At the Diner

The Somerset Patriots' alternate identity

 

We had dinner at the diner tonight.

It's a diner I've passed by so many times but had never been to.

So the diner food was consumed. Burgers and sandwiches and the like.

For the record, I had a grilled mozzarella cheese sandwich with fries.

The attendees of the dinner at the diner then turned to business.

As the food and carbonated beverages were consumed (I had water), people spoke and said whatever they had to say.

It was peaceful.

Civil.

Appropriate.

You can only hope that it was impactful and that all messages were delivered and received.

The skeptic in me is on full alert but I'm trying to be positive.

If nothing else, the food was good.

When you travel, you understand that not everyone has diners like we do. In fact, it's a very regional thing. Growing up, I spent so much time at the Crompond Diner near Peekskill that we were pretty much known by name.

We played the jukebox and got Reggie bars and lollipops.

And the diner -- the real diner -- looked like or actually was a railroad dining car.

Of course, time moves on but the diners of this region still exist. They're so entrenched in this area that the Somerset Patriots -- the AA affiliate of the Yankees -- will take the field as the Jersey Diners for three games this season. The hats and jerseys reflect that of the diners in New Jersey and elsewhere.

Around these parts, that's what you did after a night out. Whether it was a night at the movies or a night of partying, the diner was the place that was open, climate-controlled, and reasonably priced.

For families like mine, it was the go-to. Even when I'd get sick of it, that's where we'd be going.

In Mahopac, we had the Olympic Diner. Open 24/7, I've been in there at a variety of hours, including before dawn to grab breakfast before driving to Florida when I was a teenager.

In Greenwich, we have a couple of places that are diners, including Glory Days up on US 1, though it's not a 24-hour place. It's close, closing at 3 a.m. on the weekends.

Sean and I would frequently go to the Red Line Diner in Fishkill for our father/son dinners back in the day. We still go back occasionally and the food is still good.

At the diner where we gathered tonight, we recalled our own diners, with stories shared about stumbling in at four or five in the morning after working a late night shift.

Thus the atmosphere of the evening was created.

Sometimes we take the trusty diner for granted and, to be honest, they have changed. You might not buy candy and a newspaper at the register anymore. But hopefully, the vibe has remained the same.

They need to have a local feel where you want everyone to maybe know your name and know how you take your coffee. You almost expect the waitress to be playful and everyone is known as "Sweetie."

They need to feel like a microcosm of the area.

What you don't want is a chain. Diners like that are pretenders. Unless it's Waffle House. Then again, Waffle House isn't making you a Monte Cristo sandwich. Nor would I want them to do so. Besides, we don't have Waffle House locations around here. As you likely know.

But then you leave the region -- essentially New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut -- and realize nobody else has the diners like we do. That's where Waffle House is!

Nothing was like the Crompond or the Olympic, even if they tried with vinyl booth benches and tableside jukeboxes.

The great diner has a huge menu and breakfast is available at any hour.

And the grilled cheese is a standard.

Comfort food. And a good cup of coffee.

This diner did the job for tonight.

We move forward.

What's the Latest?

 

Hanging with me as I write

Occasionally I'm going to chime in and update the apartment hunt situation.

Here's the update: there's no update.

The market is every bit as bad as I feared.

Most of my searches have led me to ads that let you "apply" for a place at their apartment community (as in, "wait list").

Yes, I've tried Craigslist.

Yes, I've checked Stamford. And Norwalk. And Fairfield. And Port Chester. And so on.

Yes, I nose around Facebook, etc.

Yes, I'm connected to a real estate agent. I also have friends recommending places.

Nothing so far.

I've looked as far north at Brewster and Danbury. I've looked out towards Fairfield. I'm definitely trying to control the commute as much as I can.

It's incredibly concerning.

Or, honestly, scary.

It's going to be OK. I know that. But, how?

Sean enjoys living with me and that's great so a two-bedroom is a must.

We'd prefer a washer and dryer but if we have to embrace the life of a laundromat again, we'll make do.

Parking is something that I hope won't be painful.

Basically, we'd like to have what we already have, which is to say a place that has some age on it but has charm and a balcony and storage. But, in truth, it's small.

We can adjust as needed.

One thing that isn't negotiable is The Cat.

There's no way I can legally make this happen but that dude is as close to a therapy animal as one can get.

Oh, trust me, there are days he nearly puts me into therapy but those moments are few.

He was given to us to help me heal after Mom died. If you recall, our cat Chico died a little over a month before Mom did and obviously it was all a lot to deal with. The house was very quiet, especially when Sean didn't stay with me. However, we soon had Rascal with us.

For the most part, he's a constant companion to us. Pets are like that. They can read you.

Rascal Squeaky Beast is no genius but he gets the rhythm of the two humans he lives with.

He's a constant companion. He used to stay on the bed as I slept. Of course, now when I go to bed, he leaves until he's ready to eat but let's not split hairs here.

The point is, he's a member of our family. It's frustrating and disheartening to see so many places that won't take pets.

But, fortunately, some do. We just need to find that sweet spot.

We're going to find something.

For all three of us.

Make It Fun

 

No respect for Rodney

Today was a bad day.

No other way to put it.

I had a rather volcanic eruption that, as I've alluded to, embarrasses me when it happens.

Yet, it was cathartic and perhaps needed.

But I took the steps to cool off and get back in the right head space.

Then I started heading towards home.

That's when I took note of the scenery (yes, I was still driving safely).

The hills and mountains off in the distance.

The light towers of the baseball stadium through the trees.

The sky -- though threatening -- was still something to behold.

It's all supposed to be fun.

Life and baseball and everything else.

But, before that, it wasn't. It was tense and nitpicking and micromanaging.

None of this is rocket science. None.

But, of course, everyone wants to do a good job.

Heck, we all want to be perfect but, come on. It's not possible.

Just be the best version of us that we can be.

But sometimes the message is so completely missed. 

So cooler heads eventually prevailed. 

One can only feel like Rodney Dangerfield so many times.

But, with friends, conversation, and humor, the ice melted. 

And then you're in the car, on the road, taking in the splendor of a Sunday afternoon.

As furious as I was. As finished as I felt. Truly demoralized.

I mean, there's a bit of stress right now and this just isn't necessary.

But I could enjoy the vision of the Hudson Valley on Interstate 84.

At least until the rain started. Yet that just seemed like a reminder of the work of Longfellow's 1842 poem "The Rainy Day."

"Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary."

Then I began wishing for something to listen to that would make the drive move a little faster.

There was still dinner to pick up before getting home.

A new day -- a new week -- awaits tomorrow. We dust ourselves off and move forward. As always.

I'm home now.

Boring

 

Probably listening to a baseball broadcast

Once again, I've taken a deep breath.

Serenity now!

Namaste!

There are a few things that can make me nuts, and that almost manifested itself yesterday.

And, in fact, at least one reader requested #RobUnleashed. Oh, don't worry, that will happen again, though I'm normally embarrassed when it's over.

Then today, Joey Zanaboni, the viral wiz of play-by-play decided to dump on the baseball play-by-play community by calling us "kinda boring."

Yeah. That's a trigger. Much like the other one who wrote that not prepping like him was "lazy."

But yes, I'm continuing to stay above it.

Except.

For Mr. Zanaboni, who has blocked me (same as one of his supporters, who used to rip him to me), he seems to be forgetting the very copyright that we've all heard so many times.

You know the one. It mentions "any rebroadcast, retransmission, or account of this game, without the express written consent of Major League Baseball, is prohibited."

It doesn't matter if you use "royalty-free canned sound effects" as he was just mentioning.

Yes. I watched for a moment.

I was also his only viewer.

I lasted one batter.

Guess baseball broadcasting really can be boring.

