Easter 2024

 

(Photo: AP)

Happy Easter to those who celebrate.

Ultimately, things didn't quite work out as expected for me but it's fine.

Sadly, holidays just don't hold a lot for me for a bunch of reasons.

So, in taking stock of the day, I note the 4-0 start that the Yankees are off to. Winning, it has been said, is better than losing. It's hard to argue with that logic. 

Sweeping the Houston Astros -- no introduction necessary -- is certainly sweet.

But, without splashing cold water on this, allow me to at least be realistic.

It's four games -- four -- in March.

Can we hold the celebration until it really counts? 

Context matters a lot to me. Four games in March are wonderful but there are 158 to play still. Obviously, the games will mean more as the season goes along but a four game sweep in October would be best.

You know, like the Astros did to the Yankees in the 2022 ALCS.

But, weeding through everything, it's great to see this team showing heart. One of the hallmarks of the championship teams was their ability to never give up when down. Just consider the teams of the 90s and 2000s. I mean, think about the 2001 World Series alone, when they tied games on consecutive nights with dramatic home runs from Tino Martinez and Scott Brosius.

This team found themselves down or tied in each game and used a late rally to get the win. They also had two-out hits, such as today's clutch single from Juan Soto in the ninth inning.

Oh, I know it's just four games, but these are signs that are greatly appreciated. Pitching has been decent and the offense has threatened more than they did last year.

Still, health is a concern. Gerrit Cole is injured and so is DJ LeMahieu. 

But this is a fanbase who is hungry for a World Series, having last been to one in 2009.

I know, fans are spoiled. Mets fans have no pity for Yankees fans, nor should they.

But in Yankees Universe, 2009 to 2024 is a long time, up there with 1903 to 1921, 1964 to 1976, and 1978 to 1995.

Across town, there's a different emotion in play. The Mets lost all three games to the Brewers this weekend and looked lifeless at times, though they rallied before losing 7-6.

They also had a few skirmishes with Milwaukee, the result of a slide that second basemen Jeff McNeil found disagreeable.

I thought the slide was fine for what it's worth (not much).

The Mets will figure things out but they seem to understand it might be a long year.

As always, it will be an interesting summer around New York baseball and we're just getting started.

As for Shohei Ohtani, I still have questions and am very suspicious.

*****

Larry Desantis (ABC News)

I've continued to watch the news about the collapse of the Francis Scott Key Bridge near Baltimore and have been amused (to keep me from getting annoyed) by the amount of conjecture. Conspiracy theories and overreactions have abounded.

Everyone is an expert. Except me.

That aside, I've been expecting the human interest side of the story to emerge and I saw a brilliant one today. One topic I wondered about was drivers on the bridge before it collapsed.

Wonder no more. Abby Zimmardi and Jessica Gallagher of The Baltimore Banner wrote the story of Larry Desantis, who used the bridge to commute between two jobs. He finished crossing at 1:27 a.m.

The Francis Scott Key Bridge collapsed roughly a minute later.

Zimmardi and Gallagher showed the best of local journalism, developing the idea and doing diligent research before writing a compelling story.

It's the very thing that I used to watch Susan and my friends at HAN do. Heck, I tried to do it myself.

Local journalism -- good local journalists -- still matter and still exist. They're the ones who still have some integrity. 

Zimmardi and Gallagher told us all about Mr. Desantis, who will forever live with the knowledge of his drive between his two jobs.

The story -- read it here -- is wonderful.

My Happiest Place

 

My view from right field

Despite the sunshine, today was a fairly chilly day with the temperature hovering in the mid-50s.

But baseball was being played and I was on the air.

Win. Win.

It was my first baseball broadcast since the "rogue" call of the Babe Ruth World Series in Fredericksburg, VA last August. 

It wasn't perfect. Oh, it never is.

I was just happy to be back to the very thing that I love to do.

Fellow broadcasters grumble when they see our setup at Brunswick.

"Why are you calling the game from beyond the right field fence (harrumph!)?" they ask.

If you know the setup of the field, it sort of makes sense, like it or not. We need power for the camera, and there's an outlet on the scoreboard. It also helps me power my computer for my mixer and the Robcasting feed.

Doing it near home plate tightens things up, including my standing in the visitor's on-deck circle and just outside their dugout. We've done it but it also means the camera is shooting through the backstop.

Again, it's not ideal.

We dare to dream about a press box one day and a permanently installed camera but for now it is what it is.

No, the view isn't perfect from right field. It's hard to pick up a variety of things but, as I said to Brunswick's athletic director, a competent announcer is needed to fill in the gaps.

"I hope you guys find one," I said, and we laughed.

But, oh, baseball. The announcer's game. More to the point, the storyteller's game.

I can beat the proverbial dead horse to explain why the sport is so great but I'm not going to convince people (you know, the haters). Even in a game that ended 10-2 (Brunswick won) with 17 walks, two wild pitches, three hit batters, and eight strikeouts, lasting two-and-a-half hours, it was still mostly blissful.

Oh, and there was nearly a decapitated broadcaster. OK, that's extreme, but hear me out.

Remember, I said we were beyond the right field fence.

Loomis Chaffee's first baseman Gabriel Tirado launched a high fly ball to right.

Now, in the several years I've stood out there and called games, I've always been aware of the possibility of a ball getting to me. Obviously, my concern would be that the ball doesn't hit me, the camera, or my equipment.

And now I'm watching this skyscraper heading toward me.

Brunswick right fielder Reed Hyde drifted back to the fence, knowing he would likely run out of room. As the fence is movable, he'd possibly bump into me, the camera, or my equipment.

I continued to call the action. I watched the ball. I glanced at Hyde.

The ball went over my head and hit the scoreboard. A moment later, the ball rebounded to me and clipped off the back of my calf before rolling under the fence where Hyde picked it up.

Tirado also hit a second one later on and I thought for sure it was gone. It was foul. Oops.

A couple of Bruins players came out and got the equipment from me after the game and we laughed about the foul ball. You can laugh when you win. You can also laugh when the ball goes foul, especially since one of the players was the pitcher who gave it up.

The Bruins are 3-0 and I'll see them again this week.

And whatever was wrong with my call doesn't worry me. It's the first game. 

Baseball is back.

And it was also the 27th anniversary of the first time I walked into WGCH. What started as me being a rarely-used fill-in board operator turned into me being the board op of choice and co-hosting shows that I probably didn't belong on and doing anything the station asked me to do before beginning to work on football broadcasts and, yes, getting my chance to do play-by-play.

Now, I'll do play-by-play for basically anyone who asks. 

This game wasn't on WGCH. I've moaned about that enough times to fall on deaf ears.

Out of that came things like LocalLive and, yeah, Robcasting.

That's where I called baseball today and it made me happy.

A Picture Doesn't Tell Everything

 

Look at that guy.

