A Man Called Sean

 

My mind is in multiple places tonight. It's still digesting a movie. But, first...

It's still at the ballpark. Heritage Financial Park, to be exact. It was Education Day and the Renegades had an 11 a.m. game. While I don't love the getting up and leaving early part, I do love an early start to a game. 

When it's over, the day is out in front of us.

Lori was there, and Sean came with me. Family. 

Sean was going to drive himself and then head to his mother's after that game but she said today "wasn't a good day." I'm fairly astounded by that given that's his legal address but we'll leave it there. So we drove up together.

He's back here with me tonight. Where it's always a good day.

So, yes, Education Day. Schools from around the area converged on the stadium, many decked out in matching t-shirts. They were all full-lunged and ready for fun.

Music! Food! Games! Hanging with friends!

They might have also watched a little baseball.

They were given free hats by the team and they wanted them signed.

The group in front of us turned around and asked those of us in the PA booth if we'd sign their hats. While I'm nobody, I also don't like turning them down. They're kind enough to ask (and say thank you) and what possible harm can it do to put my scribble on a hat?

Eventually, a few of them moved a few windows down to a cameraman.

Sean.

He was beaming when I walked down to see him. He has watched me sign a few autographs over the years but this was the first time he'd ever been asked. Like me, he asked if the kids really wanted his autograph and they all said yes.

Beaming.

The crew in the PA booth with me was remarkable. They played music and sounds that engaged the kids. When 4,000 people are singing at the top of their lungs with the music being produced right next to me, that's remarkable. It makes me laugh and takes my breath away.

The game? Meh. Fairly unmemorable from a hometown standpoint. But for those kids, hopefully, a lot of laughs, and a memorable experience. If we added anything then I'm happy.

*****

I did "Doubleheader" after we got home, then we had dinner. Then I turned the TV on and found myself looking for something to watch.

Tom Hanks showed up and, believe me, I almost never say no. In fact, I don't know that I've ever said no to something with Tom Hanks in it, having been a fan for basically 40 years.

I wasn't sure where "A Man Called Otto" was going to take me.

A few hours later, I'm still not sure.

If you've seen it, perhaps you understand what I'm saying. Are there laughs? A few. Dark? Absolutely. Profound? That works. Uplifting? A little. Sad? Yes, I think so. Annoying? Yeah, I'll throw that word in also.

We all know an Otto. Some of us have been an Otto. To drill down even further, some of us have been an Otto at times. Not constantly but occasionally.

And there was a cat. Rascal was pleased. Or he slept as I watched it. Or both.

But I won't spoil it if you haven't seen it.

I think it's worth your time, especially since Tom Hanks is an American treasure. But it's also worth it for a variety of reasons that I think will become apparent only after you watch it.

Be prepared for a bit of a roller coaster. Oh, and being honest, not everyone is going to love it.

Last thing: Life isn't easy. We get handed all kinds of twists and turns. But know there are people who have your back.

Including me.

A Couple of Chili Dogs

 

(Note: Not mine)

Let's see ... *checks notes*...

I boiled the water.

Threw four Walter's hot dogs in.

Heated up the leftover chili.

Grabbed the rolls.

Then Sean and I put it together and ate.

That, in truth, could be enough for tonight's post.

There's been enough silliness on the interwebs today and I've reached the point where I'm a bit tapped out.

It's standard stuff. Opinions are opinions until someone else doesn't share that opinion. Then the deflection begins.

These are just a few of the things on my mind as we open the Tuesday airing of grievances. As such, I'm willing to simply just stay quiet. I don't want to fill any "bingo cards" up.

As it is, I need to be on the road reasonably early tomorrow for the kids' day game at Heritage Financial Park. It is an 11 a.m. start and is one of four games I'm working PA on this week, with the other three being Friday-Sunday consecutively. Oh, Greenwich to Wappingers Falls each day will be an utter delight!

But, so it goes. I'm hanging with people that make me happy so it's all good.

But, yeah, back to chili dogs. I realize mine aren't that good. The dogs are good -- well, they better be, since Walter's hot dogs (since 1919) are rather pricey. We only got those as a treat.

But the chili, blech, is canned. Convenient, of course, but we need to be a little better.

I do love me a good chili dog. My chili, for the record (no shock) does not include beans. My chili of choice is meat-based with a good flavor and spice. Cheese, of course, is absolutely required.

Do I have an absolute favorite? Off the top of my head, no. There are just some that I know I like when I see them. Yocco's in the Allentown, PA area comes to mind.

I know this just adds to the list of awful things that are in my diet that I will no doubt be mocked for. But so it goes. I shall not go to Twitter to announce how I'm being verbally attacked.

Anyway, enough.

Onto tomorrow.

Memorial Day, 2023

 

(Photo: MARK REINSTEIN/CORBIS/GETTY IMAGES)

I popped on Google this morning and entered "Memorial Day."

I just wanted to see what came up.

The images were as one might expect. Stock images and banners and the like. Plus the one at the top of the page, taken by Mark Reinstein.

It is a sad fact, of course, that we need to have a Memorial Day. It is an even sadder fact that we need to remind many of what Memorial Day is.

While it's delightful to be sitting on the beach or in a backyard grilling or off at a mall shopping, that's not what Memorial Day is for. However, we have Memorial Day because of many brave men and women -- far braver than I. 

We have Memorial Day because we aren't honoring those actively serving in the military. We don't have Memorial Day because we're honoring anyone who has ever served in the military.

Memorial Day is defined as "a day on which those who died in active military service are remembered, traditionally observed on May 30 but now officially observed on the last Monday in May."

While Memorial Day seems to have begun as early as 1865 in Charleston, SC, the federal government said that Waterloo, NY celebrated the first Memorial Day in 1866. It also evolved from Decoration Day, first organized by Civil War General John Logan, in 1868.

It was moved to the last Monday in May beginning in 1971.

Thus there is no harm in being at the beach today or the mall or playing cornhole in someone's backyard while sipping on a frosty brew ('Murica!). But it would be sort of groovy if you could take even a moment to pause and think of those lost. 

Just to stop here for a moment, I am reminded of the countless picnics at the Adams abode in Mahopac that normally resulted in a savage wiffle ball game as well as football in the front yard. Of course that could also have been on July 4th or Labor Day or any other weekend but just speaking about cornhole in the backyard placed the sweet memories in my skull. Whether we were at my parent's house or my aunt and uncles or my cousins house or anywhere else. I'm just grateful for those memories. I'd also love to play some wiffle ball right about now but I digress.

Maybe you've never lost a loved one to combat. I am fortunate in that regard but I have had loved ones get wounded -- seriously -- in combat and we're mighty lucky to still have them with us. I had uncles in World War II. I had a cousin, whom I saw yesterday, get two Purple Hearts during the Vietnam War.

Still, those conversations are for Veteran's Day, which is also when I tip my cap to m dad and his brief service in the Army.

Today is for those brave souls that we lost. It makes me think of a couple of sites I'd very much like to visit to go along with hallowed ground like Gettysburg, Arlington National Cemetery, and other places.

