of emotion" and how "60 percent of the time it works every time."

I mean, they've done studies, you know.

Since I quoted it indirectly in the opening of the post I have to acknowledge Airplane which sort of fires into a genre of itself with parody films. Certainly, The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad has to be in that conversation as well, among others. Yet Airplane once again gives us quotable lines and, I suppose, as an 11-year-old when it came out, it was rather eye-opening. 

I never could speak jive but the movie changed the career of Leslie Nielsen.

I have to note Ferris Bueller's Day Off just because, well, I can recite the movie so well. My 18-year-old brain took to it and I've seen it perhaps more than I've ever seen any other movie. Why? Well, I suppose because life moves pretty fast...

I recall one night going to the movies with my mother and niece. Invited out of the blue, it seemed like fun to grab dinner and a movie. Robin Williams makes good movies and oh my God my cheeks hurt after seeing The Birdcage. Maybe it was seeing Gene Hackman in drag. Or maybe it was just that Nathan Lane literally stole the film. And, yet, it still came back to Williams, simply with his instructions on "an eclectic celebration of a dance."

And then we're off to Fosse! Fosse! Fosse! And Martha Graham and Twyla and Madonna and so on.

I watched that scene just now and snorted. Yup. It still works.

I realize I'm literally just picking a few titles. My goal is to not rank or say one is better than the other. I'm also specifically leaving titles out in the hope of inspiring all of you.

I can namedrop older films like The Philadelphia Story and His Girl Friday and Some Like it Hot and Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb and Duck Soup and A Night at the Opera. Each is hysterical in its own right. All of them are classics.

Later movies like Monty Python and the Holy Grail and The Blues Brothers and Ghostbusters and Back to the Future and the Autin Powers series (especially the first two for me) and Fargo and There's Something About Mary also hit the mark. Cult classics like So I Married an Axe Murderer are spot on.

There's no proper formula here. It's simply what strikes the funny bone. I'm sure there are those who wish to highlight Fast Times at Ridgemont High or any of the Kevin Smith films (Clerks, etc). And there will be some kind of "harrumph" over movies I haven't mentioned. It's not an exact science.

But there are also those films that are funny and, yet, get pretty serious like Good Morning, Vietnam. I mean, sure, Robin Williams has me crying in his earliest ramblings on the air as Adrian Cronauer but it also takes a very dark turn later on. I mean, they're in the middle of the Vietnam War, of course. So I struggle to call it a comedy even if it is defined as such.

Others just don't work with me and I'll leave that to you to highlight those films that leave you gasping.

Anything for a laugh. It's what we so desperately need.

In Session

Using this since I watched the revived "Night Court" tonight

 

I set an alarm this morning.

Of course, I was up before it. Part me. Part cat.

But I was soon up, coffee brewing, and logging on.

5:30 a.m. Plenty of time for the long commute to my desk, ten feet away.

Oh, I've started earlier. I had to get up at 2:30 a.m. I've also gone to bed after 5 a.m. from times that I went to the office for an overnight case or cases that I did from home.

It had been a few weeks since I'd been in the video deposition world. Things get quiet around the holidays and it can take a moment for cases to ramp back up. Yet, when there is an interesting start time, my phone buzzes.

Log on at 6 a.m.? Case starts at 7 a.m.? Sure!

Obviously, I can't discuss the cases. I can tell you that I've dealt with people in far-off places and that's certainly interesting. 

China.

Japan.

England.

Taiwan.

Belgium.

Italy.

Hawaii.

Connecticut. In fact, each time zone of the United States.

Well, you get the idea.

Each case starts by going to the computer and hoping there is a link to the case in my email.

Then it's setting up.

Often I'm the one opening and closing the meeting, so I'm setting up my audio and video needs and confirming things are as I like.

I have a backup running as well, primarily for audio purposes. It's a way for me to reach out if something is wrong and it's another way for me to monitor things. It allows me to not have to wear a headset for hours as I run the backup audio into my mixer so that I can hear the case on speakers.

