There's Always Next Week

 

Rudy Gobert touches microphones as a "joke"
four years ago this week

I was looking forward to today.

The games were over, the clocks were changed, and the Beatles were the only thing on the agenda.

I got home around midnight -- or 1 a.m., given the eventual time change -- and actually passed out.

I slept. Legitimately slept, at least for a few hours.

Then I dragged myself out of the apartment and went to WGCH.

The theme of today's "Meet the Beatles" was underappreciated songs.

Now, hold up. I realize there is basically nothing about the Beatles that is underrated. I've read the myriad comments over the years that called them overrated, overplayed, etc.

I get it. Believe me.

Yet, my idea on the theme was to highlight songs that perhaps don't get the attention that others do.

You've heard "Hey Jude" and "Here Comes the Sun" and "Yesterday" so many times.

I played "She Said She Said" and "I'm Only Sleeping" and others.

I felt this was a show that was a little easier on my brain in that I didn't need to stress it. I could also play a few songs together, giving my voice a break.

Oh, I put my usual all into it.

But it just didn't feel like it connected.

I don't know how to explain it but there's a feeling.

I didn't sense a buzz. I didn't get many comments.

I mean, it happens. 

I've written posts that I've poured my heart into and the readership or reactions were minimal.

I've told jokes -- I'm not a comedian nor am I funny -- that I had to explain.

And, of course, the old "it was a joke," which is so uncomfortable.

I thought I put together a good show this morning. I liked the topic in that I knew it would take a little effort to pull songs that might be a touch off the radar.

I found some song suggestions online that worked.

Yet, sometimes, you just know when it doesn't quite jell.

I have that feeling today was that day.

I don't expect to explore too much new ground with this show. I know that. The Beatles are the most dissected act in the history of music. 

So much of their music exists and has been played and examined.

I'm hoping people might  -- might -- discover something they've never heard or haven't heard in a long time. As always, I hope to inspire.

Of course, I know the possibility exists that I'm overthinking it. I understand it.

But I also know my gut on these things.

And it's fine. I'm not disappointed or down about it.

I have other topics to try out as the show grows. I'll get right back to it next Sunday.

*****

I saw in my memories that today is the fourth anniversary of one of the strangest times I've ever experienced.

Heck, we've ever experienced.

It was four years ago on March 7 that I called Brunswick's last game of the 2019-2020 hockey season. It was a playoff loss to Loomis Chaffee.

That day, people milled about in the lobby of the Hartong Rink as normally. 

Mostly normal.

A dad I ran into gave me an elbow to tap when I offered him a handshake.

Two nights later, I did a basketball doubleheader at Trumbull High School. There was a hint of concern in the air about this thing -- this virus -- that was getting talked about.

I had a text from my mother telling me to get her from the nursing home she had been staying in since February. She was coming home.

That Tuesday morning, March 10, I drove to the home and sat in the lobby. I wasn't allowed to go to her room -- a new rule given the concern over the virus.

As I sat there, the CIAC announced that the Connecticut state playoffs -- the same ones I broadcast just the night before -- were over. An abundance of concern for the virus was the cause.

There would be no championships. No quarterfinals or semifinals either. It was all just ... over.

I'll always feel the kids got screwed but of course, it was also the beginning of a long road. The Class of 2020 got a raw deal in so many ways, including graduations that were virtual or in a parking lot, such as Sean.

The good news was that Mom was out of the hellacious nursing home, though she would face many challenges over the next six months. It's easy now to look back and see she was sent home to die.

Healthcare in this country. That's a whole different, disgusting post. Many thanks to Big Pharma and our government. If you don't have health insurance you're screwed and Babe Ruth forbid you need mental health care.

But I got Mom out of the nursing home, drove her to get an egg and cheese sandwich, took her back to Mahopac, and picked some stuff up at the grocery store or the house.

And I continued to rage over the CIAC situation and, worse, the way some journalists in Connecticut openly mocked the athletes who were angry at what had transpired.

Even now I feel my blood pressure spike. 

I did "Doubleheader" from home and do it almost exclusively from my home studio now.

A day later, I hosted "The Clubhouse" and "Doubleheader" from Mount Kisco.

That night, while eating dinner with "The Clubhouse" team, the world effectively stopped.

NBA player Rudy Gobert tested positive for this thing called Coronavirus or COVID-19. Games were immediately halted.

Soon after, Tom Hanks and his wife Rita Wilson announced they had the virus.

Eventually, it would hit my family, as my nephew fought it. In those early days, there was something quite scary about that news. He's fine now.

That Thursday -- Thursday, March 12 -- I called a Brunswick lacrosse game from the LocalLive offices in Stamford while the Bruins played in Pennsylvania. I confidently said I'd talked to everyone for the next game -- the home opener -- in early April.

Yet, as I prepared to start that broadcast, the Big East basketball tournament at Madison Square Garden closed after the first half of the first game.

When I walked out of LocalLive that night, downtown Stamford was eerily quiet.

There would be no lacrosse game that April. No baseball either.

I wouldn't broadcast another game until July. That lacrosse game was the last sports event broadcast from Connecticut as COVID-19 grabbed on.

"The Clubhouse" and "Doubleheader" were broadcast from home.

Yet, we never completely shut down. We couldn't. Mom had dialysis appointments and doctor visits. She needed me to get her to the grocery store or do the shopping for her.

Even though she bought a car after she got home (yes, true story), she only drove it a few times. She had me drive her the rest of the time.

One night I drove her to a parking lot in Danbury just so she could see my sister. We shared a pizza outside of the closed movie theater.

Thus began the long, strange trip of COVID-19.

Stories we will tell for a long time.

In so many ways, it began four years ago today.

*****

I don't think I have it in me to watch the 96th Academy Awards tonight and that's sad.