Pearl Harbor National Memorial and, most importantly, the USS Arizona site. In my house growing up, you learned a lot about the attack on Pearl Harbor, HI. My father was just about to turn 12 and it had a profound impact. I've read my fair share about it and once wrote a term paper in middle school about it. 

Omaha Beach, Normandy, France. This was the other site that was discussed a lot in my house growing up. My sister has been and described what a profound experience it was for her. As I've made my way to London, it has tantalized me to be fairly close to this. More than visiting Paris, I think Normandy is the thing I want to see most in France.

I realize I hardly needed to give any of you a history lesson on Memorial Day in this post. I know you've all probably taken a moment today to honor those lost. You're going or have gone to a parade or whatever it is. But take a moment. Do something.

We have the freedom that we have for a reason. Yes, war is hell, and "what is it good for?" Those are thoughts for another time. 

I find myself overwhelmed with admiration for these people who made what is often called "the ultimate sacrifice." That term seems trite and hardly sufficient but even I'll admit it will have to do.

For the record, we'll have our own low-key Memorial Day here. We made a plan to cook up chili dogs and enjoy our day. I also intend to sit outside, pop my Bluetooth speaker on, and maybe listen to a game or a podcast or music or all of the above. 

What I don't intend to do is get in my car. Today is our day to chill out after a busy weekend.

I wish you a pleasant day on the unofficial kickoff to summer.

Supportive Sunday (and Sports)

Philadelphia, Aug 2022

 

It's simply about trying to do the right thing.

When a family member or loved one is hurting you want to help.

When you're invited to a memorial for someone, you go if you can.

(By the way, "if you can" is an important piece of that statement. Because sometimes you simply can't go.)

That's what Sean and I did today. Sometimes you don't understand why you're there. You just go.

And when they hug you tightly and tell you what it meant to have you there, you reassure.

It was my honor. And that it was.

Families are dicey, often messy things. I can speak from experience, sadly. They are combustible and confusing and confounding.

So as families evolve, you pull in the ones that you are closest to. That's how I feel.

Thus we were there today.

You go. Not for the departed -- not that they aren't a factor -- you go for the loved ones who need the hug.

Then you share laughs, much-needed fruity beverages, and a brownie.

A long-awaited brownie.

Oh, while you're there, you also talk about a baseball road trip because of course you do.

Now the question is ... where?

The parameters include a reasonable drive and most likely a day trip though I could be talked into a night in a hotel.

I should add that it would likely be three of us (me, Kris, Sean). There might be a fourth.

We're not against going back to a stadium we've been to before. So let's examine:

- Boston (Sean hasn't been to Fenway). Certainly, a lot to like about the Hub, and, come on, Fenway is a pretty great place. The only problem is Red Sox fans but, meh, if the Yankees aren't there it could still be a fun day. Our "fourth" would not go as she has no interest in ever stepping inside the city limits which is a shame.

- Philadelphia (Sean and I both went to Citizens Bank Park last year). We had a blast in Philly. I'm not against going back. It's basically the shortest of the trips also. Heck, we could probably even take a train if we wanted to.

- Baltimore (we've all been to Camden Yards). Baltimore is a good time. The food is good (the cab fries with cheese were amazing and, also, Boog's BBQ), the stadium is wonderful, and downtown Baltimore is fun. Plus the O's are a good team.

- Washington (Sean and I have not been to Nationals Park). I've driven by Nationals Park. But now we're on the fringe of the day trips. Oh, I've done it -- down and back to Washington, D.C. in a day -- but it's exhausting.

Now, for the outer reaches, but...

- Pittsburgh (None of us have been to PNC Park). So, it's basically 6.5 hours from Greenwich and about six from Kris's front door. That's a long day of driving and, I admit, I'm tempted in this case to make it a weekend and crash for a night. Then we can head dahn (speaking "Yinzer") to, ahem, Acrisure Stadium and other Steelers-related sites as well as grab some food at Primanti Bros. 

However, there's a solid chance Sean and I will pass through the Burgh in late July. But we probably wouldn't get to a Bucco's game.

So there's merit to this idea. Wacky as it might be.

Lastly, there's an old standby:

- Cooperstown (oh, we've all been). Yes, we have most definitely all been. However, Kris and I were last in Cooperstown in, let's see, Sept 1980? I know it was 1980 as I bought a circa 1979 Pirates (them again) pillbox hat with the Stargell Stars on it. Oh, and I also wore a Yankees t-shirt because I was that kind of kid. 

We all love Cooperstown. That's for sure. Call this our wild card option.

So I'm just blabbering at the back end of a long and busy weekend. Which will we pick? I guess watch this space for more info.

We're just going to try to make it happen. That's the first step.

GTP 2023

 

My sixth Greenwich Town Party has concluded.

My back hurts. My legs are sore. I'm tired.

Pretty standard stuff, to be honest.

The music? Let's say it was all great and I say that because a lot of people vastly more talented than I am poured heart and soul into efforts to step onto a stage in front of neighbors and strangers. It can be a daunting gig for the local acts on the Town Stage.

Besides, Maroon 5 wasn't there. Neither was Nickelback. So, yes, everyone was great.

Of particular note were the two high school performances from Brunswick Music Improv and Greenwich High School Jazz Ensemble. Also, The Revivalists were insanely good. Mavis Staples was also phenomenal.

We can hear Preservation Hall's Superjam in the distance now and we're pretty fond of Preservation Hall Jazz Band.

Though I probably shouldn't shout anyone in particular out because it will look like I'm playing favorites. Yet, I'll take my chances.

I just enjoy watching the inner workings of the day. Watching the crew set up and break down. Watching the sound people make it all work. The shuffling of the artists as they move to the stage.

Of course, we get a unique perspective from just inside the Town Stage area which gives us no view of the Town Stage or the Main Stage. Sean and I spent chunks of the day moving to where we could actually see things. People couldn't find us to come to say hello for that very reason.

In the end, we were on the air for over eight hours. Now, the music is the star. The musicians. Sean and I hop on mic and work as the conduit. Does any of this sound familiar?

And Sean was pretty great as a co-host. I'm very honest and fair about him. I don't think he's curing cancer tonight nor am I creating a hashtag imploring you to behold the legend that is my son. He's finding his way but, for his fourth time, he was a fine co-host, following my lead. He doesn't really want to be the lead but he enjoys the music and he's content to play off of me.

Whether or not he develops as an on-air talent is up to him.

But when the weather cooperates, the music is solid, the food is good, and you're hanging out with people you enjoy being with, it's a mighty good day.

Yes, there are annoyances and nuisances but isn't that every day?

No, I didn't know we were going on at 11:15 this morning until I decided it.

I didn't know we would stay on until 7:30. I thought we'd be done at 6 p.m. but so it goes.

And so on.

We took what was thrown at us and did our best.

Conversely, power and an audio line were both installed and waiting for us by the time we walked in. The security crew was great and people were kind to bring us bottles of water.

As we wrapped up, Sean said he was ready to do it again in 2024.

I agree with that statement but I think we'd both agree that there are ways to make our coverage even better, starting with our location. 

There are other things but you get the idea.

All things considered today was a success.

And a pleasure.

