Validation

 

 

My memory tells me it was a rainy Sunday.

The Hudson Valley Renegades had been rained out but I was already at the ballpark. If I recall correctly, Zach Neubauer and I did our podcast live from the stadium (we normally did it on Monday) and then I headed out.

Instead of going home, I went north towards Poughkeepsie, where a Barnes & Noble bookstore was (and still is). Imagine that? An actual brick-and-mortar store?

I made my way to the sports section and scanned the shelves. The website said they had a copy of the book I was looking for.

They had it.

The Baseball America 2021 Directory.

I have read that book for years. 

I've owned a couple of editions.

I remember reading it almost cover to cover at the 2003 Winter Meetings in New Orleans.

And there it was, on page 126.

The entry for the Hudson Valley Renegades. 

Below the entry for game information sat the words I'd always wanted to see:

Radio Announcer: Rob Adams

Wow.

I stood there stunned. Smiling. Choking up. Recognizing that the hundreds of games and the grind of the myriad times things had nearly gotten the best of me had manifested into this moment.

Here was this book, that had led me to the Gades' booth in the first place back in 2001 and now it had my name in it.

The multiple times that I thought I should have been in the running for the position and the times that I thought it was completely over and now it was real.

Oh, the 2021 is such a joy to look back on. I talk to people who lived it and they say the same.

It was special and, yet, it was weird.

I was actually the Renegades broadcaster for two years, having been offered the opportunity in late 2019. But, of course, the 2020 season never happened. I visited the stadium a few times to say hello and even call a summer tournament there but otherwise, I had to be patient.

I hosted "Doubleheader" once from there in the summer of 2020. I'm always happy to give that kind of free publicity.

As the '21 season opened, Sean had picked up a job with the team as a cameraman. He'd work in the radio booth as COVID was still at least a concern.

To that end, I had one instruction: the field and clubhouse were off-limits. Eventually, I'd get down to the field at times but I never did get to the clubhouse. Any and all communication with the players and coaches was via interviews on my "Rob's Roundup" pregame show. That, in fact, was initially only via Zoom meetings.

But as a broadcast, with little to go on, we crushed it. Sure, there were hiccups with cameras and a bad night with a fake lineup card due to an impending trade, but we roared through it all.

In fact, every day brought a level of grief with the lineup but that was all part of the grind.

I still had to work, as the position was part-time, so I'd keep doing games where I could, such as the Trumbull Babe Ruth tournament, and I did some teaching at CSB.

I remember I was on my way from Stratford to Wappingers Falls when then-Pres./GM Steve Gliner called me to ask for some reports. Knowing he wanted them, I immediately pulled into a Stop & Shop/TJ Maxx parking lot near Newtown, turned on my phone's hotspot, and created them.

I wanted there to be no doubt they'd ask and I'd jump. This was about as happy as I could be.

Heck, I was even (sort of) a salesman that year, in that Trumbull won their Babe Ruth tournament and they came to the stadium for a game. Mike Buswell came on the air with me for an inning, and I got them a mention on the scoreboard.

I never did quite have the analysts I wanted in the booth with me, as I wanted to welcome friends who have worked hard for the chance. Chris Erway, Chris Kaelin, Kevin Halpenny, Jake Zimmer, and others were on my mind to join me but it just didn't work out.

And my friends were listening. They'd never listen otherwise but I'd get texts from Greg and JoAnn and others, telling me that were sitting around the fire and enjoying the ballgame. My friend Michelle said I helped get her home from work every night.

It was about the community, which isn't just the Hudson Valley. It's also the player's families, listening all around the world. Many of them would come to the stadium and make their way to the booth to meet me.

Obviously, Anthony Volpe and Oswald Peraza were two of the big names that came out of that year. To that end, I make Volpe's parents and his dog. 

We only did road games in that fun-filled summer. but I did push for the one road game in Brooklyn on the 100th anniversary of the first broadcast in MLB history. Had the Renegades made the championship that year, we were planning on going to Kentucky for the series. However, all good stories come to an end and the Gades didn't make it.

But I did some of the best work of my career in 2021 and received some of the best reviews. The night Jomboy posted one of my calls -- of a Josh Breaux game-winning home run -- was astounding. My phone blew up.

Then Jomboy asked me to be their play-by-play announcer when they came to the stadium. So. I did.

There were so many great nights. Incredible comebacks and even a (7-inning) no-hitter.

And then it was all over. The Renegades changed the position to full-time in 2022 and brought in Joe Vasile, whom I imagine was more of a "multimedia journalist" than the "old man" (my quotes).

I was crestfallen. A few days after I found out, I just sat on the couch, empty. On Christmas.

"I'm fine," I said. 

I lied.

Initially, I laughed when I was asked to come back to do PA announcing. Most people I told laughed as well. 

Then I got it. So did almost everyone else.

Sean still worked there. Lori, my cousin's wife, was there also.

But so was basically everyone else that I'd grown close to. Scott was down at the wine bar. Allison was still working in the suites.

Luis was still running the team store. 

Zolz -- a huge advocate for me -- was still Zolz. He wanted me there. Even now, he continues to support me.

So, why not? I get to go to baseball games for free and have fun. 

We all know I should be on the air, but I'm not. So we have fun a few doors down.

I get to embrace a bit more of my goofy side, which I tried to bring out a bit more during 2021.

I had to rebuild my confidence a bit after it was over. I remember doing a University of New Haven baseball game in the early spring of 2022 and wondering if I was still a good baseball broadcaster.

Yes. I think I still am. I think so.

I think there are those who would back that point up.

I still had a lot to offer.

I still do.

I'm not done. Not by a long shot.

And I'll be back in that booth tonight doing public address announcing.

Tomorrow, I'll be the PA announcer as well as the producer of the PA booth.

I suppose my hope is you can't keep a good man down.

Assuming I'm a good man.

And I still have that Baseball America Directory.

Like many things, I put it away after 2021 because I needed to not see it. All of my Renegades stuff -- shirts, swag, etc. -- sit in a bin. Then, as the sun came up, it all eventually reemerged.

It's a treasured memento of an important year in my life.

Put Some Respect on My Name

 

Maybe Reggie Jackson had the right approach

I was talking with a friend recently when the topic of ego came up.

"I think some people think I'm arrogant," I said.

"I disagree," she responded. "If anything, I don't think you're arrogant enough."

Her point was actually more textured than that. In reality, what she was saying was that I don't advocate for myself enough.

There's no question that's a struggle for me. I feel like anytime I do take a stand I come off like an egomaniac. In short, I don't go about it the right way.

I watch people who shamelessly promote and promote and promote. They post the same couple of things every few days to make themselves seem relevant and popular.

But it just looks, I don't know, wrong to me.

I don't want to be like that.

Chris Erway got me to be a bit more assertive in this regard with our "A-Team" persona. That credit belongs to him.

