'The Trading Post' and The Charm of Local Radio

 

WGCH on Dayton Ave after we moved, 2007 (Google Street View)

I'm into day two of my cassette archive project.

The process remains fairly simple: I hit play and let the cassette run onto my computer. Then I edit out blank spots, pump up the volume as necessary, and save it. Then I load the file to archive.org and let it go.

I've moved into 2000 and I'm currently transferring a show called "The Trading Post."

My memory (and an Excel file that lists such things) tells me I dabbled in hosting the show on and off from 2000-2003 (give or take).

The concept was simple: it was the classified ads on the radio. I took calls from people with goods for sale or trade as well as tag sales they wanted to promote. We also accepted mail (yes, snail mail). If the phones went quiet then I could vamp a little with either music or talk.

But the phone normally rang off the hook and I'm glad I had the foresight to keep an episode that I hosted.

A special bonus for this edition of the show, from July 22, 2000, was that my nephew Michael was my guest host. He turned 11 just a few weeks after this show. He's now married with a house and two kids. We went to the Yankees game the night before.

Callers listed things like an accordion, Adirondack chairs, and a lot more. Tag sales were also announced among other items. I wrote each announcement down in a notebook in case there were follow-up questions.

I still hear similar shows when flipping the dial in other markets but WGCH ended the show a few years later as ownership changed. It was sad to see the pieces of local flavor that began to evaporate. "The Trading Post" was just one of those shows that kept WGCH relevant and buzzing, even on Saturdays.

We had a polka show -- "The Polka Party" -- hosted by the father/daughter duo of Fred and Cherly Witek. Fred started the show basically when the station went on the air in 1964. Cheryl took it as far as it could go after her dad died and, sadly, that show also eventually came to an end.

We had just so much more local programming. We were out doing remotes all around town. We did so many sports games (hi!). We aired the St. Patrick's Day parade. We drove in the very same parade.

Overall we stopped being a true community radio station by mid-2003. Shows that weren't profitable were eschewed in favor of dastardly network programming.

Most of the local flavor dried up.

There was always a buzz around the station seven days a week from roughly four in the morning until maybe 10 some nights and probably 7am-4pm on the weekends. 

Now? Nope. Just the way it is.

So shows was such charm like "The Trading Post" went away as internet usage climbed. The demographic changed and that's simply a fact.

Those who ignore history...well...you've simply got to keep moving forward.

But it was a fun listen. I was reminded of everything about the old building on Dayton Ave. I could see the board and the harsh lights. The small TV that rested above the console. The racks of reel to reel machines and the carts that we played with music, jingles, commercials, and more. The computer that acted as our (often faulty) automation.

Yes, I'm sure we belied that automation then since it replaced the on-air talent. Again, progress and all.

Oh, I could babble on about all of it and I'm sure more memories will flow.

But it was glorious and I'm glad I have the audio.

Listen to the show here.

Old WGCH studios, 2021 (Google Street View)

The Archive

 

I didn't wake up this morning planning to convert years of cassettes to digital.

Yet, here I am.

I agreed to two video depositions today, thus (mostly) anchoring me to my office, so I try to occupy the time with other activities.

My options otherwise area to go crazy or fall asleep. Both aren't ideal.

Oh, and option three is to walk away and have Sean monitor things for a few minutes while I step outside to talk to the guys from the septic service, who came to pump things out.

Let's just say it had been a while and that was kind of what I was referring to in a recent post. Thus we didn't have working toilets here for a few days. We adjusted but it wasn't pretty.

Anyway, that's fixed now.

So as I got ready to start the day, it occurred to me that I have a bunch of radio cassettes, dating back to 1999, that really need to be moved online.

Once I set up my recording system, I basically pressed play and let it go. I've done minimal editing as I've compiled several broadcasts.

The tapes span from 1999-2004 and most of them are audio from WGCH. I began carrying recorders of one form or another after 2004 and thus recorded things digitally.

While I haven't listened to every minute of audio, each tape presented a memory.

The first cassette chronologically was of a talk show I did at the time called "Inside Sports." Dated Aug 12, 1999, it begins with the voice of my friend and colleague John Iannuzzi as he presents the evening (!) news. Please note, again, we did an evening newscast!

I opened the show after that, cohosting with the late Luke Michaels. Luke, partially responsible for getting me to WGCH in 1997, always thought we'd make a really good on-air team and our chemistry is clear.

Of further note are the old jingles that we used and the commercials that used to run. The station just sounds different. Also of note was that WGCH had a sister station -- WVIP out of Mount Kisco -- and we often simulcast on the two outlets. In fact, WVIP had a High School Football Game of the Week at the time in Westchester County and I was the play-by-play voice for that year. It was also the last year we did it.

I'd heard there were some sketchy advertising issues but I can't tell you for sure.

A couple of those games have either been converted or will be. John Jay (Cross River, NY), Fox Lane, Ossining, Horace Greeley, and Brewster are among the teams that we covered on WVIP in 1999.

Eventually, we'll get into Greenwich sports, with basketball and hockey as 2000 begins. More sports will follow as the project continues. There will also be more talk shows and other nuggets as well.

Already converted is when I was asked to come in for coverage of Tropical Storm Floyd on Sep 16, 1999. Yes, there was once a time when WGCH (and WVIP) had a news staff. This is not to say we don't anymore (obviously, Tony Savino and Jim Campbell drive that now) but there was more coverage in the years that Jim Thompson was news director because there was a different budget in place.

I noticed there are old Renegades games and Bridgeport Bluefish games plus the 2002 Babe Ruth World Series. I even saw at least one edition of "The Rob Adams Show," my all-too-brief talk show that mostly avoided sports. I look back on that very fondly because it allowed me to spread my wings in a different way.

I even saw a tape of a sports talk show dated Feb 25, 2002. That's two days after Sean was born and I was probably able to shoot to Greenwich, do the show, and get back to my newborn. If I recall, Chris Carrino, radio voice of the Brooklyn (then-New Jersey) Nets was the guest and he congratulated me.

Another tape is dated Sep 12, 2001. I know I've already converted that one but it still takes my breath away. We obviously didn't talk sports that night.

I should also note that I don't have the tapes where I served as the studio host (this would be 1997-1999). I might have segments but not much exists.

All of those shows, and a lot of other things, got cut when ownership changed. It was sad

It's also sad that there are tapes that are lost. I've long-lamented there is no existing audio from WGCH or WVIP on Sep 11, 2001. There are games and other things that are lost to history.

For instance, Greenwich and New Canaan football played to a scoreless tie in 2002 at Cardinal Stadium. AJ asked me if I have it and, unfortunately, I can't find it.

Much like others in the history of broadcasting, the tapes were either lost or even taped over. We reached a point at WGCH where we got really cheap and refused to buy more tapes. The first time I called a game at Mahopac High School -- two football section championship games in 2004 -- we didn't record the broadcasts because we didn't have tapes.