Music. Sunshine. Hanging and hosting a concert on the radio with my son.

Not too many ways to beat that.

Party's Eve

 

The Greenwich Town Party is tomorrow.

Live on WGCH.

I've heard a rumor that we're going on the air at 11 a.m.

I've heard rumors of what we can carry on the air and what we can't.

But, it's 9:30 on Friday night.

I have no confirmation.

Oh, I'm not assigning blame. This post isn't meant to be scandalous. No need to gasp at the notion that I'm driving a Greyhound bus over anyone.

Things don't often come together until the last minute.

Not everything is tied up in a neat little bow.

I worked a deposition today which is always good since it's work. But it's also when I have other things to do, including picking up credentials and getting a look at the park where the Town Party is taking place.

Last year, I walked over and got my credentials then went into the park to look at where we would be setting up.

I hoped the deposition today would be quick. After all, it's a Friday on a holiday weekend. Who wants to work that long?

That's sound logic except it didn't work.

I logged in at 8 a.m. I logged off at 6:30 p.m.

The paycheck will be nice but it doesn't get my car aligned or new tires or pick up the GTP credentials or allow me to do a radio show.

But not all was lost. After work, Sean and I pulled ourselves together and walked down to the GTP check-in. Mercifully, it was open from 8 a.m. until 9 p.m.

Of course, we both walked there expecting to not be on the mythical list and having some kind of headache and to quote a singer performing in the area tonight ...

"You need to calm down."

We were greeted by the always-professional people in charge of check-in at the GTP and handed lanyards and wristbands. The park itself had already been locked up so we'll just have to set up tomorrow morning and hope for the best.

There are two things we need tomorrow. Well, three, I suppose.

- A table and chairs

- Electricity

- A feed from the sound booth to carry the audio on the air.

And every year -- without fail -- I either get looked at like I'm nuts (I am) or like I'm causing a problem (and I probably am). But that's the deal with WGCH. 

At least that's how it was in recent years.

Oh, and I don't know how long we'll be on the air either. Fortunately, we are both pretty flexible and, shockingly, patient.

So we'll wing it and, as always, hope for the best.

That means it might be chaos and, no, that's not my favorite thing. But we'll make it work.

This is again a reminder that, despite all the preparation that I hear about and do, you simply can't be prepared for everything.

There are no fancy charts and graphs for this. There are no multicolored pens and pencils.

Heck, as of now, I don't even have a schedule of who is playing at what time. But I will when I go to the radio station tomorrow morning.

Sean and I will get there early and, as we did last year, grab breakfast before walking into the park.

Yes. Walking. We're walking. No traffic concerns for us.

For those down on the music, don't be. Jazz is wonderful.

Much like anything else in life, people who don't like jazz simply don't understand it.

I can only offer you Miles Davis and Dave Brubeck and Charlie Parker and other names to get you started. But, in truth, this will be New Orleans jazz and you're just going to have to hear it for yourself. It will move you and keep you going all day.

Jazz is an all-encompassing word but there are so many sub-genres underneath, including the aforementioned New Orleans style. Bebop, Dixieland, Big Band, Bossa Nova, Fusion, Ragtime, Swing, and even Blues can all fall under the title of Jazz.

Oh, and Kenny G.

Regardless, I guarantee you will move and enjoy it. 

Sean and I are both pretty excited to hear the music. 

After getting out stinking badges, er, credentials, we walked up to MacDuff's Public House, the outstanding pub just off the bottom of Greenwich Ave. A pub that is, sadly, closing within the next month because the owners can't renew their lease.

Looking around the packed bar and restaurant, it was enough to make me angry, especially when the food was so good.

Sean enjoyed a plate of wings while I grabbed a pizza. Both were excellent. We enjoyed our walk home where we (well, I) could work off what we just consumed while we talked about what awaited us in the morning.

Tomorrow is just a question of, well, the unanswered questions. Including how long we'll be there because, to be honest, I wouldn't mind wrapping the day up sitting on my deck and perhaps listening to the concert from there.

We'll learn the answers to the questions tomorrow.

Laissez les bon temps rouler.

Our Year in Greenwich

May 25, 2023: He's content

 A year ago today, I woke up in a hotel room at the Even in Norwalk.

It's a hotel where every room number is -- yup -- an even number. Oh, and it's very healthy. Thus it's really not meant for me but I digress.

The more important thing, as I prepared for that day, was that I was no longer a resident of the Town of Carmel, NY. Or, specifically, Mahopac. 

After 53 years, I left Mahopac, Carmel, Putnam County, and New York. While I'll always be a New Yorker at heart, I normally lived there.

That Wednesday morning, I was a resident of Greenwich, CT.

The previous 48 hours had been spent in a chaotic but organized move from Mahopac to Greenwich. The frenzy that had started in early May when we learned we had to be out by the morning of May 25, 2022, was over.

After 58 years the house on Longview Drive would have a new owner.

The road to Greenwich was, well, I didn't realize that's where we were going. For a series of reasons, apartment hunting got a late start for me. We kept thinking there would be more time so I was diligently reviewing items in a weak apartment market. I inquired about a place not too far from Mahopac that had been quickly scooped up. An apartment in Mahopac was mine for the taking but was apparently too small.

In truth, while I was nervous where this was all going to end up, I never thought I'd be homeless. I did think that I might have to go somewhere temporarily. My sister's place was an option, along with my cousin Kourtney, who told me I'd never be homeless. I think others were at least considering opening their doors to me but it never got that far.

I needed two bedrooms -- or one and a living room that I could make work as a bedroom. Plus we had a cat. If I'm being honest, I've come to realize he is almost a therapy animal having come to us after Mom's passing to keep us company.

In the end, it took a post written here for me to get a note from a friend and colleague. He had an apartment. He told me what to expect and the cost. I drove by the house that day. I was familiar with the neighborhood. Then I toured it a few days later. Honestly, I was ready to take it immediately, especially when I saw the deck and the washer/dryer unit.

But there was the application and referrals and such. It needed to be determined that I'd be a good tenant. I was, and I think I have been. And I should add "we" because Sean pretty much lives here almost full-time. Imagine that. What a coincidence.

There have been hiccups but nothing major and, let's face it, it happens. The place had been empty for some time.

While we awaited the final word on moving in, we set about the rush of packing, cleaning, and junking the contents of my parent's house. There was also a garage sale. It's amazing what can be accomplished in such a short amount of time. I look back in amazement.

Our army of workers wasn't as robust as one might hope. For the most part, cleaning the house fell on my sister and me. Moving was mostly on my cousin Kris and me. Sean was a frequent piece of both operations. Others, especially my sister's kids, helped out.

In hindsight, we were actually pretty damn amazing. It's equally amazing we didn't lose our minds given the stress and the constant storm clouds. I remember wrapping up the tag sale and being in a Chili's near Mahopac, sipping a beer. My sister and I both sat there, emotionless. We were zombies.

I rented a truck to move and even that was a process but Sean and I picked it up near Peekskill on Monday morning, May 23. Stupid me, I thought the move would take one load and one day. I thought I'd be able to crash in my hotel early in the afternoon of the 24th. I picked the Even in part because they were pet-friendly.

