Back From the Bay Break

 

The view at lunch

No, I wasn't tempted.

I took three full days off from writing here. 

Yes, I went to San Francisco but, in reality, I made my decision to take a break long before the plans for this trip were firm.

So I did a 64-hour whirlwind trip to California that included an Irish Coffee at The Buena Vista with a view of the Golden Gate Bridge, visited the three sea lions who elected to be visible at Pier 39, and rode a cable car back to our hotel after an hour wait to get on it.

We got what was supposed to be the go-to pizza in San Francisco (news flash: it wasn't New York. At all.).

We had fantastic Italian food at Sodini's in North Beach.

We saw several Waymo self-driving cars but we never took one. Maybe in 2025. 

Reviewing the conference script

We rocked another Hunt Scanlon conference.

And despite my bag being plucked twice by security, my travel woes were minimal. Overall, I just don't love flying. Especially the sketchy turbulence coming home and the hard-breaking landing upon arrival at JFK yesterday.

But I also slept like a rock, passing out at 9 p.m. (midnight Eastern) on Monday night. I had given my all, up since 3 a.m. in Greenwich and never sleeping on the train. Then we remained active from the moment we got off the plane. Then we stuffed badges and ate the tasty but not New York pizza. All that while we watched Game 3 of the World Series.

No question, I'll treasure watching Game 4 and Anthony Volpe's grand slam while crushing a chicken parm dinner at Sodini's.

I'll always be proud of every conference and this trip was no exception. The team works really hard and I try to be a good face and voice for the day. 

And I keep things on time.

San Francisco is hardly a perfect town but there's a lot about it that fits me, especially their love of sports. And, overall, there were plenty of anti-Dodgers there (not a surprise) so it was nice to have that in common, given I was obviously rooting for the Yankees. 

San Francisco is also a city of hotel protests. Last year, it was our hotel (the Omni). This year, three other hotels had protests. It was pretty interesting to say the least.

Me, Walker, Jack, Leo at dinner

And the team I worked with was the best. Walker, Leo, Sam, and Jack are great colleagues and friends. It was hard work and many laughs. 

As for the World Series, last night was horrific. Horrible. Unacceptable. Arguably the worst Yankees World Series game ever. 

The better team won. Let's be clear. But the errors, missed coverage of first base, catchers interference, etc were just bad. And there's a legion of trolls out there doing their damndest to inflict more pain, led by Mr. Toxic Positivity himself. I'm pretty much ready to just write his name and be done with it but, overall, his followers ignore him.

There reaches a point where you just say "Oh, screw it" and get it all out. I'm there with a few things.

But now it's back to the grind here in Greenwich. Another conference awaits next week and there are games to broadcast and hoops to jump through. 

Lastly, I will say that my reflexes tingled a few times during my break. There were times that I thought, "Oh, that would be a good topic" but didn't give it a second thought. There were also a few times that I needed to remind myself that I didn't need to carve in a window to write.

I'd have to say that. I didn't really miss writing. But, alas, here I am so what does that tell you?

Overall, I didn't miss my computer and was content with my iPad and iPhone for any communication. 

I'm grateful to all of you for your support and kindness about the break and the content here. 

It's nice to be back.

For Lou

 

Lou Gehrig, ca. 1925
(Charles M. Conlon / National Baseball Hall of Fame Library)

Lou Gehrig knew.

It was Sunday, Apr 30, 1939 at Yankee Stadium. Lou, a noted slow starter, was off to a particularly bad beginning. He was hitting just .143 as that Sunday ended in New York. He had only four hits in 28 at-bats. 

Of note, he had no extra base hits and there was no pop as bat hit ball. No power. Nothing.

Throughout the winter of 1938-39, Gehrig was having physical issues. The incredible biography of Lou, Luckiest Man: the Life and Death of Lou Gehrig, written by Jonathan Eig, notes that he had trouble ice skating at Playland Ice Casino in Rye, NY. Gehrig was quite a good skater.

As spring training began, the Iron Horse looked finished. The writers resisted the urge but the whispers had been prevalent. Joe McCarthy protected his star first basemen, focusing on just that: focus.

Gehrig was 35 that spring, coming off a season in which he hit .295 with 29 HRs and 107 RBIs. And those numbers, to be blunt, were pedestrian for Lou, who averaged .340/37/149. To add to that, he had just four hits in fourteen at-bats in the 1938 World Series sweep of the Cubs. He had no extra base hits.

So, eight games into 1939, Lou Gehrig knew it was time.

His streak of consecutive games had become its own thing and while Lou was a man of pride, he was about team first. He played in game number 2,130 that Sunday -- a standard that stood until Sep 1995 -- and went 0-for-4. He lifted a fly ball to center field off of Washington Senators right-hander Pete Appleton and George Case caught it. 

That was his last at-bat in the Major Leagues.

Equally concerning, but perhaps more galling to the Iron Horse, Buddy Myer hit a grounder to the right side in the top of the ninth inning. Gehrig played it but couldn't move with the speed, agility, and grace that he had demonstrated since 1925. Instead, he flipped it to pitcher Johnny Murphy, who recorded the out. Gehrig's teammates offered support that made him note that he was receiving pity.

Following an off day, the Yankees checked into the Book-Cadillac Hotel in Detroit. Gehrig asked to meet with Yankees manager Joe McCarthy in private. Gehrig told the skipper that he wanted to be taken out of the lineup. He said he was doing it for the good of the team.

McCarthy made sure that was what Gehrig wanted and Lou confirmed it.

The streak, his career, and in some ways, Lou Gehrig's life, came to an end on May 2, 1939, in Detroit. Gehrig, of course, would be diagnosed with ALS -- Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis -- in June at the Mayo Clinic. He would receive his "day" and offer baseball's Gettysburg Address on July 4, telling the world he was "the luckiest man on the face of the earth."

Gehrig would stay as a part of the Yankees through their World Series run in 1939 and later became a New York City parole commissioner under Mayor Fiorello La Guardia. He died on June 2, 1941, at 10:10 p.m. He was just 17 days shy of his 38th birthday.

In September 1995, Cal Ripken Jr broke Lou's consecutive game record. It was celebrated around the world justifiably though I admittedly struggled with it as a Lou Gehrig fan. Only life and death stopped Gehrig and I always wished Cal would stop at 2,129 games or tie the record. Unrealistic as that sounds, I still watched it and appreciated Ripken.

Today -- Oct 27, 2024 -- is the two-thousand, one-hundred twenty-ninth consecutive post in my own streak, "#Project365." It is a day that I have marked, privately, for over a year. 

Today is the final day of that streak. As fate would have it, I'm flying to San Francisco tomorrow for a Hunt Scanlon Conference. For the first time in years, my computer is staying home. I'll have an iPad and iPhone with me but I have no intention of writing.

It's time. I need a break. I feel incredibly guilty keeping this from my closest supporters, especially Susan, who kept pushing me to keep this going every time I struggled with a topic or the energy to create one more mundane post.

And that's just it. The words stopped having the meaning I wanted them to have. The comments -- the supporters -- became the same. I'm beyond grateful for Susan and Shawn and every person who backed me on this journey, and it's not over. I'm not ending "Exit 55" today. I'm just going back to writing when I want, as opposed to it being something I had to do.

I had thought about doing a daily post for years and, with the blog hovering on extinction, wrote two posts to wrap up 2018. Then John Nash said he was going to do a post-per-day and challenged me to keep up. I didn't stop for nearly six years. I wrote in London, San Francisco, Florida, Buffalo, Pittsburgh, North Carolina, and basically everywhere in between. I wrote most of it in New York and Connecticut.