I've received compliments. Plenty, I'm honored to say. But while I might share them in the moment, they otherwise go off into the archive, just sitting on a timeline.

I will say that one of my favorites came from the Hamden Little League Baseball team back during the COVID-impacted state tournament in 2020.

"Robcasting is the best casting," they said.

But how do I go about advocating for myself? Stomping my feet isn't exactly the best look.

For instance, as I've alluded to before, the Connecticut high school state tournaments are going on right now.

How many games have I called? 

Zero.

I suppose my question is: why?

The same goes for college sports around here. 

Again. Zero.

I have other (fairly obvious) examples but I'll stop there.

But even when I've made inroads in each case, things dry up. I mean, am I doing something wrong? I think I do a decent job on the games I broadcast. I report accurately, I bring energy, I tell stories, I get along well with whatever crew I'm working with, and so on.

So what in the name of Vin Scully is going on here?

I still recall the baseball doubleheader I called at Yale several years ago. According to a friend who was in the booth that day, mouths were wide open listening to me call the doubleheader between the Bulldogs and Columbia.

"He knows more about this stadium than I do," said one person.

I haven't worked a Yale game since.

The reviews are often very kind but I've heard whispers of how I'm intimidating, or there's jealousy towards me, or fear. I don't know. It's just what has been mentioned to me.

Next weekend, as Connecticut crowns their champs, I might be in New Jersey.

Or not. I'm not sure yet. 

I guess I don't understand how those who get to be "the man" get to hold that position.

I'd like to think that, respectfully, my years of experience have earned me that opportunity and, well, respect.

And yet, you start to understand exactly where Rodney Dangerfield was coming from.

But I'm stumbling my way through trying to advocate for myself just within this post.

I took a stand last night -- I'll keep the details private -- but I did take a stand about something that I think I should do but it doesn't mean that I will.

The point is that this is a work in progress.

But I know that I deserve better. Some respect. Some resolution.

And some opportunities.

At least I think I do.

I suppose I could be wrong.

I Know What I Like

 

There was a fun back-and-forth the other day about the things I don't like.

Yes, I don't like Maroon 5 and things that are overplayed (looking at you, Bon Jovi, Journey, and John Mellencamp).

But what do I like?

Actually, I like a lot of things.

Obviously, I love baseball. Few things -- if any -- in my life have had even a slight impact of baseball. I remain tirelessly passionate about the "national pastime" no matter how much people try to destroy it.

Beyond that, I love travel. You should probably know that, given the amount of ways that I write about my adventures. From home to London, Florida, San Francisco, and beyond, I remain fierce about traveling.

To that end, give me a road trip. The fire was reignited with Sean and, in the process, me, as we drove from home to Florida and back. You need no further evidence of this beyond my desire to get right back on the road just hours after we got home back in March.

Indeed, I've been ready to go somewhere since. I don't know that finances and fate will be on our side this year but I'm trying.

But I also love simplicity. 

I don't need to swim but I love being near the water. Normally, that means funky beach towns with cool shops and restaurants. 

I like the sound of the ocean and the feel of the area. I don't necessarily need to go in the water, though I am content to just stand with my feet in the water.

For instance, Sean and I were at John's Pass at Madeira Beach, FL back in March. We walked to the Gulf of Mexico and just put our feet in the water for a few minutes. That, frankly, was enough. I got it, and was pretty content.

Staying with that, I love good conversation. As Sean and I stood in the Gulf, we just talked. About stuff. I don't even remember what it was.

I don't love surface conversations and small talk. But I love conversation that involves telling stories and sharing experiences.

I love a Sunday morning. There's something about it that just screams breakfast and jazz music (and The Beatles!) and driving. People are sleeping and I'm all for that.

I love broadcasting games. I love telling stories and knowing that families are sitting home, waiting to hear what's next, galvanizes me. 

I mentioned The Beatles, and I obviously love them. But I love Huey Lewis, the News, jazz music, rock music, good (old) country music, and lots more. I love things that inspire me, consume me, and just hang around me.

It can be "Sing, Sing, Sing (With a Swing)" by Benny Goodman (1936) or "Take Five" by Dave Brubeck Quartet (1959) or "Day Tripper" by The Beatles (1966) or "The Heart of Rock and Roll" by Huey Lewis and the News (1983) and I'll be in heaven. 

I love humor. So much falls under that heading and it doesn't have to be highbrow. Blazing Saddles can reduce me to laughing so hard that I can't breathe. But so can Beavis and Butthead. And before he went too deep into being political, Dennis Miller had the same impact, cha cha.

I love a breeze. Any breeze. Preferably a summer breeze (Seals and Crofts). This morning, I sipped my coffee as a chilly breeze came through the kitchen.

That breeze was just cool enough to make it seem like autumn was waving and reminding us that fall isn't that far away. It was cruel and cool all data the same time.

I love a stadium. Any stadium. Especially one that is quiet. When no game is going on it's either setup or breakdown time. There's a peaceful feeling in that moment. There's a hint of what is to come or maybe what has already happened.

I've say in Dorothy Hamill Rink and Cardinal Stadium and Cosby Field and Terry Conners Rink and many others in those circumstances. I've been locked in and locked out.

I love family. Not the family who is just there because they have to be or because they're supposed to be. But those because they want to be.

I'm happy visiting my family in North Carolina or Ulster County or Fairfield or Florida. It's effortless to be around them and it doesn't feel like work. In fact, I sat at a lake house among extended family last year in Florida and it was as comfortable as possible. To that extent, I found a chair and fell asleep on the dock. It was a moment of perfection.

I admit I'm not a good eater and don't love a lot of foods but I love what I love. You can all mock Waffle House but dammit I'm happy there. A fluffy waffle, hashbrowns with cheese, screambled eggs and cheese, white toast, and ham make me as happy as anything. But so does a steak and grilled shrimp or chicken parm or my favorite spaghetti and meatballs.

And I mentioned coffee before. I love coffee and a peaceful discussion while sitting outside as life goes by. The best conversations involve laughter and passion and energy.

I love Cooperstown and Mahopac and Tarpon Springs. These are the three towns that make me happy to just walk around. Yes, Greenwich too, though I feel a bit rejected by Greenwich right now. I'm hoping to make that feeling pass.

Incidentally, when I'm safe and nobody is in danger, I love a good storm. Thunderstorms are the most fascinating but so is a snowstorm or anything else. 

I love history. Sports history and music history and pop culture history and American history and more. I love learning, even if I don't retain it. I love TV and movie history. I want to learn from it and not do away with it.

My TV channels that I love are The Weather Channel and whatever is showing sports. There are steaming shows that I watch but I don't have any extreme allegiance.

Honestly, despite my "curmudgeonly" ways, there are a lot of things I love.

I love life and I have a lot of living I'd like to do.

And loving as well.

Oh, and I love lamp.

But I love a lot more than I let on.

Out of the Darkness Again

 

So I'm here to say just that.

I'm still here.