Of course, had the move been over the weekend I'd like to believe that we would have had more help. Instead, I was fortunate to have what I had. Our landlords had been truly gracious, allowing me to take occupancy on the 25th as opposed to June 1st and letting us move things in beginning on the 23rd. I was handed the keys the day before. For truly for the first time, with no partner to speak of, I had my own place. I can still hear a condescending voice wondering how I would ever take care of myself (knowing, especially in hindsight, that was one of the numerous ways of telling me that we'd be splitting).

The move took two loads over two days in part because the truck was too small. So we loaded the rental truck, Kris's truck, and Sean's car and drove to Greenwich. Then we unpacked. I was willing to go back to Mahopac and load up one more time but Kris and Sean both encouraged me to rest up. So Kris said he'd come back with a trailer on Tuesday. I took the rental truck back to Peekskill.

I slept on an air mattress that night in Mahopac.

We loaded the trailer and my car on Tuesday morning. We tried but we simply couldn't fit everything so Rascal and a few final things stayed behind. I'd have to return for them.

It was during the unloading in Greenwich that I got a phone call from a lawyer as my ex attempted to nuke the entire process. The closing was briefly put on hold before all parties came to an agreement that wouldn't be fully resolved until roughly a month ago. Oh, don't worry, she got every dime. Always about money and control.

Anyway...

With things put in place in the apartment, there was still one more thing to go get. We left Greenwich around 4:30 that Tuesday and I headed back to Mahopac. In the meantime, the buyer of the house had stopped in to take some measurements.

That's when he found Rascal cowering behind the toilet. The poor cat had nowhere to hide in a now empty house and he scared the new owner.

I took one last walk around the house that had belonged to my parents since 1963. I stepped through each room, filming as I walked. Shockingly, I did it with minimal emotion, likely too wound up from everything.

I strolled the yard one last time, dodging any neighbors. I just wanted to get what was left, take a last look, and head out.

I packed what I could into my car. I left other things on the side of the road, having watched a full-loaded dumpster with years of ephemera drive away that morning. Desks, dressers, TVs, a couch, and other furniture went with it. I didn't have the space in the apartment so I regret nothing.

May 24, 2022. 6 p.m. Time to go.

Finally, at 6 p.m. on the night of May 24, 2022, with a cat screaming in the car, I departed my parent's home. I took one last picture and headed back to Greenwich.

The cat hated every step of the trip. He, however, would be the one spending the night in Greenwich. I pondered canceling the hotel. I pondered occupying myself by hanging out at WGCH or somewhere until midnight when I could officially occupy the place.

Instead, I quickly parked in the driveway, carried a terrified cat inside, emptied the car, threw a comforter in the washing machine, made sure the cat was safe (and hiding under my bed) and left for Norwalk.

My plans -- be in Norwalk earlier in the day and even enjoy a nice meal to celebrate -- had been thwarted. Instead, I ate Wendy's in my car before checking in.

Then I sat in the hotel room and pondered all of it. I worried about the washing machine and the cat. I thought about heading back to Greenwich after midnight. I fretted over the action to delay the closing. I fretted over what awaited at the closing.

I didn't sleep great.

Instead, my sister met me the next morning and we drove to Yonkers for the closing. Transactions were completed, questions were answered, and chunks of my share were held back. It was painless and none of it mattered because it was over.

I'm not money-driven. Never have been. Just allow me to live and be comfortable.

My sister and I celebrated that afternoon. Yes, we did.

May 25, 2022. He adjusted.

I was able to poke my head into the apartment a few times -- once, following the closing, and again after our celebration. I still had to go host "The Clubhouse" that night.

The place looked great. It was ours. Boxes and items were everywhere but my bed was ready to be slept in that night. That mattered. The cat was still nervous. The washing machine was fine.

Then came that moment following "The Clubhouse" when it came time to make the turn. Go left to Mahopac. Go right to Greenwich.

I turned right and took 684 south to new beginnings.

I also slept horribly that first night but it was OK.

Not long after I got home, Rascal came out from under the bed. He was comfortable.

We were home.

The past year has given us what we needed. We adjusted as we went along beginning to understand the damage done, especially following Mom's passing. I didn't understand the cost COVID had on me mentally or physically either, even though I was never diagnosed with it. 

But there was a cost. You bet there was.

We enjoyed the Greenwich Town Party featuring Billy Joel that first weekend. We settled into walking to town and adjusting to parking. I got my Connecticut license and plates. We enjoyed the convenience of the nearby train station. We taught ourselves that Wegmans in Harrison, NY would be our go-to grocery store for bigger shopping.

We enjoyed being close to where we could do depositions and WGCH and Hunt Scanlon. And, of course, Greenwich and Brunswick.

We left from here for adventures. I went to San Francisco (and London in a few weeks). We went to North Carolina, Cooperstown, The Big E, and Florida, and made frequent jaunts to Wawa or whatever grabbed us.

We hosted only a few guests. Chris Erway, Kris, and honestly not nearly enough others. The place is small but we like it. 

I love my deck. That's why I got a Bluetooth speaker recently. Now I'd like a deck chair that I can sleep on!

We've adjusted to the sounds of Metro North, Amtrak, freight trains, and Interstate 95. At all hours.

I'll never adjust to the horn honking. I admit that.

We're Greenwich residents, which is not the stereotype one has in mind. We live in a reasonably-priced apartment (after being told we'd never find such a thing) and live among hard-working people in a great cross-section of town. We have businesses nearby that we're happy to support.

The Greenwich I know isn't the money and glamour. It's a melting pot of people stretched from Chickahominy and Byram to Cos Cob and Riverside and up to Glenville.

Come and visit us.

I'm not saying we'll be here forever but we're happy. Ask Sean. He'll tell you.

And we've been here a year.

Officially.

Thanks, Mother Nature

 

The weather looks fine...for now

Once again, plans get scuttled.

The FCIAC baseball championship was scheduled for tonight at 7 p.m. in Stamford.

I woke up all set to prep for the game when I got a message that the game had been moved to tomorrow.

A 70% chance of rain is in the forecast and I guess there's a chance of thunder as well.

As I write (2:04 p.m.) there has been no sign of either. It's clear with a bit of a haze but we know how quickly things can change.

It's a no-win for those making such decisions but certainly, coaches don't want to warm up pitchers and, as such, waste them if the game doesn't happen.

So no game tonight.

That means no softball for me tomorrow and I truly apologize.

Robcasting is a one-man band. I like it that way though there are others who are willing to help out. You know the names -- Chris Erway, Shawn Sailer, Chris Kaelin, Jake Zimmer, Dan Gardella, etc -- who have all helped make this a little engine that can.

Sean Adams would help also but he's not a play-by-play person. 

The point is I know there are people who would jump in but I simply don't have a way to get both baseball and softball on the air tomorrow. I also can't run from one game to the other because the games are staggered far enough apart. 

With the proper pieces in place, I could probably use our YouTube channel but there are just too many roadblocks for this.

It reminded me of the rare times we did this at HAN Radio. For instance, we decided to cover state football games hosted by Darien and New Canaan on the same day. We had two channels available to us so it allowed me to send Chris Kaelin and John Kovach to New Canaan while Paul Silverfarb and I went to Darien.