I wrote in parking lots and arenas and libraries and houses. I wrote in trailers and hotel rooms and lobbies. 

I wrote while stuck in traffic on my phone, afraid I wouldn't get home in time to publish the post.

I adjusted as necessary to the clock, writing after midnight in the east but physically in California, and thus within the boundaries of writing every day. 

I gave my all. I laughed, cried, grieved, yelled, and offered as much as I could in the hope of not crossing a line.

And, sometimes, I crossed the line. I detest how much a few situations bled into this page. Damn me for letting the bastards get me down. But I suppose that's simply who I am and all I can do is live and learn.

I feel at a crossroads. A bit depleted. A bit broken. And yet hopeful but knowing I also need change.

And I need to take better care of myself. Physically and mentally.

This post has been rolling in my brain for a year. I knew the picture I would use -- Charles Conlon's fabulous shot of Gehrig taken circa 1925. It shows his innocence, his intensity, hit eyes wide-open view.

I'm not Lou Gehrig. I'm not Cal Ripken Jr. 

I'm a junior, sure. Named after my beloved father. But I'm not an athlete or anyone special. I'm a guy who talks and decided to try writing one day. Those words are all here, via thousands of posts since 2006.

It didn't take over a decade to compile a streak. It took almost six years of setting time aside. There was nothing physical -- I'm in no shape at all compared to Gehrig and Ripken -- save for the fingers to type.  It was more mental than anything.

The better posts hit me in my soul. They might cause me a hint of emotion. There hasn't been enough of that lately or, frankly, the statistics to convince me that the quality was worth continuing.

So give me tomorrow. Maybe until I get home on Wednesday. Maybe I'll have thoughts about San Francisco.

And don't think -- for a second -- that this is me hiding from the World Series. It happens. Baseball has been at the forefront of my life but it's not all that I am. I'm very proud of being called a Renaissance Man, meaning I have a varied and diverse life. 

That's what I've tried to reflect here.

After 2,129 posts, I'm doing what Cal Ripken didn't do. 

I'm taking a break. In good conscience, I couldn't pass the Iron Horse.

Tomorrow is Rob Adams's Day Off, though Cameron and Sloane won't be piling into the 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California drive around Chicago. Instead, I'm leaving Greenwich to fly from JFK to San Francisco. I'll be free of the pressure to write.

I stuck to my belief that I would stop today. I had it marked on my calendar. It's just time. ALS isn't stopping me. I'm stopping me.

Mom was still alive when this started and Chico was our cat. They're both gone but Rascal is here and Sean, of course, is Sean.

I'll be back and I know that, unlike an airport, I don't need to announce my departure.

But I'm announcing this one.

For Lou.

The Broadcast Brings Peace

 

In the booth at Brunswick. Any booth is my sanctuary.

Let's start with the good news.

Today's broadcast went much better. Working solo isn't easy but I find it works for me. Oh, I'm probably best with a partner, but it has to be a good partner. Obviously, Dan Murphy and I have that chemistry, for instance.

I felt like I saw the action better today at Cosby Field for Brunswick's home game against Phillips Exeter Academy. That's not easy to do as the press box there is set lower, making the field somewhat tougher to see to the right.

So despite feeling exhausted, I felt a bit better about the broadcast. As always, the booth is my comfort zone and I can generally leave any troubles behind there.

Oh, and before the game, I walked into Cosby Field and took note of the assembled families as they waited for the Senior Day ceremony to begin. As I walked, I noticed a certain feeling in the air before I heard someone say "Oh!"

My gut took note and wondered. Sure enough, as I said hello entering the booth, I was asked if I could be the announcer for the ceremony. In other words, I became the host, introducing each senior player and interpreting the notes that I was handed literally before I began the ceremony.

I've hosted several of these ceremonies so I know the drill. Enunciate. Allow each player to have their moment. Keep it moving.

As far as I know, it went off without a hitch and I'm happy. The ceremony is really for the parents as coaches and players are anxious to get to game time and play.

With that all said, on the downside, the Bruins lost 36-27.

As I've often said, I can't allow myself to be emotionally involved too much. I'll always feel for players and coaches and families but I have to withdraw from that. It's not about me. If anything, in a loss, the words are even more magnified on the air than usual, in that criticism can be difficult for the audience to accept. Tensions are frayed.

I came home after the final whistle, leaving quietly, other than chatting briefly with someone I know who got me a copy of Brunswick's hockey schedule. I'm not looking to get to winter sports yet but it's nice to be thought of.

Not everyone thinks so kindly of me and I'm pretty bummed about that. I wrote not too long ago about being exhausted playing the bad guy.

Or the perceived bad guy.

In truth, I think I'm fairly easy to get along with. I have my opinions -- oh, you bet -- but I also listen when spoken to and have a good respect for others. That doesn't mean I'm going to blankly agree with things. However, I might just politely nod and that will be the end of it. Yet if I truly respect you and the topic at play, I'll debate things.

But I also pick my battles, believe it or not.

However, not everyone feels that way and, in the process, I become persona non grata. 

But I'll never have patience for phonies. And enablers. Among other things.

I hate this kind of middle-school nonsense. That's the word. "Hate."

And I have a disdain for conflict.

I also don't like cutting people out of my life but it has become a necessity in recent times.

Thus, I simply have to move on.

And I am.

I know who my friends are and have to reduce the toxicity.

I'll get a break from Connecticut Junior High School after tomorrow when I head to California for a few days. That will maybe do some good. Hope they have fun in study hall back here. Maybe they can pass notes to each other.

Bennie Rose will be my guest on "Meet the Beatles" tomorrow morning at 9. Join us on WGCH and Robcasting.

Here Are a Few Words About Tonight

 

One of us was great tonight. The other one is me.

I just got home from calling Greenwich/Trumbull football. 

I've spoken about my affection for both towns, with Greenwich obviously being my home base.

 But I'm home after a game that was interesting and a broadcast that was underwhelming.

It's me. I was OK at best. I made mistakes, blah blah blah.

Once again, I find myself wondering about if I'm not feeling well (I'm pretty much recovered from the cold earlier this week), overtired, or something else.

So it's a "shake it off" feeling as I look into calling Phillips Exeter/Brunswick tomorrow afternoon.

Dan was great. I'm sure the TEN Network's broadcast was great. 

I did my best but maybe I just didn't have my fastball tonight. I thought my descriptions were tight and detailed and my energy was good

Yes, I know I'll get told that I'm too hard at myself, but that's not going to change.

So, in lieu of saying anything more than I should here tonight, I'll leave this post right here as is.

The Night Before the Game

 

(Greenwich Football social media)

Tomorrow is game day for Greenwich Football.

If you don't know, the Cardinals lost last week to Wilton for the first time in nearly three decades. The 20-17 win for the Warriors was definitely a shock but also well-earned. Wilton did a solid job of slowing up Greenwich's running game and capitalizing on mistakes.

To be honest, I still very much expect the Cardinals to be right in the thick of the playoffs when Thanksgiving comes around. That's hardly a stretch to say.

The Cardinals play at Trumbull High School tomorrow night.

Trumbull. Huh. Where have I heard of them?

Yes, Trumbull has become an extended broadcasting home for me, covering baseball there every year for some time now. I've also picked up some basketball, ice hockey, football, and even rugby.

That began with being asked to cover the Babe Ruth New England Regional back in 2015. The idea was for us to come in and call the semifinals and championship game with the HAN Network.

However, that wasn't enough for me. I wanted to call every pitch. So I pushed for it and called all of it in what became the last days of HAN Radio.

That has basically continued in some form on an annual basis ever since, including the Babe Ruth State Tournament in July and Little League action in August in Rhode Island.