He's smiling broadly in the middle of a field. Looks like a happy dude.

He's actually a wreck. He's lost.

As the picture says it was taken 16 years ago, placing it in March 2008.

It was Easter, to be exact.

I was dealing with the reality that I was going to be a divorced father and I was scared.

I've not told all of the stories -- the what and why and so on. To be honest, I don't know that they matter anymore. Plus I've always been protective of Sean as well as respective of my ex-wife's family.

The simple reality was that we weren't compatible. There was no point in staying together, even if it was just for Sean.

But that's part of what scared me. I loved being a father. I still do. I was terrified of losing him and what the divorce, along with the accompanying selfishness, etc, would do to him.

That continues to this day, by the way, but that's Sean's story to tell. 

Obviously, I've never lost him. If anything, we became closer.

But that weekend, we traveled to Bucks County, PA because my niece asked me if we wanted to go. Easter has never been a big holiday for me but I thought spending it like this would be good for us.

Still trying to have a hint of being a family, I asked Sean's mother if she was interested and she declined.

So I was dad for sure. I knew how to take care of my child but I felt like I was in the bullseye now.

We drove to Stephanie's house, leaving my car there to travel to Pennsylvania, where her sister Laura lived at the time.

Sean and I were both uptight to the point that he had stomach issues as we got ready to leave. Respectfully, I called his mother to get her input and her take was basically that he was fine.

After that, I needed to take the reins, no matter how much respect I tried to show, including having him reach out to his mother that evening to say goodnight.

A happy Sean in his car seat. My goal was to keep him happy.

The trip -- a Saturday overnight to Sunday -- was smooth and enjoyable. We went to a zoo in Norristown, had dinner, let the kids search for eggs on Sunday morning, and just hung out.

We also went to a nearby park on Sunday, where the kids (and the dads) climbed on the slides and swings.

As the kids were playing, I paused for a moment and collected myself. It was a cold but sunny morning.

That's when I took the picture.

It wouldn't be unfair to call the picture "What the F***?" because I suppose that's what I was feeling.

I can't stress enough that I was, ultimately, fine with the divorce. Oh, believe me, very fine. Especially with things I learned later on. But the road would be long and rather hellacious at times. 

The picture was a testament to my ability to smile through anything and survive. It was an attempt to document where I was and remind myself that I would be OK.

That's always what I needed to know.

I truly enjoyed that weekend. I was able to breathe. I also fell for Bucks County.

Sixteen years later, despite whatever the world has thrown at me, here I am.

Let the haters hate.

Have at it.

I'm still standing.

And smiling.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Happy Opening Day 2024

 

(Photo: Bob DeChiara, USA TODAY Sports)

I'm reaching into the Wayback Machine for this one. I've rerun this post from time to time and have been told this it was pretty good.

I remember being in a bit of an emotional state when I wrote it and I poured every ounce I had into it.

Baseball was my first love. I love all sports now but there was a time when I didn't know any better. It was baseball for me and nothing else.

It still ignites me even if the joy can be lessened by the surrounding noise.

First pitch is later today. With that, I present the post titled "Baseball" written on April 5, 2015.

*****

 From left: Lou Gehrig, Joe Cronin, Bill Dickey, Joe DiMaggio,
Charlie Gehringer, Jimmie Foxx, and Hank Greenberg. 

Check out that picture above. Look at them: Gehirg, Cronin, Dickey, DiMaggio, Gehringer, Foxx, Greenberg. Even non-baseball/sports fans know at least two of those names (Gehrig and Joe D., of course).

It was taken at the 1937 All-Star Game at Griffith Stadium in Washington. Look at that glorious NBC sign in the background. Incidentally, three radio networks broadcast that game (NBC, CBS, and Mutual).

You might not know that every one of those players is enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame. Yet they are. Those guys aren't scrubs. They're among the best to ever play the game of baseball. Naturally, I've written tons about The Iron Horse, and a few words about DiMaggio as well. Bill Dickey, by the way, is vastly overlooked.

For you non-fans, Jimmie Foxx was the loose model for Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own.

You probably know this, if you've read anything here, but I love this great game. My god, we've screwed it up incredibly over the years. The race issues were deplorable. The sport struggled with growth and competition from the NFL through the 70s (and it continues today). We've added playoff teams and dealt with drugs (steroids, greenies, cocaine, etc. Go on. Look it up.). We're worried about pace of play and bringing the inner city back.

We had Black Sox and a gambling Red (just put him in the Hall of Fame, please?).

We have the Babe. The one and only. The single greatest, most important athlete in the history of sports. Yes, I know, Jim Thorpe, Bo Jackson, and others might have been better true athletes, but given everything involved, there's Babe Ruth and everyone else.

We've sold our souls too many times. Baseball shouldn't open at night, but ESPN's money is too much to overlook.

Yet tomorrow, in the day, with the stands full and the records 0-0, the lines will be painted fresh. The grass will be gloriously green. I wish a band would play, and we could recreate some of the openings of seasons past, but a voice will intone the starting lineups, and they will gather on those freshly-painted baselines. The anthem will be sung. A ceremonial first pitch will be thrown. There might be a flyover or some other special effect.

Then, as there has been since 1869 (the generally agreed upon "first year" of Major League Baseball), a batter will step up to home plate. A pitcher - 60 feet, six inches away - will author a first pitch.

And there will be baseball. To me, for its history, grandeur, strategy - everything - it is the greatest game of them all.

Football is the national passion. Baseball is the National Pastime.

Give me 714. Give me .406. Sixty-one. Fifty-six. I wish we could have 1918 back, but time marches on. A fan knows what these numbers are.

Give me the billy goat. The Bambino. Curses real or imagined.

Give me those uniform numbers that we all know: four. Three. Seven. Five. Forty-two.

Give me The Mick. Jeet. Gabby. Dizzy. Daffy. Dazzy. Pudge. Yaz. Three-Finger. Blue Moon. Vida. Catfish. Bucky. Stan the Man.

Give me Willie, Mickey, and The Duke. Tinker to Evers to Chance.

Give me The Called Shot. The Homer in The Gloamin'. The Shot Heard Round the World. The Miracle of Coogan's Bluff. Those last two are the same thing.

Give me Ebbets Field. Forbes Field. Crosley Field. Now give me Camden Yards and Fenway and Wrigley. The Big A. Chavez Ravine.

Give me the corner of E. 161st Street and River Ave. The most famous address in sports history.

Give me the Royal Rooters and the Bleacher Creatures.

Give me 27 rings.

Give me those great quotes, from music to movies to TV and beyond.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game. "Luckiest Man."