I bounced between the two before the games started to help set up equipment and make sure everything was working. As Darien kicked off first, I called that game, packed up, and ran back to New Canaan, jumping on the air there briefly before breaking it all down.

It was a fun challenge and we succeeded.

We'd do a similar thing for the state championships that year, as we handled all three hockey games in New Haven. Then we set up at Mohegan Sun. I finished up the hockey calls and then drove to the Sun to be a part of the nightcap (I was encouraged to sit one of the five broadcasts out much to my consternation).

So, yeah, five games. Two sites. Pretty cool.

But back to softball. I apologize. I really do. Before anyone makes this about gender, I please ask that you know me a little better. I've pushed for all sports to get coverage. I could line up all of the women's sports that I've called -- from New Jersey girls across and soccer championships to D-III college basketball at Mount Saine Mary College -- but there's no need to. I've called a few Connecticut girls hockey championships (rather famously, I might add).

This is just bad luck. I committed to the baseball championship first and I called the semifinals on Monday. As such, I'm going to see baseball through to the end while keeping an eye on the softball games as best as possible.

Best of luck to Ludlowe and St. Joseph tomorrow. Have a great game and may the best team win.

The girls deserve better. Sorry, I can't provide it.

*****

One year ago today, a door closed and I prepared to open a new one. And I took this picture.

Rascal wasn't being fierce. He was scared out of his brain as we were driving from Mahopac to Greenwich. I found him cowering behind the toilet at home -- the last thing I needed to move.

We've been here ever since.

*****

RIP, Tina Turner. Simply the best. She never ever did nothing nice and easy.

On Calls and Marches

 

It felt like the scene from "The Godfather: Part III."

"Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!"

Except I've never seen that movie (blech) and I was only being pulled into a parade.

With much trepidation -- and some pleading -- I marched in the parade down Greenwich Ave to kick off the days leading up to Saturday's Greenwich Town Party.

At first, all of my concerns were spot on, and Sean agreed with me. Oh, did I fail to mention I dragged Sean along? I figured I needed a wingman for this potential mess.

The thing with us is that we don't like ambiguity. Unknown? Last-minute? Grumble grumble. 

Not always the best for us.

Yet, sometimes pleasant surprises await.

We walked over to the staging area in the Amogerone Parking Lot, literally right next to the WGCH studios.

There were cones for each group to line up and WGCH was at cone number five. For a stretch, only the Adams boys occupied the cone in question.

The group would swell right before we stepped off with seven of us marching.

I stood in the center of the group, holding up a banner that had literally just come in from a particular office supply chain.

Fortunately, the mood among the WGCH party wasn't stressful but instead turned light, sarcastic, and enjoyable. 

While I was supposed to collect interviews from members of the audience once we reached the "Party in the Park" at the end of the parade route, folks weren't looking to chat. Instead, they were looking to be entertained by the headliners Preservation Hall Jazz Band who lead the parade.

"So, wait," I said to Sean. "No matter what, we get to say we marched in a parade with Preservation Hall Jazz Band?"

"That's how I'm seeing it," he said.

To paraphrase a non-jazz band, we took a sad song and made it better.

The band climbed onto a stage at Havemeyer Field and put on a free concert with jazz that was just outstanding. Sean and I both this alone made it all worth it.

Plus Gary Dell'Abate introduced the Preservation Hall Jazz Band at "Party at the Park" and said the quickest and slyest "Baba Booey" ever that actually made both of us laugh.

There were food trucks in the park along with entertainers on stilts and a few others decked out in costumes that added to the festivities. Sean and I tried to eat at the food trucks and, well, the lines were crazy. So we headed out, said hello to first selectman Fred Camillo and his dogs and walked toward Grigg Street Pizza.

Which was closed.

So we hoofed it back to WGCH to get my car.

Pizza and a quick grocery visit in Glenville awaited before we returned to the cat.

We're your tour guides for the radio broadcast of the Greenwich Town Party on Saturday though we're still waiting to find out exactly what that means. I guess stay tuned.

We're both happy to do what we can for WGCH.

But my feet hurt.

*****

I've spoken about awards and honors before. They're not something I strive for. I've received a few things over the years that mean I can put "award-winning" on my bio, but otherwise, meh.

STAA -- the Sportscasters Talent Agency of America -- hosts a "Calls of the Week" social media campaign every week. All kinds of (to be honest, mostly younger) broadcasters throw their calls into a Twitter post each Monday.

For the first time, that post included a call from me. 

I wanted to see what the response would be. I gave them the championship winner from Sunday's Prep Nationals game. I considered it an experiment.

Now, I'll add that I think it is not one of my best "big moment" calls. I had a small stumble in it that embarrasses me but, at the end of the day, it's about the athletes and the game, not me. I'm a conduit. I simply try to call it professionally without breaking any audio equipment because I yelled so loud.

Well, whatever the case, when you click on the post of winners, lo and behold, there's Mason Vance's game-winner. Kudos to all around.

I'd like to think it would my parents smile. 

I grinned when I saw it. Beyond that, I don't really know what to think. I'm certainly the old dude among the other calls. I'm still baffled by the criteria, as I thought a far-superior call by Mike Hirn wasn't chosen a few weeks back.

Quality should matter and, yet, it doesn't always.

So I suppose it's a nifty feather on my hat to make "Calls of the Week" but, proving my point, it was the magnitude of the moment.

Not the call itself.

The Bellyache Heard 'Round Stamford

 

Cubeta Stadium, Stamford.
Note the press box above the stands.

Babe Ruth had disappeared in 1925 and the speculation was rampant.

He had died.

Well, no, he had not, but he was not entirely well. He died in 1948.

He had collapsed in a North Carolina train station. There was talk he had influenza and that he would never play again.

Thus the speculation that he was dead, which hit headlines around Europe.

As was the style of the time a writer named W.O. McGeehan* said that The Babe had gotten sick from eating too many hot dogs and that eventually became known as "The Bellyache Heard 'Round the World."

While various theories persisted (such as one that Ruth had an STD), the truth is Ruth had an abscess as a result of consuming some bad hooch in the Prohibition 1920s.

*McGeehan briefly dabbled in broadcasting "calling" 1923 World Series for Westinghouse. He grew tired of it in the middle of Game 3 and Graham McNamee took over, beginning a legendary career that would make him the most famous radio voice in the land and eventually bring him a posthumous Ford Frick Award from the National Baseball Hall of Fame. To be clear, McNamee wasn't a particularly strong play-by-play announcer but he was our godfather for sure.

With that wild digression, I'm sorry to report that, for reasons unrelated to hot dogs, I did a 2.5-hour baseball broadcast tonight that did not require surgery. I was simply in pain in discomfort.

I'm fine now as these things have a way of working themselves out but it shows the level of detail and determination one must deal with when working in this business. The game will carry on regardless of how I feel.

I recall only one other time -- a hockey game at Brunswick -- when stomach cramps got me bad enough that I couldn't answer the bell to get on the air. I stepped away during the intermission and sheepishly returned when I felt better. I don't think I missed that much action but, as you know, I was upset about missing anything.