I've been so fortunate to meet and get to know the wonderful people of the town, led by Mike Buswell. On the Trumbull football/broadcasting side, Jeff Alterman has been my main contact and friend, and I've been proud to watch as the TEN Network has grown.

TEN, in fact, will be doing their own call of tomorrow night's game just a few feet over from where Dan Murphy and I will call the action on WGCH and Robcasting. The Trumbull booth isn't big enough for us so we'll enjoy a pleasant Friday night under the stars.

Both teams have playoff aspirations for good reason. My feeling, and I alluded to this once already, is that the Cardinals will get things straightened out and be a playoff team. That's not to say they'll win tomorrow night or to minimize Trumbull at all. The Eagles' coach, Marce Petroccio, is someone I'm proud to call a friend and I know he'll have his team ready.

Once upon a time, Marce brought a Staples High School team to Cardinal Stadium to play Big Bad Greenwich.

Final score in that 2000 game? Staples 14, Greenwich 8. Yes, the Cardinals almost won on a Hail Mary at the buzzer but it was not to be. It was, instead, the official arrival of Staples as a powerhouse and Marce as a top-level coach.

Now, 24 years later, he's a legendary coach.

So we give all of the props to Trumbull while knowing the Cardinals, led by coach Anthony Morello, likely had fierce practices this week. I can't see any way Big Red won't be ready by seven tomorrow night.

From a broadcast standpoint, I've poured through both rosters, including rebuilding Greenwich's, looked back at the history of the matchup, and have set up and broken down the equipment a few times to make sure things are working.

Yes, we're as ready as we can be. We even get a small break with a later start, allowing us extra time to do the slog through Friday night traffic.

We'll be live from Trumbull tomorrow night at 6:50 p.m.

Justice for Bobby

 

Screenshot from ABC broadcast of Game 3
of the 1981 World Series

The year was 1981. 

Christopher Cross was near the top of the pop charts with "Arthur's Theme (Best That You Can Do)."

And the Yankees were playing the Dodgers in the World Series.

It's worth pausing here to note that, late last night, news broke that Fernando Valenzuela died. Fernando ties us right back to 1981 in that he was the pitching sensation in that strike-shortened year. The lefthander from Mexico went 13-7 with a 2.48 ERA and league highs in starts, complete games, shutouts, and strikeouts.

He won both the National League Cy Young Award and Rookie of the Year.

More than that, he was a cultural hero, especially to the Los Angeles Latino community, but he helped bridge the gap with people from all walks of life with a nasty screwball and a quirky windup.

He threw a no-hitter in 1990, with a double play to finish it off. In the booth at Dodger Stadium, as only he could, Vin Scully punctuated the achievement by saying, "If you have a sombrero, throw it to the sky."

Some of the magic of Fernandomania didn't last but he won 173 games with six teams over 17 seasons. That era, that supernova that he was, will never be forgotten by any baseball fan, especially those of us robbed of innocence by the strike.

But he was always a Dodger and returned to the team to be part of their Spanish-language broadcasts until late this season when he stepped away "to focus on his health."

Always an ambassador and a delight, Fernando is gone at just 63. No doubt that his passing will serve as a rallying cry for the Dodgers' faithful.

Fernando pitched a complete game in Game 3 of the 1981 World Series, beating the Yankees 5-4. 

The '81 Series was also the first time that my guy, Bobby Ray Murcer, played in the Fall Classic. As usual, said with complete bias on my part, he was misused by manager Bob Lemon, playing sparingly, including a sacrifice bunt in Game 2.

In Game 3, with two on and nobody out, Lemon went back to Bobby, this time to bunt against Fernando. Bobby, an excellent athlete, bunted a liner down the left field line that was snared by Ron Cey, who then wheeled to first to double up Larry Milbourne.

Back in New York, I listened to the radio with sheer terror in my blood. Bobby wound up 0-for-3 in the Series, including a warning track fly ball that I thought had a chance to go out at Yankee Stadium in Game 6. It was another questionable decision by Lemon, having Bobby pinch hit for Tommy John in the fourth inning with the game tied at one. The Yankees went on to lose 9-2.

I was crestfallen.

Bobby, traded from the Yankees to the Giants in Oct 1974, missed the late '70s glory years in New York, returned in time for the passing of Thurman Munson, played in the postseason in 1980-81, and never got back. He retired in Jun 1983 and immediately became a broadcaster. He did get to cover the Yankees through the 90s dynasty, but I've never quite gotten over the 1981 World Series.

I even saw that 1981 American League Championship ring that he wore in person but that's hardly the big prize.

And beginning with that October, I loathed the Dodgers in a way that I reserved for the 76 Reds and a few others of the era.

It took a certain broadcaster to help those feelings melt a little when it came to Los Angeles. By the late 80s, it no longer mattered. Chris Erway being a fan of the Chavez Ravine team didn't hurt either. I suppose the dashed dreams of a kid simply weren't worth the energy of maintaining such disdain.

But I never forgot 1981.

And so, with all due respect to Fernando Valenzuela, the 2024 World Series is "Justice for Bobby Murcer" to me.

I'm trying to remind myself that, somewhere, Vin Scully will smile if the Dodgers bring this one home. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm just preparing myself to be gracious if that's the case, and Vin is one of the few things that will make me get there.

But screw it.

Go win this thing, Yankees.

With a tip of the cap to Bobby Ray, who was robbed of his chance in 1981.

My 1981 baseball card

Sick Day

 

I felt it Friday night. Pain in my nose.

I decided to be proactive and take something for it. It's time for some seasonal allergies for me.

Then, on Saturday, as I mentioned I just felt "off" while calling the Brunswick game. Yet, I'm glad to say the highlight package that Brunswick's social media puts online made me sound OK. To that, I say thank you.

By Sunday, yeah, it felt pretty obvious that this was some kind of sinus infection (or, in my case, the common cold).

Moving to last night, I kept having to go off the microphone to cough or blow my nose during "Zolz's Are You Kidding Me ... Again (co-starring Sheriff Kirk Imperati and, oh yeah, me)." 

As I drove home from the studios near Fishkill, my head was on fire. Upon coming home, I took meds, and even added a sleeping pill, and went into a decent night of sleep.

And I'm probably dealing with the back end of feeling like garbage today. You know the drill: stuffy nose, stuffed ears, sore throat, etc.

It's purely in my head (yes, I know), and the rest of my body is fine. I'm also fortunate (though I don't know if that's the right word) to have a light schedule today. 

I have been out because a quick grocery store trip was needed this morning. So that means I pulled myself together and got dressed. I'm not a complete slug today. But, mostly, I've been able to confine myself to the living room a limited amount of time in the bedroom.

OK, about my bedroom. Who knew that a building erected in 1930 might creek a bit. Apparently, that's the issue with the person below us who complained to the landlord. Thus the reason I needed to put a black carpet down in there in the hope of muting some noise. For what it's worth, it camouflages the cat very well.

And, in the "good neighbor" category, she scowls at me every time she sees me. I mean, I didn't have "bad neighbor" on my bingo card and I'm hoping the situation will simply go away.

Because, let's face it, we're not going away anytime soon.

We've met many people in the neighborhood otherwise and we all just kind of say hello, pass the time, admire various dogs, and make limited small talk.

But loud? Despite my love of music, I don't play it loud. I don't think the TV is loud either. Is it that this person isn't used to someone being upstairs during the daytime hours? I'm honestly not sure. In fact, the neighbor hasn't said a word to us, which I find kind of disappointing. We're pretty reasonable, despite anything you hear to the contrary.

Anyway, I shouldn't feel weird going into my own bedroom. 