“That's baseball, and it's my game. Y' know, you take your worries to the game, and you leave 'em there. You yell like crazy for your guys. It's good for your lungs, gives you a lift, and nobody calls the cops. Pretty girls, lots of 'em.”
―Humphrey Bogart

Give me Vincent Edward Scully. The man known as Vin. The man who learned at the side of Walter Lanier Barber, the Old Redhead himself sitting in the catbird seat, while the bases were FOB (full of Brooklyn).

Give me a Ballantine Blast. Tell me "It's Miller Time" or "This Bud's for you."

Give me Cooperstown (maybe in a little over a week from now).

I love this game. It energizes me. Engulfs me. Fills my heart, yet breaks it. It enraptured me for sure when I saw my first pro game in 1972 and a guy named Murcer doubled off another guy named Palmer. One is a hall of famer. The other doesn't need to be.

It made me cry when in 1996, my boyhood team won their first title in 18 years, and I couldn't share it with the one person I wanted to share it with.

Most of all, selfishly, give me a microphone so that I can broadcast it.

This is the beginning of my year. This is when I feel refreshed.

This is when I know that this horrible winter is over.

It's Opening Day.

Play ball.

Back to It

 

Brunswick warms up

Today was the first full day back in Connecticut after our vacation.

We had to return the rental car and then I had to call a lacrosse game.

Things got back to normal pretty fast. I had laundry done and folded by the end of last night. More to the point, I slept some but, as usual, not great. 

By late morning, Sean and I were on the road to return the car to Stamford. Usually prepared, I screwed up by not bringing my copy of the contract with Budget. Ultimately, it didn't hurt things but it sort of made me feel foolish.

Whatever. We departed and no extra charges were added. We had that car for 11 days and it was a pleasure.

With that done, we jumped on a train and came back to Greenwich. 

Once Sean found out we could take a train, he wanted to join me. Both train stations were within walking distance so it was a win.

With that done, I prepared to call my first game in a week and a half.

I felt rusty. It felt like I hadn't done a game in a month.

But I was back at Brunswick, calling lacrosse for the Bruins as they hosted Radnot High School from Pennsylvania.

Cool fact: Radnor's boys basketball coach is Tim Smallwood, who played both football and basketball and Greenwich. I broadcast his games, including the night he joined the 1,000-point club in basketball. My broadcast partner was his father. 

So Tim came to Cosby Field to watch the game and stopped up to say hello at halftime. We were going to try to have me call a Radnor basketball game this past season but we're going to get that done in the future.

Otherwise, like I said, I felt tired and caked in rust on the air. There are some sports I think I can seamlessly jump back into (hello, baseball) but lacrosse isn't one of them. I needed to find my groove and I don't know if I found it today but I will.

Oh, and Brunswick won the game 11-5. They're 2-0 on the year.

One thing I will tell you is that I already miss the road. That's unusual, as I tend to like a day or two (or sometimes more) before being ready to get back in the car.

Not this time. I'd go again if I could.

What sticks with me about the drive to and from Florida was how it was the culmination of something I've wanted to do for a very long time. It was something I honestly never thought I'd do because it's just easier to fly.

And, to be honest, those kinds of long drives can be seriously overwhelming. It's easy to have a moment in which you think you've bit off more than you can chew.

Yet? We did it. I had one patch of exhaustion through South Carolina last Tuesday and if you've ever done that drive I guarantee you understand. It's a lot of lowland and not too much to see.

Also, Sean seemed to really enjoy the drive. Look, I didn't create a sports fan but he enjoys working in the business and attending games. I also didn't create a traveler just like my dad and me but he enjoyed life on the road. 

Sean's not going to prepare and study guidebooks and websites and make notes and spreadsheets* and whatever else I do.

*I track times and mileages in a notebook and put them into a spreadsheet and I enjoy it, thank you very much.

But he was interested in doing that drive again. Also, he was intrigued by the idea of driving straight through.

I've done OK. That many days together can be tough but we survived.

Next year is at least worth discussing.

*****

Former Sen. Joseph Lieberman

I wade into this with trepidation but here goes. 

Joseph Lieberman, U.S. Senator from Connecticut and 2000 Vice Presidential nominee, died today at the age of 82.

I admired Lieberman, mostly because of his ability to bring people together. While he ran with Al Gore on the Democratic ticket in 2000, Lieberman was considered strongly by John McCain as his running mate in 2008, despite McCain being a Republican.

That was Lieberman and I admire that fiercely.

I suppose that's the larger point I want to make tonight.

We need more Joe Lieberman's (and I suppose John McCain's) because they were people who weren't hung up on parties and sides.

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

Lieberman was also always a great guest on Imus in the Morning. He gave good answers on topics and had a sense of humor.

Farewell, Senator, and thank you.

Baltimore (Heading Home, Part Two)

 

(Photo: Tasos Katopodis | Getty Images)

Most mornings, I look at one of my devices to get a sense of what's going on in the world.

This morning, the alarm went off at 5 a.m. and I sprung to action, heading into the bathroom at my niece's house to get ready to drive home.

When I returned to the bedroom that we used, Sean was sitting up and looking at his phone.

He went into the bathroom to get ready and I packed up. I folded sheets and the comforter that he used and made the bed I slept on look presentable. Then I folded up the air mattress that he used.

Then I looked at my phone. Kourtney (Kris's sister) had texted me. That's not entirely unusual since she's an early riser and heads to the gym. I figured she might be wishing me a safe drive home.

Yes, true. But there was more. She was checking on us as well.

A bridge had collapsed in Baltimore. A bridge that isn't normally part of my route but, still, I've been over it.

Grateful for the heads-up, my mind began to swirl. But, come on, collapse? What does that even mean? Did a portion of it collapse? A piece of concrete?

Then I looked online. Wow.

The Francis Scott Key Bridge -- opened in 1977 -- had been hit by a container ship.

It was gone.

Calmly, I began searching for more. Maybe WBAL -- Baltimore's news/talk radio station -- might have information.

It did but, at that point, I needed reporting. I didn't need talk about where the money for a new bridge would come from.

I told Sean and we were both horrified. Saddened. Shocked.

In the middle of all of that was the reality that we had to decide how to address driving near Baltimore on our way home from North Carolina.

Honestly, our driving inconvenience (if there was one) would be a small price to pay.

Petting a few cats and a dog, we ducked out of Kristy's as everyone in the house slept.

It was just after 6 a.m.

The important thing was to remind myself that we had all day and, at worst, until tomorrow to return the rental car. 

That's always the place I need to get to. That everything will be OK.

Still, the silicon chip inside my head was bordering on overload.

Do I head east towards Norfolk and run up the Delmarva? Do I head west and north through Gettysburg, PA? Do I clip West Virginia and use I-81? How do I avoid Baltimore?

In the meantime, both Waze and Google said the same thing: take the normal route. But that seemed silly.

So after having our last breakfast (at an empty Waffle House just to the north of Fayetteville), we began the drive up I-95.

