My Bad

 

I make mistakes.

That's the headline. Maybe that's all I need to write.

I've committed blunders that have brought me ridicule and scorn and interweb grief.

I've had players doing the wrong things or have said the wrong names. Years ago, I kept saying a game was against Westhill when, in fact, it was Wilton. I corrected it and carried on but I still remember it. More recently, I was doing a Manhattan College baseball game and I know I said ManhattanVILLE a few times.

Tonight, my eyes betrayed me. The quarterback for Deerfield Academy is named Cole Geer. For reasons only my eyes and brain can explain, I called him Greer for roughly half of the game.

But, here's the thing. A kind soul on Twitter did exactly what I've begged people to do forever. Instead of yelling at us or being condescending or embarrassing us, just nudge us.

Tracey Kelusky, thank you.

"Rob great call of the football game. Deerfield QB Is GEER. NO R."

Believe me, I'm embarrassed enough. I acknowledged it and apologized. To her profound credit, she told me no apology was necessary. That grace and kindness allowed me a shred of my dignity, I suppose.

I was ready but I goofed. I owned it. It makes for a blog post. We move on.

We all make mistakes and that's sometimes easy to forget. Given I hold myself to a very high standard, mistakes drive me nuts. Perhaps through the wisdom of time, I've learned to go a little easier on myself. While it's eating me up, it's not gnawing at me as badly as it would have at one time.

I tightened up and called the rest of the game, not letting it impact the broadcast.

And that's a good thing because it was a very good game, won by Deerfield on a -- you guessed it -- Cole Geer one-year touchdown with under a half-minute to play.

Brunswick tried to score on lateral play but it was to no avail. After numerous laterals, the ball was fumbled and, in the chaos, it appeared Deerfield -- the Big Green -- scored as time expired.

So, despite the scoreboard saying 20-17, the actual final was 26-17. That was not confirmed as we wrapped up the broadcast so I said both scores. I just noticed Dave Fierro of Greenwich Sports Beat reported the same thing.

Thanks to the rain, I have to shake off any errors and move on to tomorrow. I was asked to go call the Msgr Farrell/Iona Prep game in New Rochelle today but declined because it would cut so close to the Brunswick game. But tomorrow I'm heading back to White Plains for Cardinal Hayes against Archbishop Stepinac. Game time is 2:00 p.m.

That will take me away from a full day of watching NFL football and the Yankees' last game of the year. However, it will allow me to call a high school football game on Sunday, and that's sort of a rarity.

Plus, thanks to whoever decided to postpone Greenwich/Danbury on Friday night, I'll have a third straight day of football broadcasts on Monday with the Cardinals and Hatters on WGCH at 6:00 p.m. There might be some kind of new sponsor for a post-game interview. I vaguely remember receiving a text message or 200.

So, if you're keeping score, I'm calling the Cardinals (Cardinal Hayes) and the Cardinals (Greenwich) in back-to-back broadcasts.

I'm also calling Monday Night Football.

Joe Buck and Troy Aikman but, let's face it, Chris Erway and I 
would look just as good rocking those.

I only wish Chris Erway and I had those old ABC gold jackets. We'd look pretty good, let me tell you.

Oh, and if I wasn't clear, this will be our second trip to Danbury because guess where we were when we found out Friday's game was postponed? We were already in Danbury.

We'll try it again.

And hope for no errors.

Don Meredith, Howard Cosell, Frank Gifford.

Boundaries and Bumps in the Night

 

I don't want it to come to this

I was pondering a post about waking up early and the intricacies of monsters in the silence.

But, nah, I thought, let me see if I can get some more rest before my Friday morning sports chat on WGCH (7:50 a.m.).

I'd been awakened at five by, well, by the fact that I'm almost 55 and try to avoid kidney stones. 

Do the math.

Oh, and The Cat. Of course.

So I tossed, turned, read, etc. Then I tried one more time to get some rest.

It was 7:08 and my phone buzzed.

Among the rules in the Adams house of my youth was that the house phone was not to ring after 9 p.m. This was pre-cell phone and I'm sure my father wouldn't have cared so long as it didn't wake him up.

We had a phone right next to his bed and there was hell to pay if it rang after 9 p.m.

Generally, it was a rule that the phone was OK between 9 a.m.-9 p.m. After that, it better be an emergency or some extreme circumstance.

Given I'm the type who puts myself out to some in my world for 24/7 access, I keep my phone right next to me at night. My ringer was almost always on at one time because I wanted to make sure Sean and others could get me if needed. I still at least acknowledge my parent's old phone rules even if it's more of a guideline now. As Sean is 21 (and currently in the next room) I'm not so strict about leaving the ringer on.

So, yeah, I get a bit salty sometimes when a lack of judgment leads to something unnecessary that wakes me up or keeps me from getting back to sleep while I'm pondering monsters in the wee small hours of the morning.

Of course, it's happy thoughts we're supposed to focus on in those still moments of darkness.

There was once a time when I'd use the TV as my distraction to zone back out, moving to a couch or just sitting in bed.

Then along came the devices. Now I look at my phone.

And then I discovered the unnecessary texts and messages. OK, OK, not all of them are unnecessary.

I've gotten good at putting my AirPods in and listening to music. 

But, yeah, the monsters are always nearby, just waiting to climb into the crevices of my brain to whisper some kind of malevolent sweet nothing, worth nothing, of course.

I've babbled enough.

I've been on WGCH already.

I'm going to try to rest.

And that didn't work. The phone buzzed seconds later.

Friends, this is frankly becoming untenable.

So, yeah, let's just forget this whole post and please listen to us call football tonight in Danbury.

E Large

 

A 2021 drone view of The Big E (Photo: The Big E)

The weather didn't need to be perfect. In fact, bad weather would probably be better. I've been there when the weather has been bad and, let's face it, throw a raincoat on and enjoy the day.

When the target is tasty treats from six different states, smaller crowds would be desired. Then there are no line.

The Big E -- the colloquial name for the fair known as The Eastern States Exposition -- is going on now near Springfield, MA.

It's something that I've been going to since the early 1990s. Obviously that continued once Sean came along. 

Then we went into a stretch of several years where we didn't go before Sean and I decided to go back a year ago.

Today, we added my sister to the car and were on the road early this morning.

We decided we wanted to avoid the bigger crowds so opting for a Thursday morning was smart. At least we thought so.

My sister and I learned from the best -- our dad. He preached being on the road early and, when possible, standing outside your destination before they open.

We didn't quite pull that off thanks to some construction and traffic volume but we still walked in just after 10 and the crowds were manageable.

Everyone has their own goals when attending such a thing. For Sean, it was food and rides years ago. For others, it is the animals or the entertainment or the crafts and vendors.

For me -- at The Big E -- it's all of that but most of all, it's the Avenue of States, featuring wares from each of the New England states.

That's where the food can be at its best. As a group, we found blueberry pie in New Hampshire, maple candy cones in Vermont, basked potatoes in Maine, Del's lemonade in Rhode Island, lobster rolls in Massachusetts, and pizza in Connecticut. To be clear, we did not eat all of those.

Plus beer. But, no, we did not drink our way across the states.