As for being sick, it's hard to imagine there was once a time when one was careful to admit that. I mean, I look back at the chaos of 2020-2021 and just marvel at it. I mean, that really happened. If you ever sneezed or coughed you thought were had a scarlet letter on you.

It was truly a time, wasn't it?

In this case, I'm happy to write not (roughly 2:30 in the afternoon) and still do "Doubleheader" at 4:00. Then I can just chill after that.

The rest of the week will be busy enough and I'll need the energy.

For the record, if I had to be somewhere, I'd be there. It's pretty rare that I actually call out like that. That reliability is one of my better points.

Fear not for me, and please know I'm otherwise fine. It's a cold. It's not that big of a deal. I've just been writing for over 2,100 consecutive days and I needed a topic.

*sneeze*

And this was that topic.

Props to the ... Mets?

 

Jose Iglesias

There are bad apples in every bunch.

Some would say that describes me and to each their own.

Regardless of thoughts about their fan base, I genuinely marvel at what the New York Mets did this season.

Yes, as I've been reminded ad nauseam for what seems like years, they were not expected to do well this year. Of course, they did better than well, taking until the final day of the regular season -- in a bizarre doubleheader that was the only action on that day -- and making the playoffs.

From there, they did what any great team does. They played team baseball and were never once out of a game. They supported each other and you could tell there was a general charm to them.

They rallied around things like Grimace and the "OMG" pop song and their fans ate it all up. Let us not forget the appearance of Ms. Hawk Tuah.

But the true hallmark of the team was that they simply wouldn't go away. They kept playing. Seemingly finished against Milwaukee, Pete Alonso hit a ninth-inning, three-run homer to advance to play the Phillies.

Then they rolled past the Phillies in four games.

Then they went up against the Dodgers. The fan base got louder and more confident that they were on their way to their sixth National League pennant. I'm fairly certain they all wanted the Yankees, who they were 4-0 against in interleague play.

But the Dodgers are the Dodgers and they're quite good if not great. Finally, the Mets were out of answers, falling in Game 6 last night.

The Dodgers will play the much-hated Bronx Bombers beginning Friday night.

Should Mets fans be proud? Absolutely. I mean, that's silly to even consider. It was a great ride, complete with an MVP-caliber performance by Francisco Lindor and the probable resurgence of Alonso plus the breakout of Mark Vientos.

Should they be disappointed? Yes, I think they should. Spare me the "I'm happy we just got here" stuff. You reached the NLCS. You took two games from the Dodgers. The media that you think hates you called you the team nobody wanted to face.

Mets fans shared humor, whimsy, and joy everywhere you went, along with no "effs" to give.

And they have an owner who will spend like it's Monopoly money this offseason. 

They're salty today though. Not all of them. Some. Well, the social media types and tough guys. I actually considered reaching out to one of them who just completely hates me to do a wellness check but, well, that probably wouldn't have mattered.

It's the good fans -- the rational ones, the ones I enjoy talking with -- that I need to rally around. They're the ones who are good for my own soul and good for baseball.

They're the ones who don't worry about feeling sorry for themselves or MVP votes of Gold Gloves or Derek Jeter humorously walking off the set of FOX's postgame show after shenanigans involving Mr. and Mrs. Met.

The others are toxic. They're too hung up on The Best Booth in Baseball ™ and other nonsense to recognize how annoying it all is. Them. Not the other stuff.

There's no need to be annoying. The Mets were good for baseball in 2024.

They'll be scary with a few improvements in 2025.

So, tonight, I'm calling a truce and tipping my cap.

Oh, don't worry, I still believe "Black is Not a Mets Color."™

I raise a glass to the memory of Tom Seaver and salute the 2024 Mets.

See how easy that was?

Onto the Fall Classic

 

That sure looks like joy to me

The ball settled into Juan Soto's glove and it was over.

I sat back and smiled.

Sean sat down next to The Cat. There was much laughter.

The Yankees were back in the World Series for the first time since 2009.

It's their 41st American League Pennant and, somehow, the 12th in my lifetime.

In that moment, I wanted to see Sean's reaction, recalling how he was only seven the last time they were in the Series. In fact, I had to wake him up for the last out when they beat the Phillies.

I felt fortunate. Spoiled. And yet, unafraid to be greedy. I recall being a few outs away in 2001 from a four-peat. I always wondered what it was like to live through the 1936-1939 and 1949-1953 Yankee runs. Of course, the 2001 Series imploded in the bottom of the ninth in Arizona at a time when we needed sports as much as ever.

That loss hurts more now than it did then.

In an era in which a fanbase thinks they're the only one who ever experiences happiness (you know: humor, whimsy, and joy), I'm here to say that winning is fun. That was basically the point of a tweet I sent out a few hours ago that I'm being eviscerated for.

No, seriously.  As I'm writing in the early afternoon, the tweet has over 76,000 impressions, and Mets fans are just foaming as opposed to, you know, focusing on Game 6. They absolutely missed the point but they're also uptight and are taking it out on me.

For those wondering, sports is especially full of whimy, humor, and joy when you win. Pop songs and secondary fast food mascots aren't necessary. There are myriad ways to have fun in sports but, ultimately, it's about winning at that level.

It's baseball. It's supposed to be fun.

I never said they were the smartest fan base in the world. They're not.

The replies, frankly, are hysterical. I've been laughing for probably a solid five hours now.

Regardless of them, the New York Yankees are back in the World Series. In truth, I'll be watching two games in San Francisco. Let's face it, if it's against the Dodgers, the Yankees will be the more popular team since they hate Los Angeles there.

The good news, of course, is that those games will likely be over by 9 p.m. Pacific time.

There was once a time when this felt like a birthright but I soon learned it wasn't. The Yankees of the early 70s were fun but were also, mostly, mediocre. At least until 1976.

Then 1977.

Then 1978.

Three pennants. Two titles. It felt like it would happen every year. 

Then came 1979. The Orioles were better and Thurman Munson died. 

And then came the 80s. After 1981 came one year after another. Some great players. Some great moments. Lots of fun. Watching games. Listening to games. But no playoffs.

The early 90s were the bottom.

But with expanded playoffs and a better approach to creating a team, the Yankees became a dynasty once more.

The last title was the 2009 one. Lots of playoffs followed. Lots of disappointment. And then a train wreck of a season in 2023.

But they're back.

In the World Series.

Where they belong.

They await an opponent. Either the Dodgers or the Mets.

But today, despite the misguided vitriol being aimed at me by Mets fans, today is a day to smile. 

With more work to be done.

*****

Today's "Meet the Beatles" featured Sun Kings -- A Beatles Tribute and they were outstanding. The show is in my Mixlr archive so please give it a listen. It wasn't an easy show to mix due to mics not working and the challenge of blending the vocals and instruments properly but I'm still pretty happy with it.

They were amazing and they'll be back.

Maybe Not My Best

 

In any part of life, regardless of the circumstances, we all have a day in which we just feel off.

I called a fascinating and weird game between Greenwich and Wilton last night at Cardinal Stadium. I came home and watched the Yankees/Cleveland game and crashed into bed after it was over.

Dan Murphy was along for the entire evening and, at one point, we talked about calling a game when we just don't have "it."

Well, that was me today.

I called Brunswick's homecoming matchup against Andover today. The circumstances were joyous. Jovial. Fun.

And yet I felt I was sort of just OK on the air.

As I sit here tonight, I look back and think about what could have been off, if anything.

Lack of sleep? No, I don't think so. By my standards, I had a decent night.

In the morning, I had breakfast, including a cup of coffee. I eventually cleaned a bit, sweeping and vacuuming before reviewing notes and making sure I had everything I needed.