By the way, the Waffle House really was empty. The waitress and cook were just sitting and talking when we walked in. Honestly, I felt a little guilty for making them work. But, in reality, they both couldn't have been any nicer, and the food was simply up to and beyond the usual standard.

But to the drive. We struggled to make time on 95, up to taking a break after crossing into Virginia. Then we hit typical DMV traffic between Fredericksburg and Springfield.

We moved along the Capital Beltway, crossing the Potomac into Maryland. For the most part, I was all about the bridge collapse, beginning with listening to CNN on SiriusXM before switching over to WTOP radio and, eventually, back to WBAL.

A note on CNN. Oof. I mean, I've done breaking news. It's not easy. You have to adjust and stay on your toes. But, again, oof. And, dammit, the journalism world weeps as one of the anchors turned into an almost-shouting exaggerator of a mess.

The speculation and the gloom-and-doom were just bad. I tried FOX and, for the record, that was only moderately better, but it was the audio of what Mr. Imus used to call "FOX and Fiends." 

Credit to the radio people at WTOP and WBAL for a much more measured and accurate approach. My faith in journalism was restored.

In the meantime, through the 200+ miles since Fayetteville, nothing had changed. The suggested route was to go through Baltimore. My alternate route -- U.S. 50 (secret I-595) to U.S. 301 to Delaware -- wouldn't be necessary.

We snagged lunch at a Wawa just off the Baltimore-Washington Parkway. We took our time and then I took a deep breath.

I didn't know what we were getting into but it was time to find out.

By that time, reports were that six people were missing. That was far more important and I remained glued to the coverage.

Something else had come to light by this time. Thanks to a warning issued by the ship, officials were able to stop traffic from crossing the bridge before impact. Even at 1:28 a.m., the loss of life would have been far worse.

But, sadly, construction workers fixing potholes were still on the bridge. While two people were reported as found alive in the water, six remain missing as of this writing. At this point, they are presumed dead. Of the two people found alive, one had injuries while the other walked away unscathed and declined treatment. Still, the one who went to the hospital had been released later in the day, according to the New York Times.

The impacts on the economy and infrastructure were among the hot topics burning up the radio. One topic I had zero patience for was the conspiracy theories and I saw plenty of that, including among just a few of those in the road enthusiast community.

Nope. I don't have the bandwidth for that. 

As for the drive, I have no drama for you. Waze and Google were correct. Whether I picked the Harbor Tunnel (Interstate 895) or the Fort McHenry Tunnel (Interstate 95) I would have been fine. We breezed through the Harbor Tunnel but there was an eerie feeling in the air.

Maybe it was just me.

I seriously can not imagine the horror for those workers on the bridge. According to the New York Times, they were migrants trying to support their families.

They were out for what should have been a typical job. 

The ramifications are just so tragic.

We got home just before 5 p.m. In fact, after our lunch at Wawa south of Baltimore, we didn't stop again. We were heading towards nearly five hours without a stop but we were both OK with that decision.

We've been home almost three hours and The Cat is back to his normal self while two loads of laundry are rolling around. And, for the first time in nearly 10 days, I'm in a room of my own, alone in my thoughts, while Sean has some privacy in his room.

After a night of sleep, we'll return the car and I'll get ready to call lacrosse at Brunswick.

It's time to climb right back on the wheel of real life.

Many thanks to everyone who texted to make sure we were safe this morning, especially concerned about what happened in Baltimore. It serves as a great reminder of what a wonderful collection of love and support we have.

And, well, after a break, I'll be ready to hit the road again.

Heading Home, Part One

 

All hail the mighty beaver!

Greetings from Stedman, North Carolina.

This is exactly where we were one week ago, heading south.

Today, we're heading north.

Tomorrow, the final 600 miles will speed by and we'll be back in Greenwich.

Back to life. Back to reality.

We got an early start out of Florida this morning and crossed into Georgia at 9:19 a.m.

I tried my best to savor every moment of the drive, just as I've tried to savor as much of the trip as possible.

We cruised through Georgia and were soon into South Carolina.

Probably our favorite town name (koo-saw-HATCH-ee)

Stops were kept to a minimum. After breakfast just a few minutes from Kris and Lori's, we went until I put gas in the car. We didn't stop again until 49 miles into Georgia. Then we went three hours until we pulled off at Buc-ee's in Florence, SC, where Sean and I both grabbed brisket sandwiches.

They were outstanding. We bow to our beaver overlord.

We were at my niece's by 3 p.m. and are now winding down, knowing an early alarm and a long road home await in the morning.

The emotions will be strong. I want to get home and there's no doubt about that. But there's the "end of vacation blues" that comes with the grind of those final miles. There will be traffic for sure. It was heavy today but it never stopped. Tomorrow I'm sure we'll hit some stops if we go anywhere near Washington, D.C.

Still, we'll try to continue to savor.

We know we're going to hit the ground running come Wednesday. I'll dive back into broadcasting games, with Brunswick lacrosse in action. Baseball and more will follow as the week goes along.

But it's important to live life. That's what I keep taking from these experiences. It's simply too short.

So I'm trying. I really am.

We've already begun talking about next year. Because, believe me, it's so tempting to go jump in the car and drive the final approximately nine hours.

I mentioned that in passing to Sean and he told me I was nuts.

That being said, we both talked about trying to do the whole drive in one shot next year. Will we? Who knows?

Let's get home first.

A Final Drive Down the Fairway

 

The view across the Anclote River from
Capt. Jack's in Tarpon Springs

Today was our last full day in Florida.

We went down swinging, even if that swing was with a golf club.

Oh, we had breakfast and it was magnificent. But we also had tickets to the Valspar Championship golf tournament final round. It's played on the Copperhead Course at Innisbrook Resort and Golf Club.

As we drove towards Palm Harbor, I pulled into Trinity Memorial Gadens to visit the grave of George M. Steinbrenner. The Yankees owner is interred in a mausoleum just inside the main gate. We quickly paid our respects and moved on to Innisbrook. 

The Boss

Originally a club, my grandparents (and the great-grandparents of Kris and Sean) were charter members. That meant we frequently visited the club for Sunday brunch when we were in Florida.

And brunch was magnificent. It had to be as we were required to dress in our best for the appearance, while virtually everyone else was in tennis and golf attire.

A nearby golf pro shop was about the only other place of interest for the teenager of the 80s could be interested once brunch was consumed and talk turned to multiple cups of coffee. But, in that pro shop, my interest in golf was piqued.

That, and I could see some of the golf course from the windows of the restaurant.

And so being able to return to Innisbrook for the first time since 1986 was quite special. So much of it looked different but the vibe was the same. 

But this time I was walking on the golf course as opposed to being that 17-year-old looking from the windows of the clubhouse.