Still, that's just a small sample. There were cider donuts and whoopie pies and incredible maple fried dough and a lot more.

Yes, maple fried dough. And it was incredible, though I've mentioned that already.

Since each state's house is owned by the jurisdiction and patrolled by their police, you can buy lottery tickets as well. So, yeah, there's a feeling that you've stepped into each of the New England states.

Given that it's, you know, a fair, there are plenty of other food and drink options all over the park. Plus the rides and everything else.

Essentially, it's something for everyone.

It's a good day that leads to sore feet and plenty of exhaustion.

The weather sort of worked in our favor. It was cloudy when we got there but the sun did eventually come out. The crowd was reasonable and parking wasn't an issue when we arrived.

On the way out, the attendance was spiking and parking was filling up. Obviously, weekends are much worse.

Laura and I reminded ourselves of the Dutchess County Fair in New York which we both visited when we were younger. It's been a few years and it's probably time to get back there. We'll put that on the list for 2024.

But The Big E dwarfs any fair I've been to.

Given our plan was to try to avoid crowds and traffic we were pretty pleased to be on the road before rush hour and cruised back to Laura's place.

Sean and I went home not long after that.

Dinner isn't necessary tonight and we didn't eat everything we were intrigued by, knowing when to say when.

We all agreed we'd do it again next year.

It's an easy drive and a fun day.

That's enough for me.

National Sons Day

 

Nope. No picture of Sean, Rascal, or even me

Today is National Sons Day.

Or is it?

According to this page, it is, well, let them explain...

National Sons Day is mostly celebrated on September 28. However, there is some debate around the date for National Sons Day. Since 2018 many also recognize March 4th as the official National Sons Day.

So, OK. Well, whatever. You do you, I suppose.

There shall be no picture today.

I don't need to post stories, pictures, or anything else to celebrate my son (or my "cat child"). You know he exists and you know I'm proud of him. You know how much I treasure the relationship he has and how honest I am about him, for better or worse.

The last thing I want is for you to say, "Didya hear Rob has a son? He doesn't post anything about him ever! Hardee har har!"

Blech.

If I do shove Sean's presence down your throat, I'm sorry because I don't want to be that dad. Incidentally, he doesn't want me to be that dad and I do keep that in mind. 

Oh for sure I want to show you the many facets of our story and our lives but discretion does matter.

I also don't want to make him out to be a combination of Jesus, Mother Teresa, Lawrence Taylor, and Michael Jordan.

"Oh, the ultra-benevolent Sean! May he heal all of our sins." #AllHailSean

He's just himself. He does things on his own time. He's Sean.

While this may seem like a covert National Sons Day post to honor our guy, it's not. It's a reminder that as proud as we are of our kids, we run the risk of making people sick of the very kids that we're honoring in our constant posts.

It can have a bad effect in the long run.

Not that I'm here trying to tell you to not post about your son. There are many remarkable sons of all ages out there. I'd like to think I wasn't a bad one myself (though opinions vary I suppose).

But good grief enough already.

We get it. Your son plays eight different sports (OK, so I've lost count) as well as participating in music and other entertainment ventures. He's putting the yearbook together and he's on the student council and in the glee club and starting LOLP (Lack of Lead Pencils) for the underserved students of Sheboygan, WI. 

God bless you, child!

You also have myriad adventures that all need to be carefully documented like the Zapruder film.

Will other moments more private in nature be filmed and glorified? Only time will tell for our social media deity!

However, please note such users can also be muted. Use with caution, of course.

Still, that being said, huzzah to all of the sons (and daughters, who were honored yesterday) for all that you do to bring joy to the lives of your parents.

Celebrate away!

Whichever date you choose.

*****

While I'm on my social media bandwagon today, allow me to grouse about things that one can't comment on.

You know, you're not connected to someone yet it gets back to you that something completely inaccurate was posted and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.

Now, of course, context matters and so does the severity of the inaccuracy. Clearly, I wouldn't be harrumphing* about this if it wasn't of interest. I'll spare you the details except to say that it's something that I actually would sound off about. I normally wouldn't, leaving the insanity to others to simply pat the user on the head.

It's called "ignoring" and it can be wonderful.

But I let others know about how annoyed I currently am.

Yet this kind of behavior is enabled and never challenged. That's the part that makes my blood boil. Oh, don't worry, it's out of my control so I will calm down and we'll move on.

Such negativity, I'm told, is better served out of one's life anyway. A similar statement was recently used about me but, in truth, I'm happy to have that person out of my life in the end (similar inaccuracies were uttered in the process of that ugliness and I simply ignored it). I'm content to walk away with my dignity and not resort to low-hanging mud-slinging.

I could have, but nah.

In the end, same here.

I've never been one to cut people out of my life but, well, it's sometimes cathartic.

Yet, as a journalist, I'm about the truth and that the truth isn't served is the part that is grinding my gears.

Deep breath. Sigh. We'll move on.

It's social media. And it's stupid.

*I will reference Blazing Saddles anytime I can.

Brooksie

 

Robinson makes one of his several standout plays
in the 1970 World Series

Brooks Robinson has died at 86.

I have no problem naming him the greatest defensive third baseman in baseball history.

Offensively, he was pretty good. He won the 1964 AL MVP when he hit .317 with 28 home runs and a league-leading 118 RBIs. Those numbers were career highs for him. Robinson was a career .267 hitter with 268 home runs.

He also played 23 years and was pretty consistent in games appeared until he slowed down in 1976.

But 23 years. All with the Baltimore Orioles. Thus, he was "Mr. Oriole."

More than that, in a sport with great nicknames, Brooks Calbert Robinson, Jr. was "The Human Vacuum Cleaner," so named for the stunning brilliance with which he played third base.

To me growing up in New York, as great as Frank Robinson, Jim Palmer, and Boog Powell were on the teams of the late 60s and early 70s, Brooks Robinson was the man. He was the Orioles. He was Baltimore in the same breath as Johnny Unitas.

I realize to many Cal Ripken has become the most iconic of Baltimore athletes but Brooks and Unitas still hold that mark for me.    

Only Graig Nettles, to me, lived in that defensive rarified air that Robinson did. Nettles worked magic in 1978, turning around a World Series that found the Yankees down two games to none. They won in six.

Robinson dominated the 1970 Fall Classic not only with his defense (which was on a different level) but also with his bat, hitting .429 with two home runs and six runs driven in. He was named the World Series MVP in the five-game conquest of the Cincinnati Reds.

Robinson remained involved in baseball as an ambassador and broadcaster through his later years. He also helped found the York Revolution baseball team of the Atlantic League in 2007.

His number five was retired by the Orioles in 1978 and he was elected into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1983.

Robinson, from Arkansas with Bobby Murcer, from Oklahoma
 in 1969

Brooks Robinson, personally, takes me back to my youth. It was special to see him play against the Yankees on TV as well as in the All-Star Game. But, more, he was the gentleman from Little Rock, AR who always had a smile for fans and opponents. He was a ballplayer who was flashy on the field but still maintained dignity and class. That carried off the field as well. Try finding something negative about him. It won't be easy.

