The Last Day of July

 

Sean holds down the fort at a sidewalk sale, July 2014

July 31, 2014.

A Thursday.

I was sitting in my office when I got some news from a colleague.

Admittedly, I thought it was news that was probably best for everyone involved.

However, I suddenly thought about another colleague. How were they handling the news that morning?

This was back in the days of using AOL Messenger for conversations between different offices and colleagues.

I sent a message over to ask how they were doing.

The answer was they were not well. Really, not well at all.

As we talked, I knew I had a friend who needed a friend. But, more to the point, they needed to not be where they were.

"You need to get out of there," I said.

Expecting to hear "I'm fine" or some other way to shift off the topic, I got a different answer.

I was told where we were going to meet and what time. 

I now had to put my money where my mouth was and leave the office. Honestly, I never expected this to happen.

We met, we talked, a certain healing began, and a friendship strengthened.

For them, it was a tough day. For me, it was a day to help someone who needed support. I'm happy -- thrilled -- to be that safe space.

And they've helped me more times than I can ever explain.

It made me think about who I was ten years ago and where I was. We can never predict the future, of course. Oh, sure, we can get a few things right, but overall not so much. I doubt I can say I'm truly the same person that I was in 2014. I'm older, wiser, perhaps not quite as naive, maybe a bit less irrational, more guarded. 

I don't know. I'd like to think I'm a better person and in a better place.

And I'm patient. Far more than I've ever truly realized.

But these are things that are always tough to talk about so it gets written about in a vague sense.

If it even happened at all.

Thus July 31, 2014, will always stand out to me.

*****

Tomorrow's Renegades/BlueClaws game will air on the YES Network. It's the second time a Gades game will go up to the big channel.

I watched the first one from home. Tomorrow, I'll be in the booth on PA announcing. Barring something strange, my voice should be heard at some point during the broadcast.

To say that is pretty cool is an understatement. 

Obviously, one should always want to reach their goal and calling a Yankees game on YES (or WFAN Radio) would be the obvious call.

But it will be nice to tell people about once doing PA on a broadcast that ran on YES.

So, to clear up any confusion, I'll be the voice in the background that is saying things like, "Leading off for the Renegades, the second basemen, number two..." and so on.

The guy on the field hosting the games and between-innings events will be my guy "Fish," who is crushing it. That will be my role on Saturday and I'm sure I will have quite a few critics as I take that big step.

But having watched the great Rick Zolzer and now Fish, along with Zach Newbauer, I have a sense of how I want to do that on Saturday.

The thing is this: I can't be Zolz. I can't be Fish or Zach or anyone else.

Just as in the broadcast booth, I can only be me and that's what I'll be on Saturday night.

But, to the point, it will be fun to be on YES tomorrow night. Obviously, as a 50-plus-year Yankees fan, it's exciting.

Then, after Saturday, I'm likely heading to Rhode Island. Then back to Connecticut. Then back to Rhode Island.

More on those plans likely tomorrow.

Blood, Sweat, and Tears...But Mostly Sweat

 

Water...seltzer...anything to stay hydrated

I walked into WGCH today and stopped to chat with two of my colleagues.

"You look like you've lost weight," one of them said.

I'm never comfortable with weight talk though I'm hardly immune to it. There's no question I've struggled, especially over the last few years post-COVID. We can downplay what happened, the shots, the masks, etc, but there was a mental, emotional, and physical impact that can't be ignored.

And that's where I come in. There was food during the many lows of that time.

But if I've shed some weight recently, that would be good.

The reason? Well, frankly, I've had sweat falling off of me every day.

And it really started on July 1.

We had warm days before 7/1/24 but that was the day that we moved to the new apartment.

Even if it wasn't a hot day, we were constantly in motion. I was at it, as you might remember, from waking up at 4 a.m. until later that night.

The days began getting hotter from there. Things went from the low to mid-80s to the high 90s with real feel temperatures over 100.

And each day, whether I was moving things, packing things, hanging things, lifting things, or broadcasting things, I was sweating. I normally had a towel next to me so that I could mop off and looked forward to any moment I could get in air conditioning.

Sean -- who prefers the cold weather -- would grumble at me about how I could possibly like warmer days.

In truth, I'll always take Fall and Spring first, then Summer. 

I like Winter sports. I don't like Winter weather.

I suppose I'd like it just fine if I was in Florida.

It's been 30 days of activity. Constant moving and shaking. 

And so, while I don't like discussing weight, that's what has been going on.

The move, obviously, started it. Then we had to go into the basement and reorganize our stuff.

Then there were over 30 baseball games of setup and breakdown and walking to and from the broadcast site. Plus, of course, was the broadcasts themselves.

There were multiple missed meals, though they kept me well-fed in Oxford during the Cal Ripken tourney.

There was walking to and from trains in Greenwich and Brooklyn on Sunday.

And there have been multiple trips back into the basement to drop things off and bring things out. Plus, lots of walks to the garbage can as well as back into the basement for laundry.

Certainly, it has been exercise with a touch of diet. However, let's not ignore the mental exercises of the month, from calling games to everyone's good old friend, stress.

But it's also been a hot month where simply sitting and watching TV, sans air conditioning, could produce droplets running down my face.

I get embarrassed by all of this for a few reasons, including sweat being part gross and part "TMI."

But it is what it is. Most people do it, though some do it more than others.

I keep joking with myself that I'll stop sweating on Aug 1 though I hardly think that's true.

And, given I'm working for the Renegades tomorrow for a game starting at Noon, I think I'll achieve 31-for-31 sweaty days.

I'll still take this over winter weather. I mean, really. I don't miss the cold and the snow and the ice. 

So, yes, I'll take sweat and staying active, thanks very much.

A few quickies before we wrap this one up:

- I've been asked to serve as field host for the first time at a Renegades game. If you want to see me do something completely outside of the box, come out to the stadium on Saturday. I'm only sorry that Sean won't be there to see it. It will mean embracing a different side of my personality. My goal isn't to be better than anyone else. My goal is to be a viable option if needed. And to not embarrass myself or the team.

- A trip to Rhode Island is completely in play for the Little League Regional beginning this weekend. I'm figuring out how to navigate the issues I presented about teaching and The Cat. I'm trying to make it all work, but...

- I'm having car work done on Thursday so that I can pass the emissions test in Connecticut so a lot hinges on that.

Stay tuned, as always.

A Quiet Night

 

Sean had a friend here when I got home today. 

It was one of the guys who helped us move nearly a month ago and he was here to learn the ins and outs of audio editing and production. Sean took him over to WGCH and they were having lunch when I walked in.

We made our way down to the basement where I showed them some of the mixers I have in my collection. At this point, I really only use my Rodecaster and Zoom PodTrak P4. I also have access to a Zoom PodTrak P8 at WGCH if needed.

Additionally, I still have an Allen & Heath ZEDi 10 that I could use, even though I never mastered how to get the best out of it. It turned out to be a wasted purchase, unfortunately.

So, the point is that I have plenty of equipment, and I'd like to hand some off to people who I think would use it. In the case of Sean's friend, I was happy to give it to him, especially as a thank you for helping us move on July 1. He was really clutch that day.