The course, needless to say, is rather large, and the action can be somewhat mundane for the non-golf fan (I give you Sean). We all enjoyed watching Xander Schauffele drain a long putt for par on the 12th hole. 

Kris's dad (my cousin Ron) worked his magic to get us into an arena where he was watching the fourth hole. We enjoyed refreshments and a slice of pizza before resuming our walk.

But if you've ever been to a golf tournament you know it can be a long day of walking, watching, standing, and maybe sitting. 

There are certainly corporate things to gaze at, though many require special tickets. We did get pictures taken with the Snake Pit statue and, for the first time in my 55 years of visiting Florida, I spotted an alligator.

Before leaving, we looked at the merchandise but nothing really spoke to me. If anything, I wanted something that reflected the resort as opposed to either the tournament or the golf course. I'm hoping we'll come back when the tournament isn't on for that kind of stuff. I know I had an Innisbrook shirt many years ago.

Instead, the three of us packed up and took the shuttle back to the car to head to dinner in Tarpon Springs, where we sat on an open tiki bar overlooking the Anclote River with the sponge docks across the way.

It felt like the right way to begin to wrap up this wonderful adventure.

Back at our home away from home, Sean and I took a last walk around the grounds before joining Kris and Lori to talk (and pick on me). We both talked about what this trip meant to each other. Sure, I'm ready to return to Connecticut because I miss a few things there (including that silly cat) but this region of Florida means so much to me.

And I can never explain it properly.

It's nostalgic. It absolutely is. To that end, I drove by my grandparents' house in Holiday and realized just how much things had changed. The house is the same, no question, but it needs some TLC. The whole neighborhood does.

But, still, there's enormous nostalgia here. There's also family here. Family that I'm close to.

There are so many things that make me happy here. I didn't even get to Howard Park in Tarpon Springs but it's OK. We ran out of time. But that's just one of the many things that tickles me. The Sponge Docks and John's Pass and going to sporting events and walking around Tampa and driving out to Orlando.

In truth, I don't need to explain why this region produces such joy for me. You either get it or you don't.

Alas, my alarm will go off tomorrow morning and we'll pull ourselves together. We'll say our goodbyes and hit the road.

Then North Carolina awaits.

Then The Cat awaits.

Then reality strikes again.

Today was a cherished finish to a cherished trip.

Thank you, Florida.

Until next time.

The Disney Conundrum

 

I felt like I lost money driving under this sign

There are times that I feel I've failed as a father.

My child, for instance, has never been to Walt Disney World.

Until today, that is.

Now, hold on. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We didn't go into any of the parks. We didn't step on one ride or have churros in the shape of mouse ears.

We elected to only go to Disney Springs, the shopping, eating, and entertainment complex.

And "we" was the father/son combo.

Now, understand that I was never one to "keep up with the Jones" if you will. I didn't care what the other families did or any kind of economic pressure.

In fact, it was economic pressure of another kind that kept us from going to Disney World, or Florida for that matter. I couldn't afford it.

Sadly, it just never happened.

I will say that Sean also never pushed to go to Disney World.

But, until today, he had never been.

We talked a lot about going for a day this year. Ultimately, he decided that the ticket price was too steep.

I mean, a ticket to any one park was $180 today? So, if you're doing the math, Dad gets to drop $381 (with taxes) for two tickets.

Ultimately, the theme parks were ruled out for this trip.

Side note: Amusement parks should have a "visitor only" option that allows a guest to come in and not go on any rides but just guests to visit. I'm still going to visit the gift shops and restaurants. I mean, common sense isn't common.

But I thought Disney Springs would give Sean a chance to get to Orlando and catch a sense of the Disney buzz.

I was right.

We scuffled through traffic out Interstate 4 and grabbed parking (shockingly free). 

In truth, Disney took very little of our money. Intrigued by the Coca-Cola Store, we went to their rooftop beverage bar where I had a glass bottle of Coke. Sean, not a carbonated drinker, fetched a grape drink from their fountain.

An inexpensive T-shirt later, we moved on.

We mostly walked around, visiting the two Star Wars stores (I do NOT need Star Wars mouse ears) and the large World of Disney store (Sean declined to wear mouse ears for his father).

We strolled through some other stores as I regaled him with stories of visits when I came with my family as far back as 1971.

We watched vintage amphicars take guests on a 20-minute tour ($125, thank you very much) and a performer move around on a mobile piano. I admired her talent and gusto. It takes a special kind of person to grind like that, hoping for whatever opportunity comes from moving a moving piano at Disney Springs.

Most of all, it had a feeling of Disney World without being in the theme parks.

Look, I have very mixed feelings when it comes to Disney. On the one hand, their greed (yes, I know it's a business) borders on astounding. The feel-good that came from being a kid at Walt's utopia in the 70s is largely gone when seen through a jaded eye.

On the other hand, watch a little kid (or become a little kid) and it all crystallizes. I felt something in my heart with each glance of Mickey Mouse -- returning to being a child, when I had (and still have in my attic) a stuffed Mickey.

Heck, I still have a Mickey Mouse watch that I bought years ago. It just sits in a box.

So when I saw a Walt Disney World T-shirt with a classic Mickey Mouse on it, I smiled.

Then I decided I didn't want it for $34. Besides, it's not going anywhere.

As we left Disney Springs, I drove a bit of the grounds to see if Sean could get more of a feeling.

You bet I got my picture taken with the Coca-Cola 
Polar Bear! 

If anything, it was more nostalgic for me, remembering visiting when I was a kid.

Or remembering playing on the Fantasia mini golf course.

Sean, never one to voice what he's feeling, laid mostly low on the topic.

But back with Kris and Lori, we grabbed dinner and ice cream before coming home.

"So did today give you your fill of Disney or do you want to go back?" I asked.

"Oh, I definitely want to go back," he said.

Save your money, Sean. We can go next year.

Though jaded, you'll never forget it.

Rainy Day

 

Taken in Ocala on Tuesday

Florida is a state that, generally speaking, you visit because you want to be outdoors.

That doesn't mean there aren't good shopping options and museums and other things that will get one inside, but the amusement parks and beaches are all in nature.

So when the weather turns ugly, the options change a bit.

Today was supposed to be a wall of rain. We had heard it would be one to two inches of precipitation but that didn't quite materialize.

As I write (after 8 p.m.) the rain has kicked back in but, otherwise, the storm turned and we didn't get the expected amount. I had some heavy rain during the overnight but that seemed to be the worst of it.

So, with the threat of rain, that meant adjusting. The beach wasn't realistic of course. The theme parks weren't either and, besides, they're pretty expensive.

None of the indoor options were working.

So we spent a chunk of the day around our home away from home.

Eventually, we went into downtown Tampa to walk around.

In truth, I've never known much about Tampa itself. Oh, sure, I know Steinbrenner Field and Raymond James Stadium and things like that but I really didn't know the downtown area at all.