Sadly, we lose our legends. Our greats. Our Hall of Famers. It reminds us of the fragility of life of course.

When I start taking a mental inventory of those whom we have lost it serves as a stark reminder. It's a reality check.

But we can always smile at the footage of Robinson at third base or at the plate. Some of the video is black and white or faded color but that adds to the vintage quality.

To some, those of us reading this news and feeling melancholy receive the much-hated "OK, Boomer" treatment.

If it's sad to recall youth and the times with those you miss, consider me guilty, but I'm still very much in the present in 2023.

Thinking of the past doesn't dampen the present. It makes life that much sweeter.

If Heaven needed a third baseman on their team they now have one that will make all of the plays.

We'll see Brooks Robinson forever in our minds, sprawled out near the hot corner, glove erect to show a no-doubt shocked umpire that he caught that hot shot off the bat of Johnny Bench.

Robinson (5), Dave McNally (19), and Andy Etchebarren (8)
after the last out of the 1966 World Series

The number five on the back of the jersey and "B. Robinson" above the number to differentiate him from "F. Robinson," as in Frank. 

The two Robinsons along with the many stars of the era in Baltimore at "The Old Grey Lady off 33rd St" known as Memorial Stadium.

So when someone asks "What was so special about Brooks Robinson," the answers are 1) defensively on another planet, 2) as gracious as you'd want an athlete to be, and 3) he was the Baltimore Orioles.

A player from a different time who made every play.

Tonight, raise a Natty Boh to Mr. Oriole.

Here's to you, Mr. Robinson.

The Rabbit Hole

 

Elmer -- much like Alice (in Wonderland) -- might want to
stay away (Warner Bros)

I'm guilty of falling into some interweb rabbit holes.

Wikipedia? Oh yeah.

Baseball or Football Reference? Yup.

YouTube? That might be the worst of them for me. 

My routine after "Doubleheader" is over is generally the same. I edit and upload my audio of the broadcast to the archive.

After that, what I do depends on the day. In this case, I wound up on Facebook for a moment and came across a link to a user who spends his summer working in Alaska as a driver at Denali National Park. He also has a home in Kimberly, ID. That means James Davey ends his season -- around this time of year -- and makes the 3,016-mile trip from Alaska to Idaho. He said in a post that he has done the drive 11 times.

A year ago, he filmed his entire journey with a GoPro that he had mounted in his vehicle. The video is over three hours long with the footage sped up.

No, I didn't watch all three hours. I watched for roughly 40 minutes and was utterly entranced. The scenery intrigued me and I wasn't bothered by the lack of music.

Eventually, I saw a link to another user talking about her trip from Texas to Alaska. Over a couple of shorter episodes, I learned how this single mother ("Lidia Explores") was able to "be in the moment" and live her life.

Her daughter was going to spend the summer with the woman's former partner and she was going to do this intense drive.

Travel like that is discovery. It's very personal. Oh sure, you're discovering things to see and experience as you travel but you also learn about yourself. It's bold and somewhat nerve-wracking and also freeing.

I didn't watch every one of the episodes but I watched enough to follow along as she crossed into British Columbia then to Yukon (briefly back into BC) and then finally to Alaska. Her videos -- like that of James Davey -- show the stunning beauty of the Canadian and Alaskan wilderness. You get to see the lakes, mountains, wildlife, and road conditions that travelers experience (without snow).

Lidia's videos have more personality to them because she interacts with the camera and serves as a narrator. She shows the charm of some of the places that she stayed at (though she also camped many many nights) along with food, sites, and people she's met along the way.

James's video is just the drive. There's no personal touch to it. Even pulling into his driveway is quick before the video abruptly ends.

That's not to say one is better than the other. It's all personal preference.

Lidia's video might hit you in the feels because this journey is so personal to her.

I admit I ache to drive. I can't explain simply how priceless our summer journey was. Seeing new things (Buffalo/Niagara Falls, parts of West Virginia and other states that I've never been to) was such a blessing. I also have driven alone but never the amount of miles these two people have driven. My longest effort was from Mahopac to Charleston, SC back in 2012 and, in hindsight, was my favorite part of that trip.

Still, that wasn't the three- and four-thousand-mile variety of James and Lidia. Mahopac to Charleston was roughly 850 miles over a long day of approximately 16 hours.

But I remember it all so well. Feeling no guilt for waking anyone early, I was packed and ready to go just before 4:00 a.m. Only my own insanity (or OCD) kept me from driving away until 4:22 a.m. I'll always remember that time on that January morning.

I avoided traffic problems in New York City (yes, even at that hour) and stayed on a steady pace, driving briefly into Pennsylvania before stopping in Delaware for a moment. The journey carried me down into Maryland and Virginia, where I stopped and had lunch with John and Lori.

In the "you never know department," that turned out to be the last time I saw my friend Lori as she died a few years later, horribly too young to fathom.

I didn't want to leave them in Richmond but I also needed to get back on the road and, with rain pouring down, ventured south to North Carolina for the first time in many years. I go annually now but Hector, Kristy, and Evelyn hadn't moved there yet. 

I stopped briefly under the lights of South of the Border, grabbed dinner at a Chick-fil-A drive-thru in Florence, SC, and continued to Charleston. I remember thinking I had maybe energy for another hour or two of driving before I would have been done. I could have reached Savannah, GA but it was not to be.

Charleston it was. It's a great city and I'd love to go back.

And that's what is so wonderful about this rabbit hole. Watching the work that James and Lidia both posted got me fired up. 

Whether it's with Sean or someone else or even on my own, I look forward to that next adventure. It's coming for sure. I'm off to San Francisco in a few weeks for another conference, though that trip will be a "blink and you'll miss me" type. 

But we're working on something for early November. And I'm waiting patiently for winter sports schedules to plot a 2024 return to Florida.

By car.

And given I haven't driven that in its entirety since 1989 I can tell you that's going to be special.

These rabbit holes can be time-wasters and I know that. But, to me, this was no worse than watching TV for a few hours.

Plus these are content creators among the many who are putting good items online.

I was happy to find them.

I was happy to support them.

Sunday Shorts

 

This is south of Washington, DC but either way, 
we weren't meant to see these signs this weekend
(2016)

They played baseball in Washington, D.C. today.

Final score: Washington 3, Atlanta 2.

They're playing a second game tonight since yesterday's game was postponed due to remnants of a tropical storm.

However, I was not there today. None of us (Me, Sean, Kris, or Danny) were there.

The threat of the weather was too much to consider.

Football tickets near Washington were also too much to consider, but that consideration was financial.

We made the right decision. Oh, look, Kris and I have a lifetime of wild experiences and most of them surround sports. That doesn't mean we have to take ourselves into a calamity. 

We would have had a great time regardless because we always do but the idea of spending two days driving in heavy rain at times was unpleasant. As I've mentioned we have a Plan B in play so now we have to make that happen.

We can go back to Washington next year. We'd like to keep hitting baseball stadiums and there area plenty to see.

Instead of traveling, I worked. Yes, I could have used some downtime but a chance to call Boomslang basketball was too much to ignore. The game was down in Ardsley and I do love the chance to visit certain parts of Westchester County.

It was nice to see the players and the coaches.