The transaction comes with a guarantee of answering questions and helping him learn how to use it.

All for no charge. As in, paying it forward.

Otherwise, it's just a very pleasant night here. Earlier today, I stopped at the dry cleaner downstairs and picked up a few items I dropped off. They needed to be repaired and I enjoyed getting to meet the people who run a business in our new neighborhood.

I haven't met everyone around here but I intend to still walk to the other places and get comfortable with them.

But I was asked at the dry cleaners today how we liked the neighborhood.

And that's just the thing. A big advantage here has been the neighborhood. The car horns are mostly gone. Even living so close to the hospital, we don't hear that many sirens. We hear some dogs, some kids, and occasional traffic. 

Otherwise, things are fairly peaceful here.

In fact, my bedroom is quieter. I haven't used my AirPods much since we moved in, though I've let Alexa play some peaceful sounds to help me sleep. But noise is not an issue.

Even though our driveway is shared with the dry cleaner, another family, and a few other cars, noise is minimal here. As I sit here right now, I'm just watching the Yankees/Phillies game (Yankees lead 9-4) and Sean is upstairs. A fan is buzzing here and I hear an occasional car go by.

It's amazing how moving just a little bit almost puts us back into the country. As I said, we're not alone here. It's not a dead end. We have a street behind us and there are houses back there as well. 

So we're surrounded but it's just quiet.

Oh, that doesn't mean I'm glad we left Bruce Park. We loved it down there but I will shed no tears over the change in noise and parking situations.

But, when my schedule allows, it will be nice to put my feet up and read or just listen to some music. We don't have a deck and I miss that greatly but we do have space where we can sit in the backyard. I have yet to take advantage of this but I hope to eventually.

It's a nice feeling to not be overthinking about things. I'm just able to write, watch baseball, and lay low tonight.

I should try this more often.

Paul the Photographer

 

The credit for this one belongs to Sean.

A photography exhibit by a certain Sir Paul McCartney debuted at the National Portrait Gallery in London in June 2023.

It opened a week after I left London, where I had been for a Hunt Scanlon conference.

Figuring it was a case of "Oh, well, sucks to be me," I laughed at the tough break and moved on.

But then it turned out that the exhibit was going to tour.

In late 2023, it stopped in Norfolk, VA. I considered taking a trip in January for a weekend to visit it. Sean and I discussed a fun getaway for Waffle House and Beatles photos, knowing we also had a drive to Florida in March. So common sense and financial responsibility won out.

Then I saw a post from Macca's Instagram page.

The tour was coming to Brooklyn.

Brooklyn, NY is certainly reachable but can also be a bit of a trip. Any longtime reader of this blog knows I frequented Brooklyn quite a bit at one time. You can drive but, well, it's New York City. You can use mass transit but be prepared for changing trains.

As I said, this story belongs to Sean. He insisted that we go because "I don't want you to miss this." Once in a while, he takes a stand and, in this case, he was resolute.

Obviously, we've had some things to deal with over the past few months. We've worked for the Renegades and I've worked multiple sporting events and so on. Then, of course, the move occupied our minds and time.

Our schedules have just been crazy.

The exhibit, Paul McCartney Photographs 1963–64: Eyes of the Storm, arrived at the Brooklyn Museum on May 3. 

It closes on Aug 18.

Time was ticking away. Or, to put it another way, "Life is very short and there's no time for fussing and fighting, my friends."

I had to include a song quote, even if it's from the wrong era.

But I promised we would go. I didn't want to miss it. It would simply be a shame to have this within reach and not see it. So I marked today as the day.

In the end, it became an adventure for father and son as we made good on the promise.

With that said, the day began with "Meet the Beatles," because it's Sunday. We left immediately after I got home, walking from the new apartment to the Greenwich train station. It's a roughly 30-minute commitment for those wondering. I'll have to consider that in the wee morning hours of a September day when the next conference comes around.

It's best, however, to not worry about time in this case. The train took us from Greenwich to Grand Central and we boarded the shuttle to Times Square before taking the 3 train to the museum. 

I call this "Two Selfies." Also, I need a Beatles T-shirt

With all due respect to the Brooklyn Museum and the other fine works of art therein, we were there for Sir Paul, and we went straight to the fifth floor.

Now, Sean thought this was an art exhibit and didn't realize that it was a photography display with some artifacts. For him, that turned out to be a pleasant surprise as he is into photography.

For me, it didn't matter. It was Paul. John. George. Ringo. It was those in their world in 1963-1964.

And it was magnificent.

While it covered just a brief stretch of Beatlemania, it was a look at the insanity as the lads took over the world.

There are portraits and action shots. There are behind-the-scenes vignettes. There are views of Liverpool and London and New York and Washington and Miami. 

There are the four Beatles but also George Martin and Mal Evans and Neil Aspinall and Cilla Black and Brian Epstein and the other wonderful characters that participated in this seminal time. Also included were pictures of Jim McCartney and Mike McCartney (Paul's father and brother) as well as Jane and Peter Asher (Paul's one-time girlfriend and her brother) and George Harrison's parents as well as George's sister, who lived in the US.

There was plenty from the Plaza Hotel, where The Beatles stayed for their appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show.

There were also some glimpses of other photographers, including album covers such as With the Beatles. Of course, with some changes, it was known as, ahem, Meet the Beatles here in the US.

There was a Beatle wig.

It was truly wonderful, especially for a fan of the band.

Sean was dazzled and I was overwhelmed.

And I'm beyond grateful to him for making sure this happened.

I wish I could say we came away with a souvenir but, alas, the options were sort of meh and a bit overpriced. I really liked the exhibit poster but couldn't justify plunking down $35, knowing I'd want to frame it also. The idea of carrying that home wasn't appealing to me either.

I looked at a few things but, hey, it's OK. I saw it. I took a few pictures. Not everything has to have a trinket.

I'll take the memories as a souvenir.

As we walked out of the museum, a band was playing jazz and I had to remark that I loved it but I came to Brooklyn for The Beatles. We both laughed.

Shake Shack said to pick a number. How'd I do?

With the day being warm but comfortable, we enjoyed a walk through Grand Army Plaza and out Flatbush Ave to find some food. We settled for Shake Shack, though admittedly it wasn't my first choice.

But the subway was across the street and the journey to Greenwich was awaiting.

Oh, but first we had to get black and white cookies at Zaro's in Grand Central.

With minutes to spare, we found two seats and chilled out on the train.

Nearby, four teenage girls giggled and talked about clothes and whatever else teenage girls discuss. 

Despite their occasional shrieks, I laughed at them. Sean didn't find them quite as amusing.

Maybe it's the dad in me.

Our journey ended a little over a half-hour after stepping off the train in Greenwich.

Sean is upstairs talking with friends online.

I'm watching the Yankees and Red Sox, with the Bronx Bombers reminding me of the roller coaster that is a baseball season.

But today was about Sean and Paul McCartney.

A day -- an adventure -- that I will be forever grateful for.

Yeah yeah yeah.

Little League State Champs

 

Chris Kaelin, center, was among the umpires today in Simsbury

Trumbull has done it again.