It took 17 years for me to finally have audio of a broadcast at the field I graduated on when I called football in November.

After 2004, the percentage of broadcasts that were saved went way up. Occasionally a defect with a computer or recording device kept the event from being recorded. Even rarer is someone forgetting to record it. Otherwise, almost everything exists.

Except for audio from Superstorm Sandy, as we lost power while recording. That audio is gone.

Some tapes also got purged because they were just bad games or forgettable shows. Sad but true.

There are so many voices, both forgotten and remembered forever. There are commercials from Bob Small, who of course is still at WGCH. There's Dave Rothenberg, now a star at ESPN. There's Ron Lyons, my first football partner. In fact, when I did Fox Lane at Ossining, that was a change from the originally scheduled broadcast. Nobody told Ron we had moved the game so I did a chunk of the broadcast alone before he showed up.

Also of note for me is, well, me. I hear a lot of who I am today. I also hear a lot of who I'm not today. I think I'm more detailed in my descriptions. I think I'm more comfortable. I think I'm more polished. But there's no question you can tell that it's me.

Oh, and tape has a tendency to make one sound a bit like a chipmunk as time goes by. I don't think my voice really sounds like that.

These tapes from 1999 and most of 2000 are before I became sports director so more voices will come along. Sean Kilkelly was already there but others weren't yet.

But given I've limited the amount of work that it takes to convert these, this will be a fun project that I really wanted to do during the pandemic. I'll be posting the audio on my archive.org page so that you can hear it for yourself.

It's important to have these, if only for me.

OK, We Get It

I will never defend the Dallas Cowboys.

Are they the team I hate the most in football? At one time, definitely. Now? Maybe? 

Still, I won't deny that I felt a certain level of glee when "America's Team" (marketing plan) was eliminated from the playoffs yesterday.

But the deluge began.

The witty comments.

The meme's.

The childish names.

I mean, come on. 

Look, I had friends text me a few things and, sure, I found them funny. I saw one before yesterday's game of Ezekiel Elliott and Dak Prescott hugging. The caption said something like, "Hold me. We have to play real teams now."

I can laugh at those.

And, yes, the multiple shots put on the screen by CBS of one distraught fan after another were funny. 

But there are those -- you know who you are -- who just do it to excess. They're doing it to be trolls.

I'll use the same word again: childish.

Juvenile (same thing).

Like I said, I'm not going to defend the Cowboys. They named themselves "America's Team" and, frankly, I don't think they are. I think there are other teams who can claim that title and I happen to root for one of those.

But I get the whole history of hating the Cowboys. Tom Landry and his "uptight" coaching style in the suit.

The things he did offensively were radical at the time but are now standard (the shotgun, for instance). They were mocked at the time.

His quarterback, Roger Staubach, was "Captain America."

So add in the cheerleaders and the stadium with the hole in the roof and some of the mythmaking to go along with the five Super Bowls and Jimmy Johnson and Troy Aikman and Michael Irvin and on and on and on...

They were annoying to ridiculous points.

The big losses were glorious. The Catch. Jackie Smith dropping a sure TD against the Steelers. Leon Lett.

And Leon Lett.

Like I said, I get it.

But, as with other things, when every post is about hating the Cowboys...or the Patriots...or misguided (and wrong) thoughts...well, it's exhausting.

I'm not bothered by most of the meme's, etc. It's the dead horse that gets exhausting.

Somehow I feel like I've written this before.

And, look, I get to watch it as a Yankees fan on an annual basis. People can't keep their eyes off the pinstripes.

It's that concept of living rent-free. Maybe these people are actually closet Cowboys fans.

Anyway, they're done.

Move along.

It's Cold

 

A couple of guys are ready for the Steelers to play

I'm coming up short tonight and I admit it.

It's 6:55 p.m. as I begin writing. The Steelers play the Chiefs at 8 p.m.

And I'm completely exhausted.

So, with a heavy heart, I ask that you forgive me as I mail this post in tonight before I put my feet up, try to avoid falling asleep, and enjoy the waning moments of the Pittsburgh football season.

No, I'm not confident in them.

You probably know I'm not much for winter. I'm also not much of a handyman. I'm more of an assistant. I can dabble a little (I'm MacGyver, after all) but I know when stuff is above my paygrade.

So, off of my rather misunderstood post last night (the title and a few other references should have given it away), I was back at it today, trying to address some issues around the house.

The other big takeaway from yesterday was that the day/night wasn't great but it never rattled me. But I digress.

But, again, I suck at this kind of task. So in temperatures that were fairly uncomfortable, I hung in there, trying to help. Occasionally I'd step back inside and warm up.

Honestly, I didn't feel like I was much of a help.

The job got done with some help from me, I guess. The biggest thing I had to do was 1) recognize my limits and 2) stop acting like I was in a race.

But wow. Gloves, multiple jackets, heavy socks, and even a winter hat. I rarely wear a winter hat.

I'm sitting on the couch with a sore back and the desire to go to sleep.

I'll rally. 

And if this is it for Big Ben, it's been a heck of a ride.

Schitt's Day

 

Empty cat food shelves. Stop & Shop, Somers, NY 1/11/22

Yesterday was great.

Today was the opposite.

I mean, I survived it with humor and patience but, wow. It sadly follows the usual pattern of a really lousy day following a good one.

Issues with plumbing, rushing to Brunswick, and then a tough broadcast there.

I'm grateful I had help with the plumbing. It will be OK.

I'm grateful that people care about the broadcast. 

I am.

But, the thing is, when you approach me during the broadcast there's 1) probably nothing I can do about the issue, 2) it might not be an issue on my end (more often than not), and 3) it's distracting.

Yes, it completely takes me off of doing my job, which is to call the game.

Yes, there were audio issues on Local Live today. There were also issues on Wednesday.

All I can do is pass that along to the right people.

After that, I have to refocus on the game. This is part of the problem with calling a game among the crowd.

Do you know, for instance, how many times people look over my shoulder during a broadcast? It's insane.

What too many people, sadly, don't know is that Robcasting is live during basically every broadcast that I call (even if it's not advertised as carrying the game). I do that as a safety valve. It's my backup system and, sometimes, it's called into use.

It also gives me a copy of the broadcast.

So we ultimately fixed the audio issue by routing the broadcast audio through my computer to the Local Live nerve center. Now, it was a little more involved than that but you get the idea.

I'm sure I don't come off as the most gracious in those moments but I'm just trying to balance calling the game with handling the situation. I have such expectations when it comes to broadcasts that I'm on.

So it was really nice to read some kind words on Twitter as I drove home. It was much-needed.

When you factor everything in, this was a day in which I got into the car and just felt exhausted. I still had to get dinner and decided a trip to Wegman's might help.

It did but my body felt stiff.

But, yeah, somehow that cheesecake jumped into the cart. I suspect it wanted to go home and see Sean.