Except, I called baseball today. Brunswick had a rough outing against Stony Brook from Long Island.

I'd like to think it wasn't boring. Heck, I'd like to think my broadcasts are never boring, but who can possibly say that with certainty?

Baseball broadcasting is boring? Vin? Mel? Red? Scooter? Gare? Kay? Ueck? Joe Davis? Joe and/or Jack Buck? Shall I keep going?

Some games are just going to be snoozers. We -- as the conduits -- try to keep it engaging with stories and insights while continuing to accurately report the events on the field.

From there, it's knowing how to use the voice as an instrument with inflection. Context very much matters. Freaking out when the losing team homers to make it 13-1 doesn't exactly fit. Calling it with excitement but not going over the top is my approach.

No witty one-liners written on the nearby yellow legal pad are necessary. Just react and be natural.

I'm willing to grant that some of the nearly 4,300 posts in the history of this blog have been boring. But, still, like the broadcasts, I do my best to make sure they're not.

Joey Zanaboni has made his way into MLS with St. Louis City SC. It's actually a perfect fit for his shtick. Soccer broadcasters tend to be known for some of that electricity. 

But when he makes these obnoxious and rather arrogant statements that degrade people (like me) who put on quality broadcasts, well, it tends to ruffle my feathers. That after he (and others) wrote about things that have happened to him (bullying, etc). Then they essentially do similar things.

I appreciate his confidence and his self-promotion, even if it's not my thing. But I think he overdoes it.

So he's currently on Twitch calling a broadcast that he's probably not supposed to be calling.

To that end, Mike Hirn and I are considering creating the Hirn Adams Network. 

You know, HAN.

No harm there, right?

I wish Joey well. I do. We can agree to disagree. We're stylistically different. But it would be nice if those of us who disagree could be bigger people, get over ourselves, and become a better community.

Sadly, that won't happen anytime soon.

Especially when you degrade me and others in this industry.

The Tortured Sportscasters Department (Rob's Version)

 

No offense intended, Taylor

From the home office:

Blast.

I had a whole different post written.

I was going to settle a few things but I elected to take the high road and erase all of it.

It was classic snark with heavy doses of saying what I wanted to say.

But, no.

I figured karma has this funny way of resolving things eventually, and there are many who deserve such a thing.

The self-righteousness and gatekeeping while riding a high horse.

Nope. Let them stew.

Marinate.

Because they read this. 

Then they talk.

And, as much as I feel the need to get it off my chest, honestly, what good does it do? What does it prove?

In the end, no one looks good.

So I'll rise above it and continue to laugh at the insanity of it all.

But I also know there's an audience for what is (occasionally) called "Rob Unleashed."

That's the thing though. As has always been my belief, you have to pick your battles.

You have to wait for the moment to say what you want to say.

And, of course, so much depends on how it's said.

So, yeah, that's enough. Sometimes it's just better to walk away and let it go.

Trust me, what was written had a serious bite.

I'll keep it in the vault for now.

Write Quickly and Avoid the Truck!

 

The "OG" mascots in bobble head form: Rookie and Renee

11:39 p.m.

Twenty-one minutes left on Thursday.

"Why bother," I ask myself as I'm nearly sandwiched between two tractor-trailers on I-95 at Exit 2. The one on my driver side -- that likely would have done significant damage -- came over from the center line to get onto the exit ramp.

Where I was.

Just trying to get out of more horrific construction at 11 p.m., courtesy of the state of Connecticut.

The construction must get done and I must attempt to try to live to see another day.

Amazingly, the truck that cut me off somehow did not hit me.

So, yeah, "why bother?"

I won't ask who is reading this because a collection of delightful souls will tell me they will. But it's a kick in the backside at the end of a very long day.

There was a baseball game tonight in Wappingers Falls and, as much as I'd like to tell you it's just watching baseball, I can't.

There is a script to follow (that constantly adjusts on the fly) and tension to cut through with a knife and micromanaging and hovering and...

It's baseball and it is supposed to be fun.

And Sean almost got hit with a baseball while working his camera. He didn't but it allowed me to give "Junior" (his nickname at the stadium) a shout-out.

In the end, it was humorous.

Overall, we laugh a lot but there are also heavy doses of snark and sarcasm.

Besides, most of these people are my friends. If I was starting a video broadcasting service, I'd certainly be reaching out to them.

But, for tonight, I'm simply trying to get a collection of words on the page and go to bed.

Yet, before that, I had to hit the grocery store. 

Wegmans on a Thursday night before 11 p.m. is delightful. I roared through like a house on fire while their staff was restocking shelves.

Cat food. Kitty litter. Milk. Seltzer. Shampoo.

I got most of everything on my list.

Initially, I was going to hit the Walmart in Fishkill before the baseball game but that didn't quite pan out.  we grabbed sandwiches and I elected to get to the stadium with time to spare before the pregame meeting.

Since the Renegades are currently playing some of the longest games in minor league baseball, I decided to come back to lower Westchester before going to a store. Part of me said to just go home, taking the back roads and avoiding Interstate 95.

That would have been prudent.

Instead, I did my quick grocery shopping and tried to get home to write.

Then I saw my life flash before my eyes on the shoulder near Exit 2.

I'm fine.

The car is fine.

We do, indeed, live to see another day.

Which is coming up in nine minutes as I type so I better end and hit "Publish."

The Renegades, The Clubhouse, and Mom

 

Hats galore in the Renegades Team Store.
Stop in and tell Luis that I sent you

I'm sitting in the lobby of the Hotel MTK with time to kill before I have to set up for "The Clubhouse."

The place we broadcast from is the hotel restaurant, which doesn't open until 5:00 so I settled into a comfy chair.

The running of the day began at 8 a.m. because Sean and I both had to get to Wappingers Falls. It was an Education Day game, so multiple school classes came out to the stadium for the game.

It's fair to say the kids are there because they get out of school for some time, followed by the fun, food, and games. Plus the mascots. Maybe some of the entertainment as well, especially the music being played next to me by Murph.

The baseball game itself matters. It does. And many of the kids were into it.

As for me, meh. I like listening to the kids enjoy themselves, and a row full of them walked by and shook my hand as they left. I'm happy to talk to them as well but, overall, they want to hear their name said over the PA system. Needless to say, that's a hard thing to pull off with so many kids there.

The Renegades had what looked like a dramatic win on their hands when the Bowling Green Hot Rods scored two runs in the top of the ninth. The Hot Rods went on to get the win.

The day had more to it there but I was satisfied with another completed game.

Mom and her guys, 2020.
I'll use this picture whenever I can.

Since then, Sean and I had lunch back near Mahopac at one of our old favorite places. As it happens to be Mom's birthday, it was a nice way to celebrate her memory. We're still planning a pizza night in her honor but there are too many things to do at the moment.

But thinking of Mom at 87 is a bit overwhelming. In fact, it still seems surreal to think of Mom as not being with us. Nancy Adams had such spirit that I almost expect a text sometimes telling me that she left groceries at the bottom of the stairs for me to carry up.

That feeling comes and goes and it speaks to how she's still with us in so many ways. Sean and I joke about her and tell stories all the time. It numbs whatever pain there still is.

Humor. To us, it remains undefeated.

Hotel MTK lobby, Mount Kisco, NY

But there's another show to be done, with our first "Clubhouse" of the season coming up at 7 p.m. I was explaining the show to someone at the stadium this morning and, admittedly, I began with outrage over the fact that they didn't know about the show in the first place.

I mean, it's been on for 500 years. Or maybe 20.

Either way, we've built quite the guest list, which Dave Torromeo correctly reminds us we should compile.

We've had hall of famers and entertainers and a variety of well-known names join us. Frankly, it's quite an impressive list. 