If you recall, Trumbull advanced to the Babe Ruth New England Regional in North Providence, RI last year. Their head coach Mike Buswell, working in tandem with Waterford's head coach Lucas Beaney, made it happen for me to go to the tournament and broadcast the games.

I went and had a blast.

Trumbull won that tournament and advanced to the Babe Ruth World Series in Fredericksburg, VA where Mike and company wanted me to hang around again. After driving home from vacation in North Carolina for a few days to teach at CSB, I jumped in the car and drove to Virginia.

While in Virginia, Mike told me he would be putting his coaching energy into Little League baseball this year, where his son Bryce would play.

Mike Buswell on Facebook

Tonight, Bryce, Mike, and Trumbull are state champions. They won the 8-10 Connecticut title over South Windson 6-3 early this afternoon. Bobby Gerbert and I were there for the call on Robcasting and Gamechanger.

And, apparently, the conversation has already begun about me going to the Eastern Regional Tournament in Cranston, RI.

And, once again, teaching at CSB is causing me headaches.

The tournament begins next Saturday, though Trumbull doesn't play until Sunday. They also play on Monday (and I have to teach on Monday).

Oh, and I have to teach on Tuesday also. So, at best, I could drive to Rhode Island on Wednesday and stay for the rest of the tournament. I'm not against that.

But. Not so fast.

There's also a cat to take care of. And -- hang on! -- my cat coverage will be out of town.

So. my odds of a long stay in Cranston, RI aren't great at the moment.

I can't get upset. Not tonight, anyway, but I am a bit frustrated. I've wanted to get away and I can't take a break. Sean leaves for Myrtle Beach later this week so he'll be gone and I'm happy for him.

But dear ol' dad has to hold down the fort back in the hood.

No, tonight is about letting Trumbull celebrate their triumph.

They've become a baseball machine and I'm glad. We need towns like Trumbull that not only keep baseball going but are also such a family and community.

And they're always so wonderful about pulling me in as if I'm one of their own.

I did glance at Trumbull when looking for a place to live but it just worked out best to get the place here in Greenwich.

Conversely, I am beyond fed up with Connecticut traffic. I told you the details of the drive to and from Simsbury on Thursday. Well, the drive to Simsbury this morning was fairly pleasant, shockingly. So, wanting to resolve the nightstand issue from Ikea earlier in the week, I went to the New Haven location and bought a larger one that might be sufficient.

Then I started for home and sat in traffic on 95.

Congestion? Accident? Construction? All of the above?

Oh, I want to chat with Gov. Ned Lamont and understand it. 

(Before any road enthusiast says, "The state can't afford it," please don't waste your time)

It is some of the absolute worst traffic in the country. Like, read that again. 

But, again, all is well. We got home in one piece.

I could moan about the Yankees. Nah. It's too repetitive at this point.

Oh and I could scream about having to run to the grocery store after 9 p.m. in basketball shorts and a faded football jersey to get food for the aforementioned cat.

But, silver lining, the Stop and Shop is basically around the corner.

And I suppose that's the bottom line. Take today as a good one and be reminded that the good can be found in everything.

Trumbull is the state champion tonight and they want me to call their games. Or just hang out with them.

What's not to love?

The Kind Words INSPIRE

 

Simsbury late last night.

It took hours.

A long, congestion-filled drive to Simsbury and a long, construction-filled drive back to Greenwich.

Trumbull beat South Windsor in the Little League game that I called and the reviews were glowing.

We'll come back to that.

I didn't get home until 1:30 this morning thanks in part to detours in Farmington and Waterbury that thwarted my progress.

But after initially saying that I could probably only do last night's game, well, how do I not go back tomorrow for the first of the championship games?

So, yeah, I'll be live at 11 a.m. If Trumbull wins, they head to Cranston, RI for the regional. And yes, there's already been talk of me going. In fact, an out-of-state fan messaged me about calling those games. In truth, I don't think I'm allowed to call those games but...

Let's cross that bridge then.

If Trumbull loses, there will be a winner-takes-all on Sunday. I absolutely can not do that one. Sean and I have a commitment on Sunday morning.

PARODY but REAL

As for the comments, I've recently been having fun taking real compliments that I've received and turning them into over-the-top Facebook posts. They've largely been parodies even if the statements are legit.

But many -- most -- don't get the joke and that's fine. Please note the CAPS in the title of the post tonight also.

The argument is that I should be promoting myself but I've always believed the broadcasts aren't about me. They're about the players and coaches and families. They're for the listeners. I just talk and I don't think I do anything particularly special.

In fact, Bobby Gerbert joined me last night and the game was more about him than it was me because he has a son who played in the game.

Post from Instagram

Basically, every Trumbull fan at the field in Simsbury last night came over and thanked me for calling the game. We also received a lot of nice comments via messages.

They mean a lot. In fact, all of that is exactly why I'm going back tomorrow.

But this business keeps people humble. No matter how hard I work, how many compliments I post, or how good the quality of the broadcasts are, the Yankees, Steelers, etc aren't magically offering me a job. They're certainly not doing so based on a Facebook post.

It takes word of mouth, some good fortune, and the right connections to get these gigs. In short, you never know.

Anyway, such self-promotion has always made me uncomfortable. I feel like such things belong on LinkedIn and I certainly don't think the same comments and pictures should be posted repeatedly. It just screams of narcissism.

And despite any wise cracks, my hat size remains exactly the same because I have to remain grounded. There's no room for a swelled head.

So while I may occasionally post more of these goofy items, don't expect to see them on a daily basis. I'll leave that to others, regardless of my just not getting it.

I'm just going to keep grinding out broadcasts as much as I can.

Like tomorrow. 

Which will be transmitted through my MacBook Air, which I got back from Apple yesterday.

On Being Proud and Keeping Busy

 

The haircut boys from yesterday

The team I have stood behind since (at least) 1972 had a pretty rough week.

I mean, two losses to ... them.

And yet, I sit here in a navy blue polo with a white interlocking NY on the front.

That's a thing for me. When they get eliminated at the end of the year, wear the colors. When they win, wear them.

It's about loyalty and pride.

Oh, no, I'm not proud of a lineup that would have made 1967 snicker (a 72-90-1 record) but so it goes. 

And I know people are trying to get at me. Mr. Toxic is doing his "I'm such a positive person" best. And then there's our friend at Town Hall. Yeah. Him too.

Dumb and Dumber, I suppose, or something along those lines.

But as much as I love it, it's still just baseball. It's not life and death and, in reality, they are two meaningless games in the middle of July.

Yes, the Mets swept all four. Now, tell me the truth. Come October, if the Yankees are somehow in a dog pile celebrating a World Series win, do you think anyone will care about losing four games to the Mets?

Only Mets fans will care.

Don't worry. I've seen and heard most of it today.

Enjoy your World Series. I'll hope for the true one in October.

Even if it's a far-fetched fantasy.

*****

So I'm heading up to ... Boston? Vermont? Maine?

No. Simsbury. A lovely town and hopefully a lovely place to broadcast from tonight.