I suppose it's fair to say "If you know you know" but I felt I should clarify.

Again.

Yeah, things haven't been so great of late but I have a tendency to come out of a funk.

Sometimes it just takes a talk with a friend to relax. Laugh. But, mostly, talk. Be heard. Not judged.

Anyway, here I am. 

Things aren't great. I'm not going to lie but sometimes I need to bottom out.

Oh, and sleep would be nice.

That's the big thing. 

The demons visit then. They stop in when I'm wide awake at 2 a.m.

At that point, I can talk to The Cat but he's not going to help and Sean is likely asleep.

It's my mind messing with me ultimately.

Anyway, it was a tough couple of nights.

Things will turn.

Honestly, the last thing I want is attention, unless that attention brings a job or a place to live or something positive. Beyond that, I'm not angling for pity, debate, or anything else. It's literally storytelling.

I know enough people who look for attention. That's not my thing.

It's clear I shouldn't have written any of these past couple of posts in the first place.

So, we move on.

A Few Thoughts

 

A screenshot of "Rascal's Ramblings" during today's
Renegades game on the YES Network. He was talking 
about hot dogs. Honestly.

I had this post organized differently initially but I've decided I'll unburden some stuff at the end of the post. Let's start with the good.

Today's Hudson Valley Renegades game was on the YES Network. I was happy and proud for my friends and colleagues for the opportunity.

Sean was in his usual spot on the high home camera and I was so proud to see his work on the big screen.

Sean's camera angle. That's what opened the broadcast

There were my friends -- Zolz and Davey and Joe and Jordy and Clicks and Beats and Fish and Feldman and Jason and everyone else. I'm not sure who else was working today.

Heck, even Zach Neubauer -- now working for the Red Sox affiliate in South Carolina -- was heard because he was the voice of "Rascal's Ramblings." I texted him and we laughed about it.

I don't know what the reviews online are. I know what my own thoughts are yet I really tried to not watch with a critical eye. But there's a reason I generally don't watch or listen to such things.

Still, it looked like a Renegades broadcast on TV. On the YES Network. As in, you know, a dream come true. Which means it was business as usual and there's nothing wrong with that.

And I watched it all right here.

My day, other than that, was looking at things in the attic and taking more pictures off the walls.

And continuing to look for a place to live.

And a way to pay for it.

*****

Today is Memorial Day.

Honestly, I have no deeper thoughts. I have family and friends who served in multiple conflicts.

But I did pause and remember those lost in serving our country. I see it for the somber and honorable day that it should be.

"Thank you for your service" is frankly the minimum one can offer but it's all I've got.

I'm just grateful that we have the freedom to have cookouts and go to ball games. That the day serves as the unofficial kickoff to summer.

Or watch baseball. Like the Renegades because the Yankees didn't play today.

Which is horrible and further proof of how damaged our sport is.

But we have the freedom to be upset about it.

And for that, all we can say is thank you.

Thank you, indeed.

*****

Legendary UCLA coach John Wooden hugs Bill Walton.
I'd take that duo against almost anyone in a 
single college basketball game.

Bill Wilton -- forever "Big Red" and the greatest college basketball player -- died today.

It felt like he was timeless. His energy and humor would last forever.

We're lucky to have the broadcasts archived but his voice has been silenced.

Happily, the cesspool that is social media has been overwhelmingly positive in talking about his legacy today.

Good. 

He was nearly unstoppable as a player at UCLA. Then he won a ring in Portland.

Then injuries that sapped him of the greatness he could have reached.

Yet, he never complained. He was a backup with a great Celtics team and won another ring.

But the pain he felt was incredible.

Then he became a broadcaster and found a whole new audience.

He laughed. He didn't take things seriously. But he was great.

He was a positive force.

And our world is sadder without him.

*****

OK, now to the stuff that grinds my gears.

In the aftermath of last night's Grayson Murray post, there were a couple of reactions -- directly and indirectly -- that struck me. 

All good. I'm a big boy and I laughed at one and seethed at the other.

Oh, both were inappropriate -- full stop.

But you know the deal with opinions.

To that end, victim-shaming someone who makes a decision like Grayson Murray made is pretty disgusting.

Selfish? Weak? Sad?

Yeah, it sure is sad, but in the mind of that person, ending their life is the answer and, in some cases, the only answer.

But you're so sad and judgmental that you'll sit on the sideline and say that? 

Telling you to "kick rocks" is the kindest way I can phrase it (thank you, Chris Kaelin).

I challenge you  -- challenge -- to be in that state of despair some time.

Let's say, around 1 a.m. You can't sleep. You're wide awake. You're staring into space. You're scared.

Work has dried up. Things that have been promised aren't coming to fruition.

You don't know if you're going to be able to pay your rent or, worse, have a place to live.

You feel lost. Your relationship is concerning. Life is nipping at you at every turn.

The walls are closing in.

There's an intense hopelessness.

You feel ridiculed. Scorned.

You don't feel good physically. 

You don't feel good emotionally.

You don't feel good spiritually.

You don't feel respected or wanted.

And so on.

And in that moment, you have nobody to talk to.

Try it sometime. There is no magic potion. No snapping of the fingers. You can't afford therapy.

Selfish? Weak? Sad?

That sounds like you, actually.

And while we're at it, last night's post was not some analytical mumbo jumbo. It was a reminder of support for those feeling lost.

Nor was it "too soon." 

It was reacting to a story that impacted sports and hit close to home for me.

It was also explaining how it struck me as I sat at the Greenwich Town Party.

Further, time is of the essence in such moments and it was written to remind this audience that I'm here. I'm reachable -- text and email tend to be the best ways to get me.

There is help. 

So that's why I wrote it last night.

I felt compelled.

The thing is that not every thought has to be relayed. Yes, that includes me, and I've noted many times how often I hold back.

Even now, I'm not naming names or going "all in."

My point has been made.

But I'm not the monster that the Gatekeeper on Twitter thinks that I am. I saw he tried to strike at me again with more of his passive-aggressive toxic positivity today. The thing about it is that it can also be quite negative and damaging and, frankly, have a dangerous outcome.

Thus, I remind you to not be a phony.

There are people in dark places. It's real. It's no act. It's not selfish.

Support them.

That's what I was writing about.

Grayson Murray

 

Grayson Murray won in Hawaii in January
(Michael Reaves/Getty Images)

Sadly, it seemed like the answer was going to be the worst.

Thirty years old.

Admitted he had issues with alcohol and depression.

The pieces, sadly, added up for two-time PGA Tour winner Grayson Murray.

Murray withdrew from the Charles Schwab Challenge on Friday after playing 16 holes in the second round.

He said he didn't feel well.

On Saturday, he was dead at the age of 30. 

PGA Tour commissioner Jay Monaghan announced Murray's death, adding that his parents asked for the tournament in Fort Worth to continue.

Sadly, the outcome appeared obvious and, eventually, Murray's parents released a statement via the PGA Tour.