And I bought more boxes of "Crispy Rice" (the Rice Krispies knockoff) than I've ever bought in my life because they actually had some and we're in a full cereal crisis!

To go along with the cat food crisis.

So that's it. It wasn't a good day.

And, yet, we managed it.

That's a win.

As for those plumbing issues...

It was pretty...er...crappy...

But it will all work out.

I'm Good

Even an incorrect scoreboard made me laugh 

I'm tired.

That's all I literally want to say.

But, first, I should add that it was a good day.

Did you ever have a day that just brought a smile to your face? Even the hiccups didn't ruin it?

I've got some stuff going on that needs to be fixed/looked at but nothing that could ruin this day.

Is there a particular reason? Yes and no, I guess. It just felt like a day where things went right and I was happy.

Even driving all the way to Trumbull to call basketball didn't turn out to be a chore. Traffic wasn't too bad and the experience of calling middle school basketball was joyous.

I didn't make a dime but it seemed like people enjoyed the broadcast and, occasionally, that's good enough. Not something I should make a habit of.

Then I came back home, ordered dinner, and worked on stuff that needed to be addressed. Nothing was resolved but I took necessary steps and that's OK.

I've got hockey again tomorrow.

So, really, yeah, that's it.

Just wanted to say it's a good day.

On Self-Promotion

Promoting my work isn't as easy as you might think.

It's a dance.

I go through a constant barrage of self-doubt. Last night's post wasn't an easy one, for instance, because I wrestled with how much that was "about me" as I went behind the scenes at Brunswick.

So I felt like it was being too self-promotional even if I didn't intend it to be.

Promoting the games and shows and the blog and so on has sort of a formula to it. Beyond that, it takes tact.

That brings me to tonight when I saw Twitter friend Peter Wilkin tweeting about NFHS Network. Now, in full disclosure, I've done games via their channel over the years. To me, I'm going to call the game the same way regardless of provider.

Still, I've heard gripes about NFHS and I've had my own issues.

Local Live, on the other hand, well I love me some Local Live and that's what Peter was tweeting also. Local Live is free to the end-user and, often, uses play-by-play voices. Some are, frankly, teachers or parents or students or fans with little to no experience. Some of it is...well...it is.

I also do a lot for Local Live. That's it. That's all I'll add.

So when I saw Peter's tweet, I decided I could be playful and self-promote. The key to it is to say you're being shameless and add a wink/nudge to the recipe.

To further prove I was being playful, I added a few disclaimers. I considered using "seatback may be used as a floatation device" or something else but I liked what I came up with.

SHAMELESS PLUG! And you can get me calling play-by-play on Local Live (While supplies last. Some assembly required.)

Maybe some will laugh. Maybe some will roll their eyes. Maybe some will say, "Hey! We need to get that Rob Adams on our broadcasts ASAP!"

Overall, nobody will notice. Win some, lose some.

As for the emojis, well, they sometimes come in handy but I see them also used to ridiculous effect so I added the police light as a nod to that. A little parody, I suppose.

As I always say, the broadcasts aren't about us so this is a fine line to walk. We need to get noticed and, hopefully, get work.

To me, promoting my broadcasts in a Facebook group of other play-by-play announcers (as opposed to my personal page) is a waste of time and intense narcissism. 

Yet there are people -- the same damn people -- who do it every...single...day. 

I don't think I'm going to get noticed or more listeners there. In fact, I'd likely not hire any of these broadcasters because they go against my beliefs. Plus I don't see where they're helping others in the long run, which is supposed to be the idea of the group (or groups).

Now, on my personal page (and other personal accounts), that's fair game. Yet still, there's a line.

At least I think there is.

There's a right way to do it, I suppose.

I hope tonight's way was a little fun.

It Wasn't Just a Game

 

I was nervous but I felt -- no, I knew -- I was the right person for the job today.

I had to call the Brunswick hockey game against Millbrook. That's not meant to be obnoxious.

None of this is.

Yes, the Hartong Rink was where St. Luke's defenseman Teddy Balkind was last Thursday when he had an on-ice collision and, ultimately, lost his life.

As the week went on, I thought about if Brunswick would want me to call any games. Nothing is assumed.

They did, though there were two games to choose from: hockey or basketball against St. Luke's.

After some talk, we decided on hockey. I wanted whatever would make people smile and relax. 

That's what a broadcaster does. They try to be a conduit. They try to relay information and stories and, overall, stay out of the way.

So if that's what I can bring to fans, then that's what I'll do.

I had prepared myself to walk back into the rink and, honestly, wanted to pay my respects first. But a funny thing happened. The rink was buzzing when I walked in. Players were practicing and playing mini-games.

It was glorious.

The media -- a small portion -- descended upon the rink as their editors wanted content. Good people, those who were there (Pete Paguaga and Michael Fornabaio of Game Time CT). I'm proud to call them friends.

The whole atmosphere prepared us for whatever "normal" is supposed to feel like.

Still, there was an eerie feeling to the rink, as Dave Fierro and I both said.

I opened the broadcast on Local Live and Robcasting a bit earlier than normal, to set the scene and allow the audience to be present for the moment of silence to honor Teddy.

I don't rehearse stuff. You know that. I'm like Jackie Gleason in that way. I try to stay in the moment and react. Still, I couldn't help but think that the eyes of the hockey world were on Brunswick and St. Luke's last week. I worked that into the opening, as I alternated between remembering Teddy and those impacted while still recognizing there was a game to be played.

We paused.

Sticks pointed to the heavens.

Heads bowed.

Then the puck was dropped.

I'll tell you honestly that I had to catch myself a few times. 

"Don't choke up, Rob," I thought. "Definitely DO NOT cry."

I simply stopped talking if I felt that happening and it happened a few times.

I ran to the gym to keep an eye on basketball -- St. Luke's won -- as I feel a responsibility to report all of this.

That's just it. I felt a responsibility to relay the sites and sounds as much as I've ever felt. I felt like everything had to be said with more care. Choose the words with caution. Respect the schools and the athletes. Respect Teddy's memory. Respect his family. 

You never know who is watching or listening.

I wanted to be a voice of comfort. Even humor, like when I nearly dropped my clipboard off the balcony while the game was going on.

I laughed. I hope viewers did also.

At times I was amped. At times, I felt exhausted.

Brunswick won the hockey game 5-3.

I sat in the car for probably 20 minutes after I packed up because I just needed to decompress. That's what I do. I immerse myself in the broadcast.

Teddy -- his spirit, his presence -- was as much a part of the game as anything. Brunswick and Millbrook played was passion and class as everyone tries to move forward. Eventually, it became "just hockey."

But, really, it wasn't.

Not yet.

Whether it was Bruins' coach Mike Kennedy or rink manager Oscar Miranda or the fans or players or trainers or me, we had an angel looking in on the action.

The Bruins play Hill on Friday on the road then come back to Hartong to play Hill on Saturday.

I'll be there.

On Bob Saget and The Power of Love

 

You likely know by now that Bob Saget has died.