After last night's Little League baseball game was scuttled, a new site was apparently needed. Thus, it's Simsbury, and I'll be heading up there shortly (it's the early afternoon as I write). South Windsor and Trumbull are the teams and 8:00 is the game time. 

Fingers crossed for good weather. We know there won't be good traffic as there really never is in Connecticut.

But it's always good to get back under the headset and I'm pleased to do so. It's especially gratifying when I hear that people are excited to have the broadcast to listen to. I hope people settle in, "pull up a chair" as a wise man once said, and enjoy some baseball tonight.

This is how the grind continues. People want the broadcasts and I'm happy to do what I can. Heck, someone just messaged me about doing a regional in Rhode Island. Nobody has asked and I don't have anywhere to stay so it's not likely but I appreciate that people like the coverage.

*****

Ignore the garbage bag

Back here in the neighborhood, I have a few things to do before heading to Simsbury. My MacBook Air is done and waiting for me at the Apple store. I'm hoping that resolves the USB issue that has been hovering for some time, and actually began a problem during the Cal Ripken tournament. I have backups aplenty ready if needed.

We also got some things cleaned out and most of my decorating is finally done. Things have been hung up and we have a place that feels like it's ours. I still have some bags of audio equipment in the living room that I have to go through but there's not a huge rush on that. 

There's still also the bookshelf to fill up and that will happen soon. From there, let's be honest, it becomes a frequently evolving process. 

But I'm also pleased with getting the hall cleaned between the living room and the kitchen. It had boxes that needed to be recycled and empty bins that could go in the basement and other things that just needed to be cleaned up. 

At this point, there is a garbage bag filled with recyclables.

I call that a victory.

Wins and Losses

 

The Cat enjoys the new rug

I got asked last night if I wanted to work a deposition this afternoon.

However, I had already committed to take on a Little League baseball game this evening in Orange.

So, ultimately, I had to bow out of the deposition.

But, I also had to basically sell my soul to make the Little League broadcast happen if I wanted to air it. I had to sign papers and offer my second-born.

Keep in mind, all of that for a broadcast that features no paid sponsors.

But, anyway, the game was going to air.

However, there was also a visit from the Verizon technician.

But, first, there was a WGCH staff meeting.

Don't worry, football is still in the plans. But I want more than football. Our audience deserves more. There should be hockey and basketball and baseball and softball and lacrosse.

I've begged for years. I've yelled. I've pleaded.

And that's all I can tell you.

I got a call from Verizon as the meeting went on and we got back to the place in time for the service visit. I'm happy to say that it was quick and painless and I think Brian, the technician, was gone within a half hour.

But, while he was here, I got a text that the Little League game had been postponed.

Welp.

I finally had a moment to see what I have on the new version of my TV package. Sure, I've got the YES Network and The Weather Channel (the only two channels I generally care about) but I don't have either TBS or TNT! What the?

Oh, and I don't have SNY. But...but...but how will I ever watch Gare, Keith, and Ron?

Anyway, I'll figure that stuff out eventually.

So it was time to reassess the day. If you're keeping track, I had lost work due to a game but had now lost the game. Also, due to a Red Sox game airing on WGCH, there would be no "Doubleheader."

I have thoughts on that also, but let's stay on topic here.

We decided we would take a walk and get haircuts. Sean definitely needed one and I sort of wanted to get cleaned up. We now have a barber shop just down the street, so we enjoyed the short walk, taking in the sites of our new neighborhood.

Within minutes, we were both freshly shorn. I asked him to shorten things up. It sort of felt like he dug in and I was quite short-haired by the time it was over. I told myself it was just hair (and just money).

We walked back home and decided it was time to go to Ikea in New Jersey for some home needs.

A shower mat. A kitchen mat. A rug. A desk for Sean. A nightstand for me. A garbage can. Nothing too major.

Satisfied, we left, packed our goods, and went to nearby Wawa for dinner before stopping at Paramus Park Mall to take a walk.

I used to go there in the late 70s and 80s but hadn't been back in over a decade. It's obviously changed a lot but there's a Stew Leonard's there now where the Sears used to be. We grabbed milk and orange juice and made our way back to the car.

From there, it was the travails of New Jersey to Connecticut. If you know, then you know the drill. We got home, unpacked, and set about the balance of the night.

You can probably see the collection of pluses and minuses in the day.

The loss of income and the loss of a broadcast are probably the obvious negatives.

But the time together and getting some things done are positives.

One last thing. The nightstand I bought was in the wrong spot and I bought a smaller one. It's a loss in that it's the wrong one but I figure I'll find a use for it.

We can add this awful baseball game I'm watching tonight to the ledger I suppose. Look, losing to the Mets is never fun when you're a Yankees fan but the truth is they're four games out of 162. It's listening to the other side squawk that makes you roll your eyes but, in the long run, it's October that counts. It's the next game that counts.

That's why I generally can't stand the Subway Series nonsense. It's just ... dumb.

The Yankees trotted out a terrible lineup. They're getting what they deserve.

My concern is with a porous bullpen, a lineup that has two legit threats, and an offense that can't hit with runners in scoring position. Other than that? No biggie.

So I don't care about who they're losing to. I just care that they're losing.

Oh, and ESPN's broadcast is ... it's better to not say. But I'll tell you right now that I can think of someone who would be better.

But the interviews are unnecessary and the announcing is ... I like David Cone. There. I said something positive.

Anyway, this is a babbling post about the good and bad of a day in the life.

And we'll just move on to tomorrow.

Around the House

 

I was home today and I can't remember the last time that I could say that.

I mean, we never left, except to do things in the basement.

There was plenty down there, beginning with laundry this morning and ending with some cleaning and organizing of stuff.

But in between was a lot of decorating with a lot more to go.

In that process, an apartment begins to feel more like home.

I'm also writing from my couch, which hasn't happened since we moved. The couch was buried among stuff since July 1 but I finally freed most of that.

The kitchen is coming along also, and we've reached a point where most things have been put where they belong.

Pictures were hung up and knickknacks were put in place to begin to give our home some character.

It was important to get certain pictures up, including those with my parents in them. 

Hector in his "modeling pose" on the right

OK, it was also important to put up the autographed picture that Hector gave to my mother that I've held onto. Don't ask why. If you know Hector, you'll get it.

I'm working hard to use the existing nail holes left by prior tenants, as opposed to opening new holes. So far it has worked out pretty well.

Eventually, I had to get back on the phone with my friends at Verizon, as we still don't have actual TV service. To watch the TV that I pay for, I have to use my phone or iPad. 

I spent over an hour on the phone with a Verizon rep who had me unplug, disconnect, turn on, turn off, and press buttons until asking me to walk down to the basement. It was down there that we discovered a cable had been disconnected.

Yup. A service call has been placed for tomorrow.

But tomorrow is also the day for the WGCH staff meeting. Of the greatest concern to me is football broadcasts. Oh, I have other concerns, but it starts there.

So, as usual, it will be a day of juggling.

There are still potential game broadcasts as well but nothing is in place yet.

So, for now, I'll continue to move forward with more decorating and continuing to move forward. Shockingly, August is next week and, sadly, fall isn't far behind.