Boomslang doesn't play in the most "media-friendly" gyms so it's always a bit of a challenge to find a place and, in this case, I near the baseline to the side of the basket where I stood for both broadcasts.

I literally wrote the rosters down as they were explained to me by the coaches before each of the two games that I called.

How would I ever survive without countless notes, etc? Answer: I did just fine. In fact, that would have been too cumbersome since I had no table. I only had a clipboard.

So we lost the weekend trip but I worked so I see that as a positive, closing out a week of five more game broadcasts.

*****

(Photo: FOX Sports)

Oh, while on the subject of baseball, let me say clearly that the Yankees have been officially eliminated from playoff contention.

Look, I'm anything but happy about it, but I'm content to have it confirmed.

The haters will hoot and howl and hate. 

Hate. Hate. Hate.

But the Yankees were a mess for myriad reasons. Judge got injured. Rizzo's concussion issue. Bad offseason and in-season personnel decisions. Bad in-game decisions. Most of all? Players not playing like they should.

So, to me, the blame goes everywhere.

They're still the franchise I've been attached to for as long as I can remember. I can still remember being in the Yankee Stadium for the first time, back in 1972.

Their (new) Yankee Stadium 2023 finale is tomorrow.

When the final out is made and the bags get packed next Sunday, I'll still feel a level of sadness. I'll feel something is missing. But there will still be baseball, and I'll still be watching the postseason just as I have every year.

There's nothing "fair weather" about this fan. 

Oh, yes, I did say "hate hate hate" above. I do hope Taylor Swift is getting some good Kansas City BBQ while she enjoys today's Chiefs/Bears game. She's there hanging out with Travel Kelce's family since she and Travis are friends or whatever.

It has to be a nightmare for the Chiefs' PR people and heaven for the FOX TV team. 

The jokes all seem to write themselves in that blank space, don't they?

I hate myself.

*****

I had a couple of play-by-play calls sent to me over the weekend. Out of respect to the broadcasters, I won't give many details as to who and what.

I'll just say "bad."

In one case, it was a big play and all I heard was screaming. There's a play-by-play announcer, whose job is to describe the action. There's an analyst, whose job is to break it all down.

At no point should both be talking. And yet it happens and is celebrated by some who simply don't get it. Shame on everyone.

The other is probably even more shameful. The team the broadcaster works for has a lead but the opposite team is lining up to win the game.

They complete a field goal and you'd think the broadcaster's dog had just been assaulted. It goes against literally every ethic that I believe in.

I asked someone if they considered it a fireable offense though I don't think anyone is going to lose their job over it. They felt it should be.

Just do your job and call the game. Big plays -- regardless of who wins -- deserve at least some energy. It's actually something I've always respected about Yankees radio "voice" John Sterling. 

It's also respecting the players, the game, and yourself.

*****

After ten games stretched over the last two weeks (plus podcasts, a conference, and whatever else I'm forgetting), things are quieting down this week. I have soccer on Wednesday at Brunswick, Greenwich football on Friday at Danbury, and Brunswick football at home on Saturday.

But we're also planning on a trip to The Big E.

The following week will even be quieter.

Let's make it a good week.

Hyperbole Might Be OK in This Case

 

Falcon Field, Meriden, CT

Point five seconds.

That's what remained on the clock at Falcon Field in Meriden.

0.5.

Now, we can discuss the performance of the officials who were a little sloppy with the clock but, in hindsight, that's a distant footnote.

The scoreboard -- located to our left -- read "MALONEY 28, GREENWICH 27."

If the game had ended like that then I think we would all agree that we had seen a tremendous game. The Cardinals -- number one in the state poll -- had battled a tough number three Spartan team through four quarters.

Except it wasn't four complete quarters. Yet.

The Spartans got the ball back as the Cardinals turned the ball over on downs. However, Maloney couldn't put the game on ice so Big Red got the ball with 1:10 to play.

Up until then, the teams had mostly exchanged scores. It had been a physical night that was on the fringe of being chippy. Maloney's passing game dazzled at times. The Cardinals moved a ball a bit also.

The defenses were fantastic.

It had been a penalty-filled first half with 20(!) called and accepted. The second half wasn't as bad.

But a missed extra point looked like it might be the difference.

The crowd was electric. The place was mostly jammed.

In the booth -- oh, right, we were in the booth! -- we took in the entire spectacle.

Game faces. Determined. Or annoyed at things. Your call.

Yes, the booth, I said. We had initially set up outside as coaches and the "Game of the Week" broadcast were given the space in the booth. Oh, and I was seething, to the point that I knew I couldn't walk in the booth and say anything.

However, as I set up outside, Chris Erway went to the field and talked to the Greenwich coaches. They told Chris that they wouldn't use the booth. They were content to go to the roof.

My phone rang. Chris relayed the news and told me to break down. 

"Go in the booth," he said. "The Greenwich coaches are giving us their spot."

Done. In we went. There was a divider to keep sound away from other broadcasters, the PA announcer, crew members, and the Maloney coaches.

Nobody said a word to us.

This broadcast mattered to me. A lot. I knew cellphone service was bad so we made any necessary adjustments to maximize our signal (#prepared).

I knew it was the big stage in the state and I also knew we'd get people listening. And we did.

Incidentally, take no offense if you're texting me during the game and I don't respond. Especially last night.

So in a game of penalties, a missed extra point, high intensity, questionable timekeeping, coaching maneuvers, and players executing some pretty remarkable efforts, it came down to that final one minute and ten seconds.

Greenwich has weapons. They have a quarterback in Rocco Grillo who is still finding himself.

And it was time to go to work. They started at their own 26. They trailed by one. They had no time outs.

Behind the scenes, Chris and I never say a word about how to handle this. We might pass a look between each other but we know the drill. Call the action. Stay poised. Report. Any side thoughts have to be quick. Stay focused. The game is everything now.

Greenwich got to their own 45 on a pass to Brandon Auguste. 1:03 remained. On the second play, Grillo was sacked for a five-yard loss. 

Tick...tick...tick...

A banged-up Spartan stopped the clock with 48 remaining. No time was put back on the clock.

Play three: Grillo threw a soft rainbow to the right side to Auguste. Complete. Down to 34 to play.

With 25 to go, Grillo fired to Gavyn Gennarelli for a first down at the Maloney 42. Eighteen seconds to go.

Tick...tick...tick...

Now you could start thinking about a field goal but, wait. Erick Perino, the Cardinals kicker, missed the extra point earlier. He's never tried a field goal in a game. Did the miss rattle him? Was he up to kick a game-winner?

Fifth play of the drive from the Maloney 42. Grillo threw to a sliding Jake Stefanowicz. The ball got bobbled as the Cardinals tried to return the ball to the officials.

Grillo rushed the offense to the line and spiked the ball. We thought the sixth play would be the last play.

Nope.

At the Maloney 32, Grillo went to the right sideline where he stepped out with, wait for it, 0.5 to play.

The ball was at the Maloney 25. Seven plays, 50 yards in 1:02.

Haul it up to the end zone? Try for some other kind of miracle play?

No. Coach Anthony Morello called for Perino and the field goal unit.