This, of course, calls for a deluge of heartfelt tributes whenever we lose a person of this magnitude. 

Betty White.

John Madden.

Sidney Poitier.

Of course, there's the whole "in threes" thing but I just gave you four. So...

But I've marveled at the outpouring since Saget's death -- far too young at 65 -- was announced on Sunday.

Now, I can't tell you I was a Saget "fan." I saw some of "Full House" back in the day and was mostly "meh" on it. I'd heard about his comedy and his ability to balance "dad" characters with being absolutely filthy.

The "funniest video" genre lost it for me pretty quickly. Ha. Grampa fell in the cake. OK.

But, come on, how could anyone dislike Bob Saget? I sure didn't and I like him even more as I learn things.

We loved him. Everybody did.

The cast of "Full House" has spoken -- even the Olsen twins. 

The cast of "How I Met Your Mother."

Ben Stiller.

Jon Lovitz.

Micahel McKean.

Ken Jeong.

Jimmy Fallon.

Jim Carrey.

Gilbert Gottfried.

All posted remembrances online, among others.

Pete Davidson had someone else post how Saget tried to help him through his issues.

Even some as disparate in theory as Ben Folds wrote something touching on his Instagram page.

Then Jimmy Kimmel spoke a gut-wrenching tribute.

What struck me was there were a few things in common. Among them was how everyone marveled at how warm and lovely he could be and still turn on the charm to drop a filthy, unrepeatable joke on you. That, friends, is talent.

(For sure, if you've never seen his appearance in "The Aristocrats," prepare yourself and watch it. It's gross, filthy, disgusting, repugnant, shocking, and brilliant. I laughed and lurched at the same time.)

They all said he was about the best person you'll ever come in contact with. He was truly nice and not in a bad way. He wasn't holding a knife behind his back.

He'd help you in any way possible. If you had any trouble, he was there. Good times and bad.

They all -- every since one of them -- said he'd randomly text "I love you."

That -- that last part -- is what has hit me the most.

"I love you."

It's something I've started saying more and, yet, not enough.

Sometimes you know the audience that you can't or shouldn't say it to. Often it isn't responded to.

But it needs to be said and said with truth and feeling.

Because despite whatever preoccupations or predispositions you might have, there's far more love in all of us and that includes me. I get the reputation I have and I've got a good sense for the people who think I'm a straight-up a-hole. In truth, I have no patience for phonies and value loyalty and honesty. I call out nonsense (or fighting the urge to call it out). 

The rest of the time I'm likely being a wise guy. Or I'm hoping to make you a better person somehow.

But I love you all far more than you know. I'm grateful for all of you.

It's something I know deeply and feel stronger about as time flies expeditiously by.

We're not here for a long time (but we're here for a good time).

To be honest, I come from a family that, overall, doesn't say such things. We just don't. Certainly not enough. It's not a criticism. It's just a fact.

Yet there's me, screaming it sometimes from inside. Time is just so short.

And so, this is what Bob Saget's passing reminded me of.

Love.

Love each other.

Say it.

More importantly, show it, especially to those who don't want to hear it.

The power of love is a curious thing indeed.

Thanks, Bob.

We loved you too.

You Know, Both Can Be Correct

 

Kirk Herbstreit and Chris Fowler (ESPN)

I enjoy reading sports media columnists. I read a ton of Bob Raissman in the New York Daily News "back in the day."

I always found that stuff to be useful to learn what criticisms exist along with news and notes about the industry.

To be clear, that didn't mean I always agreed with Raissman and, to be honest, I criticized him extensively at times, including the fact that he'd never called a game and wouldn't know how to.

Moments ago, I saw a tweet with a video from Andrew Marchand of the New York Post. Again, he's a must-read for me.

He has a podcast (like everyone) and the basis of his rant was about Chris Fowler, the ESPN lead broadcaster for college football. Fowler, on his Instagram page, posted a video discussing the process of calling four games in 11 days.

Marchand took umbrage.

"People work every day," he said. "Some people work seven days a week. Nobody wants to hear how it's tough and hard..."

OK. Fair enough. Or is it?

WHO'S DOWN: Chris Fowler for Instagramming how difficult it will be to call four big games in 11 days.

🍎https://t.co/3wY0p1DTKA
🟢 https://t.co/ktUCUgRjkS pic.twitter.com/p89cAwSHYQ

— Andrew Marchand (@AndrewMarchand) January 6, 2022

On the other hand, I watched Fowler's video and found no place where he was complaining about four games in 11 days.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Chris Fowler (@chrisfowler)

If anything, I found it interesting to go behind the scenes and, frankly, found it comparable to posts I've written here night after night, where I've detailed my runs of 15 games in five days or whatever.

To me, it's part of the progress.

So, sure, while Marchand isn't totally wrong, he certainly isn't right. Because, like so much in life, he could just not watch the video at all.

No, I think Marchand -- aka, "Clicker" -- gets just one click in my review here. 

Maybe it's a personal thing for me. Like I said, I've written at length about those fun runs in Trumbull and the brutal heat of Stamford in 2019's baseball tourney and other weather events and travel-related things from my play-by-play adventures. I sometimes wish I had written more consistently during the height of the HAN days.

Then again, maybe not.

Yes, I certainly get that I don't have ESPN standing behind me and I'm not flying across the country and I'm not doing national games.

I'm the smallest drop of water in the ocean. I drive to most of my broadcasts and do all kinds of grassroots things. I have minimal information to prep with.

I'm not comparing what I do to what Chris Fowler does.

I mean, Fowler looks a little weary in the video but also excited and overwhelmed to get to do what he does.

How's that any different from what I write here?

I just watch Fowler's video again. He's explaining the process of the 11-day stretch and, if that's "complaining," well, I simply disagree.

Beyond that, another way that Marchand is wrong is that Fowler IS working, and working throughout the 11-day stretch. If you paid attention to the video, it's clear he was doing prep for each game, including Zoom meetings and whatever else.

Granted some of that prep might be on luxury planes (compared to what I would be flying).

No, while Marchand is certainly entitled to his opinion, of course, this feels like he takes an "L" here.

It's a huge nitpick.

It made for good content, I suppose.

They'll Never Learn

 

Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger looks to pass against the Baltimore Ravens during the first half of an NFL football game, Sunday, Jan. 9, 2022, in Baltimore. (AP Photo/Evan Vucci)

You'd think they'd learn a thing or two from "The Heidi Game."

Which they sort of did. That was when officials at NBC bailed from a compelling Jets/Raiders game to air the classic children's movie. The Raiders came back and won the game after the Peacock broadcast departed for the film.

A few years later, a similar fate occurred up against "Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory." This time, NBC didn't bail, and, for the most part, games stay on with the usual "60 Minutes will follow in its entirety, except on the West Coast" (on CBS, of course).