Time has a funny way of marching on.

Sean will be going away and, well, we'll see what I do.

Robcasting at Seven

 

Jake Zimmer, me, Dan Gardella, 2017 (Shawn Sailer photo)

The idea of creating my own internet channel for game broadcasts actually goes back to the early 00s. 

WGCH was, at one time, a very busy place with an active sports department. I was proud to head that group up and we could send broadcast teams to different places.

Sean Kilkelly and John Spang could go call hockey while Mark Smallwood and I would call basketball. There was always a live body in the studio and, if needed, an extra person could be at the game site to help engineer and report.

Eventually, it all whittled down. Or, more to the point, it all went all, except for football and the occasional other game.

It's depressing to think about but it also inspired me to push for something online.

Eventually, that led to Hersam Acorn Radio/HAN Radio/HAN Network. While there are tails both good and bad of those days, I remain incredibly proud of the concept.

In the midst of that, a term of born.

Robcasting.

And I never forgot it.

So, after I left HAN, I started an audio channel for another media entity. I figured out pretty quickly that it wasn't going to last long, unless...

Seven years ago today, while broadcasting a Babe Ruth tournament at Trumbull, we used the term "Robcasting" in passing. Moments later, AJ Szymanowski sent me a mockup of a logo.

It didn't get tweaked much beyond that mockup and the channel was officially born.

AJ was part of the team at the beginning, with Jake Zimmer, Dan Gardella, and Shawn Sailer. Of course, Chris Erway and Chris Kaelin also bought in, as did myriad others who understood the assignment.

From day one, as much as I'd like to make money, it was meant to broadcast games and have fun.

We used to joke about the channel "making broadcasting fun again" but that leaned too heavily towards a particular political slogan so we quickly shelved it.

But, basically, anything that I've broadcast since July 2017 has made its way over to Robcasting. In some cases, the channel has been the exclusive home, such as for the Babe Ruth and Cal Ripken tournaments, along with Little League Baseball, Fairfield Prep basketball, Boomslang basketball, Norwalk's holiday basketball tournament, and even a season of Greenwich football.

Beyond that, Robcasting has been the simulcast/backup home for a lot of other programs and games. A season of Hudson Valley Renegades baseball ran there so we had the audio for editing purposes. All of the Brunswick and other LocalLive games also called Robcasting their backup home.

Greenwich football has continued to run on the channel, regardless of being on WGCH. So has the GYFL and honestly more games than I can remember.

But there have also been episodes of "Doubleheader," "The Clubhouse," "Meet the Beatles," and other shows. All got the Robcasting treatment.

Quite an archive has been amassed in the seven years.

My 1000th game broadcast aired on what became Robcasting.
L-R: Shawn Sailer, AJ Szymamowski, me, Sean, Jake Zimmer
at Cardinal after the Red/White scrimmage, 2017

Now, for clarity, I am not the channel and the channel is not me. I don't refer to myself as "Robcasting." In truth, I still sort of cringe every time I say the name. But literally, everyone I talk to loves the name, so what do I know?

I also don't say that Robcasting has existed for my nearly 34 years in broadcasting, though I suppose I could. Yet I never would.

It has been one of my truest labors of love, where it wasn't always about the money. I'm a terrible salesman, for one thing, because I always want a game to get covered. Too many times have I heard a game will receive no broadcast and I'll offer to throw it on the channel.

The game matters. The players, coaches, and support all matter. And I love to cover them. I was speaking again today about how the broadcast booth -- in whatever form -- remains my sanctuary. I know something is really wrong when I'm thinking about it during a game.

But it's also been a team effort, with too many names to mention. At one time or another, the names above volunteered their time to get on the air and have fun.

I'll always wish it could make more money and I'll always wish we had a firm home base but, for now, that's just not how it goes.

Yet every one of those names -- Jake, Shawn, Dan, AJ, ErJuan, Kato, plus Harold, Mick, Sean Adams (of course), Susan, Paul Silverfarb, and more -- helped build this thing. Plus Bob Small and WGCH have been enormously supportive as well, with equipment and internet access. It doesn't happen without all of them and I'm grateful that WGCH understood that I could use Robcasting as an extension of them. We could also use Robcasting, based on the Mixlr app, if WGCH.com went down.

It takes a lot of people to make all of this happen and I'm glad it did. Honestly, I can't keep track of all of the broadcasts that have aired on Robcasting but I'm glad we still have it.

I won't lie. There are times I think about shutting it down due to costs and see if we can find a lower-cost (as in free) option but we're still motoring along.

As I wrote today, we haven't even touched our full potential yet. In a perfect world, the channel would be on 24 hours a day, running repeats when we don't have live programming, or picking up other programming to help fill the hours.

You know. Sort of like a real radio station.

For now, we're on as needed and/or wanted.

We'll be back in action tomorrow at 4 p.m. for "Doubleheader" and I'm still hopeful for a few baseball games later in the week but nothing is official yet.

And with all of this said, I can't thank you all enough. It's a nice little engine that could that has been heard all over the world and it's very gratifying.

Thank you and we'll be live again soon.

As always, check your local listings.

Really Happy to Be Home

 

He's happy we're home. At least I think he is.

Let's start this post with a "Meet the Beatles" thought. I honestly loved today's show. I was inspired by what I thought was a foolish social media post from a few days back.

Look, I let a lot of stuff go. I even bit my tongue on a post about Vin Scully broadcasting the 1985 World Series.

Nope. He did not. He did the '85 NLCS on NBC but the '85 Fall Classic ran on ABC with Al Michaels in the play-by-play seat for Cardinals/Royals. Before you say, "Vinny did radio," that too would be incorrect. Jack Buck called the Series on CBS Radio.

Vin was probably home in Hidden Hills, CA with his beloved wife and family.

But, I let it go. Some people also can't handle...well...the truth, honestly.

I also don't feel the need to be that person. I see it all the time. The person who has to correct everything.

But when the same person erroneously spoke about John Lennon and his lack of emotion, well, I took that as inspiration for today's show.

John Lennon was an enormously complicated soul. He was a difficult man. He was also enormously good-hearted and deliriously funny. That didn't mean he was going to bear his soul while chatting. At least, not publicly.

That was reserved for his music.

I started with "In My Life." I included "Nowhere Man." I could have thrown in "Mother." I also used "Jealous Guy," "I'm a Loser," "Julia," "How?" "Watching the Wheels," and even "Help."

Oh, there was also "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away." Plus, I threw in George, Paul, and Ringo singing "Ain't She Sweet" from the Anthology sessions. The "Threetles," these "unfeeling types, sat together, singing and laughing and saying how wonderful it was to be together.

I mean, it was too easy. I added in things like "Eleanor Rigby" and "I Want to Tell You" and "Something" to show the sensitivity of Paul and George.

Oh, and then I went for Paul's "Here Today" and told the story of Paul and George holding hands as Harrison was ten days away from dying.

Honestly, the show should win an award. 

OK, maybe not an award but it's something I'm really proud of. I like that I gave it a lot of thought and, while there's always a spontaneous nature to my work, it came together so nicely. So fluidly.

Feel free to give it a listen.