I missed nothing tonight though it made for a long game.

The first game was a little more standard fare. Good pitching, a few errors, and some hits. In the end, Fairfield Warde got a run in the sixth inning to beat Staples, 3-2.

In that elongated nightcap, Westhill had the answers to surprise Trumbull, 4-2. The game simply had lots of pickoff attempts, stepping out of the batter's box, pitching changes, mound visits, and so on. 

And no pitch clock.

A look inside the press box (I set up at the far end)

Oh, don't get me wrong, I was happy to be on the call from Stamford's Cubeta Stadium. The press box there had once become an after-hour party zone with numerous break-ins and a smell that Cheech and Chong would both adore.

Tonight, it was simply an empty press box with very limited seating when I walked in.

But the field? My God, you can eat off that turf. Seriously, the grass is meticulous. The guys there keep it in pristine shape.

So it was an absolute joy to call the game from there. However, the place isn't how it looked when it hosted two Babe Ruth World Series over 20 years ago. I'd love to see a series return because you know I'd make sure to have Robcasting ready to go.

I'll be back there on Wednesday night when Warde and Westhill meet for the second year in a row for the championship. The Mustangs of Warde are going for a threepeat.

Tomorrow? Part of the Greenwich Town Party. I fear my son might kill me.

Since I survived the stomach cramps.

Thanks, Wick (the '23 edition)

 

The Big Red of Lawrenceville celebrate on Cosby Field

The scriptwriters work things out their own way.

Brunswick had a three-goal lead today in the championship of the Prep Nationals against Lawrenceville. 

Twice.

But the Lawrenceville Big Red -- one of three previous losses in lacrosse for the Bruins -- tied it up each time.

It went to overtime. No goal.

It went to double overtime.

Goal.

Mason Vance will be remembered forever.

Lawrenceville 14, Brunswick 13.

Game over. Season over.

Brunswick year over.

I haven't counted the number of games I did for the Bruins. Whatever the total, it wasn't enough and it never will be.

Even if they said to do all the home and away games I'd still lament the conflicts that I couldn't get to so why worry about it?

They know how I feel. They know I want it all.

As I was really the "national" broadcaster for today's Prep Nationals Championship I couldn't be concerned with which team I covered. Sure, advantage Brunswick because I know them so well but the energy and emotion had to be fair. I can't do it any other way. 

If that means I upset people because I responded with excitement when Lawrenceville won then I can't really do anything about that.

I called the game with the great Dan Arestia and that's exactly what he was: great. He's a credit to the lacrosse world.

I didn't get a proper chance to thank the Brunswick family at the end of the broadcast because, honestly, I didn't think it would be appropriate, so allow this post to serve as a statement of gratitude to everyone at the school.

There was one harsh criticism all year. In fact, that's basically the only one we have received in now seven years of consistent coverage for the Bruins. It was back around this time in 2016 when Paul Silverfarb told me that Brunswick wanted "a professional" for their game broadcasts.

Huh. Imagine that. So, enter me.

Sadly, my Greenwich High broadcasts had whittled down to football and a few random other games. So I took on the opportunity with the Bruins. It's gotten me to call bowl games and New England hockey championships and FAA baseball championships and FAA basketball championships and even a water polo (!) championship.

And it takes people who believe in me to keep that going. 

That starts with the loyalty of Wayne MacGillicuddy who is my immediate contact at the school. Taking over for Joe Early (who first brought me in and is still a friend), Wayne and I immediately hit it off. We're now friends and he's extremely loyal to me.

Take my word for it. I have proof of that loyalty. Notice there was only one lead broadcaster on Wick games this year.

Tom Philip, the Head of Brunswick School, has also had my back. We've never even exchanged a word but he has been in my corner. That extends to school-wide Director of Athletics Cedric Jones as well.

From there, Ron Van Belle, now an Associate Director of Athletics but once the AD and head hockey coach, has backed me for years. 

So have each of the head coaches that I cover consistently: MacGillicuddy (football), Mike Kennedy (ice hockey), Steve Juricek (basketball), David Bruce (lacrosse), and Johnny Montanez (baseball), who frequently texts me that he's watching.

That support is incredible. Also, the results are pretty great and, in this past school year, produced championships in football, basketball, and baseball. It also produced strong postseasons in lacrosse and ice hockey.

I'll somehow neglect a name in all of this but you should also know people like Marc Strileckis, Will Perkins, Mike Harris (who is a huge cheerleader for me -- check please!), Oscar Miranda, and the many other names that I should know. Often, I just know the faces as I'm making my way around the campus from the blazing hot of late summer to the bitter cold of winter to the warmth of spring.

Thank yous also go to the families and, of course, the players. In fact, the players are the stars.

Every year, I strive to get better. I strive to learn more about the athletes and their backgrounds. I strive to meet the families. Some years are better than others. 

But, I say this with full humility: there was a collection of people -- parents, grandparents, athletes, etc -- who introduced themselves to me just to say how much they enjoyed the broadcasts. 

Oh, and they like my voice.

It is overwhelming.

And the criticism? Meh. It's hurtful but take it from where it comes. If it's legitimate, then work on fixing it. If it's not, move on. The only thing that bothered me about it was it happened during one of Chris Erway's first broadcasts with the Bruins. I knew how much he wanted to do a good job and bring the same zest that we give to Greenwich football and anything else we've called.

So be it. It made us even better. I'm fiercely proud of the football games we called but I do lament that we didn't do any others. I also absolutely treasure the laughs, road trips, and everything else.

But Chris and Dan certainly helped make the broadcasts that much stronger. Why? Because I know these guys. There's chemistry. There's comfort.

Dan has already signed on for the Prep Nationals if we get the chance to do it again in 2024.

Otherwise, I did what I do. I flew solo for basketball and hockey and baseball and lacrosse and even a football game or two.

Now we turn to other items before it revs up again in late summer. The FCIAC baseball semis are tomorrow.

The FCIAC baseball championship is Wednesday. 

The FCIAC softball championship is Thursday and I'm thrilled to say we've added that to the list of broadcasts.

There's also the Greenwich Town Party that Sean and I will work on this week.

All I can do is keep hoping for more after that until it's time to go to football in late August or early September.

And I'll keep hoping -- and nagging -- for more at Brunswick. We haven't touched wrestling and golf and we only did just a couple of soccer games and there's a lot more that we can bring.

Honestly, we could do so much more on the air and off. We've tried. We're just not there and we might never be there.

But, for now, we're finished.

Congratulations, Class of '23. 

Have a great summer, rising classes.

From Cosby Field in Greenwich, CT, good night everyone.

The Next Baseball Call and Other Saturday Stuff

 

(Photo: National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum)

I'm happy to say I'm not done with baseball yet.

Through a series of conversations this morning, I became the play-by-play announcer for this week's FCIAC baseball semifinals and championship game. The games will be carried on Robcasting at robcasting.mixlr.com live from Cubeta Stadium in Stamford, CT beginning with the semis on Monday.