I've always heard about Ybor City, but that's more of a restaurant/bar area and the three of us weren't looking for that.

So we opted to stay closer to the home of the Tampa Bay Lightning, Amalie Arena.

We found parking and took off on the Tampa Riverwalk before finishing at Sparkman Wharf, which has some shopping and dining options.

However, we had dinner plans so we took note of everything and committed to coming back one day.

Admittedly, I'm not good at being inactive on vacation unless I have to. Thus I was happy to get out and take the walk before returning to meet up with family for dinner.

After dinner, we treated ourselves to some ice cream and are now beginning to settle down.

We have two full days remaining here in Florida before our scheduled departure on Monday morning.

*****

(Screenshot from video posted on social media)

Despite the love of travel, the real world carries on. With that said, I wanted to share a note of support to Catherine, Princess of Wales. Princess Kate hasn't been seen in some time and there was the thing with a picture that was apparently edited.

To be honest, I hadn't been paying close attention.

But today she posted a video to announce that she has been battling cancer and while the video is upbeat in that she "is well and getting stronger every day." To that, I say bravo but I also hope it is true.

I'm no expert when it comes to the Royal Family but I have a healthy regard and respect for them. Princess Kate has always struck me as extremely likable. Regardless of likability, she is a mother and a wife and worthy of respect and compassion. Also, she is only 42 years old though cancer pays little attention to such things.

But what I'm trying to say is that I hope for a speedy recovery for her. I know there is the scrutiny of her subjects, social media, and the press. I think she handles all of it with grace, much in the same way her mother-in-law once did.

Speedy recovery, your Royal Highness.

My Drive

 

We slapped this day together.

Breakfast? OK, we did that. There's an outstanding local place across the street that we ate at last year. Not everything has to be Waffle House.

After pulling ourselves together, the three guys (me, Sean, and Kris) grabbed three tickets to the Tampa Bay Rays/Philadelphia Phillies game at BayCare Ballpark in Clearwater. We bought the tickets as we drove, pulled into the parking lot, and were waiting for our tickets to be scanned as the national anthem sounded out.

Oh, we had "berm" tickets, meaning on the grass beyond the outfield fence, but we never sat down. We stood and leaned.

What a ballpark. Honestly, that might be the best of the spring training offerings.

And it was packed. 

The Phillie Phanatic. Pound-for-pound, he's as 
good as mascots come

And it was a pretty good game, as the Phillies rallied to take the lead before the Rays tied it in the top of the eighth and won it in the top of the ninth.

We also had a treat, grabbing Krispy Kreme donuts in Tampa on the way home.

And dinner. Oh, my. Steak, fries, salad.

To top it all off, Sean and I decided to make a late run to John's Pass in Madeira Beach. Kris and Lori elected to hang back, giving us some father/son time.

While I would have been pleased had they joined us, we still enjoyed ourselves.

The first stop -- after getting ripped off for parking -- was the beach. Sadly, any hint of daylight was behind clouds so we stepped into the Gulf of Mexico with no sign of sunset.

No matter. The water was chilly but we adjusted, simply talking and laughing and watching the nearby drawbridge lift up for a passing sailboat.

Then we walked around the shops and took in the evening. We did what we do -- telling stories and laughing. Even serious topics are mostly handled with honesty and humor.

In the end, neither one of us spent a dime, even passing on ice cream (Sean decided the lines were too long). 

That's when I decided to treat myself by just driving.

I drove closer to the water at first, coming up along US 19 Alt through Seminole and Largo and Clearwater before branching off at Dunedin.

Using SR 580, I connected with US 19 to roll up through Palm Harbor and Tarpon Springs into Holiday, where my grandparents lived for many years.

Dripping with nostalgia, I fought the urge to go any further as I veered toward our home away from home, passing the two cemeteries where my father and George Steinbrenner (!) are buried.

Two separate cemeteries. Just in case that wasn't clear.

Sean was content to do his thing as I fussed with the radio, listening mostly to Q-105, which I've listened to here for roughly 40 years. Even if I was less than pleased with their musical choices. Then again, that's sort of how I was when I was sitting in the passenger seat, hoping they'd play Huey Lewis and the News back in 1986.

Some things never change.

Rain is supposed to really dampen things (yeah, I know, bad pun) tomorrow but we're considering our options about how to spend the day before moving into the weekend.

Monday -- and the road home -- will be here soon enough.

Καλός (Translation: Good, as in "A Good Day")

 

The view from the Courtney Campbell Causeway (Fl SR 60)
between Clearwater and Tampa

Today was a happy day.

Aren't those nice words to read?

They're nice to write as well.

Family, food, laughter, walking, great views, shopping, nostalgia.

Does that hit everything? Perhaps.

Waffle House started the day because you bet it did.

I mean, today was day three of our trip and it was the first time we had strolled into the place more commonly known as heaven.

Breakfast on the first two days was spoken for and we just didn't go at any other time of day. I suspected we wouldn't go until this morning and I wasn't bothered by it.

The All-Star Special was as spectacular as always, even as we juggled the plates on the table for space.

We pulled ourselves together and went to Tarpon Springs too.

I've written about Tarpon numerous times. Founded in 1876, it saw the rise of sponge diving and became the home to the largest percentage of Greek Americans in the U.S. for a single city.

The St. Nicholas Boat Line began offering tours as a chance to learn about the sponge industry in 1924. As the 20th Century moved along, shops opened along Dodecanese Blvd. offering sponges and more.

Eventually, that grew into myriad gift shops with plenty of Tarpon Springs-related items.

Junk? Sure. I mean, I'm not naive about these things. But great also.

Last year, I came away with a hoodie. I added a long-sleeve t-shirt today. I mean, how could I say no to a $5 shirt?

But more than trinkets and other bric-a-brac, Tarpon Springs is alive with other shops of interest as well as restaurants and bars. Sean specifically wanted to go to Hellas Restaurant and Bakery, with emphasis on the "bakery."

Opened in 1985, Hellas offers authentic Greek dishes as well as plenty of baked goods. In my case, it was caramel cheesecake and it was delicious.

The time in Tarpon Springs at the Sponge Docks can stretch from minutes to hours depending on interest and pace. For us, it was a few hours.

For me, it's always a return to being a little kid, looking for goodies while walking around with my parents. There's the nostalgic part of all of this.

However, for those who wondered, we did not go to the statue of the Greek fisherman outside of the restaurant that used to be outside of Pappas' Riverside at the corner of Dodecanese Blvd. and Alt. U.S. 19. Well, let me amend that. We did walk by the statue, but we did not update the picture that Sean and I took there last year, which itself was an update of a picture of my father and me from 1980. We don't need to take a new picture every year.