In those moments of setting up I also have to start the paperwork for logging hours and pertinent details. This is in part to make sure my read-on is ready when everyone is set to begin.

From there, it's just connecting with the people on the Zoom meeting. I talk with the court reporter and other officials. I say hello to lawyers and confirm I can hear the witness.

There's an element of just monitoring, and making sure everyone is OK. I'm a set of eyes and ears for technical concerns and anything else that grabs me.

The points that I matter are when I do my read-on with the details of the case. I start it and I close it. I take us on and off the record. I'm not seen a lot, mostly at the beginning when I say hello.

Then, I'm in the background. To be honest, I can't tell you much about the case because it becomes background noise and I like it that way. It's rare that a deposition grabs me.

But, as was noted when I first interviewed for this position, I have the ability to perk up at the right points. I can tell the change in cadence among those speaking, indicating that it's time for a break. I swoop in and off we go.

And I'm ready when it's time to go back on.

Once the case has ended, I have to complete filling out my paperwork and prepare the files to be uploaded so that they can head to the proper parties. Normally the process doesn't take long unless the circumstances are unique.

Then it's all over. I've had cases that busted and, as such, didn't happen. I've had cases that have been an hour long. I've had cases that were 11 hours long. It all depends. They're the stars.

It's an interesting world. It can be taxing in its own ways but diligence is the star. So is reliability. I'm expected to be both. There can be stress -- especially in my desire to do it all correctly.

To some, I'm simply "the videographer." I'm nameless. Meh. So be it. It's better than being "Mr. Adams" I suppose.

Much like being a board operator at a radio station, things flow smoothly until something happens. That's when a cool hand is needed. Oh, there are stories as always.

The most accessible story is the night we briefly lost power during a storm in Mahopac. It was so fast that the computer didn't die. I have a battery backup that kept me on.

But the internet briefly died. Yeah. That's not good.

The phone rang and I said I'd have us back on ASAP. I did. But if you know me you know I felt horrible. As if it was my fault.

Overall, everyone is nice and professional and it works. Customer service skills help a lot. Be patient and stay calm. Be soothing. Take a deep breath.

But, like everything I do (yes, even broadcasting) I prefer to be invisible. Do the job and hopefully do it well.

Hopefully, they remember and some do. I've been requested a few times.

Now it looks like Sean might try his hand at this also. I just introduce people to Sean and it's up to him to get the gig from there. We'll see where this takes him.

It's taken me to good places. I can never forget that. The pandemic had stopped me from working, save for some game broadcasts that summer. Otherwise, I was the co-manager of Nancy, Inc., in charge of taking care of my mother.

When she passed, I had a moment of wondering exactly what was next for me. 

The meeting for this came not long after and I started almost immediately. I thought this might also be a good thing for Sean. There's an autonomy that he will appreciate if it works out.

And, to be honest, there are more things in the pipeline than video depositions. 

It's just fitting it into my schedule.

Today, it worked.

Tomorrow, it won't. I have something else on the calendar.

But it all works out.

The Boring Big Game

 

Remember the Super Bowls of the 80s and early 90s?

You know the ones. We thought we might have a good game on our hands between, say, the 49ers and Broncos. John Elway versus Joe Montana! How can this possibly be a bad game?

And then?

Forty Niners 55, Broncos 10.

Snore.

There were bunch of those "back in the day." In the early 90s (look away, Bills fans!) there was the carnage of three straight blowouts against Buffalo. Or San Diego getting beaten up by Greenwich's Steve Young (oh, and Jerry Rice).

Brutal.

We hoped for a good playoff game tonight between the Buccaneers and Cowboys in Tampa. I mean, let's face it, it's the Hater Bowl. Tom Brady versus Dallas and their fans. There's literally nothing to root for! Taylor Swift can perform the halftime show!