I stopped at a deli to grab a small sandwich just in case there was food at Brunswick. We sometimes get offered things and I wanted to be ready either way. The sandwich would suffice otherwise.

I parked at Brunswick and got to work on setting up. It was mostly nothing unusual, except for having to climb to the roof of the press box a few times to thread an audio cable.

The only other factor was that I began to feel a little bit of sinus pain last night. Nothing too bad though I did take something for it before I went to bed. It did not linger through the Brunswick game.

At game time, I set about doing my opening and getting down to business.

And from there, I was fine. That's it. Just fine.

I'm hoping to the listener there was nothing unusual to take note of and that it was just in my head. That, overall, it didn't sit to my high standards but so what?

Look, the fact that Brunswick won 42-7 doesn't help things though I contend that a broadcaster should be at their best in those moments. Most of the time, I handle this with ease. 

The truth is, I laid out a bit more today. I wasn't quite as glib.

In this business, you generally have to fight through whatever it is that's going on. Sometimes those things are tangible. Sometimes they're not. But, unless something makes it physically impossible, I do whatever I need to do to make it work.

Maybe, ultimately, the sinus thing bothered me more than I let on. Maybe I was just overtired. Maybe I'm run down. Maybe it was Friday night's game that sapped me.

Who knows?

The goal is to not have the audience be aware of it. From what I gathered, nobody noticed.

So, I have to do "Meet the Beatles" tomorrow, with guests Sun Kings: A Beatles Tribute.

I can chill out after that and enjoy sports on TV.

A full week awaits before games next Friday and Saturday.

As always, I'll be ready.

The Day is Done

 

It's just before midnight and I'm fried.

The Yankees made us sweat through a second straight game before finally winning Game 4 of the American League Championship Series. Last night, of course, was a gutwrenching loss.

But they're now up three games to one and are a win away from their 41st league pennant.

There was also football tonight and I was at Cardinal Stadium for Wilton/Greenwich.

Final score: Wilton 20, Greenwich 17. I'm fairly stunned.

But that's why they lace them up and play. Greenwich had their struggles and the Warriors played an outstanding game.

Big Red falls to 4-1. They play again next Friday at Trumbull.

In the booth, Dan and I had a very good call. We were talking later about my assessment of things and I think he's been outstanding. He's been everything I could hope for.

With that, we call it a night.

Onto Brunswick tomorrow.

Life Reclaimed

 

Thanks to various circumstances, I've dealt with difficult times financially.

To that end, I had to get creative. Protective.

Proactive.

Today, however, I took control again.

It involved the signing of papers and chatting with a professional.

When it was over, I felt more like myself again. It was almost like I got my own name back.

It has been a long road to this point and, believe me, we've not really reached the end of it. But we have reached a bit of a milestone.

It's truly sad the things we have to do for the purpose of survival but the art of such is always impressive. I have enormous respect for those who can dust themselves off and keep going. I try to emulate that. 

Survival comes in many forms. Physical. Mental. Spiritual. Financial. Emotional. And so on.

And, I suppose, I have also been a survivor. No matter the circumstances I've persevered to do what's best for me, my son, and my loved ones.

I guess it's one thing about this existence of mine that I'm proud of. 

Survival. Plus the ability to make the most of a bad situation. Which, as I type these words is also a form of survival.

Survival can be small and big. And medium. It comes in all sizes.

For too many years, there were others out to take from me. It all tended to go back to the same person but, still, it was different parties in the process.

Well, I'm not exposed to that any longer and, as a result, I can proudly sign my own name again.

Again, there are still things on this road to resolve. Plenty of speed bumps to maneuver.

But today was significant.

And I celebrate that.

The Boys Are Back in Mount Kisco

Dave, Mark, Bob, Me, 2022

 

The first edition of "The Clubhouse" aired tonight on WGCH and Robcasting.

We kept it simple tonight, only having 1969 "Miracle Met" Art Shamsky as a guest.

Beyond that, it was just Dave Torromeo, Mark Jeffers, me, and Bob Small. We talked about sports and whatever else we wanted to talk about.

It was a fun and easy show, serving as a reminder that I wish they could all (Doubleheader included) be that way.

We didn't need to stress over things. It was an easy hour of top-notch radio.

A few people mentioned that it was as good as anything they hear on sports talk these days.

In truth, we're three guys (Dave, Mark, and me) who love sports and, while it can be easy to cast us off as "old," I think we adjust as needed.

We each had things to get wound up tonight, like Dave spouting about the Jets. Overall, I think I stayed calm, though I was asked off the air about how much I detest the black Mets jerseys.

I'll repeat: they celebrate mediocrity. Oh, cool, you clinched the 2000 National League pennant wearing those? Remind me, how did the 2000 World Series play out?

(Narrator: they lost. To the Yankees.)

Plus they're ugly but I recognize that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

I loved the format of this show tonight, allowing us to growl and talk and laugh and be loose until the interview at the midway point.

Shamsky was wonderful in explaining how he really doesn't pay as much attention to current baseball but how much the 1969 team means to him. I asked him about being on the Ed Sullivan Show to sing "You've Gotta Have Heart" and he said the team made a bunch of appearances like that. He doesn't go a day without being asked about 1969 or thanked for it.

In that regard, he's a wonderful ambassador.

Our famous scoreboard, "The Clubhouse Report" took up the final segment of the show as Mark delivered the most recent sports news that gave us a chance to react to. In truth, a show like this flies back and that's exactly what tonight did.

When the equipment sets up and breaks down with ease, things go fine technically, and the show presentation is flawless, it's all a joy to do.

Plus, at its core, we have a good time both on and off the air. We all have ideas worth pursuing and real-life circumstances worth discussing.

A show like this is supposed to be fun and it was just that tonight.

We're only in for a four-show run this time before the end of the year but we're also panning some a little different and I'll let you know about that as we get closer.

We'll be back at it next week.

I'll be back on Doubleheader tomorrow.

Wearing the Black Hat

 

Lee Marvin was brilliant as the ruthless Liberty Valance in
1962's The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance.
James Stewart (R) was pretty good also.

Let's talk about friends, shall we?

I mean, really.

The friends I want close to me are honest. Loyal. Trustworthy. Thoughtful.

They don't stab me in the back or (conveniently) forget about me.

They don't pacify me but, at the same time, they know how to handle me and I do the same for them.

And, for what it's worth, I don't forget much. Good or bad.

But, man, it gets exhausting playing the bad guy.

I play it because I'm loyal and honest. Often to a fault.

And some can't handle that.

And then I get in trouble.

And I become the unwelcomed outcast.

Unwelcome because I don't enable people.

In fact, I have a huge problem with that kind of behavior.

Huge.

Just pat them on the head and tell them that the honest people are evil. I know of too many examples in my life.

And the arguments are often stupid. The things they get called out about are ridiculous.

And that, I suppose, is where it's my fault. Because I don't suffer fools and I say so. I actually stay quiet more often than not. But when I see something wrong, I often go all in.

As I often do, I'm avoiding specifics to avoid this getting nuclear.

I also won't be taking questions about this. Literally, none.

This stuff does bother me. It gnaws at me.

I mean, honestly, what's so hard about agreeing to disagree? I know, I know. Silly me. If that were the case we wouldn't have a large percentage of our problems in the world today.

I guess, in the end, my truest friends tend to know me best. 

And since I'm babbling this seems to be the best place to stop.

I have to go do whatever it is villains do in those old Westerns.

This is Not a Baseball Post

  

Whitey Ford delivers to Bill Virdon during
1960 World Series at Yankee Stadium

I was going to write about baseball tonight because it is so prominent right now.