I've called game-winning field goals. All the way back in 1999, I called a 37-yarder by George Nicholson on WVIP as John Jay (Cross River) beat Fox Lane. I called a state championship winner on WGCH as Peter Kohlasch drilled a 30-yarder in Syracuse to beat Chenango Forks on WGCH. Santiago Cuartas of Staples hit a field goal late in a Thanksgiving matchup in 2009 with Greenwich but the Cardinals got in position to win it with a field goal of their own. That kick was blocked. Final score? Staples 30. Greenwich 28.

So, with the memory bank emptied, I knew I had not broadcast a game-winning, walk-off field goal by Greenwich. I'm still not sure they've ever had one in their history.

Maloney burned their time-outs to try to ice Perino. He stood resolute in his kicking position. Coach Morello motioned encouragement as he walked a few yards away from him as the final time-out ended.

In the booth, we readied ourselves. This wasn't really happening, right?

A field goal, like much in sports, is dancing. It's poetry. It has to be crisp.

The snap was good to holder Ryan McBreairty, who then spun the laces to the proper kicking position. In the process, Perino approached and kicked it, as he told me later, "as hard I can."

The ball sailed into the Meriden night. The crowd fell silent. The wind made the American flag dance just a little so it had minimal impact on the flight of the ball.

We all watched. I called it. 

"It's twisting. It's right near the goal line" (not sure why I said that)...

I waited. The officials had to make it, well, official.

Hands went up. Bodies flew off the far sideline.

"It's GOOD. IT'S GOOD. Greenwich wins on a walk-off field goal at the buzzer! Forty-two yards. Erick Perino and good night. Greenwich wins."

He drilled it. 

As Chris said, Perino had "ice in his veins."

The scoreboard changed.

Greenwich players celebrated before heading to help up some of the crestfallen Spartans who were on the turf in stunned silence.

Stunned. That was the feeling everywhere.

Jack Buck -- the famed play-by-play announcer who called a few big moments in his life -- once told the world "I don't believe what I just saw."

Same here, Mr. Buck. Same here.

Every word we said needed to be proper (OK, save for the goal line comment). I wanted us to own this broadcast, as I told Chris several times.

I think we did. That was really important.

But, honestly, even I couldn't avoid the hyperbole of the moment. I don't like using the term "instant classic" because it's overused. Still, how can I ignore that this was exactly that?

It's one of the great games I've seen and called ever.

Greenwich Football has told me they will get video of the kick to me so that I can sync up the call. For those who didn't pay money to watch the broadcast that Chris and I weren't on, you can see and hear how it sounded with us.

Erick Perino. Etching his name in Greenwich lore.

Chris and I drove home about as stunned as we could possibly be.

While I was sorry to miss calling Brunswick and have a shorter drive home, this was the game.

We'll talk about it for a long time.

When 'What's in a Name?' Goes Wrong

 

Before Darien/New Canaan field hockey, Sep 22, 2015

I was flipping through memories on Timehop this morning when I came across this photo.

I described it as being "my game face. Or something" as a way to drive some engagement. I noted I was at New Canaan High School.

Who knows what was rolling through my brain as I took the picture but I can tell you going to NCHS kicks up numerous memories of games that involved and didn't involve the Rams. For instance, the FCIAC Football Championship was once played there as Greenwich beat Bridgeport Central.

I have a distinct memory of not being in that booth one night after I had left HAN. Greenwich was there to play New Canaan and HAN was there to broadcast it (trust me, this was not shocking at that time). So they -- and New Canaan's broadcasters got the booth.

Chris Erway and I stood on chairs above a student cheering section and called the game on WGCH. As always, we made it work.

But, looking at that picture of me, I'm reminded of the name of the facility at New Canaan.

Thanks to AJ, I learned that it is known to many as Dunning Field at Hawes Plaza. Eventually, I'd come to call it that.

But, prior to that, I'd go by what both the newspapers and the CIAC called it: Dunning Stadium.

However, there was the Dunning Field factor. It appeared there was no consistency with the name.

From the CIAC itself, as entered by the school, look at this screenshot:

So, silly me, I thought it was Dunning Stadium. You know, as in the state calls it that so it feels official. Plus I felt the school had input the schedule. So...stadium.

The inconsistency led me to have some fun with it on the air during the HAN days, as I would say "Dunning Stadium, Field, or whatever they want to call it." Literally, anyone with a clue and, perhaps, a correct-sized ego didn't think twice about it.

It was one of those running things. No offense was ever intended and it seemed no one ever thought anything about it.

Except when you're living rent-free, and I don't mean at Dunning...er....you know.

While driving home from a game in New Canaan one day -- lacrosse, soccer, field hockey, football, I really don't remember what it was -- I got an email.

Oh, I remember. I was approaching the Byram River on I-95 when I saw it.

In short, it was a commentary on how the Dunning Family wouldn't appreciate my being so loose with the name of the facility. It was terse, obnoxious, and even perhaps unprofessional.

It was also, perhaps, the dumbest email or interaction in a lifetime of dumb interactions. Let's put it this way: if we were ranking such things, it would be pretty high up. In this case, it came from, well, why dedicate any time to that?

Maybe I'll do that in the book that Shawn Sailer wants me to write.

After initial anger/horror at the email, I began to laugh. I considered the source.

I even forwarded it to a few key people so that they could see the utter ridiculousness. I mean, seriously, does anyone think I had any malicious intent?

I don't remember my response. I didn't give into the sender's desire to do whatever he could to destroy every last fiber of my soul, much as were attempted with social media nonsense down the road. I didn't argue with the screenshot of the state's website. I mostly responded with "OK."

To the point of the facility name, the Dunning Family probably wants nothing more than to simply hear their name attached to it. At least that's what I would think. Beyond that, why would they ever care so long as I wasn't doing anything to besmirch their name?

This is one of the many ticky-tack things that have gone on over the years and you can figure out why my frustration has either boiled over or I've simply walked away from things.

Please note I left HAN in mid-2016, mostly because my colleagues told me I needed to go for my health. Please further note that I have a STADIUM full of wonderful memories.

But this is the stuff that I warn prospective broadcasters about.

These are the stories.

After a while, you learn to pick your battles and laugh a lot of stuff off.

Like this.

But all efforts to run me out of broadcasting haven't succeeded. Yet.

Greenwich/Maloney.

Tonight.

6:20 p.m. pregame show.

1490 AM.

wgch.com

robcasting.mixlr.com

I Talk

 

The Hunt Scanlon team: Christian, me, Drew, Cody, Scott, 
Erik, Chris, Walker, Lily, Bogdan

It was conference day.

One of the great traditions is the alarm going off at 4 a.m. The cat was thrilled because that meant he'd get food and I made good on that before walking to the train station.

Happy cat, happy life I suppose.

Walker and Cody were already at the station as I made my way up to the platform.

We were in the Harvard Club in New York City before 6:30 a.m.

I hadn't even had a cup of coffee yet but that was quickly remedied.

I get the credit and the kind reviews for being the moderator of the event but I'm simply opening my mouth.

I say it all the time: I just talk.

But the people in the photo above are the driving forces.