Figuring the game is in Florida and, well, I've got nothing else, I picked the Bucs to win this game. I came home from my radio shows in Poughkeepsie excited to watch it.

As I write, it's Dallas 24, Brady 6 entering the fourth quarter.

Yawn.

It just has that feeling of those painful old Super Bowls. I still remember my excitement, for instance, of watching Dan Marino play in trademarked big game number 19 against San Francisco. Marino had literally changed the quarterback position with a wide-open, pass-happy offense that rewrote the record book. 

Despite the way he and the Dolphins beat up on the Steelers in the AFC Championship, I was hopeful for Marino, the pride of the University of Pittsburgh.

Marino threw for 318 yards and a touchdown but was picked off twice. Miami even led 10-7 after the first quarter.

The Niners built a 28-16 halftime lead and cruised to a 38-16 win. Montana threw for 331 yards and three touchdowns and was named MVP.

Marino, of course, never saw the big game again.

We had a bunch of those stinkers. The close games (Pittsburgh/Dallas in Supers X and XIII were exceptions) were far outnumbered by the disasters. 

We've been more fortunate in recent years and have seen more competitive or even classic championship games.

That is, at least until someone decides to hand Brady the trophy (I mean, Seattle throwing the ball when they had Marshawn Lynch in prime "Beast Mode?"). 

Oh, and the Cowboys just scored again. It's 31-6 Dallas with 9:56 to play.

I'd say the game is basically over and we can move on to the Division Round this weekend.

And I can go to bed.

Al, Tony, and the Jags

 

Al Michaels has been stuck in a purgatory known as Thursday Night Football on Amazon Prime all season.

Michaels is 78 and has numerous iconic calls under his belt. Obviously, just say, "Do you believe in miracles?" and you know what we're talking about.

Until Al moved over to Amazon, he was most recently the lead on the NFL for NBC. Now he has "emeritus" status with NBC Sports, keeping him involved with the Peacock as needed, specifically on the Olympics and NFL Playoffs.

So Al called last night's San Diego/Jacksonville wild card playoff game on NBC. Kirk Herbstreit has been his color analyst for the TNF games on Amazon. Last night, Tony Dungy -- who works in the studio virtually all season, save for Thanksgiving this year -- joined him in the booth.

I'll admit I found the pairing to be odd but a good (and, in Al's case, great) broadcaster can adjust.

I have said too many times I believe that chemistry is so important in a booth. Personalities matter immensely. Two low-key or amped-up announcers make for a difficult mix. A ying and yang can be a great thing. Think of Pat Summerall and John Madden, for instance.

Last night, there was Al (who happens to be from the school of Vin Scully) and Dungy (who is not excitable). It went exactly how I sort of thought it would.

The modern sports fan wants more energy. Many want the histrionics of Gus Johnson and, to be sure, I've seen more than a few "critics" say Gus would have made last night's game better.

The social media "experts" would have exploded at, say, the broadcast crew of Super Bowl VIII when Summerall and Ray Scott -- two word economists -- worked together. Their style was simplistic: "Starr. Dowler. Touchdown, Green Bay," Scott would intone. Summerall was virtually identical.

God forbid they hear Scott's call of the last out of the seventh game of the 1965 World Series as Sandy Koufax struck out Bob Allison.

"He did it. Sandy Koufax gets his tenth strikeout. His second consecutive shutout of the Twins. On Monday, on a four-hitter. Today, on a three-hitter."

It's another moment before Scott says it was the seventh game of the World Series. The pictures are showing the glee -- not a dogpile, mind you -- of the Dodgers, who have won the 1965 title.

Pictures. Ah, yes. Last night's football game was on TV. You know, as in there's a picture. The announcer fills the holes. So Al was Al. He gives a technically solid broadcast diced with lots of sarcasm and asides. But with Dungy, well it's not Tony's fault, but it made for a booth that many found lacking energy.