We're always doing the show from a fun location, be it bars that we put out of business*, arcades, golf simulation businesses, or hotel restaurants.

* OK, not quite. We did the show from a bar/restaurant in Norwalk one time several years ago. We actually ran up quite a hefty bill (that part I'd rather forget) and had a nice night. In fact, Mom and my sister were also in the audience. However, the place went out of business not long after we were there.

You could say there is a "Clubhouse jinx" to us but I refuse to participate in that.

We're a mighty fun bunch to hang with. OK, Mark Jeffers and Dave Torromeo are. 

Anyway, it's also time for me to set up. Join us live on WGCH, wgch.com, or on Robcasting at robcasting.mixlr.com.

What Could Be

 

Donte DiVincenzo reacts after hitting a three-pointer to put the
Knicks ahead (Nathaniel S. Butler/NBAE via Getty Images)

The lacrosse game ended and I was ready to go home.

Thanks to the kindness of a Brunswick parent, I'd already had dinner, as she picked up a chicken quesadilla from the food truck at the game.

So I just needed to come home and enjoy some hockey.

It has the chance to be a really fun spring around New York sports. The Rangers are playing in Game 2 of their first round playoff series with the Washington Capitals. As I'm typing, the Rangers lead 4-3 so there will be some nervous time.

Last night was about as epic a night of basketball as this area has seen in years. The Knicks found themselves down late but scored six points to take the lead in a blistering pace during the last minute of play.

They hit free throws and held on for the win.

Donte DiVincenzo's three-pointer off a mad scramble brought about a rare double "BANG!" from the great Mike Breen, calling the game on MSG. 

Breen is the best basketball announcer and I won't hear otherwise (though you're certainly entitled to your opinion).

But I'll admit I yelled "BANG!" as DiVincenzo's shot went through the net.

It was an intense win and the Knicks lead 2-0. 

The Garden was rocking. I sometimes roll my eyes at the marketing of "The World's Most Famous Arena" but it's truly a special place at times like last night. The level of insanity will only grow as the Knicks and Rangers win games this spring.

Oh, it reminds me so much of 1994, which was a truly treasured time around here. The Knicks got to Game 7 of a gutwrenching NBA Finals series that they lost to Houston. There are still so many "ifs" that fans torture themselves with. After O.J. Simpson's famous van ride during Game 5 of the series, the Knicks needed just one win and it was nowhere to be found.

On the other hand, the Rangers also went to a Game 7 after a thrilling series. All anyone has to say is Mike Richter/Pavel Bure and we know the image, as Richter stopped Bure's penalty shot in Game 4.

We all gnawed away at our fingernails the night of Game 7, hoping the Rangers could erase the demons of 54 years. The euphoria at the end of the night was unforgettable.

New York is a big event town. We love the World Series and the Stanley Cup Finals and will go nuts if an NBA Finals comes here for the first time in 25 years.

The Knicks haven't won a title since 1973 so there's a hunger. Beyond that, New York hasn't had a professional championship in the four major sports since the Giants won Super Bowl Super Bowl XLVI in 2012.

So, yeah, it would be fun to have that feeling of 1994 again, especially if the two Garden teams can win. There was another team that was threatening to win a title that year but lost out due to a player's strike.

The Yankees would get back on top of the world in 1996 but they were close in '94. It would have made for an epic year in New York.

We could feel that this year. I'm not saying we will but it would be fun.

*****

A quick side note about lacrosse. Brunswick won the game after initially being in a tight battle with The Hill Academy from Canada. It was a great team effort as the Bruins continue to be the best team in the country.

However, a couple of students popped in the booth at one point for the weirdest of reasons: me.

They. Wanted. To. See. Me.

They both kind of stammered, called me "the man," shook my hand, then realized I was working and they left.

I was astounded and a bit overwhelmed. It was humbling.

I'd actually like to talk more with them if only to thank them.

I'm not deserving of the attention.

Which is the Toughest?

Al Michaels, right, and Ken Dryden called
the Miracle on Ice in 1980 on ABC

A minor debate popped up on the socials yesterday, beginning with the legendary Al Michaels.

Al, of course, has been a football broadcaster for 50 years, as well as working extensively in baseball, along with some basketball and hockey.

He has numerous legendary calls, including his work in the Super Bowl, World Series, and, of course, his "Miracle" call in the 1980 Winter Olympic Hockey tournament.

But during a recent interview with Dan Patrick, Michaels admitted that he feels hockey -- specifically, on radio -- is the hardest to broadcast.

I've asked this question to students for years, always curious what they think the most difficult sport is to call. Hockey is frequently mentioned until I demonstrate the mechanics of broadcasting baseball. That, in fact, has been an accepted answer for years.

Sure, preparation blah blah blah, but it's still knowing when to thread the information in, how to thread it in, and, most of all, how to make it sound conversational.

I find soccer to be the toughest, mostly due to still finding my voice with the sport but I think I've come a long way.

But hockey? Nah, it's literally describing. I mean, that's the first law of it, be it audio, video, or a hybrid.

As a radio call, you can't get every pass unless the game has that slow of a pace. Most games I call don't play like that, so I try to hit all that I can, but it's more important to know who and which team has the puck.

And I find baseball easy because it's so embedded in my blood. Pitch, swing, defense, and details. But, still, it's a balance of not talking too much or drifting too far between pitches.

Of course, this is all just opinion and mine is no more correct than anyone else. It's not an absolute. It's amazing how many struggle with that concept.

For me, baseball, football, hockey, and basketball are all fairly fluid for me. I don't want to say they're "easy" but I suppose there is something to that. I try to find a good rhythm to each one of them but they have so many differences. Football means calling the play and getting out of the way for the analyst (if I have one). 

Basketball and hockey play differently in having time for the analyst to talk while play is in motion but the general rule is I take over as things get close to the net or when a player takes a shot. It's hard to explain it but it works.

Years ago, WGCH decided to do a lacrosse game and, initially, I wasn't going to be on it. But, ultimately, I wound up at Greenwich High for the game, initially working the first half on the sideline before calling it in the second half.

Before the game, I had to figure out how to call it.

Ultimately, I took the lessons I learned in calling hockey and applied them to lacrosse. I've done the same with other sports as well.

That's where I figured out soccer also. As terrified as I was at first, I found my rhythm. I found my style.

So this debate really isn't one to take such a harsh stance on. Everyone has their own take.

To that end, I'll call lacrosse tomorrow and Friday before getting back to baseball on Saturday.

It's Sunday Night

 

Doing the PA reads before today's Renegades game
(Photo: Dan Muphy)

It's so often that I write about my difficulties sleeping.

However, my recent grind of Renegades games, chilly nights, long drives, plus a doubleheader of Brunswick lacrosse and Hudson Valley Vipers hockey had me wiped out when my head hit the pillow.

That would have been after midnight this morning. Thus, I really did sleep soundly for a stretch. At least, that is until Mr. You-know-who decided he wanted breakfast.

The Cat. Not Sean.

So I was up by six and soon pulled together for "Meet the Beatles."

I'll give myself credit for what I thought was a decent show content-wise as well as minimal technical snafus. Despite being groggy, I handled the show with aplomb. Or I just wanted to say aplomb.

But, seriously, I stumbled into the radio station this morning.

I finished the show, edited and uploaded the audio, and ran home before going right back out to handle the PA for the matinee in Wappingers Falls.

Several of my road friends were there, including Dan Murphy, who has become a close friend and fellow broadcaster, as well as Steve Alpert and the hockey-playing sensation known as Doug Kerr. If you've listened to the couple of Vipers games that Dan and I have called then you get that joke.

However, I only chatted with them briefly before they went to their seats and enjoyed the cider donuts that I'd like to enjoy.

The game was not so great as the Reneg...er...Cider Donuts lost to Aberdeen. My friends were gone before I had a chance to say goodbye.