Obviously, that starts with Chris and Scott -- they're the Hunt and Scanlon, after all -- but it takes everyone. 

The people in the picture are part of the story. There are others who don't come to the conferences but don't think they don't contribute.

But, on-site, there are Walker, Erik, Lily, and Bogdan waiting at registration. You might find me wandering over to join them, especially as attendees begin to come in.

Prior to that, all of us were in the hall where the conference will take place, putting out materials for each attendee. With a team effort, we load the room up quickly.

I also visit with the audio/visual people to let them know I'll be doing the moderating. Today, I saw Erik and Walker each walking over to them as well, along with working with those in charge of the Harvard Club.

Everyone enjoyed breakfast as attendees arrived and that's my moment to grab a bite. I snuck back into the main hall to review the script  -- especially my opening read, which is the longest of the day for me. But it's also a chance to just be in the room without too much going on.

Chris and Scott review that everything is OK as well as network with attendees.

Cody and Drew were also networking as well as reviewing their own notes since Cody was presenting during the conference and Drew was introducing him. Incidentally, among the many highlights of today was Cody's presentation. He was outstanding.

This is just a small sample of everything that goes on. Before we've arrived, passes have been sold, sponsorships have been gathered, presentations have been created, and all of the necessary arrangements have been made with the site. Next month it will be San Francisco. We'll be back in New York at the Harvard Club in November.

By that point, I'll surpass 20 conferences as master of ceremonies.

Oh, and before the conference a script gets written for me and I do a pre-read with Chris.

A rare pre-conference selfie. I actually took it because I was
pretty proud to stand in the front of that room.

Then -- at 8:45 a.m. -- the attendees take their seats, things get quiet, and I begin to talk.

I don't do anything special. I read the words that I've been instructed to say and, sometimes, I get asked to augment the script on the fly. I drop in ad-libs where I think they might be appropriate and, most of all, I keep us on time. That seems to be something people like about my hosting style.

Beyond that, I stay out of the way. I'm on my phone communicating with Chris, Scot, Erik, and anyone else who needs me.

When this all goes well, it's worth celebrating. OK, even if it's not perfect, we still decompress afterward. 

Before departing, there was a post-conference reception, which serves as another excellent chance to network. I lay low during the networking time, as people generally talk about things that are beyond me. However, I serve as a representative of Hunt Scanlon so my form of networking is that of talking about the conference, the podcast I host, and generally chit chat.

I enjoyed some time in New York after it was over before catching an express train to Greenwich. Of course, two black and white cookies accompanied me.

Consider it a treat for me (and especially for Sean) for a job well done.

Back to football tomorrow.

Sadly, our weekend plans are officially off. Sean and I, joined by Kris and his friend Danny, were going to visit Washington D.C. for a Washington Nationals game. We keep trying to go to baseball games in different places. However, the tropical storm in the Atlantic is bringing a lot of rain to the east coast.

We'll have to revisit that trip in 2024.

But as I said last night, there might be a Plan B. Well, eliminate the "might." There is a Plan B.

As for this weekend, expect the return of Boomslang Basketball to Robcasting.

How Dry I Am

 

Let's run through the checklist.

- Notes, rosters, etc.

- Equipment (mixer, headset, microphone cables)

- Extension cord

- Audio cable to run from the mixer to the aux jack

- Snack table

Cool. Now, how's the weather?

A slightly cool breeze (see what I did there?) but, otherwise, warm.

Sunny.

No.

Rain.

Yes, I was back at it with soccer today. While my car seat still hasn't completely dried out, I was able to drive myself to the scene of Monday's deluge.

Brunswick was hosting Loomis Chaffee in a late-afternoon match.

With AJ producing, I knew I was in good hands.

Now, I just had to call the game.

We reached the end of the first half scoreless and the second half just didn't go Brunswick's way.

Final score: Loomis 3, Wick 0.

So, I'm going to assume that Brunswick would prefer games in the rain.

Needless to say, I was much happier with these conditions.

I've adjusted to my new makeshift soccer booth and it's a lot more enjoyable when you're not worrying about the wind taking your equipment away or -- worse -- getting electrocuted.

*****

I'm home and getting my writing done now so that I can shut down and settle down.

It's an early riser for me tomorrow as I jump on a train to head into New York for our first Hunt Scanlon conference of the fall. I have to be at the train station and on Metro-North by 5:17. Yes, a.m.

The script is ready. My notes are ready. I'll confirm anything as needed in the morning.

It's a half-day conference so there's at least a chance that I'll be back home and doing "Doubleheader" by 4 p.m.

Then again, maybe I'll hang out in the city. You never know.

I'll be mighty tired. I can tell you that.

Friday means football and we'll head to Meriden for Greenwich/Maloney.

Then we were supposed to go away on Saturday for the weekend but it looks like the weather may scuttle that plan.

But there might be a Plan B.

To be continued.

Broadcasting Follies

 

A look in the sportpod yesterday at Brunswick

A few sports broadcasting items:

We have what I call the "Game of the Week" conundrum. Something told me when I saw Greenwich and Maloney on the schedule that broadcasting it wouldn't be easy.

I was right. Connecticut and, specifically, the CIAC, has begun a Game of the Week series with a radio and TV station (the radio station in question is neither WGCH or Robcasting). As I feared, they picked Greenwich/Maloney for Friday night.

I fear it mostly due to space constraints but, also, why not cover another game? It's hardly a secret that WGCH -- with and without me -- has covered GHS football since 1964. So of course the station will cover the game on Friday night.

So the game will be covered and I'd like to believe it will be covered pretty well on WGCH.

Why not do Fairfield Prep/Darien? However, that game will have DAF Media covering that but you get my point. There are games and schools that get no coverage. Why not work with us (WGCH) for highlights and drop-ins?

We should all be working together for the sake of the athletes.

I've been involved in a game of the week, both on WVIP Radio and HAN Network. The process is difficult and while all attempts are made to be fair, someone inevitably is disappointed. At HAN we made a firm effort to get everyone in the FCIAC involved, for instance, but we didn't always succeed.

We also tried to cover as many state championships as possible but the NFHS Network ultimately blocked us and CIAC went along with them. Funny thing was (and is) that wasn't enforced across the board.

But to the space issue. Chris Erway reached out to Maloney High School to inquire about where we could call Friday's game from and found resistance. I didn't understand when he told me but I do now. The state got preference.

We'll be in the crowd. The game will get called. By us.

While I can defensive on this topic, I'm not that in this case. There's no rivalry. We have our audience. We get some other listeners in the process (thank you, social media) and Chris and I will do what we do. We know this drill.

That doesn't mean we have to like it. Let's face it: after Friday night sitting in the bleachers at Cheshire Academy and Saturday on the roof at Stepinac, I could use a booth.

But, shocker, the state won out.

I considered backing out and the odds of that happening are minimal. Let's face it, I've literally never done that with a Greenwich game.

We'll be there. 

In that same way, a topic came up in the Facebook play-by-play group about being denied by an opposing school.

Personally, I've never had it happen during the years of covering Greenwich. Most schools seem to understand our being on-site to call a game is a good thing.