I thought it was fine overall. Not great but I also could see where all of the "broadcasters" on Twitter were going to have a say.

This had the feeling of Bob Costas in the Yankees/Cleveland series of October in terms of the social media heat.

Now the fact is the game turned out to be quite memorable. The Jaguars were down 27-0 and I admit I kept the game on just sort of because. 

Dungy took heat at the start of the second half because his analysis -- after the Jaguars cut the game to 27-7 at halftime -- was to say that the Jags needed a defensive stop and then a score.

Of course, that's Football 101 but he wasn't wrong either. It's simplifying the idea of bringing football down to the basics. However, the Chargers had looked unstoppable.

Now, they weren't. The Jags' defense stepped up and quarterback Trevor Lawrence looked like a different player.

Suddenly, 27-0 and 27-7 became 30-28 Los Angeles (and not San Diego). The Jags went on a 10-play, 61-yard drive over the final 3:09 of the game. Jacksonville sent their field goal unit in the for game-winner.

This is where Al really gets beaten up.

Michaels used whatever time he had to set up the field goal to talk about a "likely" matchup with the Kansas City Chiefs next week. In that regard, the potential game-winning field goal, in a memorable comeback for the ages, seemed like an afterthought.

There was no tension in his voice. No sense of this being a big deal.

But it was. Very much.

"Here we go," Michaels said. "For the win."

The ball tailed to the right but went through the uprights. The crowd -- which was supposedly loud for part of the night -- seemed poorly mixed by NBC's audio. Producer Fred Gaudelli announced that this would be his last game and he picked a heck of a finish for this portion of his career. However, it will be with a cloud of noise.

Much of which we didn't hear from the crowd, though they were back in full throat as the Jags completed the comeback. Michaels, in the meantime, did what any play-by-play announcer should do. He noticed a flag had been thrown.

But he obsessed a bit.

With little energy, Al continued.

"Got it but there's a flag down. There's a flag down as everyone is running out onto the field. But there's a penalty marker."

Lawrence was seen running onto the field, looking for a teammate to hug as the scene was euphoric. Finally, the referee could be heard announcing an offside call.

"And they call it on the defense," Michaels said.

To be clear, the call was factually correct. It wasn't botched. There was nothing wrong. Al had the right teams and players and circumstances.

It just wasn't particularly memorable or great.

Al has a series of calls that are iconic. "Miracles," obviously, stands up top. He's made a career off of that call. Yet I'd add many others, including the 1986 ALCS and the 1972 NLCS, as well as his cool demeanor as Candlestick Park shook -- literally -- before Game 3 of the 1989 World Series. Al won a news Emmy for his part in ABC's coverage as he relayed the scene.

For me, though, my favorite call is the game-winning (and house-shaking) touchdown catch by Santonio Holmes in Super Bowl XLIII. 

"Roethlisberger ... has time. Throws to the back of the end zone and it is ... CAUGHT FOR A TOUCHDOWN. BY HOLMES!"

Michaels, working with John Madden (in his last game), calmly noted the need to make sure Holmes caught the ball and stayed in bounds on his toe-tap on the sideline.

All of that was lacking last night with the game on the line.

I think a lot of vitriol Al is facing today (and Dungy as well) is over the top but, let's face it, isn't that what we do? That doesn't explain it nor do I excuse it. 

The idea that Al Michaels, 78, should never do another game is ludicious. That's not happening. He'll be back next year with Amazon and, in all likelihood, on NBC for a playoff game. He'll also be with the Peacock on their coverage of the 2024 Olympics from Paris.

He's going nowhere.

The best thing about Al to me? He doesn't care literally at all about any of the heat today. At least, that's my opinion based on years of listening to him.

There could be an explanation for Al being "off" last night if he thinks he was or not. He could be totally different next time.

But give me Al Michaels calling a football game over most of the "voices" working today.

He'll be back.