Statement on behalf of Eric and Terry Murray:

We have spent the last 24 hours trying to come to terms with the fact that our son is gone. It’s surreal that we not only have to admit it to ourselves, but that we also have to acknowledge it to the world. It’s a nightmare.

We have so many questions that have no answers.

But one.

Was Grayson loved? The answer is yes. By us, his brother Cameron, his sister Erica, all of his extended family, by his friends, by his fellow players and – it seems – by many of you who are reading this. He was loved and he will be missed.

We would like to thank the PGA TOUR and the entire world of golf for the outpouring of support. Life wasn’t always easy for Grayson, and although he took his own life, we know he rests peacefully now.

Please respect our privacy as we work through this incredible tragedy, and please honor Grayson by being kind to one another. If that becomes his legacy, we could ask for nothing else.

Thank you.

It's the worst possible nightmare. I've learned far more about Grayson Murray over the past 24 hours.

He had demons. A temper. The drinking issue. He had been in rehab. He had stopped drinking. He had made progress.

He had won his first PGA Tour event in six years when he took the Sony Open in Hawaii. From a high level, it felt like things were on the right path.

But you just never know.

And then this weekend happened.

And now he's gone.

And there are always those questions. Questions and thoughts.

"If I had done more..."

"If I had reached out..."

"If I hadn't left him alone..."

If...if...if...

None of it makes sense. Ever.

Sadly, these stories come up on occasion. 

Sadly, we write about them. We talk about them.

And we repeat the same thing every time.

Look out for each other. Encourage help wherever possible.

Remember that one can call or text 988 or chat with the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988lifeline.org.

Mental health support needs to be affordable and available.

It also needs to be destigmatized. It's OK to seek help.

So many deal with the thoughts of hopelessness. Of sleepless nights when feeling like all is lost. There's just no purpose to go on. The money issues. Loss of ... something. Desperation.

So many of us often have that feeling of wanting to run and hide.

Or worse.

But it's who is left behind that suffers.

My heart hurts for Grayson Murray's parents, siblings, extended family, and loved ones. 

And for the hockey community. I've seen the tweets. The interviews. The commentaries.

They're gutwrenching.

Seek help if you're hurting.

Please.

And be kind to each other.

GTP 2024

 

Looking towards the Main Stage

Dear Mumford & Sons: It's not your fault.

As I write, you're down at Roger Sherman Baldwin Park, rocking the crowd.

Don't worry. I see the videos being posted on social media. You guys are doing great.

But we're not there.

Sean is in his room, talking with his friends, and winding down.

I'm sitting on the couch, waiting for the Yankees game to start.

The thing is, the Greenwich Town Party is a long day of great bands, all of whom put on wonderful performances.

We're there from the very beginning, walking in right around when the gates open.

Then we're setting up, looking for power and, most of all, an audio feed from the sound tent.

I mean these are the same things that we look for every year.

I kid you not. Every. Year.

We rarely have what we need when we show up.

Today, the tent was set up. We had tables and chairs and even power. A sign hung atop saying "WGCH.com 1490 am"

Once again, we were shoved off to the side of the park, a result of the year the Eagles were the headline act. My only conclusion was that Don Henley was afraid of us. I mean, what else could it be?

(Mr. Henley didn't want some small-town radio station around. I'm sure he somehow felt we'd take money from his pocket and one does not do that to him. Maybe Mojo Nixon was right years ago.)

In any event, we've been there ever since, and despite our protests, nothing will change.

Look, fair enough, We can't see anything in terms of either stage but we're sort of used to it. The staff in the area we work is awesome, allowing us access to food and drinks all day.

But it's the audio cable fiasco that warps my vinyl every year.

It's no secret that we are there to broadcast the event. Every year. Thus, we need access to the direct audio from the stages. Every year.

And yet, we have to basically beg for an audio cable. Every year.

We were escorted to our tent after initially being told we weren't allowed to walk down that path. But we were quickly helped out.

Then we were told the audio cable was in our tent when we arrived. It wasn't. Then we were told it was on the way. 

We were also given different badges so that we could have a little more access around the grounds. To that end, we didn't take advantage of what we were given. We make sure to not overstep our boundaries.

The first band was scheduled to take the stage at 11:40 a.m.

11 a.m. No cable. We went on the air a few minutes later to do a brief scene-setter and announced we'd be back around 11:30.

Not long after this, "The Star-Spangled Banner" and "God Bless America" were performed. A band performed after that but they weren't on our schedule. Still, I would have liked to get that on the air. But, OK, we were still on schedule.

11:15 a.m. No cable. I grabbed a bottle of water and stalked around looking for help.

11:30 a.m. No cable. Bob Small is now going on the air to say he thought he'd hear from us.

11:35 a.m. No cable. Sean and I have to hunt down Quincy, the man who runs the area we're stationed in. It's not his thing to get the cable but he rattled a few cages. He went above and beyond.

As that conversation happens, we watch Fashionably Late take the stage and they were fashionably early. We were the ones who were now late.

I'm calm overall, telling myself there's nothing I can do.

Sean is actually annoyed. Very. 

"This is disrespectful to the band and us," he said.

He's right, and I recognize that energy. I think I know where he inherited it.

Fashionably Late is on stage and crushing it. These kids -- seniors from Greenwich Country Day School -- are rocking through a great set of covers.

Yes, we really did that

Finally, we made a decision, which was to set up a wireless microphone near one of the speakers.

That's how we'd broadcast the band.

Bob interrupted the repeat of "Meet the Beatles" that was airing to throw it to me at the park.

We made it work.

As they played, members of the audio staff told us that they didn't know we were supposed to have the audio.

I mean, we've only done this for every GTP but what do I know?

In the end, we got the cables and, eventually, everything worked. Shortly after Noon, it all sounded like it should.

From there, it was as it should be. Sean and I guided the day, airing each band and having conversations to fill the gaps. 

We stepped away to grab food, including Sean's traditional Chipwich.

Drew Angus plays Pop-a-Shot while being interviewed
by the GTP social media crew

It wasn't the same as every year but it wasn't all that different either. In fact, a new wrinkle was that I was twice whisked away to speak with performers. I talked with Drew Angus and members of The Cameroons and then ran the interviews during breaks from the music.

We were off the air not long before 6 p.m. as Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats began a fantastic set.

But this was also our time to bail. We weren't allowed to run bands after approximately 5:50 p.m.

If you've done this, you know that it's a long day. So I got a taste of Rateliff and his band and was content to listen as we walked home.

So, Mumford and Sons, it's not your fault. The Greenwich Town Party is a commitment.

I got fried in the sun the year Eric Clapton played and took off.

Steely Dan and Lynyrd Skynyrd couldn't get me to stay either.

The Eagles? Nah. I was pretty turned off by getting shoved to the side of the park due to them.

Then again, I've seen Clapton and the Eagles.