You know, playoffs and all, with the Mets playing.

Oh, you say another team is playing? I should check that out.

OK, seriously, I'm probably not going to write a lot about baseball because, sometimes, I just don't feel like posting about stuff that no one reads.

I'm not kidding. The lowest-read posts are generally baseball-related for some reason.

Sometimes, I just write and don't worry about it. Tonight, I'm not feeling it.

So, baseball is on. The Yankees (you know, that other team) are winning. That pleases me.

But I'll spare you any words of wisdom about any of that.

On the other hand, I started something new tonight, helping to get a show off the ground. Rick Zolzer -- you know, "The Zolz" -- and I have been talking about doing a show for a few months. He did one on Z93 in Poughkeepsie and I joined in 2021-2022.

He has since moved over to the Pamal radio cluster and the process began to put a new show on the air. Of course, it's viewed as a "Zolz" show when, in reality, it's Zolz, me, and Sheriff Kirk Imperati.

It will air every Monday night at 6 on "The Beacon," a six-frequency group led by WGHQ, along with WBNR and WLNA. We're on AM and FM as well as the internet and, of course, Robcasting. "The Beacon" is part of the old Hudson Valley Talk Radio that I used to do the Renegades on.

I realize I'm often involved in shows because I'm the glue. What I mean by that is I keep things on the air, run equipment as needed, and act as a voice at times. It's essentially the role I play on "The Clubhouse." In that case, I'm the lead in that I open and close the show, as well as take us into and out of breaks. 

"The Clubhouse," by the way, returns Wednesday night on WGCH. While I'm at it, this is my entire schedule this week:

Mon, 6pm: Zolz's Are You Kidding Me...Again

Tue, 11:30: CT Roughriders/HC Hockey Club

Tue, 4pm: Doubleheader

Wed, 7p: The Clubhouse

Thu, 4pm: Doubleheader

Fri, 6pm: Wilton/Greenwich Football

Sat, 3pm: Phillips Andover/Brunswick Football

Sun, 9p: Meet the Beatles

So, if you're keeping score, I'm (still) on WGCH, fill in on football on WALL, do occasional interviews on WICC, appear on this group, and of course, do Robcasting, LocalLive, FloHockey, and so on. Did I miss anyone?

If only it, you know, paid, but those are minor details.

In the case of tonight's premier show, I got a crash course in running the studio* before we went live at 6 p.m. We had a few hiccups -- including 30 seconds of dead air -- but the content and chemistry were all solid.

*I ran Renegades games and worked in that very studio on and off for a bunch of years. The equipment is mostly the same. However, the automation that runs the commercials has evolved over the years and that's the part I needed training on.

As for the dead air, apparently, there was a hiccup within the automation software. Beyond that, things ran well.

It's a show that will evolve as we move forward. 

And it will be fun.

That's what sports talk should be.

We'll be back next Monday night at 6. 

As I Write This Letter

 

I felt the need for a breakfast sandwich this morning after a long day of football on Saturday.

I pulled myself together and got out the door to head over to one of the delis that is actually open on Sunday morning.

Sandwich and coffee in hand, I moved onto the WGCH studios and set up. What might not be known is that I don't just sit down and talk. Depending on the show, I have to set up a mixer and connections (for music) and the cable to go to Mixlr for Robcasting.

That's when it hit me.

Look, I would have enjoyed being at home, chilling out with coffee there, especially after another night of questionable sleep. Instead, I was sitting in a (too warm) radio studio preparing to do "Meet the Beatles."

And that was the point.

I get to host a radio show -- one that I came up with* -- about the greatest band in music history.

OK, I actually get to host at least three shows ("Doubleheader," "Meet the Beatles," and "The Clubhouse").

* I realize that, conceptually, "Meet the Beatles" doesn't break new ground. But it's a show that was in my mind for several years, and the idea was to see what I could do with a Beatles show of my own. Overall, I wanted it to be about the discovery and enjoyment of the music. If we can find some different avenues we will.

For the first seven months of the show, I made it my own personal journey, picking different themes each week. Sometimes, I'd go with a "dealer's choice" show that allowed me to just play music. Some weeks, I'd highlight a single member of the band or an album.

I'm sure some weeks have been better than others.

Bennie Rose will be on this month

As October began, I had my first guest on as Mark Zelenz was on last week. This week was just me, so I honored John Lennon's birthday. Sun Kings will join me next Sunday, and Bennie Rose will be on the following week.

We're talking about more guests -- singers, historians, authors, and fans -- that I hope you'll enjoy. I'm still trying to convince Sean to come in for a show, for instance. He doesn't quite understand why but I want him to explain his journey with the music, and it's an example of how it gets passed through generations.

But that's where my mind was this morning as I was sitting there. A lot of radio stations wouldn't embrace this idea.

WGCH did and those in charge like it.

I mentioned it in passing to Bob Small, and he was all in. It took a few months to get it on the schedule but it's now anchored at 9 a.m. on Sunday morning. Will it stay there forever? Who knows?

But there's been no interference. From time to time, I've had a few headaches about "Doubleheader" but that sound and fury has only come from one place, and, beyond that, it has gone away. 

I suppose what I'm saying is that, despite the lack of money the shows have been a joy to do overall. I'm not sure I can afford to do them much longer but I'm content to keep going while there is still the flexibility and hands-off approach. It fits in my schedule and that matters a lot.

WGCH is a gem. It's a gem that we need to make shine more. The website didn't work this morning but that's why Robcasting is always available as a backup. 

I want to make WGCH even better and shows like "Meet the Beatles" helps because it's locally produced.

That needs to be the approach.

We need to make more of that happen.

No Suffering in Suffield

 

The assignment was to call Brunswick football at South Windsor but I'd also been told that the setup wasn't necessarily "broadcast friendly."

Well, the people were friendly.

Let's start by cutting to the chase. It took me three hours to get from Greenwich to Suffield, CT. In no world should that happen but this is Connecticut after all. In fact, my Waze app told me to go up I-684 in New York and come back to Connecticut.

That, to be clear, was the better option.

I was slowed up in Brewster. Danbury. Newtown. Waterbury. Southington. I lost track after a while.

But I made it with some time to spare. I parked and ran into Gus, our trusty videographer. He suggested I speak with the man who let him into the press box.

OK, now that was a nice discovery: that there was a press box at all. However, the many turned out to be the athletic director and, while he was great to work with, he didn't have great news.

Sure, there was a press box but, in his view, there was no room for me. Suffield Academy runs its own broadcast so a student would be in the booth calling the game. Plus an official would be sitting in there to run the scoreboard.

In hindsight, there was actually plenty of room but there would have been the problem of two broadcasters talking out loud close to one another. I've done it. Many times. But it's not ideal.

I volunteered to take the landing outside of the press box. There was more than enough room for what I needed to do.

In the end, the Suffield Academy AD had no idea I was even coming and, in his view, "This is a first. Opposing teams normally don't bring a broadcaster." That, friends, is an issue to me.

I've covered Greenwich High football for 26 years now on WGCH, Robcasting, HAN, and so on. Especially on WGCH, every game was covered, home and away.

It should be expected in my opinion.

It's not some lavish thing that Brunswick does. I'm there to bring their audience a familiar voice and knowledge of their team.

One of my goals over my time with Brunswick was to reach a point where other schools began to expect to see someone broadcast their game. That someone hopefully being me.

We still have work to do there.

Nevertheless, the night went flawlessly. Sure, there were Suffield Academy parents nearby doing their thing and sometimes glancing back at me but there was no harm. I had a job to do and I did it, even if I did talk in a bit of a softer register due to the circumstances. But there's no way I'm staying quiet on big plays. The kids deserve that, regardless of the team.