Sean and I left the stadium soon after. As a reminder, as I said yesterday, trust your people. Empower them. Don't hover over them or micromanage them.

We did the drive back to Greenwich, picking up dinner as we drove, tried to find cider donuts of our own (with no success), and came back to The Cat around 7:00.

He's talking to his friends and here I am, typing away and trying to convince myself to stay up a little bit longer as the clock pushes towards 10.

A new week beckons. "The Clubhouse" returns plus there's an 11 a.m. Renegades game on Wednesday and I have a podcast to record and I get to be a play-by-play announcer again. Let's face it, that's my happy place.

This is to say I hope things are trending the right way.

But, for now, I'm happy to put this day and this week in the rearview mirror.

It's after 10:30. I'm going to bed.

Adjusting and Readjusting

Vipers win! Thuuuuuuuuuuhhh Vipers win!

I'm writing another early post since tonight will be late again.

Ah, we're always adjusting on the fly since life is simply not scripted no matter how many charts and graphs I fill in with my colored pens.

I have Brunswick lacrosse today at 3 p.m. against Hotchkiss, followed by Hudson Valley Vipers hockey for their last home game at 7 p.m. That was the plan.

Then an offer came up to do football (!) and I was all-in, thinking I could make it happen.

Then it got pulled due to, well, I still don't know why. A friend was asked to get a broadcaster and came to me. Then the production company said they were going to go with their guy. Was it because I'm an unknown commodity? Who knows? I'm new to this whole play-by-play thingy.

Anyway, it's all sort of amusing and best to just let it roll off. So, it's back to the original gameplan.

Lacrosse at 3. Hockey at 7. There's just enough time between the two to get to the Hudson Valley for the third of four straight days.

It's almost like I should live there or something.

I get asked frequently where I'm looking to live and the correct answer is to still focus on the Greenwich/Stamford/Norwalk area and spread out from there. It's quite possible I'll start packing some stuff up this week if time allows. I'll have to get some openings in my schedule, of course.

Which isn't happening today and likely not tomorrow either. It's lacrosse and hockey today and Beatles/baseball tomorrow.

*****

One thing I want to highlight is leadership style. I'm very hands-off as a manager. I trust the people who work with and for me. If help is needed, I won't hesitate to jump in but, otherwise, I expect everyone to do their thing.

I'm more of a collaborator. I want people I work with to feel empowered and inspired.

I never micro-managed Chris Erway, for instance. I never -- literally never -- questioned his game prep. He could show up empty-handed and sometimes got a roster from me before we went on the air. And it was always a solid broadcast. Why question that?

So I do get a bit tense when I see it happen to others or to me. And I see it frequently during this time of year.

It's just a style that is too "in your face" and makes you feel like you're not trusted.

And that removes a lot of the fun. While it's a job, it's still supposed to be fun.

*****

OK, speaking of fun, it's hours later. In fact, it's 11:35 p.m. so I don't have a lot of time.

Brunswick won with ease. So did the Vipers.

The Vipers wound up playing the Soo Nordiques, though they were originally scheduled to play the North Shore Nighthawks. So, we adjusted and carried on. It's what we do.

Then we were moved to a different place. And we adjusted. It's what, you know...

Dan Murphy joined me for the hockey call and the saving of my sanity since we foolishly sat near a speaker that blasted music and announcements at us all night. Those are the types of things that I make a mental note of for when it's time to discuss if we'll do this again next season. 

But it was fun and, as always, we made the best of it.

With that, I'm exhausted and there's still Sunday to go before I can breathe again.

The "S" in ESPN Should Stand for "Sean"

 

Screenshot from Hudson Valley Renegades on "X"

First of all, there's nothing like a long ballgame on a cold, dreary night, followed by an interminable drive home to help one sleep.

I'm not going to tell you that I slept like a baby but it wasn't all bad.

I was glad to see my friends back at Heritage Financial Park last night and to get behind the mic. I thought the four of us in the booth (me, Anthony, Beats, and Murph) put on a pretty good show. 

In the seventh inning, the Aberdeen IronBirds had a runner on second and one out when a fly ball was hit to shallow centerfield. Shortstop Roc Riggio went back on the ball and made a circus catch, colliding with centerfielder Nelson Medina. Riggio then had the presence of mind to throw the ball back to second base from his back as first baseman Josh Moylan ran over to scoop it up and step on the bag, completing your average double play.

It was wacky. In the PA booth, we all reacted to the play, holding any noise or commentary before making sure all players were ok following the collision. 

A tip for all: I assure you that we're all mighty professional up there. We're sensitive to injuries. And, speaking for myself, I've navigated more than my share of those situations. You choose words and sounds very carefully.

Eventually, as the players trotted off the field, I resumed doing the sponsor read and Murph played music and we got on the evening. Incidentally, Murph is actually playing a keyboard every night and it sounds tremendous.

After the game, there was some buzz about the play, and some felt the play needed to be seen on SportsCenter on ESPN. As you know, I'm not one to push for that kind of attention, but I get that's what a team's social media account is for.

And, this morning, they got their wish. It's introduced by the anchors and there's the play, in all its insanity, for the world to see.

In fact, many social media accounts shared the play.

I'm particularly proud of it for my Renegades colleagues, but I'm especially proud of the camerawork.

It's Sean's.

I'm so used to seeing his stuff that I'm normally unfazed, other than letting him know that it looks good. He's in his fourth season doing this now and his work has made its way to YES, MLB Network, and now ESPN off the top of my head. I'm willing to bet other baseball programming has used it, not to mention myriad social media accounts.

Besides being his always-proud father, I'm also a cheerleader and career advisor, reminding him that this is to be included on his résumé. 

I told him about the ESPN attention when he got up this morning* and he smiled, modestly pleased with the attention but still laughing about the play.

* Please note we still (currently) live in Greenwich and he works for the Renegades in Wappingers Falls. His mother -- where he legally lives -- is not far from the stadium. But, again, he's here with me in Greenwich. 

You know I'm proud of him. The guy who was so nervous before his first broadcast has become a natural. I'm glad his work is receiving a level of respect, even if not by name.

*****

Another note from yesterday was hopeful good news.

You're not going to believe this but my mother has been paying for insurance on her home and car up until this week.

Now, if you're new here, allow me to tell you that my mother died in Sep 2020. Her car was turned in that fall and her house was sold in May 2022.

And yet, money continued to be automatically withdrawn.

I called about it a while back and got the usual runaround of forms and questions.

Finally, the pieces began to come together within the past few weeks. Still, the insurance company wanted more. I mean, I literally offered a death certificate and it wasn't enough. Not only that, everything came to me in the form of forms. As in form emails.

The last request included a need for a proof of sale, humorous given it was a lease. So I called Toyota and talked to someone who was about as helpful as a three-dollar bill. They told me to go to the dealer.

Befuddled, I did that yesterday, since it was sort of on my way to Wappingers Falls. At first, they were also befuddled but I sat with Bill, a salesman I recall Mom talking to when she pursued one of her cars in the latter years of her life.

To be absolutely certain, they were sympathetic to me but, as he worked with his computer, he began to think there was nothing he could do. He told me I'd have to call Toyota back and be pushy with them.

So that three-dollar buck was getting shoveled around.

Then he made a call. Within a few minutes, he spoke with someone who found some paperwork and said I'd have it within 7-10 business days.

Bingo.

I think -- hope -- that will resolve everything. I've already sent over proof of the house being sold and feel like this is trending towards a resolution. 

If you know the circumstances of dealing with a loved one's affairs after they pass, then you know what this is like, even years later.

We need a few wins. This one would help.

June 30

 

It's the question I've dealt with the most since letting on that Sean and I have to move.