Only Billy Joel could get us to stay and even that year it was a long night.

Oh, but it was worth it. So, so worth it.

You've got a great crowd there tonight.

You'll put on a great show.

Admittedly, if Sean had been interested, it might have talked me into staying.

But I'm content to beat the crowd and not walk out among them with a heavy case of radio equipment.

Have a great show, guys.

Thank you, Greenwich Town Party. See you in 2025.

But I'm begging you: electricity and an audio cable.

We use it.

Every.

Year.

Why Am I a Sucker For a List?

 

Apple Music recently revealed a list of what they called the 100 best albums.

It's mind-numbingly awful.

I don't quite know where to start, except to say when The Beatles' Revolver is at 21, you've failed.

Or when Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band isn't on the list at all.

Or the obsession -- the insane obsession -- with Prince.

I mean, here's the top 10.

Number	Album	Artist
1	The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill	Lauryn Hill
2	Thriller	Michael Jackson
3	Abbey Road	The Beatles
4	Purple Rain	Prince & The Revolution
5	Blonde	Frank Ocean
6	Songs in the Key of Life	Stevie Wonder
7	Good Kid, M.A.A.D City	Kendrick Lamar
8	Back to Black	Amy Winehouse
9	Nevermind	Nirvana
10	Lemonade	Beyoncé

I'll just go with "wow" and it doesn't get much better beyond that.

I'm of course still flummoxed at Revolver being 21st.

Look, this is as always subjective. You can't convince me that basically, seven out of those 10 albums belong in my top 10, though I can see Thriller in a fair light. But Abbey Road, Nevermind, and Songs in the Key of Life are all incredible, of course. Those three are deserving.

But -- as a Beatles soul -- I don't have Abbey Road landing that high, so what do I know?

The greater point to me is to wonder why I get wound up about this stuff, given they're all opinions, and silly ones at that?

You want to think Barry Bonds is better than G.H. "Babe" Ruth?

Hahahahahaha, I mean, OK, enjoy that. I'll vehemently disagree but so be it.

Think "Seinfeld" is the best TV show ever? Again, so be it.

But why do I look at all of these things?

Almost to soothe my soul, I then got sucked into looking at Rolling Stone's top Country Songs.

Look, I'm no expert on country music, but will offer that I lean heavily toward older school country (and Western, of course).

"Jolene" by Dolly Parton got top honors in this version, while "I Walk the Line" by Johnny Cash was second. Cash's classic was number one when they did a similar list back in 2014.

I was otherwise satisfied as I read because of the respect for Hank Williams, George Jones, Merle Haggard, Loretta Lynn, the Carter Family, and Glen Campbell, whose "Wichita Lineman" was slotted too low for my taste at 12.

That song is a stone-cold classic and a textbook example of gorgeous songwriting by Jimmy Webb.

But, yeah, I suppose I have a list problem. Throw a top 100 together of some kind and chances are I'll look at it.

The Apple Music top 10 was sent to me before I saw the rest of it and I sincerely wondered if those doing the voting were on drugs, quite frankly.

Thus I had to see the rest of it.

Yeah, something is out of sorts there.

The takeaway here ultimately is that people will keep doing these things and I'll keep reading them.

And rolling my eyes at them.

In the end, it seems that I like them. I like analyzing them and talking about them.

Even if they make me nuts.

Worthwhile Exhaustion

 

My alarm was set for 4 a.m.

And, of course, I was wide awake before it.

But I suppose I was thankful for being awake as I had to be on a train bound for Grand Central Terminal at 4:49.

So there was no time for the snooze option. There was no "five more minutes."

I had to get up.

The Cat supported that endeavor as he wanted me to feed him.

By 4:30, I was clean, dressed, and ready to walk out the door. After feeding The Cat.

The walk to the Greenwich train station will be one of the things I'll miss the most about this apartment. I was standing on the platform in plenty of time.

Greenwich was quiet, as it should be at 4:35 a.m.

Except there were actually two cars that cruised by. Like, what?

I walked off the train and made my way out 44th St and was in the Harvard Club before 6 a.m.

The last Hunt Scanlon conference that I moderated was in Oct 2023 in San Francisco so it was good to be back. 

But if you've never been a part of one, simply that 4 a.m. wake-up call is an indication of a long day.

Besides the commute, there's setting up in the room, presenting the content, staying on (or preferably ahead) of schedule, plus essentially serving as the face of the conference.

It means being "on."

And it can be exhausting when you haven't done it in months.

But it also quickly became familiar again.

We've got the format down pretty well.

Get onsite and put out items on tables. Set up banners and the registration area.

Get a chair for me since that tends to be forgotten. Review the speech. Review the pronunciations.

Eat breakfast. Drink coffee. Lots.

Open the program with my comments, like doing a monologue at an awards ceremony. Then introduce the first speaker.

I was told that I'm very calm as a moderator. I don't get flustered when things go wrong. I'm like a spa. Yes, I was really told that.

Then sit. Quietly. Keep my phone nearby to handle texts on the status of the day.

Watch time. obsessively.

Then stand up to serve as an indication to the speaker that time is getting close to wrapping up. In that process, keep an eye on the Q&A, making sure those with questions wait for the microphone to come to them.

In that same, keep a visual with the two microphone runners so that they know when to stop.

Keep doing all of that until the last presentation has been completed.

Eat lunch.

Attend post-conference gathering.

Take the train home.

Walk in with feet feeling like they need to be amputated (lifetime flat food issues).

And we'll do it all over again in two weeks.

The thing that pleases me is that the reviews are so positive. The team did just an outstanding job of making this all happen, led by Walker Manning.

OK, and of course Chris Hunt and Scott Scanlon.

In short, we crushed it.

But I also walked in, ate dinner, and fell asleep.

Did I mention we're doing it all over again in two weeks?

I'm going to bed.

Trumbull Wins

 

It's just after 10 p.m. and I really need to get to bed.

So, let's be quick tonight. The story, basically, is this: Trumbull 7, Wilton 1.

For the Eagles, it's their first championship in 12 years. 

Trumbull --  a great baseball town -- was overdue to get to this.

Wilton -- also an excellent baseball town -- had a great FCIAC tournament but came up a game short.

Both teams will be state playoff participants.

Early on, it seemed like we had a pitchers duel on our hands.

But in the bottom of the second, the Eagles began to do what they do.

They dinked. They dunked. They moved runners.

Then they scored.

Then they pitched and played defense.

Starting pitcher Trevor Schuelke's stuff was so good that Wilton didn't get a hit until the sixth and didn't get on the scoreboard until there were two out in the seventh. Schuelke was named the Most Valuable Player following the game.

I thought he might spin a no-hitter, but the Warriors did tally six hits.

In the end, the Eagles cruised, capping a year in which they finally won an FCIAC boys basketball title and a baseball championship.

Now, it's onto the state tournament. I'd be lying if I said I didn't expect to call a few more games.