There is no intended malice in this but there are those who are either too stubborn, stuck in their ways, or too arrogant. Sometimes it's nice to refute them a bit.

For the record, we're not talking about Toxic Positivity, whom I took the weekend off from. Yet he's still continuing to bloviate. If I go back in, expect shock and awe.

*****

OK, so I've really buried the lead here, but as the title implies, it's nice to be home. I bought a receiver for my old Sony amplifier to make it Bluetooth-compatible, thus bringing it into the 20th Century. As we speak, I'm playing a Sirius XM jazz channel though it off my phone.

Bliss, I tell you.

But I'm not kidding. I think I bought this amplifier (from Costco) in the late 90s. Probably around 1997. I added a turntable, cassette deck, and brought the TV and DVD/Blu-ray into it as well. It sounds pretty great through a pair of Polk Audio bookcase speakers that might date to the early 00s since I got them at Circuit City.

Yes. I'm that old.

But my two-plus weeks of baseball are over. As I wrote a few nights ago, that was (over*) 29 games of play-by-play. Now, three Renegades games on the public address have come to a close.

* I couldn't call a game but could see it from a field away, so I narrated that while calling the game I was at. I'm weird that way.

But I'm thrilled, relieved, and just happy to be done with everything for a moment. This was a grind, topped by a couple of stressful days and nights in the minor leagues. There were a lot of moving parts and it felt good to navigate all of it without incident.

Plus, if I may, there was supposed to be a producer in the booth both last night and today. But he was sick so that duty was left to me to do .... in addition to handling the PA announcing. It's no major hardship. It's just extra massaging of things, I suppose.

But I felt a good sense of achievement when it was over and, for the first time in a while, I'm home and can focus a bit on this place. I've hung just a few things, including the important spaghetti and meatballs recipe from my mother and my beloved Aunt Fay. One day I have to work up the guts to try to make it.

For tonight, the Adams boys had chili dogs. Tired after our day(s) at the stadium, we stopped at Wegmans and picked up dogs and rolls. Plus French fries.

And it was all delicious.

Now it's time for just relaxing, cooling down, hanging with The Cat, and getting myself ready for the week. For now, I only have Doubleheader on my mind. I will tell you that there is a pending play-by-play offer that is hanging around to be dealt with. I'm waiting to hear if we're approved to do it.

Otherwise, the equipment is all sitting in the living room a few feet from where I'm typing.

There are plenty of other things to be done, such as car work.

Oh, and back to the Bluetooth receiver. So, I ordered it on a whim yesterday (it was quite affordable) and set about my day. Later in the day, it struck me.

I had it delivered to Bruce Park. You know, as in the apartment we no longer live in.

Ah, oh well. Our old landlord would have shot me a text had he seen it, but it wasn't necessary. We ran over after stopping at Wegmans tonight and that was that.

I did love the grind of these two weeks. The hours were long and the toll was physical and mental. But I'm drained. I need ... something tonight, but for now, chili dogs and jazz will suffice.

I'll be back on the radio tomorrow.

Talking sports.

Which is what I do.

*****

I'm aware of the news of the day, with the President announcing he would step aside from running for reelection. It's sad that we simply can't discuss such things without rancor. Friendships get destroyed and blood pressures rise.

Thus, I think it's simply best for me to keep my thoughts on the topic to myself until the time I think I can compose anything coherent.

For now, I'll stay out of it except to say I worry about this great country.

You're Cordially Invited to My Mistake

 

The happy couple dance on the dugout

I went to a mascot wedding tonight.

"The first interspecies wedding," I believe it was called though my memory might be wrong.

I'm sure it was words like that.

But now, it's done, and I'm back home.

Rascal and Rosie are wedded and I got to see it.

No cake, at least not for us in the PA booth. No dancing, again, not for us. In fact, I didn't even wear a suit. What does one wear to a wedding of a raccoon and a skunk?

I gave that last question some thought before opting for a Renegades polo and shorts. After all, I wouldn't be on the field for the nuptials. I was in the booth, which I rarely move from once the game starts. I wasn't needed anywhere else. 

Plus, I was the combo platter of PA guy and booth producer again. With Mikey Clicks to my right on sounds and Anthony to my left on visuals, we need no one else.

I mean, we're a pretty effective team, especially when my guy DJ Fish is manning the field. He was a master tonight as always, and we played off each other well. We were a touch better than we were on Friday night.

Still, I goofed. I mean, I goofed a couple of times, but once I goofed big time.

There was something we weren't supposed to say. Oh, we all realize it's going to be said because old habits die hard. And I will say there has been a spirit of cooperation about it.

But, still. I hold myself to the usual high standard.

There was the game, motoring on as always. There was me, multitasking with myriad requests on the walkie-talkie that I wanted to deposit in the nearby Hudson River. I was dealing with 50/50 raffles and guest announcers (twice) and whatever else was being thrown at us.

And, what else? Oh, right, a skunk/raccoon wedding.

Anything else? Oh, yes, a baseball game (aka the reason we're all there in the first place).

And in the midst of that, I was prepared to toss things down to Fish for a segment. Except I didn't say "Fish." I said...

I can't say it. Oh, I can, but the story plays better this way.

"Z...," I said, before knowing there might be a swear jar put near me. I would immediately become the target of myriad taunts.

Embarrassed, I quickly said, "Fish," and shut up. At that point, I wanted to shrivel up and disappear.

I nearly texted GM Zach Betkowski to 1) apologize and 2) tell him I'd make the first donation to the jar, but I was too mortified. Anthony and Clicks watched me momentarily meltdown before laughing and making fun of myself.

Of all people to make the mistake.

I texted Sean in horror. He heard what I said and was completely supportive.

"Was bound to happen," he responded. "You worked with the guy for a friggin long time."

In this case, beyond what I'm writing, if you know you know. You know I let people tell their stories and we're not supposed to say more than I have here.

In fact, I've said nothing.

Except how red-faced I was.

The Renegades lost in extra innings and Sean and I treated ourselves to a couple of slices of pizza across the street. We decided we had earned it.

We have to go back again tomorrow to complete the homestand. I wasn't supposed to be the booth producer again tonight, as someone else had been assigned but called in sick. 

Clicks, Anthony, and I work pretty well as a unit. I'm sort of OK with running things again tomorrow.

"Meet the Beatles" starts my day at 9 am. on WGCH and Robcasting. Hope you join me for a more "sensitive" show.

Being a Rascal

 

Rascal Renegade, from when the scoreboard went out in 2021

I'm heading back to the Renegades tonight for the first time since July 4.

I might be doing public address announcing and producing the booth. I have to double-check. 

*checks notes*

Yes, that's the case.

When it works, it really works well. But working well means not getting 50 requests on the walkie-talkie system. Then we get accused of not responding because, well, I'm also multitasking as the public address announcer. Anyway, I think it works well and I'm decent at both.

Part of the reason it works well is because I like Mikey "Clicks" handle the sound effects and music and whether it's Jason or Anthony on Crossfire (the video board system) they just do their thing. I remind us all what the next element is and we work together.

It's called "trusting your people" and I'm pretty good at it. They also trust me.