"When do you have to be out by?"

Nothing had been in stone. There was hope of some wiggle room. I kept thinking the rental gods might give us a window. Maybe, just maybe we could have the summer since the market is rough.

August 1? Sept 1? Oh, let's just call the whole thing off and you can stay?

Nah. Nope. Are you out of your mind?

June 30. Game over.

I'm writing earlier this morning since I have to work for the Renegades tonight. It's my first time on the public address microphone for them in 2024. They're two games into the home season already and have won in their last at-bat each time.

I've watched a few seconds of each game, mostly to see Sean's camera work. Somehow he has entered his fourth year as a professional cameraperson. I'd like to think opportunities will come his way but that's his story to tell.

So, yes, I'm writing early today though I could have written hours ago as I've basically been up all night. That doesn't mean I didn't get some sleep. I did get a little but don't kid yourself.

My mind raced. Fretted. Despaired. I suppose you can say panicked also.

My rational mind tried hard to not get despondent. Keep believing that things will be OK.

But, please, if you're going to tell me that, it better be convincing. 

I rolled through towns last night online, looking for listings. 

Stamford. Norwalk. Fairfield. Danbury. Greenwich. Port Chester. Brewster. Carmel. Mahopac. 

At the same time, I stress about work. Sure, I'm working. But I'd like more work and for things to settle down. That also plays into this. I can't even express how disappointing taxes were, though I know I recently wrote about them. But it felt like I paid exorbitantly more this year.

If it sounds like things are coming to a head for me, well, you're spot on. In the process of all of this, I'm thinking about a lot of things, including changes in my career.

It's possible. You have to be able to pay the rent.

But we'll deal with that bridge when the flames push me to that point.

For now, the answer is the answer.

June 30.

We're out.

Start packing.

Tick tick tick.

*****

Here's a reminder that things are written with heavy doses of humor via parody and snark. You have been warned.

OK, one other thing. I started to put this in tweet form but as I don't pay for Twitter/X, I only have the requisite characters to work with. See, the thing is, if I want to write a novella every time I tweet, I'll just write a blog. For free.

I digress.

Anyway, word has come down from on high that the Yankees have three apparent candidates for the coveted play-by-play job being vacated by John Sterling. And thus, friends, unless your name is Justin Shackil, Emmanuel Berbari, Brendan Burke, or perhaps dare I say Ryan Ruocco, don't you dare follow your dreams and send your materials to WFAN or the New York Yankees!

I mean, it has been spoken! You've dreamed of this job since listening to Frank Messer, Phil Rizzuto, and Bill White on WMCA or John Sterling and Michael Kay on WABC but his high holiness has said don't bother!

So much for positivity!

You'd think someone with such inside knowledge and revered insight would teach or mentor or something. 

As a teacher and mentor myself, I give students reality but never squash their dreams. If someone asked me about pursuing the Yankees job, I'd likely tell them to go for it because you never know.

As a reminder, I recently did that with another dream job that likely isn't realistic but I simply felt I had to try. Believe me, I hate writing cover letters. I hate creating demo reels, never certain of what a hiring manager wants to hear (pro tip: they're not even sure).

Instead, it's all just opinions, couched in what he thinks is the gospel according to himself. 

It's all just opinions, delivered as if nobody else is entitled to one and you'll get blocked if you try.

That's the stuff that makes America great, isn't it?

*****

June 30.

That's the answer.

It Takes Time

This is what (or who) I'm dreading moving the most

Patience is necessary.

A virtue even.

As many of you have read, we have to find a new place to live.

We don't have a definitive move date so we're not panicking. We're being proactive but that's all we can do.

We have a real estate agent sending me listings as they come up.

We're looking for (preferably) a two-bedroom place that allows a cat. In a perfect world, it has a washer/dryer and storage and a deck.

Oh, wait. That's what we had here.

And parking would be nice.

And affordable.

So far, we have found nibbles and not much sustenance. 

Clearly, we need some things to fall our way but, so far, nothing has yet.

It's been just over a week.

I look at things every day. I've spread the word among friends and here on this thing.

Remember, we got our current home out of the blue just around this time two years ago.

Actually, I was heading to London two years ago right about now and the apartment came my way just after I came back.

That was pressure. That was stressful.

I'm not feeling that this time and I'm not in any rush to feel that.

Oh, and to be clear, Sean will almost certainly be moving with me, thus "we." Overall, he has moved in with me though he's still legally at his mother's.

However, I'm also keeping an eye on any one-bedroom options with a living room that could be a bedroom. I don't love that option -- not even slightly -- but I did the same thing when I was looking around in 2022.

Then again, I thought it was going to be just me and occasionally Sean in the apartment. In the end, that was not the case. I'll leave it to you to connect the dots.

So, this post is to update you, my friends. We don't have an answer yet but it's important that we're keeping our heads about us, thus allowing us to sleep.

And I've started looking at things for the cleaning and packing process. 

We're OK. I suppose that's the message here.

But we're still looking.

*****

Watching the lads with Yoko dead-center

We head to Beatlesland. Or Pepperland, if you will.

With the news that Let It Be (the movie) is getting a proper release (finally), I felt it was time to rewatch Get Back.

The Let It Be news is pretty great in that The Beatles once again prove that, like it or not, they won't be going away anytime soon. 

But, assuming Peter Jackson is only cleaning up and restoring the film and otherwise leaving it alone, I'll warn you that Let It Be is dark. It deals with the harsh reality of the supernova known as The Beatles is coming to an end.

Get Back, on the other hand, shows the good and the bad times of the hectic month of writing, recording, and performing the album that became known as Let It Be. There's no question the time they spend rehearsing at Twickenham Studios isn't great, though there are some pleasant moments.

Moving to Savile Row changes the mood, especially as Billy Preston comes aboard to play keyboards. There's actually plenty of laughter.

By the time the "Rooftop Concert" rolls around in Get Back, there's an obvious joy to it. First-time viewers of Let It Be likely won't be as quick to recognize the joy.

So be it. I'm fired up to see it remastered.

The more Beatles, the better for me, and the better for "Meet the Beatles," Sunday mornings at 9 on WGCH.

Perfection

 

A memorable pitching line

The time was 6:18 p.m. on Tuesday night, April 16, 2024.

Brunswick right-handed pitcher Calder Glassman was set to throw his 91st pitch of the day. The Bruins led St. Luke's 4-0.

Up until 6:18 p.m., Glassman had struck out 12 Storm hitters.

He had walked no one.

He had allowed no hits.

In fact, nobody had reached base against the Notre Dame commit.

He was a strike away from a perfect game.

He was working effortlessly. Efficiently.

And now he was on the verge of something extraordinary.

According to my scorecard, he had thrown 90 pitches.

"Dare I say," I offered, trying to craft words delicately, "you want the ninety-first pitch to be perfect."

It was, except, hold on.

Glassman flirted with a no-hitter last week before allowing an infield single with one out in the sixth inning.

Today, I watched his stuff and, honestly, after an inning, I thought he looked nasty. The Bruins were handling any ball hit their way and Glassman was racking up the strikeouts.

But these things don't happen without drama. At one point, with the bases empty, he got called for an illegal pitch. Even after the game, nobody could quite explain what the umpires were thinking.

Still, in the sixth, Glassman went to a three-ball count, which he only did three times in the game. But, in this case, the pitch was ball four.

Except...

The first base umpire saw a checked swing that went too far. Strike two. Full count. Glassman finished the hitter off seconds later on a liner to short.

Around the field, some fans knew what was going on. Others didn't.

But I watched the outs pile up. On the air, I don't get into the no-hitter/perfect game talk until after six innings. In high school baseball, that only leaves the seventh inning.

I mentioned Calder had retired eighteen straight after six. The score was only 1-0. The drama was magnificent.

