Burrata Ravioli

 

Greenwich girls basketball warms up at Trumbull tonight.

The day started with The Cat.

Of course, it did.

He wanted to eat and I needed to get up early so it was a win-win, I suppose.

I worked a deposition today for the first time since I'd rather not recall the last one.

This was only supposed to be a few hours since I had a commitment but we all know those are famous last words.

I got them going and went about my day of monitoring them and catching up on a few other things, including preparing for the basketball I was calling tonight.

We started at 10 a.m. and I had been online since before 9. Standard operating procedure there.

We passed Noon. OK, no biggie. However, I set 4 p.m. as my end time.

Well, so much for a couple of hours. The deadline was approaching and they were still chugging along. It happened and everyone was nice on the case. Or at least professional. I was able to hand the remainder off and duck out but also had Sean on standby in case he needed to finish up for me.

It allowed me to work and, obviously, that's a good thing.

But I also hadn't eaten a meal. I needed something or else Greenwich/Trumbull basketball would have sounded bizarre. I would have been hungry, probably angry, and lightheaded.

A dreadful combination.

Thus, and I hate saying this, I stopped at McDonald's.

Oh, there was a time when I was young when that wouldn't have been unusual. Now? I don't do it a lot. In fact, not much at all anymore.

Once in a while, I'll get in the mood for fries or I'll need a quick breakfast. But a burger? No. It's rare these days.

And I ate as I sat in traffic heading up 95 to Trumbull High School.

There was no need to panic and, to that end, I didn't panic. I was on-site in plenty of time for the game, walking in while the JV played.

That being said, I was only about an hour early. That's not my favorite way to roll. I prefer being on-site no less than 90 minutes before but it happens.

But with the aforementioned JV game going on, Jeff Alterman and I couldn't set up anyway. So I chatted with Trumbull coach Steve Tobitsch, athletic director Mike King, and others.

Trumbull has adopted me in small pieces from time to time. You might know that. I've created a strong bond with them, Fairfield, and Greenwich of course.

And Brunswick. I'll be back with them tomorrow.

That's me. Always looking for a home.

Jeff and I called the Trumbull/Greenwich girls basketball game (Trumbull won 45-35) and we packed up. We'll work together again on hockey soon.

He loves bringing in people that I've never met to work with me and, as I've said, that's not something I love, but I realized there's a bit of a method to his madness.

He wants them to work with someone who has been in this business since Marconi was testing wireless signals.

OK, I'm not that old, but still.

I'm too dumb to realize that it's a compliment as well as a sign of respect and he was basically telling me that tonight.

Today was one of those days where I was reminded that I have stories to tell and lessons to teach.

Another edition of STAA's "Calls of the Week" hit "the socials" today and I listened like I do every week. Almost every week, it's roughly 10 play-by-play examples that feature (generally) college-age broadcasters screaming over some "unbelievable" play.

But this week featured a couple of calls that really impressed me, such as Alaina Morris, who I wrote about a few days ago (and basically no one read the post). A few highlights later it was back to ear-splitting screaming.

Look, it's hard to gauge a broadcaster based on just that. It takes a larger sample of their work though I still want to know they won't have a coronary on higher leverage plays.

Or talk over each other, which would get a talking to from me if I were their advisor.

That led to a tweet from that wise sage of Ohio, Mike Hirn, who voiced his frustration as well as an offer to give honest and free critiques. He tagged me and I'm in complete agreement.

And so I'm reviewing a few pieces of work tonight. There are -- yes, really -- some promising broadcasters out there, as well as a few veterans who just need a little cleaning up.

I love doing it. I love supporting other broadcasters however I can, whether it's offering advice on a battery pack to use on a MacBook at a game or listening to a college radio show.

But attitude matters. Don't be a know-it-all. Want to learn. Want to improve. 

That's where you get in trouble with me.

Also, want to pay it forward.

We have a Gus Johnson. Don't be a Gus Johnson.

Be you. Whomever you are.

And thus I drove home from Trumbull High School, hungry and excited to listen to some broadcasts to give free critiques.

In the fridge was a package of burrata ravioli, given to me by a friend.

Pot, water, sauce, mangia!

And on goes the sounds of broadcasters needing a tune-up.

You wondered how the ravioli worked into this post, didn't you?

Now you know.

Keep in mind I didn't really know anything about burrata until I was in London in 2022 and realized I'm a damn fool.

Knowing me, I was eating it without even knowing.

Thank you, Erik Boender.