In the long run, the Bruins won 35-7. Everyone seemed to depart with a smile on their face. The Bruins are 5-0 and have their Homecoming game next Saturday at 3.

I'll be there and happy to do so.

I think a few people know who I am there.

The drive home was far less eventful, taking roughly 90 minutes.

But, again, I was five minutes from the Massachusetts state line and roughly an hour from Vermont.

A state I haven't called games in.

That seems like a goal.

No Football Tonight

 

Greenwich football has a bye week and, as a result, it's a quiet Friday night.

Brunswick plays tomorrow at Suffield Academy and I plan on being at that one. However, I'm told the setup is a little wonky. I'm going to see it for myself unless I'm told to not go.

I don't do well with byes. For whatever reason, other games are otherwise quiet with the exception of last night's Newburgh/Middletown game. Last year, I picked up a few games at Stepinac but, alas, that's not the case this year.

Instead, today was a day for "Doubleheader" and laundry.

Otherwise, I'm trying to just relax and watch baseball.

And write, of course.

Oh, and catch up on the very little TV/streaming I commit to.

There are other games going on around the region and a night like this reminds me of how I've thought about doing my own "Game of the Week" concept that would be a true one. 

The CIAC, working with WELI Radio and the NFHS Network, has a "Game" in name only. It goes to what appears to be the best option for the crew, which tends to keep everything centered around the New Haven area. This is fair enough, but for the state to have a "Game of the Week" then it needs to go everywhere.

Back in the HAN Network days, I crawled through all of the FCIAC schedules to make sure we were being fair to the entire region. I tried hard to schedule a game involving every FCIAC team because we were the "voice" of the FCIAC at that time. Some games would get postponed or canceled and the goal would be difficult to achieve but we tried hard. I realize we couldn't make everyone happy.

So, in a state like Connecticut, a true "Game of the Week" needs to go Norwich and Danbury and Torrington. It needs to move around. I suppose it could come to Greenwich as well, although GHS does get what I think is sufficient coverage for every game. I'm legally required to say that.

In fact, Greenwich has been on the CIAC "Game of the Week" just once, at Maloney in Meriden last year. That, of course, is in the regional "sweet spot" off I-91 not far from New Haven.

For the record, that was a true "game of the week" ending on a field goal as time expired. NFHS/WELI and WGCH/Robcasting each called it.

So, just saying, if the CIAC wants another "Game of the Week," I know a guy who is willing to drive.

Let's think about it, in fact. In the last 10 days alone I've called games in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Connecticut, and New York. Before the season is over I will likely call one in Massachusetts as well. Let's not forget working in Rhode Island back in August.

Oh, yes, I'll travel.

Since I'm on that path, I still want to call a game at my niece's high school in North Carolina. Plus Chris Erway and I have discussed the same in his new homeland of "New ErJuania."

Heck, I've even pondered a game in Florida.

As a road enthusiast, I think that would be pretty fun. It also supports my mantra of "Have headset, will travel."

Not everyone thinks that way.

But these are the random things that roll through my mind during a bye week on a (too) quiet Friday night while watching Padres/Dodgers.

Oh, hey, I'm not sure if you know but the Yankees are heading into the American League Championship Series. The past five appearances have not gone well for the Yankees, losing the ALCS in 2010, 2012, 2017, 2019, and 2022. I'm hoping it leads to a World Series appearance this time.

There are, of course, other teams that have that same dream.

But it's worth mentioning again that the Yankees -- considered bereft of humor, whimsy, and joy -- made the ALCS.

It's funny, I think the Yankees have all of that. 

Winning creates that.

*****

Last thing tonight. I saw a recent tweet asking about how long broadcasters take to prepare for a game. To me, there is no set answer. My first concern is rosters and a space to broadcast from. Then it's looking for stats as a way to identify key players and storylines. Then I try to find players who have committed or are being looked at.

It's fun detective work.

Of course, our friend Msgr. Toxic had to weigh in via his sanctimonious, heavy-handed away after he took a break from his obsession with hating Bob Costas. Pretty amazing, given his "positive" nonsense.

Anyway, another responder wrote: "Print up the rosters and let’s go. Preparation destroys improvisation. I would tell younglings to prepare way less and trust their ability to tell the story way more. We’re not broadcasters we’re narrators, we’re hosts. I strongly advise against it."

Read that again: "Preparation destroys improvisation." That's perhaps the most ridiculous thing I've read. Thus that's a broadcaster that's hard to take seriously.

Again, I have the ability to get rosters and go because sometimes it's all I can do, especially when the game comes to me at the last minute. Others can't do that.

I'll be prepared tomorrow. With notes and equipment. And I'll be thinking about it as I drive to Suffield.

Hopefully, it doesn't destroy my improvisation. 

Because it never has.

It Was Just a Sandwich

 

I look at this with a sense of humor. As I do at most things.

I'm in Middletown, NY to call a football game -- the Middie Bears of the home team and the Newburgh Goldbacks.

I'm basically a stranger in a strange land here, though I've been to Middletown many times.

I pulled into the parking lot just under an hour ago, meaning I'm here in plenty of time for a 5:30 pregame and 6 p.m. kickoff. In fact, I've been in the region for a few hours, having stopped at Woodbury Commons to walk the outlets there.

No purchases were made but it was nice to walk around.

Before that, I made a quick detour into New Jersey -- maybe five minutes out of the way -- to a Wawa. A broadcaster has to eat and get fuel for the car.

So I grabbed lunch and added an extra sandwich to the order just in case I got hungry later.

Moving on, I came up to Middletown, stopping to grab two bottles of water. Always stay hydrated!

But that being said, staying hydrated also means having to use the restroom. So, before heading up to the booth at Faller Field, I stopped in the men's room.

I had my backpack over my shoulder, where I put my extra sandwich, along with the bottles of water. They sat in the outer pocket.

There were two guys in the restroom.

After completing what one does, including washing up, I walked upstairs. 

One of the guys left the room and I heard a giggle. Always thinking people are laughing at me, I got self-conscious.

Well, I'm now partially set up in the booth and, alas, one sandwich has gone missing. Could it have fallen out of my bag? Easily. No question about it.

Was it some prank? Possibly, even though I didn't know the guys. In fact, I know no one here.

Does it matter? No, not really. If the worst I've lost is a yummy Wawa turkey sandwich with cheddar, hot oil, and Old Bay? Not even close. Lunch is holding up just fine.

If it was taken from me then so it goes. If I dropped it then I'm an idiot. Either way, I probably didn't put it in the right place in my bag.

But the bigger point out of all of this is that the story is funny.

And it's a story. 

A story worth telling.

*****

I'm back home now and could have used the sandwich in question. But alas it was not to be.

Newburgh won the game 35-13 behind five touchdowns from Bruce Montgomery.

As I was working for another radio station, we weren't supposed to be using my equipment. Yet something told me to bring my stuff to the booth.

When Ethan McElroy, whom I was calling the game with, showed up with the equipment, we discovered a crucial piece wasn't working. 

Guess how this played out?

I used my equipment.

Preparation is a multifaceted concept.

From Ice Side

 

I'm home for a few minutes after calling the Connecticut Roughriders 4-3 overtime win over the Providence Capitals.

It was the kind of game in which one team scored. Then another. And they alternated until the extra session when the Norwalk home team got the W.

I'll be back with them again next week.

It's one of the most unique setups I get to encounter. I call the game from inside the visiting team's penalty box, which is also part of the scorer's booth. It's from there that I get power and access to plug equipment into the setup fro the broadcast.

To that end, an important piece of equipment couldn't be found at first, leaving me to think that I'd have to see if I had one of my own with me. 