Except...

The Bruins scored three in the bottom of the sixth to feel more confident about the game. The tension changed from win and loss to Glassman's perfecto.

It was so tempting to echo Vin Scully in the moment and for sure there were tips of the microphone to the maestro. As Glassman took the mound, I mentioned "the toughest walk of his life," a reference to what Vin said as Sandy Koufax walked to the hill in 1965.

Then I dropped in a few time checks and mentions of the date. At times, I gave a hint of extra detail, such as Glassman pulling at the brim of his cap. Those are lessons learned from Scully.

Beyond that, it had to be my call.

I've called no-hitters. But this was different and I knew anything that could be construed as "jinxing" Glassman would be held against me. But I still have a job to do, regardless of superstitions. I was cautious but still mentioned "perfect game" when I mentioned Koufax in the seventh.

I mentioned counting the outs and how close he was to something he would never forget.

He struck out the first two batters of the seventh. One to go.

But he battled with Nate Kesselmark, the number three hitter in the Storm lineup. Kesselmark struck out on a three-two pitch back in the first. He struck out again in the fourth.

Now, it was three and two and he fouled off a pitch.

One more time. Pitch number 91.

I could feel myself leaning over the fence in right field as I strained to get the best view possible.

The payoff pitch was served to second base. Jayden Montanez went to his right but, at least from my view, it looked like the ball had a little extra spin on it.

Was this going to be an error? The perfect game would be gone but a no-hitter would still be possible.

Except...

Montanez did what every player is ever taught: stay with the ball. He did.

He recovered, picked it up, and threw it to first where Michael Yeager was playing.

Kesselmark was flying down the line as the ball reached Yeager's glove. He ran past first, and threw his arms open, hoping for what he thought would be a safe call.

Except...

The first base umpire was right there and he had a different view.

Out.

It was a perfect game.

I wish I was a fountain of history for Brunswick. Was this the first perfect game in team history? Hard to say though I suspect it isn't.

Glassman knew what had happened. Clearly, his teammates did as well. They mobbed him off the mound, in a dogpile of euphoria that lasted only seconds before they had to go shake hands with the disappointed Storm. Sportsmanship should always prevail.

One thing I do know about this perfect game was that it was my first. I've never called one.

I can't say I'm happy with the final out call but does it matter? I did stumble as the ball got to Montanez. But did I report it accurately and give it excitement? Yes, and yes. 

I might have yelled too much. I'll let Mike Hirn be the judge.

Will Calder be happy with the call? Will his teammates enjoy it? Will families enjoy it? Did the viewers like it? I hope so.

"Calder Glassman has pitched a perfect game at 6:18 p.m. on Tuesday night, April the 16th, 2024. Bruins win 4-0," I said.

It will have to do.

The time check was a reminder from Vin Scully to put that on the call so that Calder would have it forever, just as he did for Sandy Koufax.

I went to find Calder after the game to congratulate him and tell him what a thrill it was. He said he couldn't wait to watch it. I also talked to a few of his teammates to congratulate him but they were focused on recognizing Calder. To that end, I congratulate all of the Bruins because it takes a team effort to complete a perfect game, with a special nod to catcher Jerry Guzman. Pitcher and catcher have to be on the same page.

They were.

Sports are great. They soothe the soul.

Thanks, Vin, for the lessons.

And thanks, Calder. Congratulations.

You were perfect.

On John Sterling

 

John Sterling, left, and Michael Kay

I first heard his voice in 1989. After two awkward years of Hank Greenwald and Tommy Hutton as the radio duo for Yankees broadcasts, John Sterling and Jay Johnstone stepped to the mic in 1989.

Jay was gone after 1990 before Joe Angel spent a year in the booth. Then Michael Kay started in 1992. Charley Steiner and, eventually, Suzyn Waldman would follow.

But John has been our Yankees compadre all along.

Today, John announced that he is done, effective immediately. It's time for him to enjoy his life, saying he'll still watch games but that he's "tired." After all, he's 85 years old.

The New York Yankees radio announcer is a legacy position dating back to 1939 when Arch McDonald came to New York from Washington. It didn't quite work out for Arch and he was back in the nation's capital in 1940.

His partner in '39 though, decided to stick around. It worked out quite well for Melvin Allen Israel, forever "The Voice of the Yankees."

Mel would be the constant through 1964. Allen impacted John Sloss, aka John Sterling, growing up on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.

John started in Baltimore with the basketball Bullets and Morgan State University football before coming to New York in 1971 to host a talk show on WMCA. He was an early example of the acerbic talk show host but also called games for the New York Islanders ("Islanders Goal!" "Islanders Goal!"), the Nets, and other teams. He also did the pregame show for the Yankees in the mid-1970s before heading to Atlanta to do the Braves and Hawks. Finally, he cemented his legacy with the Yankees in 1989.

If you know John Sterling, you know the deal. The calls became iconic. He could drive listeners nuts with bombast and, occasionally, missing details. It did sometimes feel he was too concerned with the "big call" versus getting it right.

Admittedly, having my own style, John was a tough listen for me initially. In fact, I had to make my own peace with him, even as I came to appreciate the big moments that were piling up in the 1990s.

Finally, while talking with a coworker, he said something I'll always remember.

"You don't watch or listen to games the way that fans do," he said. 

He was right. It was OK to adjust and recognize that I could listen to John as a fan. That didn't mean his style was ever going to be mine. In the process, I learned to laugh at it as the silly home run calls piled up.

What began with "Bern Baby Bern" grew into every player having a customized call. 

Remembering the sponsor, early editions of getting two outs meant it was a "Jiffy Lube double play." Every break would adjust as the sponsor changed but it was often "the New York Yankees radio network, driven by Jeep."

Using his voice for all it had, he could elongate, especially on every delivery, as in "Thuuuuuuuuuuuh pitch."

Home runs, regardless of height, were always "It is high! It is far! It is GONE!"

And every victory was a symphony of "Yankees win! Thuuuuuuuuh Yankees WIN!"

If anything, in our social media world, I came to look to hear how John would call certain moments.

But, man, was he reviled around baseball, with John and Suzyn routinely being ranked as one of baseball's worst. However, I came to love them, seeing them more as friends. I respect Suzyn fiercely for his position as a pioneer so I don't take much Suzyn slander.

And John? I learned to not be too serious about it, even if this was the hallowed booth of the New York Yankees.

But, ask around, and you'll hear so much disgust for him. Yet, you've done something right when you're so loved and mocked. Even David Ortiz is known for saying "The Yankees lose!" when a defeat has been secured.

But go back and listen. Listen to highlights from 1996 or 98 or 99 or 2000. Or 2009. And everything before as well as after.

Bernie. Jeter. Posada. Mariano. O'Neill, "The BamTino." "The Giambino," and "Robbie Cano, uh-doncha-know."

"The gutty, gritty Yankees."

Sterling will be honored on Saturday by the team.

There are so many moments to highlight. Too many, in fact. But the bottom line is that he called five World Championships for the Yankees but also losses in 2001 and 2003. No matter what, he called each moment with the attention and energy it deserved.

He could baffle but he was always a pro.

And so ... John ... wethankyou.

Thank you for the years of calls where you kept us company as the soundtrack of Yankees baseball. Enjoy our retirement.

Lastly, of course, I have to say it.

That's baseball, Suzyn.

*****

Would I love to get the Yankees radio job? Of course, and I appreciate every message and text I've received over the last several hours regarding that. As of now, the Yankees have two voices all set to handle the job.

Sunday Morning

 

A center field view of Greenwich Baseball 
from their temporary home at Havemeyer Field

This morning, 7:45 a.m.

Thanks to The Cat, The Beatles, and WGCH, I was out of the house early.