As a Steelers fan, I'm used to games likely not airing on Sundays in favor of the Jets and Giants. Like it or not, they're the local teams (even if they're embarrassing).

Blackouts often cost us in New York if there's a possible extra game. We're normally good for three on a Sunday here before "Sunday Night Football."

I miss the days of having the Connecticut channels also. It meant we had a bonanza of pigskin.

So, to be honest, I didn't expect to have the Steelers and Ravens on TV today, especially with the Giants playing at the same time and airing on FOX.

CBS had the Steelers/Ravens, airing locally on WCBS, Channel 2.

I settled in for what could be Ben Roethlisberger's final regular-season game.

It was the usual game between the two teams. They punched each other and didn't score a lot. Down 10-6 in the fourth quarter, the Big Ben Show did his thing again, hitting Chase Claypool for a touchdown with 2:54 to play. That capped a 10-play, 50-yard drive to take a 13-10 lead.

But, credit to the Ravens as they drove 40 yards in seven plays for future Hall of Famer Justin Tucker to drill a ho-hum 46-yard field goal and tie the game.

To overtime, they went.

More punches were exchanged before Ben got the ball back. Keep in mind that a tie did no one any good.

I should also add both teams had playoff hopes (and I admit, even if they do get in, the hopes are slim). The Indianapolis Colts -- who had to beat the dreadful Jacksonville Jaguars -- not only lost but looked bad. More than that, Jags fans were decked out in clown attire to mock their general manager.

Yeah. 

Back in Baltimore, Big Ben was marching the Steelers on a 15 play, 65-yard drive that took 4:28 off the clock.

At least, that's what I heard.

Because as the clock struck 4:20 p.m. and Ian Eagle was calling the game on CBS -- the famed "Tiffany Network" -- a voice, cloaked in legal speak, spoke words that I didn't think they'd be stupid enough to say.

Due to NFL contract rules, CBS would have to leave the Steelers/Ravens game that was gripping viewers for a (mostly) meaningless New York Jets/Buffalo Bills* game.

The quote went something like that but I was too astounded to believe what I was seeing and hearing.

*OK, look, I'm sure it's not meaningless to Bills fans and even the five Jets fans watching. But, come on, what will you truly -- really, honestly, truly -- miss in those first few minutes? Even if there's a score, it's not like you're missing the end of the game. I mean, the thing is, even if I'm not a fan of the teams playing, if the game was that good, I'd want to see the end. That includes if my team is the one whose game is about to start.

The steam began to build in me.

I tweeted at CBS and the NFL. A waste of time, I know.

Contract, schmontract. Utter... well...er...horse hockey.

See? I kept it clean.

I kept thinking they wouldn't. They couldn't. It's "Heidi-esque." The game is...so...close...to...ending...

They bailed.

Calmly, yet through gritted teeth, I spoke.

"Alexa, play Pittsburgh Steelers from Sirius XM."

Through the magic of radio/internet, I listened to Bill Hillgrove and Craig Wolfley on a delay. I actually knew the Steelers had already won thanks to Twitter (my fault for looking).

Chris Boswell kicked a 36-yard field goal and it was over.

So Jets fans can watch their game. Same with the Bills. The TV is now off. I'll go do laundry.

We don't learn lessons from this stuff. We don't care that the fans get screwed on a near-daily basis. Raise ticket prices! Go on lockouts and strikes! Who cares?

Then they wonder why many (waves hand) order merchandise from...ahem...lowe-priced places.

Or just stop watching.

And before you say, "Get Red Zone," I have enough financial concerns in my current life. No. That's currently not an option. Nor was running to a bar that was playing the game (I know of one in Carmel) and, why should I, when it was on in New York before they tried to act like "Heidi" was about to air?

Ponderous, man.

Anyway, the Steelers won. Big Ben will play again next week (assuming the Raiders and Chargers don't play to a tie tonight). The Steelers will lose then and it will all be over.

But, dare to dream. That's why we play the game.

And why we often moan about those who bring us the game.

Throw those stupid contracts in the fire and start over.

Fans deserved better today.

What we didn't see in NY (thanks, NFL/CBS)

Ouch

 

My view for dodge ball

I was nearly face down in the snow today.

Oh, wait. We'll get there.

My great-niece Gabby celebrated her fifth birthday today with a party at a trampoline place in Cheshire, CT.

So, being the clueless, single uncle that I am (including no Sean today) I first made a Target run with a suggestion of what to buy as a gift. My mission was clear and I accomplished it. However, I have zero confidence that I but anything good.

I keep believing I'll rebuild myself one day. Somehow.

Having left Mahopac early, I made my way to Cheshire without incident. The trampoline park felt like it was in the middle of nowhere, in the usual kind of soulless metal building that one would associate with such a place.

Albeit one with a giant "muffler man" sitting near the entrance off the main road.

Still, it's not for appearances, especially on the outside.

Inside was a lot of fun.

I had 40 minutes to sit and wait for the others to arrive but we soon gathered together and I prepared to watch.

That would allow my sister and I to talk as the kids jumped.

And jumped.

And jumped.

Then the adults began to tentatively approach the convention of jumping.

Laura and I kept talking as she was hoping to avoid the prospect of being on the trampolines. Her granddaughters made sure she wouldn't forget a promise she made to participate.

I admit, my inner 14-year-old was fighting with the reality of my 53-year-old bones. 

"If you go," I offered, "I'll join you."

So I signed the waiver that felt like I had given my life story, donned their special socks, and, well, I jumped.

There was a dodge ball area where I spent the majority of my time, proving that I could still dodge both a wrench and a ball.

I dodged, ducked, dipped, dove, and dodged.

I plucked my adult nephews with the heavy foam balls.

I bounced.

I laughed.

I made sure to stop occasionally as my body reminded me this was a bit strenuous.

Yet, the 14-year-old in me was bummed when the bell sounded for our time to end.

The adult wasn't thrilled with the sweat forming on me.

But pizza and cake awaited.

The fun of being a kid had reached its conclusion.

Shoes were put back on. Food was consumed. Arcade games were played.

It was time to go and I walked with the family back towards our cars.

That's when I elected to cut across a low wooden fence. You know the type. It basically serves as the boundary in a parking lot row.

Right foot? No sweat.

Left food? Sweat.

It hooked and, like a statue, I tumbled to the snow. Not quite face down, but still pathetically down.

Sure, my left shin hurts and has a delightful welt.

Sure, I was covered in snow from nearly head to toe.

Sure, the bones and muscles that were already sore from trampolines were planning even more pain.

But the most pain?

My pride.

I was mortified.

So I'll feel all of that tomorrow as I watch football but I could revel in the fact that, while I'm perfectly aware of where my driver's license says, there's still a little boy who knows how to have a little fun.

At least my gift was a hit.

For Teddy

Cam Atkinson via Twitter

I didn't know Teddy Balkind.

You need to know that.

Oh, I know he was a junior varsity hockey player and a defenseman, and a sophomore at St. Luke's School in New Canaan, CT. I know that now.