Then we make fun of things and laugh.

It will hopefully be a good night and the start of a good weekend as I'm there for all three games against the Rome Emperors.

The first time back after a stretch away is always interesting. Sometimes you jump right back in like nothing is different and sometimes it's, well, weird. 

I suspect it will be different tonight.

But in *BREAKING NEWS* I will still be me and Sean will still be "Junior" (even if he's not a junior).

And Rascal -- cat and raccoon -- will both be themselves. Rascal The Cat won't be at the game though. Rascal the raccoon will and he's getting married this weekend.

Yes. That is correct. I don't think I am playing any role in the nuptials nor do I need any form of fancy dress. What does one wear to a raccoon/skunk wedding, as Rascal is marrying his beloved Rosie?

Ah, the mind churns.

It's still baseball and Sean is there and Clicks is there and so are Jason and Jason and Beats and Fish and Alli and Lori and Anthony and the others I've grown close to.

On the other hand, there are plenty who don't know me in the least or know me but don't have the first clue about me. It's a large group that works there on game nights.

I'll be one of them tonight. Tomorrow. Sunday.

I will not the raccoon.

But I'll always be a Rascal.

*****

Kyle Carr, Trent Sellers, and Hueston Morrill
(Photo: HV Renegades Facebook)

I just got home from a night at the stadium that I can only call surreal.

There are reasons why and, frankly, I can't get into them.

But the icing on this strange cake was that the Renegades used three pitchers to combine on a 1-0 shutout win. Kyle Carr, Trent Sellers and Hueston Morrill held the Rome Braves hitless and the Gades won it on a Roc Riggio home run to lead off the bottom of the ninth.

It's the third no-hitter in team history, with the first being thrown by Doug Waechter in 2000 against the Pittsfield Mets and the second being a seven-inning effort by Sean Boyle, Nick Ernst, and Derek Craft against the Brooklyn Cyclones in 2021.

I was on the call for that game.

Quite a night. 

End of Tournament

 

Winchester, MA poses for a team photo

The best thing, I suppose, is to just come home and move on.

It's not that it didn't happen but it's just best to move forward and enjoy the memories.

The Cal Ripken 11U New England Regional is over. Winchester, MA took the title over their in-state rival from Easton this afternoon in Oxford, CT.

The Sachems, as they're known, struck for four runs in the second inning and grabbed a 7-1 victory. They had outstanding pitching, defense, and timely hitting. I mean, that's baseball, isn't it...Suzyn?

And so the experience came to a quick end. It was very kind of Ken Smith, representing Cal Ripken baseball, to call me the "voice" of this event. It was also kind of the kids -- the athletes -- to cheer me. By name.

These experiences are wonderful and humbling. They're also quite sad when they're over.

There was a moment after I got off the air when I didn't know what to do. Were people going out to celebrate? Was everyone going home and collapsing? Should I just stay and hang out at the field?

Eventually, I started looking around and didn't see many familiar faces. The players were doing their thing and the families were just chatting.

As I was putting the equipment in my car, the Winchester coaches yelled their thank yous down to me and told me I'd be seeing them in Boston. They wanted to take me to a Yankees/Red Sox game, most likely so that I'd get shut down by the denizens of the Hub. In truth, I'd probably have a good time. I generally like Sox fans.

It's Queens that I might not survive.

But I appreciated the kind words and thoughts. After packing up, I walked back up near the snack shack before realizing it was probably time to go. I quietly stepped away, got in the car, and drove off.

A certain melancholy set in then. I've felt it after leaving Trumbull, North Providence, and Fredericksburg also.

The experience is over and who knows if such a thing will ever happen again? I truly struggle with the often temporary and/or transient nature of all of this. Have I mentioned I'd like to have a home base and then branch out from there? Not sure I've said that recently.

More to the point, as of now, my next call isn't until Sep 13, when Greenwich travels to West Haven. Thus, I feel sort of useless.

(Update: check the bottom of the post*)

As I wrote last night, I'm sort of worn out with the dangling carrots, none of which seem to be coming to fruition.

To that end, I saw the Pittsburgh Steelers officially hired Rob King as their new play-by-play announcer. I expected that all along, though I did throw my name in the ring. Honestly, it would have been nice to have at least earned an interview but it was not to be. I'll still be listening this fall, even if the rejection email I received today from "The Hiring Manager" was as cold as ice.

I don't blame the Steelers. It's just the nature of applying to something online.

So I made my way home with a hint of the blues following the conclusion of the game. It's just an empty feeling when it's all over. 

Thus, I came home and did laundry. I also continued to nibble away at setting up our apartment. We're getting closer.

I also set an appointment to visit Apple because, blast, my MacBook Air's USB ports aren't behaving. I'm sure that will be a reasonable price.

As of tomorrow, I have no games to call. Just games to do public address announcing on.

And it's time to probably start doing more depositions. And I'll be teaching a little at CSB.

I'd love for the fates to align for me to get a small vacation but that's not looking good. There's just too much to do. 

But let's not lose sight of what this is about. It's about thanking everyone who made their way to Oxford and who supported the kids as well as the broadcasts.

It starts with Brett Conner and then goes to Lou Fernandes and carries to all of the amazing people who fed me, brought me water, kept me on my toes, and made me laugh. Oxford Babe Ruth/Cal Ripken is a collection of amazing people.

It goes to the audience, which stretches from people who came from the "small world" category to new faces and friends. 

It goes to the umpires and other support people who facilitated the games and kept us on schedule, or close to it.

But it especially goes to the kids and coaches. There were kids who overwhelmed me by knowing that I was even there. A special note goes to Oliver Spear of Bethel, who waved to me every time he went to the plate, even after his team lost yesterday!

All of the games have been archived on the Robcasting showreel page on Mixlr and are downloadable at Archive.org

To an extent, it's easy to see why I'm a little bummed that it's over. But it's also easy to see what makes me keep doing these events. 

Also, I appreciate those who inquired about last night's post. It frankly makes me a little uncomfortable but I'm glad to know people care. That situation is, of course, unchanged, but so it goes. I chose to not respond to his stuff today.

Like so many other things, nothing will change. I exposed my soul last night in a moment of honesty and weakness and what for?

*Oh, and hang on. As I was writing, I had another request. We're just waiting for clearance to see if it's real but there might be something on the schedule next week. So, for now, we'll get back to the Renegades as we await more news. Check your local listings (my social media channels) for more.

So we'll hope for that next call and we'll hope for one of these situations to become true.

And we give profound thanks to Oxford for giving me a home for the week.

Congratulations to Winchester on the tournament championship.

Let's Move On

 

Visted Danbury today and saw that Newtown banner.
I called that state championship game in 2014

I admitted today on social media that a certain person and situation have been gnawing at me.

I tried to address it to a couple of friends last night and I'm not sure my message was received.

But this kind of stuff messes with my mental health and I felt I needed to say it.

Look, I'm in a weakened state because of nearly two solid weeks of baseball broadcasts with 28.5* since July 6th. Don't get me wrong. I've loved it but as I always say it's a grind.

Plus the move and stress of that, along with the complaining about the basement (which is currently calmed down).