The Cat helped with a not-so great night of sleep. Well, first it was people talking loudly across the street out of Bruce Park Grill at 1:30 a.m.

Then Rascal announced his presence around 5:00. 

There would be no more sleep after that. I fed him, read, and got ready for "Meet the Beatles" at WGCH.

But first, breakfast, and since we had no milk in the place I went out.

As I've mentioned before, finding a breakfast sandwich on Sunday morning isn't easy. Plaza Restaurant, within walking distance on Railroad Ave, isn't open. So the options change and, as a result, I went to Firehouse Deli over in Byram.

They know how to create a ham, egg, cheese, and hashbrown patty masterpiece.

Parking isn't great there, but it's not terrible. It normally means going across the street and parking near Byram Shubert Library. At that hour of the day, nobody is too mindful of meters and parking permits. It's the sort of area where you do your business and get back on the road.

As I walked from the car, it struck me.

I love Sunday morning.

Sunday morning is breakfast.

It's Charles Kuralt and Charles Osgood and Jane Pauley, each one eloquently presiding over the events on CBS Sunday Morning each week since 1979. You knew you were watching a show with class and grace each week.

Sunday morning is jazz, led by Miles Davis and "Kind of Blue" but if you go with Dave Brubeck and "Time Out," well who am I to argue?

Oh, Sunday morning is also "Meet the Beatles," thank you very much.

Sunday morning is a book. A good book. A great book.

Sunday morning is a great movie and it would be perfectly acceptable if that movie was in black and white.

To that end, Sunday morning is Laurel and Hardy or Abbott and Costello or the Bowery Boys. Heck even The Little Rascals though I'm sure we'd have some kind of discussion about political correctness.

But that's just it. Sunday morning -- while full of political chat shows -- shouldn't be about politics. At least not fighting about politics. Sunday morning should be about a cup of coffee -- and whatever kind of blessed coffee you want -- and smart conversation.

If you can make that conversation remain civil and still discuss politics, then you're my kind of people. If you can stir up debate about anything -- yes, even sports -- and keep voices in respectful tones, then you've mastered something.

That's what Sunday morning should be.

Sunday morning should be a fuzzy robe, slippers, and snuggled up on the couch. I mean, sitting in bed is also an option but I'm keeping this family friendly.

Sunday morning is also for listening to the birds or traffic going by. Without horns, please.

Seriously. I beg of you. No horns.

Sunday mornings are for activities and family time and personal thought. 

Sunday mornings are for taking that cup of coffee and heading off to a baseball game. Or softball. Or soccer. Or basketball. Yes, even football, hockey, and any other sport.

Sunday mornings are for driving. Oh, I love an early Sunday drive. You see, people don't want to be out of bed yet. They don't want to be on the road before probably 11 a.m. So that allows for a nice head start to be in the car. 

That, friends, would have been the approach for our drive to Cooperstown but it wasn't meant to be this morning. It will happen some other time but I can tell you it's quite possible we likely would have been on the road and parked on Church Street behind the Hall of Fame by 11 a.m. today. 

Instead, I was crossing Mill St. in Byram before 8 a.m. and walking back out a few minutes later with my breakfast sandwich.

Quite drowsy, I went to WGCH, ate my breakfast, drank my coffee, and tried to steer my brain towards The Beatles.

Then I went back home ... and promptly fell asleep.

With The Cat next to me.

Before taking a walk to Havemeyer Field to watch Greenwich baseball against Immaculate. The lack of a scoreboard makes the experience interesting but, then again, the lack of a broadcast makes it difficult for me.

After that, I got to take Sean back to Firehouse for lunch.

Then "The A-Team" reunited to watch golf at Chris Erway's house. Gotta enjoy those times.

I'm hoping I sleep better tonight.

But, first, Billy Joel on CBS. It still boggles my mind that Billy Joel played a concert within walking distance of our apartment two years ago. 

A priceless memory I will cherish forever.

Hearing him play "Vienna" is something I will hold next to McCartney doing "Day Tripper" and any Huey Lewis show.

Special. Very.

Thanks, Uncle Verne

 

Verne Lundquist will call his final Masters tournament tomorrow.

He's been a fixture in the tower overlooking 16 for over a quarter of a century.

But to those who know his career, there is so much more to discuss.

Go back to the 1960s when he was a sports anchor in Texas and became the radio broadcaster for the Dallas Cowboys. By the mid-70s, he began working for ABC Sports before eventually joining CBS. Save for 1995-1997 when he went to Turner, "Uncle Verne" has been with the "Tiffany Network" since 1982.

He has excelled at the NFL, college football, college basketball, golf, and figure skating, where his calm demeanor was a welcomed presence during the Nancy Kerrigan/Tonya Harding debacle at the 1994 Winter Olympics.

He was also in the movie Happy Gilmour.

Verne doesn't necessarily have a true "trademark" line. Verne is just real and that's why he's "Uncle Verne." He's the avuncular voice who isn't phony. He's playful, doesn't inject himself into the action, and honest.

His is a presence, a voice, a face that will be missed.

To a person like Verne Lundquist, you don't recite the trademark. There's no "it's outta here" or "Yes!" or "Bang!"

No, instead there are moments. Moments that aren't rehearsed. There's no yellow pad of cute lines.

When Jackie Smith of the Cowboys dropped a sure touchdown pass in Super Bowl XIII, it was Verne, calling the game for the Cowboys who exclaimed, "Bless his heart, he's got to be the sickest man in America!"

When Christian Laettner ended a gut-wrenching East Regional Final with a turnaround jumper in the 1992 NCAA Tournament, Verne stayed natural. The call was simple: "There's the pass to Laettner...puts it up...YES!"

Calling the 2005 Masters, Tiger Woods hit a chip-in on 16 that seemed improbable. Except, it went in, and Verne was on the money with his reaction: "Oh, my goodness!...OH, WOW!! IN YOUR LIFE, have you seen anything like that?"

To a new generation, Verne is known for his call of "Kick Six," the play that ended the 2013 Iron Bowl between Auburn and Alabama. A missed 57-yard field goal try was returned by Auburn's Chris Davis from the end zone. Verne, on TV, called it with the zest and shock that it deserved.

"On the way … No, returned by Chris Davis. Davis goes left. Davis gets a block. Davis has another block! Chris Davis! No flags! Touchdown, Auburn! An answered prayer!"

But no call of Verne's -- none, in my opinion -- is quite as iconic as three words spoken in 1986 at The Masters. Jack Nicklaus, who was 46 at that point, nailed his putt on 17 to take the lead for the first time as he would become the oldest winner in tournament history.

The images are iconic but, when done correctly, the call can also become iconic.

It was classic Verne. He's a witness to the whole thing and he spoke words that so many have repeated. Tony Savino and I have said it to each other countless times.

"Maybe ... Yes, SIR!"

You've seen it. You've heard it.

And, to many of us, we know it.

Uncle Verne began to back away in 2016 after the Army-Navy Game. He stepped away from college basketball after that. But he wanted to stay with The Masters.

Tomorrow will be the end of his 40th tournament and he felt this is the right time to take the headset off.

It will be emotional.

Our business will be sadder without him.

But have I relished listening to -- and learning from -- Verne Lundquist?

Yes, sir!

Game Called

 

Calling Norwalk/McMahon in 2015 in Cooperstown

It was late February when I saw the post.

Brien McMahon and Stamford High Schools announced that their baseball teams were going to play a regular season game at Doubleday Field in Cooperstown, NY.

Just steps from the Hall of Fame.

I had to go, even if I paid for it myself. The game would air on Robcasting.

I emailed both athletic directors and they were immediately on board. I just needed to confirm that Cooperstown was OK with it.

The plan expanded to WGCH wanting to carry the game. We even found a sponsor (thank you, Splash Car Wash). I had a hotel booked for me.