This day was in my wheelhouse, and we had dinner plans that allowed me to watch as we drove past areas that I'm quite familiar with as well along U.S. 19.

Oh, things have changed, no question, but there's still a familiarity to all of it, conjuring memories of vacations from a generation ago.

A happy day ended with dinner next to the Manatee River with more family before we made our way back to our accommodations for the week.

With any luck, it will lead to a good night's sleep.

Back in Connecticut, we know our home and Rascal are in good hands. That means a lot to both of us.

More happy days await.

End of the Road For Now

 

I love the smell of Buc-ee's in the morning

The time was 10:39 a.m. on Mar 19, 2024.

It was a sunny Tuesday even if the temperature was chilly for the time of year.

It was in the low 50s as we crossed the St. Mary's River.

For the first time in almost 35 years, I had driven to Florida.

Waves of memories went through my mind in that moment on I-95.

Thoughts of a silver Chevy Impala and turning the radio dial looking for a decent station.

Thoughts of being thankful to reach that point combined with the reality that roughly another four hours awaited before reaching our ultimate destination.

But, first, it was the thought of taking a picture -- something we didn't do in 1989 or any other drive before that.

After that, we pulled off to the welcome center, where I calmly got out of the car. Sean followed, likely assuming I wanted a restroom break and a chance to add to my map collection.

Yes, all of that was true. But, in reality, it was a mild surprise for Sean.

"Walk straight in," I said, as I held the door open.

In the welcome center stood a nice lady between several orange and grapefruit juice dispensers. She smiled and welcomed us to Florida, offering each of us a sample of Sean's nectar of the gods.

He had a broad smile on his face. Even with what was basically a double shot of OJ, he was thrilled.

Indeed, four hours later, our drive was complete.

Hanging with Forrest Gump at the 
Georgia Welcome Center. He didn't offer
me any chocolates.

With stops included, we drove just over 1,200 miles. Each day's drive -- again, with stops -- was nine hours and thirty-five minutes.

So, basically 19 hours.

We didn't rush our breaks, allowing us a half-hour this morning at Buc-ee's, for instance. But we also just go.

We'll stop if needed but, generally, we don't need. 

As with yesterday, we made three stops that were basically for the restroom and food. Except today we added a car wash break.

The pollen in North Carolina was so intense that our car was green when we drove away this morning.

So we pulled into a little car wash in Ocala, FL and got cleaned up.

While much has changed since I last made this drive, one truth remains solid: South Carolina is a long three hours on I-95.

I stayed awake but it wasn't easy. 

And U.S. 301 from Interstate 10 down to Ocala is a grind.

As we crossed into Florida, I found myself feeling amazed that we had done this.

For 35 years, I've said I've wanted to do the drive again but never really thought it would happen. 

Sure, there are always best-laid plans and all, but I just thought it was a pipe dream. Besides, why not just fly?

But we did it. And Sean was a champ. As always, the right companion.

However, let's not overdo the excitement.

We still have to drive home next week.

This is the exit we used to go to my grandparents.
Today, we went another 10 miles

Take 95 South

 

New Jersey Turnpike this morning

STEDMAN, North Carolina -- I know this drive.

Greenwich to Stedman, which is just outside of Fayetteville. 

Or Mahopac to Stedman.

I've done it -- what? -- 12 times over the last decade?

It's right around 600 miles and, if the fates align, can be done in nine hours in probably the best-case scenario.

With stops, Sean and I were here in just under 10.

Stops. Just three. All Wawa's.

Kearny, NJ. Abingdon, MD. Fredericksburg, VA.

The one in Maryland was foolish. Sean asked for a restroom break. I didn't need to veer to a Wawa for that but it's a habit in the "land of the Wa" to go to one.

But that's it. We just kept moving.

We hit some traffic.

Washington, DC. As I told you we might.

We hit some construction traffic here in North Carolina also.

But every time we're here I am reminded of why we're here.

It's family who get us and who we get. It's quirkiness and fun. None of us take ourselves too seriously.

Plus there are cats. And a dog. None of that hurts the appeal.

My alarm went off at four. Yes, 4 a.m. As it was, I didn't sleep that great and I often don't, especially before traveling. Mostly because I'm mentally afraid I might miss my alarm.

To that end, Seans' phone was doing some kind of update and turned his alarm off. He was less than thrilled when he discovered it was 4:40 and I was dressed, packed, and ready to go.

But we left at 5:09. It's hard to be annoyed at that.

The miles then began to move. As New Jersey reached its conclusion, I prepared myself to conquer the beast that has lingered in my mind since last November: a bridge.

To be clear, it's the kind of bridge that rises to a peak. This isn't the bridge over the Tappan Zee or the Bear Mountain Bridge. 

This is the Delaware Memorial Bridge in this case. 

Last September, I came home from Virginia via Pennsylvania and into New Jersey on the Commodore Barry Bridge. At the apex, I felt somewhat lightheaded and the makings of a panic attack. I safely got to the bottom despite the lunatics in my brain and immediately found some food, figuring I was too hungry.

A few weeks later, I experienced similar things on three bridges to and from calling softball in Staten Island.

I had not been over that kind of bridge since and knew today was the day.

Despite the buildup, I'm here to tell you I made it across without any incident. I'm hoping my prognosis of making sure I'm adequately energized is correct.

Washington Crossing the Delaware
Emanuel Leutze, 1851 (Public Domain)

I can't tell you how good it felt to cross the Delaware. I felt like George Washington.

It had been weighing on me for months. I was truly worried that I couldn't drive across bridges like that. That's not to say I won't be conscious of it in the future but it was a relief for today.

I relaxed after that and we carried on.

As content as we are here in North Carolina, we will be back on the road early tomorrow morning. 

We will be in the Florida sun before it sets.

Wearin' O' the Green

 

My dad (center) with his parents, Sep 1957

I finally put something green on.

I've been working around the apartment all day and, as I put a load of laundry in, I popped on a pair of green basketball shorts.

There. Happy St. Patrick's Day.

Mere steps away from our place was the annual Greenwich St. Patrick's Day parade. Given Sean, Chris Erway, and I were going to host it on the radio at one point, I didn't have much of a drive to walk over to it.

WGCH had a car in the festivities but I was bummed there was no broadcast.

So, I kept myself occupied on this day of mixed emotions.

I could hear just a little of the hoopla as I bounced in and out of the apartment all day.

We're getting ready to leave for Florida and the last day before traveling is always hectic. At least, it is for me.

So there's the aforementioned laundry to do, cleaning up the car, staging things the way I want for the drive, cleaning up and making sure everything is in place for Rascal while we're gone, and so on.

Plus, with the warmth, I allowed myself a break by grabbing the reclining chair that I use on the balcony. I sat out there and ate lunch. I even gave myself a moment of "sláinte" by grabbing a cold beverage.

It wasn't Guinness but it would still do just fine.