*I should be calling number 30 tomorrow but the weather made officials decide to put one game at one field at Oxford and the other on the other field in the same park. They were both played at the same time. So, while I didn't do play-by-play of Hudson/Winchester, I stood maybe 500 feet from the field and described everything that I saw.

So this has been a grind of standing and sitting and having a sore back. Of setting up and breaking down every day.

It's been a grind of blazing sun and real feel temperatures of over 100. It's further been a grind of worrying about the weather and how it will impact the equipment.

It's been a mental grind. I don't just talk for 2-plus hours. I put my heart and soul into every pitch and every story.

I'm as prepared as anyone but I lament every mistake, getting frustrated when I stumble over words.

Beyond that, I'm exhausted with "opportunities." Perhaps I've mentioned but I have several carrots that have been dangled in front of me. Like a fool, I've engaged and pursued each one.

Then? Nothing. I have to figure out how to pay for this apartment and keep living a little bit of a life. In all likelihood, I'm not going away anytime soon and, yeah, that's very disappointing, considering my schedule will likely get nuts again in September.

I keep stupidly believing one of these gigs will come to be. Yet, I should know better. Fool me once, fool me twice, and so on.

I can't keep going like this much longer. I've asked for a home base. I've literally begged for some things to change.

And? Nothing.

So take this and add in the other stuff and it's a lot.

Anyway, this coming off like I'm whining and feeling sorry for myself.

I'm not.

I'm just reminding you to check on loved ones. Mental health is no joke.

The championship game of the Cal Ripken 11U New England Regional is tomorrow at 2pm between Easton and Winchester, MA. The winner tomorrow moves into ply in the World Series in Florence, AL.

I'm proud to be on the call.

It's Your Pitch!

 

I arrived at the ballpark today in plenty of time for today's two games.

The equipment got set up and I was just waiting for the lineups.

I spied a couple of boxes of baseballs and picked one up. I just held it for a moment as I stood there in the empty press box of Posypanko Park in Oxford, CT.

I was just standing there, waiting for lineups before the Quintown (NH)/Hudson (MA) game. The winner would advance to tomorrow's Cal Ripken 11U New England Regional.

That's when it hit me.

Think of Roy Hobbs, sitting in a hospital bed in The Natural, talking about how he wished his dad could see what he had accomplished before stopping himself.

In that moment, in the quiet of the booth, knowing I'd be standing outside calling baseball in a short time, I had a similar moment.

I looked out at the field.

"God, I love this game," I said.

I know, I know. How cheesy!

The screenwriters would no doubt feel nauseated.

And yet...

A short time later, I walked down from my perch to walk to the concession area.

Lou Fernandes, Oxford's coach and my contact for this experience was standing with Ken Smith from Babe Ruth/Cal Ripken baseball.

Lou called my name and spoke words that I don't think have ever been said to me.

They both asked me to throw out the first pitch before one of the two games. Ultimately, they both felt it should be before the West Hartford/Bethel game since those are Connecticut teams.

After making sure they were serious, I accepted. I tried to avoid 1) crying and 2) wondering if they had nobody else and had reached the bottom of the barrel.

Now if you know, you know. I just talk. I don't see myself as a celebrity or anything special. I'm just a guy. A dad. An uncle. A person.

Important people throw out first pitches. Sponsors. Volunteers. Not me.

Every kind word about my work means something. Every mean word challenges me.

But I tend to just do my job and leave.

So the first game went by in a flash and it was just a joy of a game to watch. Hudson beat Quintown 2-0 in a game that took just over an hour. 

In fact, there was then about an hour before the next game.

I spent the time wrapping up the first broadcast, making some notes, having a bite to eat, and doing everything to not think about the first pitch honor.

I don't know how other people do these things. I'm too emotional. Too sensitive.

Then Lou reached for a ball from the very boxes I was looking at a few hours before and tossed it to me. It had been used. It would be treasured.

I'd made the decision to open the broadcast and just leave the crowd mic open. Lou was on the PA system and I figured he could just fill the air time, along with natural sounds of music and crowd noise.

I went down to the field and had a perspective I never have.

I watched the players get introduced, standing near the Bethel dugout. I stood to the side, quietly, for the intros and the national anthem as well as the Babe Ruth code that is read before each game by a player.

Then Lou began to introduce me. 

I stepped through the Bethel players and coaches and heard polite applause.

I thought of -- but tried to not think too much of -- Mom, Dad, and the loved ones that I wished could be there with us. You can probably guess who would mean the most to share the moment with.

Ultimately, I reminded myself to stay humble and enjoy it.

I waved. Honestly, I don't know who I was waving to, but I waved.

I held the ball up as if to say, "OK, here comes whatever this is."

I reminded myself I didn't need to bring a fastball or anything fancy.

I just needed to reach the plate.

Before I threw, I thought of Derek Jeter, because shouldn't everyone? OK, honestly, I thought of him because of what he said to then-president Bush when he threw out the first pitch before the 2001 World Series.

Jeter told the president that he had to go out to the mound and throw the pitch. Then, because he's Derek Jeter, he added, "Don't bounce it. They'll boo you."

JUST a bit outside!

In my case, it wouldn't be 60 feet, six inches between the mound and the plate.

Bethel's catcher, Noah Burke, picked the short straw to earn the "honor" of catching me.

And it was time. As I've done so many times since I was a little kid, I kicked my leg and threw.

Then I felt it. My left foot --my plant foot -- slipped in the dirt of the mound.

Oh no. I'm going to fall, or uncork a wild pitch.

But something wonderful happened. Noah reached for it and grabbed it.

I walked in to him, gave him a fist bump and told him he did a nice job.

No, it wasn't a strike, but it felt like a dream.

Literally, I was a little boy, watching Joe DiMaggio and Mickey Mantle and the countless others who I have watched throw ceremonial first pitches.

And I was a bit older, watching Vin Scully do the same.

I was on a field, in a place that felt so different to me.

The attention was so uncomfortable.

I heard kids cheering my name.

Even the umpires shook my hand and congratulated me, telling me how much they have enjoyed hearing me as they worked a game.

Humbled, honored, and emotional, I departed through the Bethel dugout, wishing them well. I waved to the West Hartford dugout but they didn't see me.

I floated back up to my spot and put the headset on.

I didn't have the words.

I couldn't have the words.

And the usual thing came to my brain

There was a game to call and it's not about me.

But this was a wonderful moment.

I've never been the best. Never the annual all-star. I'm not a Hall of Famer.

I'm just me. The grinder. 

I report with integrity and try to give a dignified effort while making the athletes feel like pros.

So to have this moment was a true honor.

And an emotional one.

Thank you to Lou, Ken, and Oxford Babe Ruth/Cal Ripken. Thank you to the listeners and supporters. Thank you to Brett Conner for asking me to do this tournament months ago.

And I hear other teams are looking for my contact info. That's an amazing compliment.

I still have three more games to call in this tournament.

Oh, for the record, I've thrown out a first pitch once before, as part of a four-man team on WGCH for a Bridgeport Bluefish game back in Aug 2002. 

I didn't bounce that one either.