Since then, I've learned Teddy went to elementary school in New Canaan before he went to St. Luke's. He skated at New Canaan Winter Club. I've heard other things. Wonderful things. Some corroborated, some not.

These are just scraps. Fragments. They're sketches of a life lost. There's so much more to be learned. They need to be learned. We all need to know about Teddy.

But I didn't know anything about Teddy until 8:26 pm last night. That's when I got a call from Chris Erway.

"Did you call a hockey game at Brunswick?" Chris asked. There was concern in his voice.

My mind was clear. No, I had been told all varsity hockey games were off at Brunswick until next week. In fact, I had no broadcasts. My wallet wasn't pleased but so is the life of broadcasting right now.

But, back to the call. Chris said there had been a death at a hockey game.

I wondered if there had been a mistake. Brunswick, GA? Brunswick, OH? Maine?

No. Brunswick. King Street. Greenwich, CT, USA.

I found the story Chris and his wife Genna were referencing and, well, I'm not sure I remember what I thought.

I was stunned. I remember that.

Sketches. That's all I had.

I've heard from people since then. Lots of people. Friends. People who also didn't know Teddy Balkind but all were grasping to understand what had happened.

Teddy Balkind was a junior varsity hockey player who died playing the sport.

Nothing more needs to be said.

Teddy is with the hockey gods now.

The hurt extends beyond the ice. It's not unfair to call this a loss for everyone.

Brunswick. St. Luke's. Players, teammates, coaches, trainers, rink personnel. Fans, families, and the hockey world and beyond.

Everyone is sad tonight. Martin St. Louis, who has kids who have played at Brunswick. Cam Atkinson, who is from Greenwich. 

Both tweeted condolences.

People famous and otherwise sent their regards.

All impacted tonight by Teddy's loss.

I've tried to wrap my mind around it. I can't imagine. I don't want to.

I'm a father. Teddy's father was there. On the ice.

Sketches. This is what we have.

Hockey doesn't matter tonight and yet it does. Somehow, more than ever. That's the hockey world for you. That's what hockey players do. They play. They come together in the best way they know how: to play and to honor their brothers and sisters in the sport.

Tonight, many are playing for Teddy.

We'll never get an explanation for the lives shattered. 

We just have sketches. For now.

I hurt for my friends  -- those I know at Brunswick. Plus those I don't know. Plus the St. Luke's community. Plus the hockey world.

There's nothing logical about it. It's all just a bunch of sketches.

Tonight, put a hockey stick outside and leave the lights on. Or a puck. Or just hug each other.

Be kind.

Do it for a player you've likely never met or never heard of but will now never forget. 

Do it for a sophomore at St. Luke's School. A defenseman. A hockey player. A boy who attended elementary school in New Canaan. Who skated at New Canaan Winter Club.

Do it.

For Teddy.

Bring It! I Guess...

 

It's supposed to snow overnight.

Of course, it's no secret I'm not a fan of winter or snow. I've done my fair share of driving in it and getting stuck in it.

Remember the Halloween storm of, what was it, 2011?

It took Sean and I roughly three hours to get from Greenwich to Mahopac, which included a point on the Taconic Parkway where we slid so badly that I assumed we were going to hit a guard rail (we didn't) and a stretch where we were stuck because I couldn't get any more traction.

A random soul showed up and pushed us out. Yet, maybe 10 minutes later, we slid again, going down a hill in the Lake Secor area of Mahopac.

We walked the rest of the way home.

I'll say this. While I'd be in favor of being a snowbird in Florida right now or even hanging out with Kristy and company in North Carolina (or Jon and crew in Richmond) I'm content if a storm hits...

...and I'm home.

Look, it's not ideal, but if I have to choose, then let it snow if we're safe. Of course. That's common sense, I'd say.

I'm not criticizing you snow types. You love it and have at it!

Now, I'd want to be fully stocked wherever I am (again, assuming I'm home). I want the ability for meals, snacks, and beverages with no concerns. Preferably, of course, no loss of power and no other hardships. I realize I'm asking a lot, I suppose.

From there, it needs to be fun. I mean, it's a snow day, right?

Maybe a good movie or movies or something to binge. I've begun to dive into the UK version of "The Office," for instance. I saw some of it years ago which is why (like many) I was so skeptical of a US version.

In the end, I was wrong. It was hard to not recognize greatness.

That's what she said.

But I'd forgotten just how different the UK version is. The language and jokes are much bawdier compared to our puritanical TV on the networks here.

Understanding the accent by comparison also takes a bit of skill.

But, there are only 14 original episodes of the show so the commitment isn't that intense.

That makes for a nice binge-watch on a snow day.

Of course, be careful what you wish for because, after the storm is over, there's still a driveway to clean. Maybe the stairs also.

Since Sean is here, his car needs to be cleaned as well.

I hope -- hope -- the snowblower fires up tomorrow but the numbers aren't concerning for this storm so I can't say I'm worried but it's still a factor. I don't know of any snowplow friends these days.

I don't know Mr. Plow (that's his name, that name again is Mr. Plow).

Look, there's nothing I can do about it. It's not like I'll be traveling tomorrow. It's not like I have a game to call (sigh). No, in fact, I have work from home, so I'll be here. I can't run away from it. 

So, I guess, let it snow.

Within reason.

Patience, Old Grasshopper

 

A lonely equipment case

I should be driving home from my first broadcast of 2022 tonight.

Alas, it was not to be.

Nor will I be calling games Friday or Saturday. They were both on the calendar and are not going to happen.

The reasons aren't necessary. Sure we can guess but I was told the games were canceled or postponed (both are accurate) and that's all I needed to know.

Keep the mixer and headset in the (new) hard-sided case. Hopefully, next week will work out.

Oh, it makes me crazy that's for sure. And, sure, I can go call games elsewhere. But there does come a point where doing it on my dime isn't entirely acceptable. That's not to say I won't make exceptions (there are a couple of those coming up) but I also need to pay bills.

There's no question the FCIAC and even the SCC in Connecticut and maybe even Section 1 in New York could all use a game of the week concept. I'd be happy to put Robcasting audio with Local Live video. Or just audio. Or whatever. But the bottom line is I'm happy to call the games in the style that I know how to do. 

Meaning it's not about me. 

This is sort of what I was talking about at the end of last year. Yes, I'm crazy proud of every broadcast but I don't want to simply call games to add more numbers to a spreadsheet. The games, the athletes, the broadcasts all matter. 

Recently, a topic in the Facebook Play-by-Play group caught my attention. It essentially mentioned broadcasts that feature either just "natural sound" or dead air in breaks.

I bit my tongue as I watched everyone get their high horse out of the barn before I chimed in. I explained how most of the Local Live broadcasts I do feature minimal production because that's what is requested.

Watch a Brunswick broadcast sometime. When I take a break, there's either crowd noise or no noise. I'll turn the mics off completely if I think something will be said that might be bad.