I even created next week's "Meet the Beatles" by recording it here in my studio. I will post it in the archive after it runs next Sunday.

Basically, we could almost drive away now. We won't but we could. Sean has something going on so he told me if I considered leaving I'd be going alone.

So, no. We'll leave tomorrow morning.

I also caught up with my sister today, who wished us well on our trip. She just got back from Florida. 

I realized after we hung up that we didn't talk about our father.

It was 35 years ago tonight that I came home to the news that Dad had died at 59.

In an instant, life changed completely. There's no way around that.

Such a thing is impossible to calculate but exactly what would have changed had he lived longer?

"Everything" is too easy to say but it's not entirely wrong.

It goes without saying how much he is missed. I truly think of him every day and I suppose I try to live up to standards that would make him proud. I think we all do that.

I liked most of those standards.

Let's be honest, this trip is a tribute to him in many ways.

He taught me to hit the road early on trip day and to make every moment count. He gave me a wonderful sense of direction.

He taught me to be weary of Washington, DC traffic and to keep things on the entertainment system that keep a driver alert.

Conversely, I don't sit at meals for long to have extra cups of coffee. Plus, I don't smoke so there's that.

We'd pull into a Howard Johnson's in somewhere like Roanoke Rapids, NC and you knew you'd be off the road for at least an hour.

"More coffee, sir?" he'd get asked and, well, you knew the answer.

I can easily take my coffee in the car and I'm sort of content to eat and drive.

Incidentally, I miss Howard Johnson's but that's a whole different topic. He'd be amazed with the grab-and-go life of Wawa's and Sheetz and Bucc-ee's.

But I know him. He loved being "Uncle Don" and stopping at his niece's house would have been a no-brainer.

That's where we'll be tomorrow night. I love being "Uncle." I always have.

The hurt of his passing will never subside and I've accepted that. I still choke back too many tears on that topic and his fingerprints will be all over this trip. I'll see the sites that I saw with him. Places that he taught me to love.

The last time I drove towards the bottom end of South Carolina, through Georgia, and into the Jacksonville, FL area was in 1989. It was six weeks after he died. I'll likely stand on the same beach that I did on that trip when I looked at the water and pondered what the hell had happened. Still, it was the first moment of serenity during that time. To clarify, I was there for the funeral of my grandfather.

My dad's dad.

And so I had the right approach today. I did a radio show and then recorded a second radio show before going to the grocery store. Plus all of the other things that I did to stay busy and not be preoccupied with St. Patrick's Day.

It was another day, even if it took me hours to come around to put something green on.

Happy St. Patrick's Day if that's your thing.

It's still mine. Within reason.

Behind the Scenes

 

Yup. Hockey.

The Vipers have just finished a 14-4 win.

Yes, that's a hockey score.

I'm sitting in the rink while players meet fans and families.

The drive will follow as I've already packed up.

My throat hurts, my voice is tired, and the drive will be a drag.

But I spent most of the day in the mighty Hudson Valley.

Stop one was with my road friends -- Dan, Laura, Connor, and Doug, plus Laura's daughter Rainey.

I hung out with them as they prepared for a presentation on YouTube about Austin, TX.

I don't have much to add about Austin but I'm sure I could have survived had they asked me to talk. At the very least, I'm a decent moderator at that point.

But I hung out and watched the preparation of PowerPoints and pictures.

Plus there was food, with Doug making meatballs, wings, and corned beef and cabbage. It's St. Patrick's Day tomorrow after all.

They're good people --  all of them -- and I like being that fly on the wall as we talked and laughed.

We road types talk about more than just, you know, roads. OK, sure, we talk bridges and other infrastructure items, but we also talk sports, kids (Rainey is too cute, and she was climbing all over me), and life in general. Plus Dan's a big Beatles fan with an impressive collection of music.

Including things I don't own. Yes, I'm a touch jealous, but he'll be on "Meet the Beatles" eventually.

I left them and made my way to Poughkeepsie in plenty of time for puck drop.

Kris, Logan, and Danny were among those in the crowd who joined me.

Fun times as the Vipers poured the goals in the net and the penalties in the box.

There were numerous fights and, let's be honest, fans love that stuff.

Me? It's fun but it also adds to the length of the broadcast.

Which is now complete.

I have to get home and get at least a little sleep.

Tomorrow is a big day with "Meet the Beatles" live at 9 a.m. plus a recorded version to play next Sunday and laundry, packing, shopping, etc.

Time to go.

Two More for the Right Reasons

 

Norwalk High School gym

Two more games are in the books for me.

Tonight was the FCIAC Freshman basketball games. The girls played first and the boys followed.

It's the third time I've called these and it's a volunteer effort. Spearheaded by Glen Colello, there is a DJ spinning music all night and a three-piece band playing at various breaks in the action.

Plus me. Or, tonight, us, as Chris Kaelin joined me for the call. I haven't worked with "Kato" in a few years so it was great to see him.

These are a different kind of broadcast and, frankly, a little bit of a different kind of game. They play 20-minute halves and players can't foul out. Defense is generally minimal, especially in the boys game.

The rosters weren't put in our hands until just before game time because confirmation was needed to make sure the players all showed up and, to that end, there were a few changes.

While I do get to call the play-by-play, it's also a showcase night for the coaches, players, and the conference so we work in a lot of interviews, specifically with coaches from the FCIAC.

That took us off of the "nuts and bolts" of play-by-play details. Admittedly, that's not easy for me since these are radio play-by-play calls where details matter but it's part of the adjustment of the evening.

The coaches love talking about their players and that's coverage I'm happy to give.

I think it all works just fine even if I'm being my own worst critic as I worry about the broadcast.

"Kato" begins making his way up to our spot

If you listened then you heard the band and the DJ, who kept up a running play-by-play of his own all night. That was a bit of an adjustment for me but the crowd seemed to enjoy it.

It's a night to shine a light on all of it and I'm thrilled to do that.

Glen was kind to include a picture of me and the Robcasting logo in the program, and that's certainly good for the coverage, but it's not about us at all.

With that, save for the Hudson Valley Vipers, the winter season is over.

I know that Connecticut will wrap up the basketball season tomorrow and Sunday at Mohegan Sun, while hockey wraps up early next week in Hamden.

We would be happy to jump on those state championship calls but our talents will be utilized elsewhere.

Then, as soon as we're back from Florida, it's onto Brunswick baseball and lacrosse.

Ah, yes, baseball.

I mean no disrespect to any other sport when I say this, but I got into play-by-play because of baseball. That's what I've wanted to talk about since I was old enough to talk. The fact that I developed the skill to carry all of these other sports has been a blessing.

I love the challenge of bringing them all to you.

But baseball will always be that first love.

Soon. Very.

But, tonight, I was happy to be at Norwalk High School.