My Summer is Over

 

From last night's Maine/Rhode Island game

Trumbull's season just came to an end.

I feel confident that I won't call a game for a bit, perhaps not until late Aug or early September.

I guess that will have to be OK.

But, as for Trumbull, they lost 4-3 in a tight contest in the New England Championship Game.

Rhode Island moves on to the East Regional final where they'll play Mid-Atlantic champion Pennsylvania.

I called both games, with the decision to do the Mid-Atlantic game coming roughly an hour before first pitch.

With Mike Buswell's urging, I jumped in the car and hustled to the field.

I "Scully'd" it (working solo) wondering who was listening.

Quite a few, in fact. Like one of the biggest audiences in Robcasting history.

I'm quite humbled.

The second game started off a bit raw, with umpires threatening to throw Trumbull's fans out. I said what I thought about that which I'm sure didn't make me many friends but I thought it was a huge overreaction by the umpires and the tournament officials.

They did not, however, threaten us, as one of the umpires told us a few minutes later. In fact, we were allowed to stay exactly where we were and everything settled down.

I'll never be a fan of any official who tries to make things about themselves but, as I said, things calmed down.

But, sadly, with Trumbull's loss, it's time to go home. I might stay the night before heading back to Greenwich in the morning. I'm aware the wicked weather of TS Debby has caused issues back in Connecticut.

Here in Rhode Island, I looked up at the scoreboard and watched it go out as power was lost in the area. We finished the broadcast on battery power but their scoreboard and public address system were out.

I can't even begin to express my gratitude and love for everyone here. Obviously, it starts with Mike Buswell but extends to the families that have embraced me like I'm one of their own. 

This has happened year after year and it is beyond humbling.

I do this because I love it. There are others who wouldn't dream of calling a game with only an hour before the start to prepare. Heaven forbid they don't have myriad hours to conjure up the name of the priest who baptized a kid.

So, I'll take that challenge and run with it. I'll broadcast the game on pure guile.

And the reviews were amazing.

It's been a ride. It's been a drive. 

And, soon, it will be time to go home. 

Right now, I'm planning to stay the night and head home tomorrow. Also, right now, I'm hungry.

As for what I wrote yesterday, I appreciate everyone's thoughts. I appreciate the love. But, sometimes, that's just how I'm going to handle such a thing. I stand by my feeling that saying nothing is often just best.

In truth, I struggled with some bridge and height anxiety yesterday. I'm trying to figure out where this has come from and eradicate it. Driving is a big part of my life as you know.

I had to literally talk myself through each of Newport's three area bridge (Mt. Hope, Pell, Jamestown Verrazzano). I reminded myself that this was all in my head and that I was OK.

But it bothers me. 

A lot.

Hopefully, the drive home will be less dramatic.

Thanks for listening, everyone. As always, I'll miss calling baseball dearly.

High school football (along with hockey, soccer, and anything else) is around the corner.