I have first-hand experience in this.

Now, if a game is on WGCH, then that's a different story, but we've only done one of those since 2019.

Still, there was a hint of outrage. 

"LAZY!" came the cry!

"No!" I said. If that's what the client wants then they get it.

I'm not new to this. Look, I can argue all I want for "the right way to broadcast" and have for 30 years. What good does it do me?

I've had those discussions literally everywhere. I had them at Kraft/Philip Morris, HAN, and schools that I've worked with. Still, there comes a point where you lose that battle and win the war.

At the end of the day, digging in for my principles will ultimately be a losing cause.

I could tell you the story of the position we had for a basketball game that I specifically asked to not have. But, you get my point.

So, yeah, I'm all about doing things "the right way" if such a thing exists.

But, at the end of the day, all I can do is adjust and roll with the punches (hopefully, no punches are thrown).

Today, I lost connection to WGCH during "Doubleheader." Bob Small and I ultimately elected to bail out of the radio broadcast and I did the rest of the show on the internet.

No harm. No foul.

The balance of the show was goofy. I picked on people (those without a sense of humor shouldn't listen). I laughed. It was what I had to do.

The alternative is to get angry and I prefer that I don't do that. This was more enjoyable.

Survival. It's what's for dinner.

The next broadcast is coming.

Eventually.

I know Brunswick is onboard.

The question is: Does anyone else want in?

Life is a Highway and They Were Stuck on it All Night Long

 

I-95 South at US 17 near Fredericksburg, VA, 8/29/18

I'm still trying to wrap my head around it.

Sure, I've slept in my car, frankly, many times. The hours and life that I lead have caused me to take many a power nap. Sometimes it's been due to exhaustion.

Other times, like after calling basketball at Post University, it's the weather that made me car-bound.

Still, say you're on Interstate 95 heading towards Richmond, VA. You know the weather isn't great (accumulating snow, etc) but you've taken your chances.

And then?

Traffic slows up.

Then you stop.

Completely stop.

And, for the most part, you don't move for 24 hours.

This isn't some bad apocalyptic movie starring Will Smith. This is real.

It happened.

I take note of these things wherever it occurs. Crazy snow on I-80 in California? Sure. I see it on the Weather Channel.

Trouble due to lake effect snow on the New York State Thruway (I-90)? Oh yeah.

Snow in Wyoming or Colorado or Utah? Yes, yes, yes.

Roads close. Travelers get stuck. It sadly happens too often.

But, roughly 30 miles south of Washington, DC?

I'm intimately familiar with this part of I-95 and perhaps you are as well. It is -- and no other nice way to say it -- a traffic nightmare. For years it has been clogged by some of the traffic in the nation just by its very nature. I've said it before: I was taught by my father to have a healthy fear of Washington rush hour and I can assure you he was correct.

However, constant construction on 95 has been an issue for years, whether it was for the reconstruction of the infamous "Mixing Bowl" interchange where 95/495/395/Capital Beltway meet and merge or for the addition of more "HOV Express" lanes.

Now, to be clear, I only travel these roads maybe once or twice a year. Rarely more. I can't even imagine doing it on a daily basis. That being said, I've gotten used to having my head on a swivel when I'm in the area, prepared to dash off 95 onto one of a number of side roads to try to get around any issues.

I've normally got WTOP radio on to listen to traffic reports.

In this case, with snow accumulating, trucks jackknifing, and the moisture turning to ice, people were stuck.

The only thing one could hope for was that they were prepared with food and blankets and anything else. There were people traveling with pets and children and so on. It wasn't pretty.

It also wasn't warm.

There have been times over the years that I also loaded my trunk with a sleeping bag or a blanket and a shovel in case I got into some kind of a weather mess -- like that one at Post U.

I took note of the Virginia issues before going to bed last night, never imagining it would still be going on when I got up this morning but The Weather Channel told me otherwise.

From there, it was back to WTOP for me and they've done a great job.

I-95? A mess.

US 1, which parallels 95? Ditto.

It didn't matter where you were. From Exit 104, where the Aunt Sarah's Pancake House used to be to Exit 152 up towards Dale City, I-95 was locked both ways.

I mean locked. This wasn't like the time I sat in traffic in the middle of the night on I-684 for three hours. Police eventually had us turn around and drive the shoulder southbound in the northbound lanes to go down one exit and head off to wherever we were going. That was nothing compared to this but, I'll always remember that it was cold and I had plenty of gas in the car. 

Indeed, I went to sleep.

But in Virginia there were no answers to so travelers became friends. Food trucks making deliveries opened up to feed their fellow strandees.

Whether in Spotsylvania, Fredericksburg, Ladysmith, Stafford, Thornburg or Ruther Glen, people did everything to make the best of it.

When The Weather Channel sent a reporter to an overpass above 95, I couldn't help but smile.

"He's standing on 207 at exit 104," I said to no one. Sean and I had just used that exit back in July.

As I write (it's 8:12 p.m.) the mess has been cleaned up but, apparently, Interstate 95 is only slowly reopening and US 1 is bottlenecked.

The road surfaces are also freezing again.

Have I mentioned I hate winter?

Be safe, my friends in Virginia and traveling through.

It's funny how this is a stretch I used to love to drive.

Let's say it's not a favorite anymore.

I'd imagine the probably thousands of people who experienced this aren't too fond of it either.

Steelers Quarterbacks

 

(Photos: Sporting News)

I was a Dolphins fan as a really little kid.

I knew some of the names. Bob Griese, Mercury Morris, Larry Csonka, Jim Kiick, Nick Buoniconti. They were the faces on the plastic Slurpee cups we acquired from the convenience store near my grandparents' house in Florida.

Still, I didn't really watch or study them. That changed with my falling for the Pittsburgh Steelers a few years later.

Early in their Super Bowl XIII win against the hated Dallas Cowboys (sorry, Patrick Urell, who still owes me a quarter but said he wouldn't pay because of "the spread") I found myself admiring the work of quarterback Terry Bradshaw.

He instantly became my favorite player. I also became fascinated with quarterbacks.

Bradshaw was sadly out of football after the 1983 season and the Steelers began an odyssey as they searched for their next signal-caller.

Cliff Stoudt started most of 1983 due to the elbow injury that would end Bradshaw's career. After that, the Steelers turned to the following...