In fact, I've been told that Greenwich will likely host Staples in the opening round next week. If you don't know, I can walk to Greenwich's field from home while we still live here.

So hail to the Eagles tonight.

Here's the broadcast. Here's how the final out looked and sounded. Thanks to Shawn Sailer for filming it.

But I have to be up early to take a train into New York for my first Hunt Scanlon conference in some time.

The script is printed and New York City awaits.

Hopefully, I still know how to host an event.

Wackadoodle Doo

 

CITYPARK, St. Louis (Photo: HOK)

So Joey Zanaboni, radio broadcaster for St. Louis City SC, got some attention for another one of his "wacky calls."

Awful Announcing posted the call on their page, embedding the tweet on their page.

“Bürki gets fingertips, back to a header from Hagglund,” an excited Zanaboni exclaimed. “Oh. Roman Bürki. Slapping cuffs on that thing like it’s Scottie Scheffler trying to make a tee time.”

I mean, OK. You all know that is not my style but I've also noted that if Zanaboni's stuff is suited for anything, it's MLS. Or a local comedy club.

There was some pushback on the call, with one responder saying Joey is trying too hard but it simply is, well, what it is. I still wonder what the reaction would be if he were to get to MLB or another league with huge ratings.

The reactions, in my opinion, would be Gus Johnson-esque with very polarizing responses. There is a certain cult that Zanaboni has attracted, including those who used to mock him.

Joey will soon do another Major League Baseball broadcast via Twitch. Illegally, I might add.

I digress.

What intrigued me most of all was a retweet from Jaden Daly on X/Twitter, who wrote:

"To every up-and-coming and/or struggling play-by-player out there, I remind you not to give up on your dream or your passion, because as long as people like this have a job, there truly is hope for anyone."

Bingo. I mean, seriously, bingo. 

I get disheartened. A lot.

This business -- heck, any business -- can wear you down with rejection and inequity.

In those moments, it's easy to question yourself. I begin questioning my talent, knowledge, preparation, effort, everything.

I see who gets the jobs and it makes me insane.

Connecticut, especially, is mind-blowing. High school. College. Whatever.

I ask too many times how someone got the gig that they have.

Too many times have I waded into something that I thought was a "no-brainer." 

"Oh, I should at least get an interview," I foolishly think. And then nothing comes of it.

In truth, there's no one reason. 

Strong internal candidates, personality differences, lack of "experience," and other things get held against a legit candidate and talent doesn't win out.

Let me say that again: more often than not, it's not about talent.

Let's face it. It's who you know. That person might even have an agent or an in with the hiring group.

But for those grinding, I echo the words to not give up.

I'd say I go through it several times a year where I just get so disgusted.

Once again I'll likely go call state championship games in New Jersey as opposed to my own current home state. 

So what, exactly, am I doing wrong here?

What are the pluses to me? I'd like to think it's my knowledge, my passion, my descriptions, my dedication to a professional broadcast, and you better believe my preparation.

In addition to that and as part of that preparation is that I always have equipment with me and I'm usually ready for all situations, at least from an audio perspective. I made the investment in equipment in some cases and can usually borrow WGCH's stuff if needed as well.

I also say yes to most games, even if it's not my favorite sport. Not everyone does that.

I travel. Happily.

These are the things I advise newer broadcasters to do.

And so, yes, it's that grind.

Nobody was going to do those FCIAC baseball games last night or tomorrow. WWPT Radio from Staples High School did their team's game but, since they lost, they won't be back tomorrow night.

So I'll do the championship on Robcasting.

I reached out to the FCIAC and said I'd do the baseball tournament.

Someone was nice enough to buy me a small dinner. 

That's what I earned.

But it's the grind. 

It's the knowledge that, when people think about broadcasters, there's at least the chance that my name gets mentioned.

Good for Joey. He got the attention he pines for.

The grind continues around these parts. 

That's Me in the Corner

 

The Cubeta Stadium scoreboard between
FCIAC semifinal games tonight

This is a public service announcement from the desk of Rascal Squeakybeast, President of Robcasting Media.

OK, it's a PSA from me.

Please. 

Pretty please.

When I'm somewhere to call a game, please let me call the game.

Don't be the peanut gallery, trying to catch any little mistake I make so you can have the satisfaction of correcting me.

Chances are I'm going to catch myself. Though, yes, there are times I won't.

I've heard it all.

Let's face it, this goes back to the affair at Cardinal Stadium last year. 

But here's a reminder:

- I'm not running the music.

- I'm not responsible for the in-stadium announcements.

- I'm not rooting for your team. 

- I'm not rooting against your team.

- I'm actually rooting for your athletes -- all of them -- to do great things.

- I'm rooting for drama, certainly, because that's just so wonderful to describe.

- Lastly, and I can't stress this enough, I have microphones and, often, a couple of them, with me and they're live. They're recording. And what you're saying could possibly be heard. More to the point, it can be distracting!

So don't get twisted if I say a pitcher has retired nine in a row but I said eight. Again, I'm likely to catch it.

I realize, generally speaking, people are trying to help and support and so often it comes in handy. Yes, there's no question it's often in how the message is relayed.

But, also, there's a method to my madness.

Are there times that I've colossally screwed up? Oh, no question. There have been epic moments of mental blocks that have had me calling schools by the wrong name and other delights.

But there is also an inherent "I got ya" mentality to all of this. You want to be the smartest cookie in the big jar of a press box and gosh darn it, you'll show that dastardly announcer person a thing or two!

I love a lively press box when it flows correctly. It's great to catch my eye in a break and tell me something. People do it all the time.

And I love to laugh with people. It makes the whole situation more pleasant.

Most of the time, I want to just be invisible, like the kid who used to sit and call games off the TV to practice.

This probably isn't coming off the way I want it to and perhaps I'm best to just stop.

I'm happy to talk in calmer moments about broadcasting. I love talking about broadcasting, explaining my career, telling stories, etc.

But I'm also there to do a job and once the "red light" goes on (theoretical or otherwise) there's work to be done.

Anyway, I'm babbling and not explaining this well.

*****

Bobby Murcer, 1969

Happy 78th birthday, Bobby Ray Murcer, wherever you are. We lost you much too soon. Your impact on me -- first as an athlete who was larger than life, then as a broadcaster -- was immense.

Your heading into broadcasting in 1983 was almost an "ah ha!" moment for me, making me think about what I wanted to do when I grew up.

I'm still trying to figure that out.

But the icons who have inspired me have generally been grounded souls. Good people.

I continue to lament the fact that the Yankees -- the team you loved so much -- have treated you often as an afterthought. It drivers my nuts when so many people spell your last name wrong. Only calling Graig Nettles "Craig" can rival that for me.

But there's no plaque in Monument Park or any other honor. Even finding items related to you can often be tough.

I wonder if you hadn't been a Yankee -- a team so filthy rich in legends -- might there be more attention.