No. 3 Staples vs. No. 2 Warde will begin our coverage at 4 p.m., followed by No. 8 Westhill vs. No. 5 Trumbull at 6:30 p.m. I'd suspect the broadcasts will start with a five-minute pregame show but I'm still working those things out.

The winners will meet in the championship game Wednesday night at 7 p.m. At a quick glance, I think it will be my sixth baseball championship call.

Unless I download some public address announcements the games will run commercial-free.

Ah, the last time I called the championship was in 2021. I was sitting in Fairfield sipping a cup of coffee that Friday morning, expecting to head to Hudson Valley that night to call a Renegades game. Then I got a text from Kevin Devaney, Jr saying that LocalLive needed a broadcaster in Stamford that day.

Yes, that day. As in the game was roughly 2.5 hours away from starting. My initial reaction was that it was a tall ask, especially having to get to what is now Heritage Financial Park that night.

Also, how would I prepare? I didn't have the 20 hours that are apparently required! I did, however, have equipment, my computer, and my scorebook binder with me.

But, this is me. I got nudged to do the game -- Greenwich versus Fairfield Warde. I fired off a couple of quick messages on Twitter to the two teams, hoping for any help with rosters and notes. Warde didn't respond (they would eventually) but Greenwich did and loaded me up.

Now, with a 1 p.m. game, I had to hope to be wrapped up shortly after 3 p.m. to begin the drive to Fishkill.

To Stamford, I went. Fortunately, I had a blank scorecard with me, and the lineups were delivered to the booth.

Oh, one thing to know about the booth at Cubeta Stadium: there is no soundproofing so any chatter will get picked up on the mic. I can still hear broadcasters from WWPT on my call of the game-winner in 2019 (don't read this, Shawn Sailer!) when the Wreckers rallied to win over Shawn's Fairfield Ludlowe team.

We avoided that in 2021 and I suggest we try to avoid it again this year. Trust me, I like the guys from WWPT and they promised they wouldn't step on the FCIAC call in 2019 (I'm sort of there in the "official" capacity) but, yeah. They're high school students calling games of their friends and classmates and haven't quite developed that neutral stance quite yet.

So, think of it this way: I'm like the national broadcaster. Even with Greenwich in the game in 2021, I only focused on keeping the call fair and when the Mustangs of Fairfield Warde secured a decisive title, I proclaimed they were the definitive champions.

It doesn't matter who I'm "affiliated" with.

So, yeah, 2019. Not long after I got to Cubeta Stadium, I got a text from Joe Ausanio, my boss with the Gades at the time, telling me the game was postponed due to impending storms later that night. I heaved a sigh of relief. Now, the pressure of the game length was off and I could also go to honor our dear friend Susan as she departed from the Darien Times. The town hosted a sendoff for her and I wound being asked to speak at it. 

As for these games, I'm pleased that I've already seen Warde play and I know enough of the other three teams heading into the broadcasts on Monday. It should be a blast.

While we're on the broadcasting bug, tomorrow's Prep Nationals Championship lacrosse game is the rematch that I thought might happen. Brunswick will play Lawrenceville for the title. The Big Red beat the Bruins back in April and it really set them on a tear to be the number-one team in North America.

Now, the Bruins have revenge on their minds. Technically, they're the lower seed and will be the visiting team but don't fool yourself. They'll have the home crowd.

The game is at 2 p.m. tomorrow and Dan Arestia will join me for the call.

I was overwhelmed by the number of people who stopped in the booth last night during the semifinals to say hello from all of the teams to say how much they enjoy the broadcasts. One person called it "better than most college broadcasts" and that's a testament to the people behind the scenes that make it look good. For me, it's humbling and a great reminder to keep grinding at this stuff.

As I've noted many times, confidence can be so fleeting for a variety of reasons. But to have people stop in the booth to say how their mom stays home "just to listen to you" is overwhelming. 

I worked with the weight of knowing what the broadcasts mean to viewers and the last thing I want to be is annoying or a negative aspect of the experience.

*****

Aaron Hicks is a former Yankee today, designated for assignment by the team after a rare trade with the Boston Red Sox to acquire outfielder Greg Allen.

Hicks had become a mess and that happens. He signed a huge contract a few years back, dealt with injuries, and never found himself again.

Fans were, of course, brutal. Heck, even I knew he had to go.

But, still, he is human and, much like the Joey Gallo fiasco, nobody looks good when it becomes personal. Personally, I wish Hicks well wherever he goes. If it's to another team then so be it. If he retires, well, again, I hold no malice.

Thanks for the good memories and best wishes.

*****

I've read that Mahopac, under pressure and scrutiny from New York Governor Kathy Hochul, will indeed be changing their mascot -- the one they've had since 1937. Many of us proud Mahopac -- gulp -- "Indians" will have to get used to the new moniker: the "Wolf Pac."

Yes. "Wolf Pac" as in "Pac" as in Mahopac.

For those thinking "old (white) man will be screaming at cloud" I only say that, sure, I'm sorry to see the mascot that I grew up with go away. I've never been a fan of renaming. I also thought "Lakers" would have been a great name, given our pride in Lake Mahopac as well as Kirk Lake, Lake Casse, Lake MacGregor (where I spent many summer days) and most of all, Lake Secor, where my grandparents had a house.

So, sure, I'm bummed. But wasting the energy of the anger simply isn't worth it to me. We'll evolve and move on.

But I'll always be a proud Mahopac Indian and should I ever get the chance to broadcast their games again, I'll do the professional thing by calling them the "Wolf Pac."

Time moves on.

Like it or not.

*****

We finish with a tip of the cap and microphone to Bobby Ray Murcer on what would have been his 77th birthday. We lost him far too soon and I still see the details with perfect clarity of the moment I found out he had passed.

He was a wonderful baseball player who became a wonderfully charming broadcaster. Like the other heroes of my youth, he had a profound impact on me.

I watched part of his Yankeeography today and his five-RBI game the night of Thurman Munson's funeral is still the stuff of mystique and aura.

I wish the Yankees would honor him in Monument Park for nearly 50 years of service and that's all I have to say about that.

He's missed.

The Semis

 

Greetings from Robert L. Cosby Memorial Field.

On the Edwards Campus of the Brunswick School.

It's a delightful 67 degrees with the wind out of the northeast at 9 MPH.

In just under an hour, Lawrenceville -- the number one team in North America, according to Inside Lacrosse -- will play Deerfield.

It's the Big Red versus the Big Green.

Later tonight, Brunswick plays Salisbury. There is no love lost between the two and the Bruins get the home-field advantage. The two teams met last Friday with Brunswick getting the win.

These are the semifinals of the 2023 Prep Nationals. The winners meet Sunday. All four teams have played once this year already so there is a lot of familiarity.

I'm calling the semis tonight and it looks like I'm flying solo. Dan Arestia, Darien Times legend, and incredible lacrosse reporter, can't make it tonight. He'll join me on Sunday.

So we're all set. Keith, Mike, and Gustavo are setting up cameras and switchers and mixers. My audio setup is ready as well with the trusty Zoom PodTrak P4 next to my computer and my Sennheiser headset ready to party.

I'd love a new headset one of these days but it's not a priority. The Sennheisers that I have are still pretty good.