Year/QB (Number of Starts)

1984 Mark Malone (9) / David Woodley (7)

1985 Mark Malone (8) / David Woodley (6) / Scott Campbell (2)

1986 Mark Malone (14) / Bubby Brister (2)

1987 Mark Malone (12) / Steve Bono (3)

1988 Bubby Brister (13) / Todd Blackledge (3)

1989 Bubby Brister (14) / Todd Blackledge (2)

1990 Bubby Brister (16)

1991 Neil O'Donnell (8) / Bubby Brister (8)

1992 Neil O'Donnell (12) / Bubby Brister (4)

1993 Neil O'Donnell (15) / Mike Tomczak (1)

1994 Neil O'Donnell (14) / Mike Tomczak (2)

1995 Neil O'Donnell (12) / Mike Tomczak (4)

1996 Mike Tomczak (15) / Jim Miller (1)

1997 Kordell Stewart (16)

1998 Kordell Stewart (16)

1999 Kordell Stewart (12) / Mike Tomczak (4)

2000 Kordell Stewart (11) / Kent Graham (5)

2001 Kordell Stewart (16)

2002 Tommy Maddox (11) / Kordell Stewart (5)

2003 Tommy Maddox (16)

Mark Malone

There's a lot of "ugh" in there. Don't get me wrong, there are some good moments in there also. Malone took an undermanned team to the AFC Championship after 1984 and Brister had a bit of a folk hero about him, especially when he took the Steelers on a fun run in 1989.

Bubby Brister

Then there's O'Donnell. Damn you, O'Donnell. The thing is, I liked him. He helped get the Steelers to Super Bowl XXX.

I knew they didn't have a great chance against the Cowboys in that Super Bowl.

But, then, they did have a chance. A great chance.

They trailed 20-17 with 4:15 remaining. I warned people to avoid me if it got that close.

And then O'Donnell threw an interception. He threw three total.

I'm still in therapy.

O'Donnell was gone to the Jets after that.

Neil O'Donnell

Oh, I tried to believe in Kordell Stewart and Mike Tomczak and loved "Touchdown" Tommy Maddox, who led the Steelers through a furious comeback in a playoff game at Heinz Field. Sean was just a baby but I danced around the apartment with him when they scored with a minute to go. His giggling with glee is a special memory.

Still, the Steelers needed "their guy." They have a horrible history of misfiring on quarterbacks, including Johnny Unitas and Len Dawson. Plus they didn't draft Dan Marino.

I actually promised I would buy a jersey (a replica) if the Steelers drafted a quarterback in the first round. They hadn't done that since picking Malone in 1980.

As the 2004 draft came near, there were three quarterbacks being discussed. It was fairly clear that Eli Manning would go to the Chargers with the first pick -- whether he liked it or not. Ultimately, Eli would be traded to the Giants for Philip Rivers.

That left the third option for Pittsburgh: Ben Roethlisberger from Miami of Ohio.

The Steelers took him with the 11th pick and I ordered my jersey a few days later.

I'm wearing it tonight as I watch him in what is likely his last home game.

The jersey, like Ben, has seen a lot. I've seen a lot also. The jersey is peeling in spots and I mostly use it to sleep in or mow the lawn anymore.

Ben got to three Super Bowls. He won two.

I'm also in therapy over that third one.

There have been incredible thrills. 

There have been lows also. the motorcycle crash and the rape/assault allegations are just two of them and I don't brush those aside.

Those are just off the field. There have been on-the-field miscues also.

Considering everything, the thrills have been aplenty. 

I loved watching him play.

I didn't love everything about him.

But if he's leaving, I'll take it. He's no worse than in second in Steelers history (remember, I'm a Bradshaw guy).

As for what's next?

It would be preferable to not wait 20 years to get a franchise quarterback.

AB

 

(Photo: screenshot)

a) Antonio Brown is sick.

b) Antonio Brown is a selfish diva narcissist.

c) Both A and B

d) I don't have a clue.

The correct answer is d). I don't know what's up with AB. I do know he was once a member of the Pittsburgh Steelers with an electric smile and all-world skills.

He was a joy to watch and the NFL loved him.

Then something happened. Some think it was a big contract. Others think it was a nasty hit in the playoffs by Vontaze Burfict of the Bengals. Still, others say he was like this all along.

Again, I have no inside knowledge so I have no idea.

Of course, every genus is lining up with hot takes on all sides. 

For me, I just hope he gets whatever it is that he needs. 

The scene at Met Life Stadium in New Jersey was hard to watch as Brown flung off his jersey and shoulder pads as well as his undershirt and sweatbands before he ran through the end zone, flashed a "peace" sign to fans, and disappeared.

Then he left the stadium.

After the game, Bucs coach Bruce Arians said AB was no longer a member of the team. If you're keeping score, Brown has committed a lot of untethered behavior since (at least) late 2018, when he said he wasn't happy with his role on the team and blamed Ben Roethlisberger.

I'm. probably best to not discuss Big Ben and the geniuses who think they have all the answers on him. I do know that whatever happened with Ben in 2009 was 12 years ago. No charges were filed and he's been spotless every since and blah blah blah.

I've enjoyed watching him play. I was also angry with the accusations at the time.

So I'll leave it right there.

I know mental health is serious. 

But, like I said, I know nothing.

Most likely? You don't either.

The First Post of '22: Kinder and Gentler

2022 goal: More soothing cat pictures

We join you from the "Exit 55" nerve center where a debate is raging.

Rob: OK, so for what it's worth, it's 2022. 

Brain: So what? When has that ever really had an impact on us?

RA: It doesn't but, still, when we look at the blog, this will be a noticeable one because it's the first of the year.

BR: OK, so...what?

RA: I don't know, maybe don't make it suck?

BR: You're losing me here.

RA: I don't want the first post of the year to feature some silly rant that I'll look back on and be embarrassed by.

BR: So you're saying you don't want to be a jerk? When has that ever stopped you?

RA: I'm turning over a new lea...

BR: Are you making a resolution?

RA: NO! NO! Not me. I'm just trying to be nicer. For a minute, at least.

BR: That's better. Say, did you see the tweet from a "broadcaster" about doing a Go Fund Me for The V Foundation in honor of Dick Vitale?

RA: I mean it's a noble cause, of course, but why are you doing that to me? Are you trying to get me riled up? 

BR: Oh...I don't know... (evil grin)

RA: So you mean the tweets where, initially, it was all about how he loves Vitale and, in the next post, he tweeted a video of his own work where he tagged Vitale because let's face it, he just wants attention from Dickie V? It's all about him, not Vitale...

BR: Mmmm hmmm... (grin grows)

RA: It's just insane narcissism and...wait...I see what you're doing and it's not going to work.

BR: Come on, now, old boy! This is your opportunity to drop the hammer about the exploding narcissism in the broadcasting world! Like the one who basically tweeted how lucky the audience and schools were that he was calling the game! This is your chance! Hammer time! Do it! DOOOOOOOOOOO IT!

RA: Yeah yeah yeah. That's enough. I'm not going to write about that in the first post of 2022.

BR: No, of course not. I wouldn't dream of pushing you to do it.

RA: OK, but why are you laughing?

BR: Oh, no reason. I'm sure we'll come up with something good to start the year with on the blog. Hey, how 'bout that Winter Classic? Let's do that hockey!

RA: Oh yeah! It's a bummer without Doc Emrick. But I'll still watch. Hey, what are you doing?

BA: Nothing! Enjoy the game! (presses "Publish")