But, the game after Thurman's funeral is known as The Bobby Murcer Game. Ask anyone of my generation and you are beloved. Just not by the team.

I don't kid myself about you making the Hall of Fame as a player or receiving a Ford Frick Award for your broadcasting.

And you never needed that for me.

But you deserve acknowledgment for a nearly 50-year association with the Yankees.

No, they weren't the greatest years and you didn't become "the next Mickey Mantle." You didn't need to.

You were the occasionally only shining light fans had.

You were the only Bobby Murcer.

And that was enough.

I remain proud to be a fan of you as a player, a broadcaster, and a person. Thank you for showing me that it's ok to meet heroes.

In my case, it was better than OK.

It was unforgettable.

On Hope and Losing

 

Cosby Field from the new Tailgating Pavillion

Game 7 of the Knicks/Pacers series just ended.

So let's recap. It was Game 7. Eastern Conference Semifinals. At Madison Square Garden. A home game. At the "Mecca."

Do we need any more buildup?

And yet? 

It was a big, fat, nothingburger.

Pacers 130, Knicks 109.

The Pacers had a historic day shooting the basketball and full credit to them for sure.

The Knicks dealt with a rash of injuries, including Jalen Brunson, who left this game with a fractured hand.

But I don't play the excuse game. 

And I also don't deal with the loser mentality of "it was a great season," which I saw before the game started.

No. Screw that, to be blunt.

Sure, marvel at the season eventually but, right now, no shot. The Knicks were the second seed in the Eastern Conference. You would be fine to have expected more.

Instead, it ends like this.

It's a shame.

I'm glad I don't have a show tomorrow because there would be fire.

I got a text from someone at WGCH about last Monday's show, when I eviscerated "phony" fans (you know, Town Hall types who disappear when their team stinks). He told me how "on fire" I was.

Well, I would have been off the charts tomorrow because this attitude makes me nuts.

I don't stand for it with any team that I support.

I want the Jeter stare, where you watch the other team celebrate and carry that feeling into the postseason.

I loved this Knicks team. 

I wish it didn't end this way.

*****

Once again, I'm here to stand up for having the ability adjust on the fly.

I struggled with a "Meet the Beatles" topic coming into this week. Something popped into my brain late yesterday but I just wasn't sure if I liked it.

I went with it. I decided to highlight some of the lads' contemporaries.

And I loved it.

But I completely slapped the whole thing together on the fly.

Broadcasting has to be spontaneous in spaces. In this case, it worked magnificently. 

I enjoyed every moment of it and was ready for another hour.

Next week, I'll be stumbling after the Greenwich Town Party.

I better start thinking of topics now.

*****

It was Lawerenceville's day again
(From the LocalLive broadcast)

The Prep Nationals Lacrosse Championship was today.

It wasn't meant to be for Brunswick, as Lawrenceville came out and cruised to a 14-5 win at Cosby Field.

The Big Red were nasty, putting bodies on the ball constantly. The pressure was intense and they cruised to the title.

They won the Prep Nationals for the second year in a row and will be the number one team in the land.

I loved calling it and working with a great crew including Dan Arestia, David Berry, and Josh Drebsky. Great pros.

Before I head into the wasteland that can be the summer, I'm shifting over to the FCIAC baseball semifinals tomorrow, featuring No. 5 Wilton vs. No. 1 Warde in the early game and No. 7 Staples vs. No. 3 Trumbull in the nightcap. The broadcast will begin at 3:55 p.m. with the "Your Business Name Could Be Here Pregame Show."

But I do want to pause and thank everyone at Brunswick for another wonderful year of game broadcasts. I'm blessed to have these people in my corner to get me to call as much as I do. Kevin Devaney Jr at LocalLive either just puts up with me or likes me. I probably drive Wayne MacGillicuddy at Brunswick nuts as well.

But I'm truly blessed to have Kevin, Wayne, Director of Athletics Cedric Jones, Associate Director of Athletics Ron Van Belle, Head of School Tom Phillip, and so many others supporting me. I get to work with amazing coaches in McGillicuddy, Mike Kennedy, Steve Juricek, and Connor Redahan closely.

Plus the parents and students have been remarkably supportive. The kind words, the occasional tweaks, and the food delivered to the press box all mean so much. A mom introduced herself to me today and said that I nearly made her cry talking about her son in a recent game. Others have said I'm the best part of the game or that it's not a game unless I'm broadcasting it.

It's humbling and I'm beyond grateful.

Thank you, Wick. 

See you in September.

*****

Dan Arestia hands the Prep Nationals trophy
to Lawrenceville

Hope is inspiring.

Hope can make you want to run through a wall.

Hope is also dangerous.

But I suppose it's something.

So I'm hopeful.

Fang Gang Celebration

 

They are the champions

I was handling public address duties tonight for the Renegades.

Unless you're new around here, you know my first desire is always to be in a booth.

Any booth.

With a headset on calling the play-by-play of a game.

And I could have been in a couple today, but I was committed to the Gades so I worked there.

Roughly 575 miles away, the Hudson Valley Vipers hockey team played in their ultimate game.

After winning the Eastern Conference title last week in Niagara Falls, the Vipers traveled to Toledo, Ohio tonight to play the Mobsters for the APHL championship.

I always want the big call. I would have preferred to be in Niagara Falls last week and would have loved to be in Toledo tonight. However, doing road games was never in the cards so it wasn't something I pursued. 

Keep in mind, had I attempted to do it, we would have been driving and needing a place to stay. All on our own dime.

So given the many balls in the air right now, along with my commitments back here, it just wasn't in the cards to do it.

But I always want to complete the job. I was, basically, the Vipers' play-by-play announcer in 2024 having called most of their home games.

That's how I feel about Brunswick, Greenwich, and any other team I get attached to. While I don't like the term "Voice of the (insert team name here)" I do understand that there's a connection that the broadcaster represents the team to an extent.

The Renegades didn't broadcast road games in 2021, so I had to push to get the one road game that I wanted to call at Brooklyn. 

But I have called championship games many times, of course, including Greenwich's titles in football at both the conference and state level, as well as FCIAC championship wins in baseball and boys ice hockey.

With Brunswick, I've called their football bowl game wins and FAA conference titles in baseball and basketball. I've also called their lacrosse Prep Nationals title in 2022 and I'll call their attempt to win another one tomorrow. If they win that, they'll likely wrap up being the top lacrosse team in the country.

Those are just a few examples.

But, tonight, I had to watch the Vipers on my phone via the YouTube stream provided by the Toledo Mobsters.

With no announcers.

Broadcast aside, it was a happy night in the Hudson Valley. The Vipers beat the Mobsters 7-4 to win the APHL Championship in the league's first year. It's a wonderful accomplishment for the team and everyone associated with it. I texted with team president Pat Manning to congratulate him.

In the meantime, we talked it over at Heritage Financial Park and decided to make an announcement to congratulate the Vipers.