No miracles are required.

Maintaining Energy

Game 1: Girls Youth Basketball

Today featured two very different games to broadcast.

At just after nine this morning, I was on the air broadcasting Boomslang Basketball. The young girls worked hard and played ferociously, gutting out a 15-11 win. 

As I called the game, one of the officials passed my broadcast position. To clarify, my feet were literally on the edge of the sideline. A loose ball bounced into my arms while I was on the air.

But, back to the official. She looked at me as went back up the floor.

"Are you working?" she asked. I smiled, said I was and continued the broadcast.

As I was leaving, she walked next to me.

"We were talking about you," she said, laughing. "That's hard work that you're doing."

OK, granted, it was one hour alone calling a game featuring 26 total points. But, compared to a game official? Not even close.

I just talk about what I see on the court in front of me and I try to have fun doing it.

I was soon back in the car.

I had six hours between games so I came home and rested up before going back out.

Sean joined me and we went to Brunswick where I called the Bruins' 4-2 win over Hill. He loves visiting Brunswick and seeing the rink. Plus I told him we'd get dinner.

As I stood on the Balkind Balcony in the Hartong Rink, I took in the scene. My setup was complete (it takes maybe 10 minutes tops now) so I can consider the music on the public address system.

It was country. Not Johnny Cash. Not Hank Williams. It was more modern stuff like Eric Church and so on. Softer tempo songs that, were I an athlete, would not be motivating me.

This is not meant to be the criticism that it probably sounds like. It's more curiosity for me. 

I understand we've come a long way in the world of sports music. What played in an arena used to be marching bands and organists. While that hasn't completely gone away, the pregame sounds are almost all pre-recorded pump up songs. It's often played at ear-splitting levels. Oh, the songs have changed over, say, 35 years or so, but the concept hasn't.

Pump up the athletes.

Pump up the crowd.

They almost all have a frenetic beat be it pop, metal, hip-hop, house, electronic, R&B, etc.

It's certainly not "yacht rock."

But, country? What is it with the subset of athletes (and it tends to be baseball players that I notice it with the most) that find motivation and inspiration from the pick one from any column topics as heard in modern country music?

Pick-up trucks. Daisy Dukes denim shorts, Budweiser, and you get the idea. 

I realize I'm joking and stereotyping a bit. Yes, I'm having a bit of fun with this but I'm also being honest when I say that there are a lot of other songs that get me in the right state of mind as opposed to, respectfully, Florida Georgia Line.

Taylor Swift pop? Sure. Taylor Swift country? Not so much.

I realize it is a mindset for an athlete. They're going to play whatever gets them going. As a broadcaster, I have my own choices to get fired up but, more often than not, I'm listening to what is playing in the facility.

Inevitably, we tend to hear most of the same songs. Chris Erway and I would laugh at hearing "Jumpman" basically every week. Then we'd start repeating the lyrics. 

Well, he would. I just knew the "Jumpman Jumpman" part. Barely.

Oh, and I've been a DJ for a couple of sporting events. Look, if you're making me choose the tunes, I'm going to hit the rock and roll tunes. There are plenty of Beatles songs that fire me up personally but music is, of course, subjective.

The hockey game itself was a good one and, in truth, when the teams hit the ice the music stepped up the energy.

The energy transferred to the game where the two teams authored a very good evening. Brunswick saw a two-goal lead evaporate before grabbing the lead back and netting a goal later in the third period to seal the game.

Oh, and Sean and I each grabbed wings at Wegmans. We came home to eat and I put football on.

So ends a random Saturday in January.

Fly Away

 

London, 2022

"You're in my spot," I said in my best Sheldon Cooper-esque voice and attitude.

The Cat was unimpressed.

But there were words to be written. Thoughts to be spilled.

A Friday night needed to end with a busy Saturday to follow.

I had to find another place to write these words without interrupting the mighty Rascal of Greenwich.