In the public school world, it's literally never a problem (the Maloney situation being an outlier). Even if there isn't space in the booth, we're never denied (to make it clear, Maloney didn't deny us).

Danbury's booth is small but they almost always make it work for us. Darien's booth is ridiculously small so I almost always call a game there from the plaza atop the bleachers. The same goes for Ridgefield.

Those are just a few of the schools we deal with.

I've found more resistance in the private school world and there are myriad reasons for it. Look, schools want their broadcast to be watched. The broadcast can, with minimal effort, be a free advertising and marketing tool. So an opposing broadcast can be less than desirable, and money becomes a factor.

Enter Chris and me with Gus our videographer and schools fear losing viewers.

I get it but I don't like it. I look at us as advocates for everyone. Reporters for sure. 

I specifically recall one school flat-out denying us and it took the Brunswick headmaster to intervene before I called that game. Of course, my take is nobody should be denied but it needs to be equitably handled. Like not booting team broadcasters to the stands but so it goes.

We're all there to cover the players. 

Isn't that the point?

Oh, to that end, I put the sportpod on our balcony today to dry out. My sneakers are still drying. My car seat also.

And I'm calling soccer again tomorrow.

Sun and warmth are expected.

A Little Rain Never Hurt Anyone

 

Screenshot from the end of the game

We woke up to rain this morning in Greenwich and the forecast wasn't kind for the rest of the day.

There was, however, a soccer game to broadcast.

There's no booth at the Carroll Varsity soccer field at Brunswick but I know that so I'm always ready.

I was there in plenty of time and got what I needed out of the car.

OK, let's see.

- The hard-sided case with the mixer, headset, and cables.

- A reel of extension cord.

- A small table.

- The sports pod! I mean, it might rain, right?

So, yes, let's do this. I made all of the connections and realized it wasn't that bad out. In fact, I needed my sunglasses.

So, YEAH, let's do this!

Even with the sun warming things up, my gut told me to put the pod up.

Side note: the pod is brutal to fold back up.

Still, this was the right day for it.

The game proceeded and it went well for the Bruins of Brunswick against the GFA Dragons.

But I was watching the radar. 

And I was watching the sky.

The first half ended. The second half commenced. 

It kept getting darker.

And darker.

I mentioned that it was getting so dark that I couldn't see the uniform numbers.

And then we got a light mist.

Then we got a steady rain.

So far everything was manageable.

Then the sky unloaded.

It unloaded at such an angle that it began to go into the pod.

My computer was getting wet.

So, OK, I zippered the pod shut and I stayed outside.

The rain pelted me at an angle. My left leg was soaked.

Soon, I realized my headset was transmitting. Uh oh.

So I picked up the crowd mic and soldiered on. The rosters were zipped up inside the pod so I had to survive without.

But it was getting silly and, to be honest, dangerous. Remember, I'm running an extension cord from an outlet on the scoreboard behind me into the pod.

And it's pouring. Water, in fact, is puddling inside the pod.

So I knew it was time to start unplugging and, worse, shutting the broadcast down.

I went into the pod and called the final few minutes from there. I looked through the raindrops and did my best, opening a side window to get a view of the scoreboard.

Rain was beginning to come in through one of the zippered-shut windows.

The wind was almost lifting the pod -- even with me in it.

Soon, I saw the players shaking hands.

"We're done," I said.

Brunswick 5, GFA 2.

All I could do was patiently pack up while the rain and wind did their thing.

I worked carefully to unplug the extension cord. I got everything packed. I knew I wasn't going to get to the car in one trip.

The sports pod wouldn't fold up. Just as I expected.

It took three trips to get everything to the car.

As I was packing, Johnny Saunders of Brunswick offered me an umbrella. I laughed and declined because, at that point, it would be just one more thing to carry and, besides, I was soaked.

In the end, the field -- heck, the campus, was completely empty except for me.

I loaded the car, including putting the sports pod in the back seat, unfolded.

I drove home. I wrung my socks out. Everything was drenched. Literally, head to toe.

As I'm typing to you on my computer, it survived the deluge.

I'm going to let the rest of the equipment dry out as it sits in the living room right now. I'll test it tomorrow.

But I guess what this tale tells is what I've told my students forever: you have to be a little crazy to do this.

You can show up with all of the charts, graphs, colored pens, multiple notes, and notes that you want. But if you don't have the passion, drive, and insanity, it generally doesn't mean a lot.

I was determined to give the audience a complete broadcast and, in the end, I did.

Obviously, it can't be done at the risk of my own safety and that's something I wrestled with.

But, I'm safe and the equipment might be OK.

And the clothes are going around in the washing machine, so everything will get dried out.

And I'm back to call soccer on Wednesday.

Shouting From the Roof

 

Baseball! The teams have been introduced

As I've mentioned, I picked up one more Renegades game.

The bad news is the Gades could muster no offense today and lost to the Greenville Drive 2-0. They trail in the best-of-three South Atlantic League Championship Series one game to none.

Looking at the bright side (selfishly) I was honored to be the public address announcer for the game. The loss dampens that spirit of course.

I wrote my thoughts about the season with the Gades last Sunday so I won't rehash it. Heading into 2024, assuming I'm back, I think we can do some things better. 

But the relationships there mean so much to me.

Plus, baseball.

The Gades can still win the title but they now have to go to South Carolina to do so. 

*****

I got my chance to call Stepinac football yesterday in White Plains for LocalLive.

It's a legacy football program in the area and a highly regarded one in New York Catholic School football lore.

I've only called an event there once, but it was basketball in their gym and it didn't even involve Stepinac. 

This, on the other hand, was a real-deal matchup between two strong teams.

Upon arrival, I surveyed things to realize that I was a stranger in a strange land.

Kevin Devaney Jr. warned me that the setup would be different. That's all I knew.

As I stood in the parking lot, reality set in. There was no press box. There were a couple of scissor lifts across the way. There were stands on the side where I was standing.

Kevin called and gave me the rundown. He said, with detailed instructions, to go into the school and head upstairs.

And go as far as I could go.

Then I saw where the LocalLive camera was positioned. It was installed at the top of the school.

Yup. That's where I was going.

I reached a narrow path on the roof after climbing out a side door. A videographer was positioned there and he had advanced knowledge that someone would be joining him. He was there to film for Stepinac while I was there to plug my audio into LocalLive's camera and call the game.

I prepared my brain to deal with the heights. In the end, it was no big deal.

In fact, except for the wind and sun, I loved it.

I just wasn't prepared for the likely sunburn, though I'm fine. As for the wind, I was prepared for that as I was able to tape things down.

I felt safe up there and, thus, no problems with the heights.

Stepinac mostly controlled the game and won 34-21. I noticed I picked up a few followers on social media so I'm hoping that meant viewers didn't have a problem with me.

Oh, I wasn't perfect. Far from it. But it was an enjoyable experience. It had that feeling of community that resonates so strongly with high school sports.

Plus the unique booth situation came with access to a nearby restroom and the chance to step inside if needed. It all worked fantastically.

I don't know if I'll ever have another chance to call a game there but I'd likely jump at it if ever offered.

Not every broadcast perch has to be indoors. Not every one needs to be Cardinal Stadium. Some can be very unique and this one qualified.