Cooperstown had no problem with it.

I had a roster from McMahon. I was working on getting Stamford's.

I went on WGCH this morning to talk about it and we were also airing a promo that I wrote and recorded yesterday.

Then came lunchtime today and the whole thing was wiped out.

No game.

Being proactive and saving all of us the travel, Cooperstown canceled the game due to expected bad weather all weekend.

I can say to you now that I understand and it helps soothe my disappointment. 

In the moment, not so much.

But, allow me to see things in a fair light.

First of all, it's not about me. I'll repeat that. It's about the players.

Paul Silverfarb and I were part of the broadcast team
on HAN Radio in 2015

As for me, this would have been my second call at Doubleday Field. I called a McMahon/Norwalk game on April 19, 2015, and consider it one of my favorite experiences. The game wasn't particularly memorable as McMahon won 7-3 but the experience was amazing. It was part of a long weekend of games that began with a Warde/Ludlowe game Friday night in Bridgeport.

The following morning, I drove to Cooperstown to walk the site and make sure we had what we would need for the broadcast. I walked the town, finding nuggets and prepping as I saw Cooperstown in a different way. 

The game itself was played late Sunday afternoon and was a time in which the HAN Radio/Network crew all got along and laughed a lot.

I treasure that experience.

But Sean was joining me for the trip this time and we were both excited.

Yet Mother Nature wins the game.

However, the teams can go back and you bet I'll try to go as well. In fact, basically, any team can go so long as it's paid for. 

So, sure, I'm disappointed. But it's the teams -- the players -- that I feel bad for. They should have a way to go and have that experience. I don't know how to explain it to you but there's something magical about Doubleday Field. 

As for us, we can go and just visit. In fact, I suggested that to Sean and his response was the same as mine.

We wanted to broadcast a game.

But it's not meant to be. Again, trying to find a positive, I think about saving money on food, admission to the Hall of Fame, and, maybe, a souvenir. Plus gas and wear and tear.

We'll get back to Cooperstown.

I hope some local teams go back and we can broadcast it.

Experience Wanted

 

I saw a job listing recently.

My heart raced immediately.

It felt like a potential dream opportunity and, to be honest, was a job that I felt I would be really good at.

I can envision that. I can see where I could take it if given the chance.

Actually, there have been a couple of openings like that recently.

But, there's a harsh reality.

Read the specifics.

Read the expected qualifications.

Years of this and years of that.

Experience that a (hopefully) respected broadcaster on a very local level for over a quarter of a century doesn't have.

Does it deter me? Sometimes yes and sometimes no.

But you look at the circumstances and you know you're going to be dumped in a pile.

Rejected outright.

In one case, I knew the odds were minimal. Like, literally, no chance. But I wrote a message as I applied in which I said I knew I was an "out of the box" idea. 

Yet I really think I can be good at these things. In fact, I know I can. 

I flashback to the 2021 season with the Renegades.

Early on, there was some buzz. Articles were written about the Hudson Valley guy getting the job. The man from Mahopac gets his long-overdue chance. Then the season started and I received nice reviews, including Jomboy sharing a walk-off home run call one night. 

I saw a level of regard that I had never known before. My phone kept buzzing about this "great" call and how "this guy should be in the big leagues."

And damned if I didn't dream just a little bit.

Maybe, just maybe, our Yankees compadre John Sterling might take a day off and the Hudson Valley guy would slide in.

After all of those years, the dream of sitting in the New York Yankees radio booth might come to be.

To that end, Emmanuel Berbari -- who was part of the 2022 booth after me and wanted to work with me -- has become a fill-in for John. I'm tremendously happy for him. He's a talented, good guy who got his chance.

We all know what happened after 2021. The Renegades changed the play-by-play position and, while I'm still part of the family, I'm not in the broadcast booth. I'll begin my third year in the public address booth next week. It allows me to still work with Sean, Lori, and many friends.

Oh, I won't lie. I miss it enormously. It was part of my life in parts for 20 years and finally getting to do every game (home game, that is) was intoxicating. I nearly cried on the air when the season ended in 2021 and essentially sat in a fog in the winter of 2021-2022 when it ended.

Sure, I have doubts and bad days where I think I'm awful, but overall I still trust my ability.

I work hard and grind for every broadcast and I'm fully aware that each game can be the last.

But I know I can crush these jobs and give audiences calls that they'll be happy with.

I still have a lot to offer.

That doesn't mean everyone agrees and of course, there will always be critics. Heck, even now, there's always someone nipping at my heels. It's the nature of the beast.

Until a hiring manager or a first set of eyes lets you get past the vetting process, none of it will matter.

I've been a hiring manager in corporations, small companies, and in broadcasting.

I know what it's like to take a risk on an employee.

But I know the reality of the situation.

No matter how "out of the box" it is.

Woke Up, Fell Out of Bed

 

With Chris Erway, the closest among the many broadcast
partners I've worked with (2010)

There simply isn't time to wallow.

There's been time to think but the plan has been to remain on top of things. 

I'm grateful for those who reached out with realistic, constructive, brainstorming ideas. A few real estate agents have been talked to so far as we start the process of looking for a new home.

Mentally, it certainly has been a struggle, despite my trying to avoid wallowing. That being said, I have definitely blown off steam.

I saw a place last night that, per the interwebs, was new to the market. It was still in Greenwich and my only gripe was it didn't have a washer/dryer. I sent a note to look into it and not only was it not responded to but the listing was gone today.

So, yeah, that will happen and probably continue.

Much to my shock, I did actually sleep a little last night. I put my AirPods in my ears, put my eye mask on, and put my head down. 

SiriusXM has a station on their app that is called Night Noise. In short, they describe it as "From Ambient and Downtempo to White Noise and Nature Sounds."

This makes it easier to drown out whatever nonsense The Cat is up to.

A day later, I'm trying to come back to the mindset that everything is going to be OK. But I'm not going to lie: it felt very hard to believe, even into this morning.

But guess what? Life goes on. Thus, it was up to Stratford to teach this morning while still preparing for baseball in Cooperstown next week.

The group of students I had this time was very interested in learning play-by-play and I was more than happy to teach that. That meant "The School of Vin" was open for business. It felt good to let students break down some of Scully's best.

We ran out of time but I meant to play some more, including some things that I wanted them to offer opinions on.

It was also fun to be talking about broadcasting on what was the 25th anniversary of my first game broadcast on the radio.

I was raw, I made mistakes, and I learned from them. I listened to a little of it today during "Doublheader" and I cringed.

In fact, I actually broke out into a sweat. There wasn't enough detail for my liking.

But, as I wrote online today, I hope I've gotten better nearly 1,900 games later.

That also allowed me the chance to salute my friends from the days of working in corporate for PM/Kraft, and doing play-by-play for the softball league I played in.

As a result, I got comfortable and figured out that I could tell stories of a game. 

Eventually, I took that and became the lead at WGCH. I still hold that honor.

I can reflect on so many of those games, with names like Dave McClure, KC Cunningham, Michael Collins, Ryan Preisano, Anthony Volpe, Josh Breaux, and Gavin Muir being among the memorable moments.

The on-air partners start with Russ McCarroll in game one and stretch through Sean Kilkelly, Mark Rosen, Tom Kane, Ricky Fritsch, Mark Smallwood, John Spang, Chris Kaelin, and, of course, Chris Erway.

There are people behind the scenes such as Bob Small, AJ Szymanowski and Shawn Sailer (both of whom worked on the air with me as well).

There were others. Many. Too many to name.

And, of course, there was the audience. Always.

And the critics -- good, bad, and otherwise. 

And the support of family and loved ones.

And the people who weren't exactly supportive. They challenged me.

I still love doing it.

Thank you.