So we're all set. Bring it on! Quick setup and the games will start soon and ...

...

Oh.

(This is the SPECIAL REPORT from Robcasting News)

This just into the Robcasting Newsroom. The bus carrying one of the teams making their way to the Prep Nationals in Greenwich, CT has broken down. Repeating that bulletin, a bus with players from a school that rhymes with "Fear Dield" has broken down. Both games of tonight's tournament have been pushed back.

As of now, game one between, ahem, Deerfield and Lawrenceville will begin at 6:15. The second game -- between Brunswick and Salisbury, will begin at 8:15.

Stay tuned to your local Robcasting station for more details or follow us on social media. 

We now return you to your regularly-scheduled program.

(Play dramatic music and fade to black)

*****

I can't ignore the fact that Jim Brown has died. In fact, I wish I could have pivoted to host "Doubleheader" during the delay before lacrosse.

How to sum him up?

Well, we could simply call him the greatest football player ever.

We could call him a Civil Rights activist.

We could say he was an actor.

We could say he was once Vin Scully's partner on CBS football broadcasts.

Lastly, on this day for lacrosse, we could call him the greatest lacrosse player ever.

There are no lies in any of those statements.

Jim Brown was a bad man in every single positive use of the word bad.

Condolences to his family and loved ones.

*****

Lacrosse will happen soon. I'll be sitting here waiting for the teams to arrive.

In the meantime, congratulations to the Brunswick baseball team. In a year in which they lost their beloved pitching coach a few months before the season started and played inconsistent baseball, they rose above all to win the FAA Championship.

I would have loved to call the championship game at Hamden Hall yesterday but I had the Hunt Scanlon conference and I wasn't scheduled to call it.

You won't find me in any team pictures celebrating the title. You won't find me posing with a trophy or plaque as if I've won anything. Not that I'm against posing with the trophy or plaque. But I'm a broadcaster. I'm not part of the team. I don't work out with the team. I'm not on the sideline or field. I show up and call the game.

I've never joined Greenwich or Brunswick or anyone else for any of their postgame celebrations other than interviews. Oh sure, we stood on the field in East Hartford last December with Greenwich football and congratulated them. 

But it's their moment. Not mine.

I'm very happy for the coaches and players who become a family and now enjoy the success of the season.

Dress Shoes

 

Photo by Chris Hunt. No, really, Chris Hunt took this picture!
(He said perhaps he could get a photo credit on the blog.
So here we are.)

I went to my niece's wedding near Storrs -- yes, as in UConn -- a few years ago. 

At that time, I still had a pair of flat-front black dress shoes from Kenneth Cole. Nice shoes (back in, say, 2006). But also very unflexible.

The thing is, I have had a lifetime of foot issues, basically because my feet are flat. I believe it was 1980 when I learned that tidbit and my parents were basically told that it behoove me to not have cheap quality shoes.

So, while the Cole shoes were nice, they weren't comfortable.

Thus, on the day of my niece's wedding, I stopped at DSW and Danbury and emerged with a pair of black Florsheims. 

They're comfortable. Much more.

But, not for 13 hours.

And that brings me to today. Oh, the alarm went off at 4 a.m. But first, my eyes opened at 2:21.

No, it was not a good night of sleep. So I grabbed every last wink I could possibly get before ambling to the quiet Greenwich train station.

Solid advice. Especially when the mics work! 

I walked into the Harvard Club in Manhattan around 6:20.

Mike and Erik were already there. Walker walked in with me. Cody and Bogdan came in just after us and Drew rounded out the early crew.

Chris and Scott made us a full team.

I've told you about the Hunt Scanlon conferences before. There is a rhythm; a routine. 

Train. Exhaustion. Prepare the room. Prepare the registration area. Breakfast. Greet attendees. Coffee. Talk. Introduce. Monitor time. Talk more. Breaks. Lunch. Talk lots more. Be a nag about keeping things on time. Say goodnight. Go to cocktail hour. Take train home on fumes.

There are jokes and topics we'll hit among us virtually every time. My screwing up Scott Scanlon's name once was not among them, even though I considered using the joke myself in the body of the speech. But we talk baseball, other sports, someone brings up the blog and the cat, we talk about Mike Hawkins' impending child, and so on.

A rhythm.

As a moderator I have to be aggressive at times, talking over the crowd when they simply don't want to stop talking. And so I did, even going so far as to gently chide them. Purely teasing but it worked.

Harvard Hall following the conclusion of the conference

Oh, and tech issues. I mean, I know plenty about those, don't I? Heck, even my microphone didn't work at one point. But -- take it from me -- no matter how frustrating it is for you as the user, it's that much worse for the audio people, who expect everything to be perfect.

I normally want to crawl into a hole in that spot.

But we got through it as we always do.

The reviews were so kind and I felt like I wasn't worthy of them today. That being said, I kept things on time, delivered every piece of speech, and quarterbacked the day from the podium. So I guess I did my job and I should not worry about it.

The walk to Grand Central across 44th Street is always great because the conference is complete and we feel proud of the day. Then comes a long slog of a train ride.

Then the walk home. Perhaps the longest walk of all. Why?

Because my feet hurt.

I got home around 6:15 tonight.

A long conference day in the books once again.

Now we gear up for London next month.

The Hunt Scanlon team (photo contributed by Chris Hunt)
Back: Erik, Bogdan, Walker, Talking Guy, Cody
Front: Chris, Scott, Mike, Drew

No Time

 

Hollow Brook Golf Club -- Cortlandt Manor, NY

I have to be up at 4 a.m.

The Hunt Scanlon conference is tomorrow and I'm just home from "The Clubhouse" on location.

I was busy from the moment I woke up this morning so finding time to write wasn't a priority.

I don't know that I'll ever be sorry to head back to the Hudson Valley, although I know there are some reasons better than others.

But tonight I got to go host the show from Hollow Brook Golf Club in Cortlandt Manor.

So what, you say.

I say it's like going home. 

Going to Cortlandt Manor, which isn't Peekskill but might as well be, puts me right back in the area where I grew up. 

And, if I may, it puts me right across the street from where my parents and three of my grandparents are buried.

So that was my first stop and, admittedly, I was all "up in my feelings" today.

I don't know why but that was indeed the case.

There are others buried in Hillside Cemetery that mean a lot to me, including a cousin, and two sets of aunts and uncles, as well as a close friend of my father's.

I've probably mentioned him before. I went with my dad to this man's grave sometime -- probably back in the early 80s -- and he commented how no one ever manicures the space around his headstone. I promised to always take care of it and I continue to do so.

Including today.

Heavy stuff aside, we gathered* at Hollow Brook and eventually got around to hitting golf balls on the driving range.

That means I was swinging a golf club for probably the first time in two years.

* We were told to be there at 4:30. Dave Torromeo and I were there well before then. Mark Jeffers and his angelic wife showed up just after 4:30. Bob Small might still be driving around the back roads of Westchester County.

Eventually, Bob got there and we did what we could to set golf back beyond the days of Old Tom Morris.

But we had a wonderful show, plenty of laughs, some food, and a pleasant ride back home.

The alarm now awaits.

I hope Bob made it home.