I am calling Boomslang girls basketball tomorrow at 9 a.m. in Hartsdale, NY. Brunswick hockey versus Hill later in the day at 4 p.m.

In the lull between games and depositions and other things, I've used my time to catch up on stuff around the apartment. Sometimes it's cleaning and keeping up with the place. Other times it's things I've wanted to watch or listen to. 

And looking into traveling to fulfill a promise.

Sean and I are planning to go to Florida in the break between the winter and spring sports seasons. The framework is in place but, of course, the planning is the hardest part.

As is my way, I've been weaving my way through the phalanx of websites for flight schedules and prices. In the back of my mind is also the possibility of driving. That is a sacred drive to me. I did it so many times with my parents and I last did it in 1989.

However, have you looked into renting a car lately? Prices are still obnoxious and nowhere near what they were pre-pandemic. So if we hit the road it will be in my own car.

Could we go to the airport via train? Get to Grand Central and take a ride from there? I've done it and it wasn't bad. But, still.

Oh, and trains? Ha. I priced Amtrak tickets. Yeah. No.

Flying offers its own issues. What airport? How are we getting to that airport? Are we doing long-term parking or getting a ride? How are we getting back home?

Of course, in looking for flights, there are the options of flying, say, out of LaGuardia and returning vis JFK. Well, that creates its own issues.

And then, of course, is the small fact that we basically have an airport in our back yard! Yes, Westchester County Airport is right next to Brunswick's sports facilities. And, yet, go ahead and price flying in and out of Westchester (HPN). It can be done but it's not easy.

This would be the easiest option because I'd get a taxi to and from the airport or something. Either way, it wouldn't be difficult.

These are of course not major problems in the grand scheme of things. We'll work it out. There's also a part of me that enjoys this process but I'd like to get the tickets booked and lock everything into place.

I've long believed that I failed Sean as a father by not getting him to Florida before. He's never been to Disney or Universal Studios as a result. Now, he doesn't quite care about princesses but he still loves him some Star Wars, for instance. He says he doesn't mind and is very gracious about it, but still, these are the things I feel guilty about.

So, for fun, we priced a day ticket to Disney and they start at $109. Look, I'm not trying to be cheap but I do try to travel responsibly. In that same regard, I nosed around the website for the Innisbrook resort near Tarpon Springs. Due to its connections to my late grandparents, we used to visit Innisbrook for brunch at least once a trip. However I've never stayed there, nor have I ever played golf there. I've always wanted to do that.

I looked at prices to spend a night. Rooms start at $300. Maybe we can still go have brunch.

The trip will come together in time (sooner rather than later) and all will be right. I'll keep digging. The goal is to fly into and out of Tampa but maybe we'll fly into Orlando or St. Petersburg or Sarasota or somewhere else. It will all happen and it will be worth it. You see, this is an area that has been important to me since I was a baby.

It will be a great time. I have no doubt. He's a great travel companion and I've told him a lot about the region.

Oh, and plans are in the works for a 2023 trip to London again. Another Hunt Scanlon conference is coming up!

By the way, I climbed into another spot to write and The Cat moved. Because of course, he did.

Jim Thompson

 

(John Iannuzzi photo)

WGCH's signal is a little weaker tonight.

Jim Thompson has died.

Oh, there will be an obituary and others who can speak more eloquently about him.

I just have memories.

I came to WGCH with the help of friends in 1997. Jim was among those I met in my first few visits to 1490 Dayton Ave.

Only Jim Thompson, in 1997, could show up to host a show called "Mario Lanza and Friends." Yes, only Jim.

He loved Lanza.

He loved news.

He loved radio.

He loved community radio.

He loved WGCH.

He told me stories of Bob Steele and WTIC "back in the day."

Jim Thompson, Dima Joseph, John Iannuzzi (John Iannuzzi photo)

I was with him on Sept 11, 2001, bursting through the door to tell him and Dima Joseph things I was hearing on other radio stations. They appreciated the effort but they already knew what I was telling them.