I had the honor of announcing the result to the assembled crowd of over 3,000 who reacted with a loud ovation.

A championship has come to the Hudson Valley and it deserves to be noted.

So, in some small way, I feel pride in being the broadcaster for the Vipers. But, as always, we are the smallest of parts of the story. We're the storytellers and it's not about us.

To that end, regardless of how many titles I've called for teams, I don't get a ring or a jacket or any of the spoils of winning. Generally, it doesn't work like that, at least not for me. It's a higher-level thing and I get asked about it often. In fact, someone told me that I should get a ring tonight.

I take pride in doing an honorable, professional broadcast. I don't think my place belongs in the domain of the players. 

But I was very proud of what the Vipers achieved tonight. 

*****

Sean and I went to the memorial service for our friend George Chelwick today. It was an honor to be there to support George's family. The speeches from his sons were a reminder of what a remarkable man he was.

The family was extremely touched that Greenwich football head coach Tony Morello and the 2024 Cardinals captains were in attendance at the church. I thought that was pretty great.

That's the love of the community that is well deserved for someone like George, who gave so much in his lifetime.

I don't have any particular reason to explain this to you but I wanted to honor George, Nancy, and their family one last time. 

Let it serve to remind us how good people are located everywhere.

The Prep Nationals Semis

 

Thanks to the fates working my way, I have the honor of calling the Prep Nationals Championship again.

Brunswick is the number one team in the country and they host the tournament. Thus, I'm the broadcaster.

I will offer that if my work wasn't acceptable, I probably wouldn't be on the call. But I'm proud to say it seems to be pretty well-received. Plus I worked with an incredible crew tonight who made the games look stunning.

Tonight was the semifinal doubleheader with Lawrenceville beating Deerfield and Brunswick knocking off Salisbury.

Thus it will be the two best teams in the country for the title on Sunday. And I'll call it.

It just wasn't in the plan when I first started. I didn't think I'd become a lacrosse broadcaster or a soccer broadcaster or a wrestling broadcaster. 

Somehow I've done it.

I can still remember the first lacrosse game airing on WGCH roughly 20 years ago. I wasn't initially going to be the play-by-play announcer (it was a different time back then) but I volunteered to come down and do some sideline reporting (with a very little Sean keeping me company).

Then, the plan changed and I was asked to call the second half of the game.

So, how did I learn? I recognized that there was a bit of a similarity to hockey in terms of the description and that taught me to use a similar approach. It worked and I kept practicing, getting more reps during the days with HAN.

Then Brunswick wanted me to call their games and I picked that up.

I try to not overthink it and just describe it.

Apparently, it has worked.

So I suppose I've earned the right to be the Prep Nationals broadcaster again. Or maybe I'd like to think so.

Sunday will, in fact, be my last Brunswick broadcast for the school year. Thus ends the eighth year as Brunswick's lead (and, often, only) broadcaster. It happened because Brunswick wanted a professional approach and I'm thrilled that it was me who got the chance. My relationship with Brunswick goes back a lot further than that but I'm just about the only person who remembers that.

Sunday will also serve as the beginning of the end of my 26th year broadcasting sports though there are still more to come. 

Anyway, I'm just writing and babbling here.

Lacrosse happened tonight. Brunswick and Lawrenceville have punched their ticket to the Prep Nationals Championship Game.

Dan Arestia and I will have the call Sunday at 2 p.m.

Long Live The A-Team

 

2022 Greenwich Old Timers Awards Dinner

OK, so I've hinted at something and I can finally announce it.

The A-Team is breaking up.

No, Chris Erway and I are not in a steel cage, chair-throwing wrestling match in which we'll write diss tracks like John Lennon and Paul McCartney.

Instead of acrimony, it's just that life takes different paths. Chris, his wife Genna, and their daughters are moving to North Carolina.

With everything now official, I can write this post, opening the door for an opportunity for someone to join me in the Greenwich football both for 2024 and beyond.

(Assuming I'm coming back to the Greenwich booth, of course)

I will say up front that there are a couple of people that I've spoken to already but nothing is written in stone yet.

The person to join me would preferably be available for all games. Just as importantly, they might need to fill in for me on play-by-play if my schedule takes me elsewhere, such as in San Francisco in October.

While football playing experience isn't necessary, I want you to know football. What I expect is that you can explain what's going on in the game to the audience. Break down the play of the line. Break down the routes. Catch the nuances that the play-by-play doesn't mention.

Be prepared (in your own style) and open-minded to learning about Greenwich football as well as FCIAC and Connecticut football. 

Chemistry is important. Chris and I sounded like we invited you in to chat with us. At least that was our goal. We could sit at a bar and call a game with a certain level of comfort. That's what we aimed for. 

We knew each other's cadence and rarely stepped on each other. It was generally easy and comfortable.

But, regardless of our entertainment value, we always knew how to call the game and how to focus especially in the high-leverage portions of the game.

I was always proud of the waning moments of the Greenwich/Maloney game last year that ended with a field goal as time expired. If you know you know.

You'll help me by getting officials' names and pronunciations and perhaps getting us booth space in visiting press boxes and other items.

It's possible you could be sent to the field for an interview, or serve as the anchor if I'm handling an interview.

Most of all, be ready to present a broadcast that is viewed as professional but fun. And prepare to laugh.

We'll need to stay in format by covering all commercials plays and reads if necessary as well as creating promos. Most, if not all of that, is on me but on occasion, it might be you to do that -- especially if you're filling in for me.

If by any chance, you do any selling or have any suggested advertisers, that's a large advantage since revenue drives things. And, yes, you will be compensated, though I don't have the definitive 2024 numbers yet.

Obviously, these are the basics of the gig. In football, if you've listened to any one of the top analysts then you might have a good idea of what I expect in the booth.

Then again, if you've ever listened to Chris and me, then you really know that deal.

But Chris and I were like brothers. We argued, we kidded and worked hard for well over a decade. You need to be you. You don't need to be Chris.

As I said, I have a few people in mind but I'm into opening this up to see who is interested.

Once upon a time, we were a team of upwards of six, with me, Sean Kilkelly, Chris Erway, Chris Kaelin, Ryan Demaria, and Nick Fox. Or we had Nick Angotto or someone else. We also had a studio operator back at WGCH.

Eventually, we did away with the crowded booth and the sideline reporters. I'm not saying that will never come back but we simply reached a point where we just kept it simple. Part of that simplicity was that setup and breakdown became very quick for us, which was a great relief to me in terms of time being spent and equipment needed to be transported. It also reduced that amount of space we took up.

So, at least at first, it's likely anyone stepping into the booth with me will be part of a small team. 

But, hopefully, a good team. Even a great team.

Reach out if interested. Nothing is guaranteed.

As for The A-Team, we'll live on in the archives and we've already talked about ways to do a game in his new hometown. Don't be surprised if we occasionally put the team back together.

We'll live on.