Left to my own devices, I found the item, wedged in among other things. If you've ever worked in a hockey rink, you know that the chance exists to find anything. Al Capone's remains might be in some hockey rink.

In the end, all was well. OK, sort of.

Obviously, the FloHockey broadcast is the primary outlet. I provide Robcasting for those content to just listen. It also gives me access to an archive given I'm not paying FloHockey for my own broadcast.

I plugged in my podcaster, which gives me more control over the sound, including access to a mute button, thus cutting down on extraneous noise. It also allows me to run it through Robcasting.

Except it didn't work today for two periods, so I broadcast 90 minutes of just rink noise.

I put that squarely on my shoulders.

It's a unique setup from which to call a game. There's no booth and, to be closer to the camera and audio connection, I have to stand in the penalty box as I mentioned. As a result, I also serve as doorman for the penalty box.

And, as I'm sure you'll not be surprised, there's no edit button on players coming into the penalty box.

Yup, F-bombs a plenty.

More to the point, I call it as if I'm invisible. Sure, my voice can still be heard but I try to keep things under control as best as I can.

Oh, and the view isn't ideal. I couldn't see a goal score and one point; something I apologized for.

But, again, I'll take the challenge and run with it. Many think this is above them and I don't see things that way.

And in the middle of that are texts about other things in my wackadoodle world that also need attention. So it's always a wild ride.

Which is just how it goes.

The week continues. 

The grind rolls on.

Not everyone will sign up for this.

But I will.

*****

Today is John Lennon's birthday. The member of the Quarrymen was born on this day in 1940. We lost him in 1980.

John is a man who needs to be studied in context. He was complicated. That's the short version. For every "Run For Your Life," there was "In My Life."

But I'll be curious what post-1980 would have been like. Sadly, we'll never know.

Shine on, John. We all need that.

We all shine on.

Today's Project in Manhattan

 

I feel the sense to be somewhat short tonight. 

Expedient even.

Oh, I alluded to buying a rug in last night's post. Well, that was waiting for me when I got home tonight. Let's say it was a suggested purchase as a way of muffling sound here in my bedroom.

Sean and I are pretty quiet but 1930s floorboards are not.

But to the starring event of the day. I was asked yesterday if I was available to work.

I mean ... work? Money? Feeling useful?

So I was told to be in the office at 8 a.m.

And my body elected to wake up at 5 a.m. I mean, alarm? What alarm?

I ate a bowl of cereal, put myself together, and got ready to leave.

The job was back in the world of depositions, though it wasn't specifically that. I was asked to help set some things up. Nothing I couldn't handle, especially with a little guidance.

I was in the office before 8 a.m. That's when I started hearing talk of the number of cars we might need.

I figured we might be doing a job in Westchester County. I questioned that as we packed and got ready to leave.

Then I looked at my notes again.

Manhattan.

Look, we can moan about traffic, and, believe me, I sat in plenty of it.

On the Hutch. The Cross County. The Henry Hudson. The West Side Highway.

And I dealt with it all on the way home also. 

But you know that is going to be part of the deal. 

I found a place to park near the job site and we went about setting up.

After we waited. And waited. These things take time.

From there, it became a methodical process of setting up equipment, stringing cables, testing things, and making it all look as neat as possible.

Eventually, we began to deal with the reality of hunger.

I was so hungry that I was sleepy. Oh, wait, that was the 5 a.m. wakeup.

But it was an impressive setup when it was all over. 

And it was work. Good, honorable work.

And then I had a well-earned burger before driving home.

The day also meant spending time in a New York high-rise office building and all of the trimmings that come with that. At one point, I passed two women pushing mail carts.

I was immediately taken back to 1988, General Foods, Rye, in the "Taj Mahal" building to the side of I-287.

That was the very beginning of my corporate career.

The mail room.

And treasured times with people, most of whom I've lost touch with. I was a wee lad of 19 when I took the job, which ended my time as a full-time college student. I'd still get my degree years later by going part-time, but working there was the beginning of eye-opening years for me.

But there was something so innocent about those days in the mail room (and also the office supply stock room) in Rye Brook, NY.

And I was reminded of that as I walked around 55th Street today. It had to be 55th Street, right?

Stories that perhaps will be told at some other time.

But hockey awaits tomorrow and football follows in New York on Thursday.

And I'm prepping for them tonight.

Lastly, I send my love and best wishes to the people of Florida. If you've read this space enough times you know I have loved ones there and that the Tampa Bay area specifically means a lot to me.

Be safe and smart.

Please.

How About Just Focusing On the Game?

Vin Scully and Joe Garagiola

There seems to be an over-the-top obsession with broadcasting in this year's Major League Baseball playoffs.

Oof.

Let's start with the obvious. With Joe Buck happily nestled into Monday Night Football, Bob Costas has become the whipping boy for fans.

Costas, of course, is quite used to it, as the veteran of nearly 50 years has been a target of critics for years.

He's not on social media, so whatever criticism he hears is just that: hearsay.

Costas has been a lightning rod in part because he has become a commentator on various political affairs. That, obviously, is polarizing.

But, more to the point of sports, Costas brings a style perfected by Mel Allen, Red Barber, Ernie Harwell, and Vin Scully, among others. It's the basics of storytelling, reporting, glimpses of humor, and simplicity. At times, Bob can be heavy-handed in his opinions of various things.

What Bob Costas is not is a screamer. So many fans in this era want the Gus Johnson approach of busting a lung on every play. You're not going to get that on Costas. Buck dealt with the same criticism at one time. It's the same knock on Al Michaels. It's also insane.

There's a notion that Costas doesn't have passion yet I would offer that the man loves the game of baseball. Plus, and it needs to be said, he (and literally all of the national voices) does not have a rooting bias. They don't hate or like any team. They play it straight.

It seems fairly obvious that Costas doesn't care and the Ford Frick Award winner is in no danger of being fired anytime soon despite criticism that has a hint of ageism to it. I shudder to think what people would think of Vin now.

In fact, in my opinion, Costas should be doing the World Series and is perhaps the best living baseball broadcaster among Jon Miller, Dan Shulman, Joe Buck, and a few others.

Though, to be clear, Joe Davis, who will do the World Series on FOX is outstanding.

Beyond that, there also seems to be a heavy dose of whining (from one fan base in particular) about the national announcers. They want the local voices to be on these games.

To an extent, I get it, and it feels like an alternate feed would be the best way to satisfy that desire. Those things cost money so I will leave that to those smarter than I am.

There was once a time (aka "back in my day") when, for instance, ABC would have the national feed of Yankees/Royals and WPIX would have the local feed with Phil Rizzuto, Bill White, and Frank Messer. As I was fascinated, I'd flip between both. This, eventually, went away, as did using local announcers on NBC's postseason coverage.

At one time, there wasn't an actual "national voice." World Series broadcasters were chosen from the participating teams. Beginning in 1966, Curt Gowdy became the lead, and local announcers joined him in their home city. That continued until 1976.

I completely understand the attachment to the local voices. Believe me, it's frustrating to hear another broadcaster call a team that I cover all season. I can still hear Greenwich fans, who were angry that Chris Erway and I were not on the CIAC state championship call in 2022. However, we were on WGCH, as always.

I offered to call the 2018 title game but was offered the analyst spot. I couldn't abandon Chris like that and WGCH would have needed a play-by-play announcer.

So, yes, I do get it.

But there seems to be more noise about it than usual this year.

So it goes.

*****

I ordered a rug today. It will be here tomorrow.

Yes, there's a story there.

But we're good neighbors and good tenants.

And that's all I have to say about that.

For now.