Look, it would be problematic if the weather was bad but that's why preparation for a broadcaster means having rain gear of some kind -- even ponchos from a recent visit to Maid of the Mist in Niagara Falls.

Fortunately, none of that was needed yesterday. Once settled in, I focused on trying to call a game featuring teams I'd never seen before.

I hope it worked.

*****

A last note with a great debt of thanks. As I wrote yesterday, I was going to my friend Scott's house for his annual party following the DePaul/Stapinac game.

I did the drive from White Plains to Mahopac following the game -- one that I'm very familiar with.

I was sorry to have missed a few people who left before I arrived, but grateful to see dear friends whom I've known since I was in first grade (at least that's what we think).

We picked on each other, hugged each other, made each other laugh, and I watched them blow fire. You just have to be there to understand,.

I caught up with everyone, from Sue and Matt's trip to Europe to Greg and JoAnn's new home away from home to Scott and Monica's wedding.

That night served as a great reminder that life is complicated so getting together is always tough due to other commitments but that we're all great friends and we're here for each other.

Last night's party was the 30th edition. We're all getting a little older (none older than I am) and that adds a touch of reality that time is precious.

The laughter is also precious.

So let's do it again next year.

(and thanks to loyal reader JoAnn for the photos)

John, Scott, Matt, Ron, and some other dude
who graduated from Mahopac High in 1987.

JoAnn always reminds me that my mom was her favorite
class mother. That's meaningful.

Egg and Cheese

 

A classic ham, egg, and cheese 

Saturday morning, Greenwich.

Time for grocery shopping hasn't been abundant so I've had to improvise a bit.

I'm out of cereal and, well, it's been a busy (and, obviously, stressful) stretch.

So I ran out this morning. OK, wait. Ran? Run? Walk?

OK, sorry. Too tired and too much to do. I drove over the hill and into town to grab a sandwich at Plaza Restaurant.

Though I've seen the restaurant for years, we discovered it almost by accident. Sean and I were walking to the Greenwich Town Party a year ago and we both needed something to eat.

Enter Plaza Restaurant. We took a risk that they'd make a couple of sandwiches to go.

A classic Greek breakfast/luncheonette, they were business-like, and, thus, of course, they'd be happy to make us a couple of egg and cheese sandwiches to go.

And it's among the best egg and cheese sandwiches out there. Now make mine a ham, egg, and cheese with a hash brown patty and we're good to go.

Plus they're right across from the train station, so it's a solid choice.

Except, like much of town, you're out of luck if you need anything before six or seven in the morning.

But we'll take what we can get.

So we look towards this weekend, in which I'll continue to keep buzzing.

We'll start in a few hours at Archbishop Stepinac High School in White Plains for football between the Crusaders (1-1) and the Spartans of DePaul Catholic (1-1). Game time is 1:30 and I was asked to do it by Kevin Devaney Jr. at LocalLive.

There's an inherent anxiety to being the fill-in for a variety of reasons, including the unknown. Plus it's a fill-in, thus the audience is used to someone else. So it's like Thursday's hockey game in Stamford in that way.

But I also look at it as exciting because I'm pleased to be trusted. I know how important Stepinac football is as a legacy program. They had a longtime Thanksgiving Day rivalry with White Plains High School which ended in 2017 over concerns of students who wanted to play both fall and winter sports. The Thanksgiving game would be a crossover between seasons and, as such, not allowed.

The two teams met 44 times between 1971 and 2017. If you know me, I hate when bureaucratic nonsense gets in the way of tradition. In other words: adults ruin everything.

I saw the same happen when the great Rye/Harrison rivalry took a brief break. Sometimes we need to understand how important these events are to players and families as well as alums. 

Yes, that includes the FCIAC football championship.

But, I'm babbling. 

After the game, I'm going home.

OK, to Mahopac, where I no longer live.

Scott's 30th annual Jimmy Buffett Party is today/tonight back on the mean streets of the Lake Secor area.

I've been, most likely, to 25 or so. The past couple of years have been a toned-down affair with the close inner circle of my friends. 

I'm not quite in that circle for a variety of reasons and I get it. But I'll be there tonight to renew acquaintances with friends that I've had for 40 or more years.

Any rumors of debauchery will be unfounded.

Maybe.

At least at our ages.

After a chance to, dare I say, sleep for a few hours, I'll handle public address duties for my first South Atlantic League Championship as the Renegades meet the Greenville Drive tomorrow at Heritage Financial Park.

If you're paying attention, that means it's Yankees/Red Sox for the title.

The Gades, who lost Game 1 of the semifinals in New Jersey, returned to the HV and swept the last two games.

Now, they get to play for the title. Tickets are still available (they start at $5) and parking is free. Come on out, sit near us in the PA booth, and get ready to have fun.

Oh, and I'm doing soccer on Monday and Wednesday.

And a conference in New York (albeit a half day) later in the week.

And football next Friday. Then I might be away next weekend.

STOP!

One day at a time.

One event at a time.

Football at 1:30.

Join me.

In a Better Place

Before tonight's game at Cheshire Academy

 

From time to time, things will bubble up and I will spout.

Like yesterday.

Then it leads to questions.

I will not be taking any questions on the matter.

OK, yes, all is well.

Do you believe me? 

Look, I'm not kidding when I say disrespect will send me over the edge. Yesterday was a high-leverage day with the addition of a new team to my list of broadcasts and I really wanted it to go well. I also had Greenwich football and, most of the time, the multiple games in a day goes great.

Yesterday, the broadcasts went quite well but there was ancillary noise that shouldn't have happened. The fact that it continued on a high-leverage day like yesterday certainly didn't mollify the situation. 

So we live to fight another day.

I'm going to Cheshire later for Cheshire Academy and Brunswick. As I've alluded to, Chris Erway will not be with me on Brunswick broadcasts. The reasons are, essentially, we're too good.

Beyond that, I'll not be taking any questions on the matter.

This business isn't for the weak. It's a constant barrage of egos and rejection and highs and lows and critics.

You're hot. Then you're not. It's a fickle business. It's why I'm always trying to make sure young broadcasters watch their attitudes and arrogance.

Because it will hurt them in the long run. I've seen it.

I try to mentor them even when they don't want it or know it.

And they think I don't like them.

I'm not as dumb as I look.

So, yeah, yesterday was a day that featured highs, lows, and rather cathartic anger and laughter.

Most of all, it featured two broadcasts that made me happy.

Because I'd done my job.

On to the next one.

*****

I've just walked in the door from Cheshire. Brunswick fell behind 20-0 in the second quarter and trailed 20-7 at halftime.

It stayed that way until the fourth quarter when the Bruins got a touchdown from Bryce Davis, who was running all over the place tonight, but could pull no closer. They had a last chance but their fourth turnover of the night ended the evening as Cheshire Academy won 20-14.

I called the game from the crowd (the picture at top) and for the first time in months, I got cold to the point where I was stiff with a sore back as I packed up.

I thought I would be warm enough and, well, not so much.

So onto tomorrow. It's DePaul Catholic and Stepinac football in White Plains. A new experience.

The grind continues.