They were news people. They upheld the standard that they set on that horrible morning and calmly guided WGCH through those early hours until we switched to network coverage at 10 a.m. 

Jim was WGCH royalty. Hell, he was Greenwich royalty. And, somehow, he liked me. Or tolerated me.

Oh, I could drive him nuts. I'd hear about not leaving the chairs in a certain way or, worse, the board and studio the way he wanted to find it after doing a sports show the night before. He'd tell me I was a "pain in the ass" but he'd also laugh boisterously. Love/hate? Nah. Tough love.

But, you know what? He also trusted me. He trusted me, and encouraged me, to be a reporter on election night. Here I am, nearly 25 years later, still doing that.

He asked me to be his backup on the NewsCenter. Understand that it was a big deal and I was, of course, nervous. Maybe I was only doing it for days when the audience might not be that big but you just never knew. 

And when he found out I was going to be a father, that had to be worked into the radio station. So it was that I appeared on the air from Sean's hospital room 48 hours after he was born. 

He cared about the station and about radio. It needed to sound right. It needed to sound tight. If you know radio, you know what I mean. No dead air. No repeating spots. Tight stop sets of commercials and other items.

Always be professional.

Sure, we could laugh and have fun on the air, and I certainly did, but a level of decorum must be maintained.

To me, Jim was a link to the past. Sometimes that meant adhering to the mores of another time. But it also meant a standard that I appreciated.

He could be tough. You knew how highly he (and his beloved Dima, for that matter) stood in the station hierarchy. 

Eventually, ownership and times changed. Jim departed around 2005 and was replaced by Tony Savino, who has become a close friend. Dima left a few years later.

We moved on.

Yet I always felt like part of Jim was missing without WGCH and the news and a Mario Lanza show.

I did a poor job of staying in touch with him after he left.

But I'll never forget learning from him. Anyone who worked at WGCH during his time there did. Me, John Iannuzzi, Sean Kilkelly, and so many others.

And, now, I sit here, having learned of his passing at the beginning of "Doubleheader" today. The only thing I could think of was abandoning the show and just talking. Just do radio. So there was very little sports talk. I talked about Jim. I played the sound of the time he called in to report on the departure of the Greenwich police chief. As he waited, there was dead air between the end of a commercial and the sounder for breaking news.

Jim, ever the stickler, muttered, "Oh, come on!" Only problem? His phone line was live. All of us found it hysterical, in part because that was Jim. I included that audio in today's "Doubleheader" which became a tribute to Jim.

So dedicated to the craft.

Such a radio voice.

Such a radio man.

Heaven's radio station, WHVN, has a new anchor tonight.

South 95 Wilmington

 

John Nash -- original co-conspirator of this #Project365 madness -- is back on the horse but is now trying PHOTO 365 at "The October Weekend." Please support his journey as he's a great writer and photographer. Photos have inspired me to write from time to time and that's where I find myself today.

It was Jan 11, 2012. It was around 7:00 a.m. and I was just north of the border between Pennsylvania and Delaware on Interstate 95 south.

Sept 2022 (Google Street View)

It's a big overhead sign that reads "South 95 Wilmington Local Traffic/South 495 Thru Traffic City/Port of Wilmington, Baltimore."

That's the simple backstory of the picture up top.

The deeper version is that I'd been on the road since 4:22 a.m. I'd been up since 3 a.m.

I was bound for Charleston, SC in a rented Mitsubishi to meet up with a former relationship who flew down for a conference. We were going to drive back together and I was able to get away for a few days.

This was in the days when Sean and I would have our "father/son dinner" together on Wednesday nights. You knew Sean and I loved being together but this format was forced. We made the best of it for several years before it eventually died down. I think our status is pretty good regardless.

But, that week, we moved dinner to Tuesday so I could hit the road on Wednesday. In fact, I actually considered leaving for Charleston after dropping Sean off on Tuesday night. I still think that could have been fun but it also would have been ill-advised. I figure I probably had until midnight or 1 a.m. before I'd need to pull off and sleep somewhere for a few minutes. That was inherently dangerous so I scrapped it.

After dropping Sean off, I went home and packed -- thus avoiding any urge to do the overnight drive. I also set up a lunch plan in Richmond with Jon at his office.

So, yeah, I was up at 3 and excited for the drive. I hadn't been south of Richmond on Interstate 95 since the early 90s. I was going to get to South of the Border for the first time since then also.

Oh, I was ready. Showered, ate breakfast, and dressed. I'll never forget it was 3:50 a.m. and I went out to the car.

Then I thought about visiting Jon's job and, because I'm me, decided I was underdressed. Again, I'm me.

Now, I didn't need a suit but I wasn't satisfied with what I was wearing. I needed something more "business casual." And so, faithful friends of "Exit 55" I harrassed my brain over this until I finally got in the blasted Mitsubishi at the fateful 4:22 a.m. Moments later, I turned on the Taconic State Parkway.

Then I turned on the radio. WCBS 880. Overnight construction at the junction of the Major Deegan and Cross Bronx expressways. The exact way I was going to proceed given it was roughly 4:30 in the morning!

I pivoted to crossing the Tappan Zee Bridge and rolling down the Garden State Parkway. Crisis averted. In fact, I was cruising along nicely and decided to add Pennsylvania to the drive instead of taking the New Jersey Turnpike to the Delaware Memorial Bridge. A quick jump at Exit 2 and I ran to the Commodore Barry Bridge to enter the Keystone State.

A few minutes after that, I encountered the sign assembly in the picture. I snapped the photo and, to be truthful, I didn't like it. It's blurry and I'd be chided if I shared it in certain corners of the road community.

But, in hindsight, I like the effect, even if I wasn't trying to do so. Time helps make some things better.

I stopped in Delaware at the three-hour mark and stretched my legs. I'd stop at a Wawa and, now, I wasn't making the greatest time in the world. I'd get nagged by my job at that time while driving through Baltimore and near Washington.

I hit Richmond right around 11:30. I was ahead of time for lunch with Jon but he was a good sport and told me to come to his office. He also was dressed along the lines of how I looked back in New York at 3:50 a.m. My ability to overthink had won again.

I might have been there for an hour or so. I ate with Jon and several of his coworkers, including our friend Lori. The bummer part of this is that I haven't seen Jon since then (we've been snakebitten in several attempts to connect) and it the last time I ever saw Lori. She passed a few years ago.

I remember thinking that, while a few days in Charleston lie ahead, a few more hours in Richmond would have been good for me. What awaited in South Carolina was, at that point, a basically finished relationship (but a friend). That story is complicated but aren't they all?

Before leaving R-Va, a Krispy Kreme donut and a cup of coffee were required.

Then the rain hit. That made the bottom of Virginia and all of North Carolina fun. It was night as I pulled into South of the Border for a quick look, knowing I'd be back in a few days on the way home.

I grabbed road food near Florence, SC, and finished the glorious solo drive to Charleston at 8:52 p.m. It had been 16.5 hours since I left Mahopac.

A travel companion -- like a broadcast booth -- requires chemistry. That was fine for the drive home but just different than being the lone wolf that I was all the way down I-95. When the chemistry is right, I'm very content.

In this case, I loved driving on my own. I changed the radio at my own whim. I stopped when I wanted and went where I wanted. I look back at that drive and cherish it, probably more than the rest of the trip. 

I passed out in my hotel room, knowing I'd have the next few days in Charleston to look around.

Many more pictures followed.

The relationship was officially completely done by April. She married the next guy. It was for the best.

I moved on.

There were more pictures to take.

More roads to explore.