National Radio Day

 

My 1955 Granco radio

I'll note my 34th anniversary in radio broadcasting in a few weeks.

But today is National Radio Day.

I love TV. In fact, I love all forms of broadcasting. That's why I embraced internet streaming also. From a talent perspective, a lot of things remain the same in terms of how we present games and shows.

There are obvious differences in terms of the vehicles we use. 

But radio, much like baseball, was my first love.

Turning an AM radio dial and picking up Atlanta, Charlotte, Pittsburgh, Chicago, Boston, and Washington D.C. during the overnight house always fascinated me. St. Louis, Toronto, Detroit, and Cincinnati were among the other far-off places I could get late at night.

There was a time when I had to rely on a radio station in Wheeling, W.V. to listen to the Steelers. WWVA had a 50,000-watt signal that I could pick up in Mahopac at night. However, day games couldn't be heard that far off.

But my radio story begins with WABC, the famed music radio station. It also included listening to Yankees games and other sports.

I was enchanted.

Eventually, I caught on to Don Imus On WN...hold on...WNNNNNNNNNNBC.

Then along came Z-100 in the formative years of the 1980s. What I wanted to do began to crystallize.

So it came that I found myself behind the microphone at Majic 105 as Sep 2, 1990 began. 

I was where I belonged.

But it was never that easy. I was fortunate to get my foot in the door but, as we know, the broadcasting business is rough and tumble. Politics, egos, and the grind are just a couple of pieces of the story.

And so it was that I was actually out of broadcasting for a few years. I used the time to work and continue going to school.

A fateful phone call in 1996 brought me back into the business at WREF in Ridgefield. As my corporate career was closing due to our jobs relocating to Chicago, I thought I had found a radio home.

I was wrong. WREF was sold just a few months after I started working there part-time. I helped close things by being their "assistant general manager." I was the last radio voice heard at the studios on Route 35 in Ridgefield.

It took a story in the Ridgefield Press, handed to me during that air shift, to find out that we were done.

But friends from WREF recommended me to another radio station and shortly after I began at WGCH.

I've been there for 27 years.

Since then, I've been heard on a lot of other outlets like Z-93, WLNA, WBNR, WVIP, WGHQ, WLIE, WMVL, WICC, and so many others as part of networks that I got to be on. Plus, of course, all of the internet work I've done, most notably on Robcasting.

It remains a joy. A happy place. A place to forget my troubles.

I know the pitfalls of radio. I know how programming frustrates me and, believe me, I'm happy to have at least a small say in the events at WGCH. I think I've earned that after all these years.

We can still do radio -- or audio broadcasting if you will. It needs to be live, local, and relatable. 

And it needs support.

It doesn't need the same three songs played every hour. It definitely doesn't need to be network programming delivered via a studio hundreds of miles away.

Radio is still meant to be a pace of information and discovery.

A place of community.

And it still, in my opinion, matters.

Sadly, I won't be on the air anywhere today. I'll be doing PA announcing for the Renegades on "Bhutan Night" at Heritage Financial Park. I suppose, in that way, you'll hear me on the Renegades Baseball Network broadcast.

But I'll be back on the air soon enough to talk sports or The Beatles or call a game. Or maybe I'll be needed for news (it's been a while).

You never know. That's part of what I love about it.

To the many who have enriched this wild ride of a career, I wish you a happy National Radio Day.

Turn it on and leave it on.

Don't Feed It. Please.

 

Dog begging for attention? Cute. Human? Not so much.

A day later, I remain astounded by the damage of Sunday's rain in the region.

Greenwich had some issues, particularly with 95 being closed for a stretch but I think we survived. I saw some footage of the Binney Park area across town so I can't say we were completely spared.

As I wrote last night, other parts of the state got walloped, like my friends in Oxford. I reached out to a few and haven't heard from all of them, unfortunately. However, there is no need to jump to conclusions.

But roads, bridges, and more were washed out around the area. A wedding and event venue in Monroe had a sinkhole open on its grounds. There's no question it was scary stuff.

Where I draw the line is when I know someone is looking for attention. And I frankly have a problem with those who provide the attention.

Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't, because I got exiled from that world roughly a year ago. 

Why, you ask? Because I didn't feed the troll the attention that they wanted!

But, fear not! Others do and they're the problem.

First, you got the version of being stranded in three-part harmony, followed by the mea culpa for winding up in that situation in the first place. Complete with twenty-seven eight-by-ten color glossy pictures with circles and arrows. And a paragraph on the back of each one.

OK, I'm partially quoting Alice's Restaurant Massacree by Arlo Guthrie but you get the point.

It's truly acceptable to not tell every story. I'm living proof of that. More often than not, I don't want attention but to each their own.

Don't get me wrong, I'm all for storytelling. I just suppose there's a line or common sense to it.

Anyway, I'm glad everyone is safe and sound in that situation.

I also went off today on "Doubleheader" about ESPN's Kidscast, which I'm fully in favor of. First of all, the kids come from Bruce Beck's sports broadcasting camp, and there's no one who dislikes Bruce. He's been an outstanding guest a few times on "The Clubhouse" and is beloved.

Deservedly so.

It's not, however, cheap to attend, and I can imagine a certain subset of the region can attend the camp.

Let's cut to the chase: those who can afford it.

I'll further say that there is no way my parents would have scraped upwards of $1,500 for me to attend. Plus find a way to get me to and from the camp. There were simply realities in my youth and I understand that. Don't get me wrong, they provided and gave me a lot within their means. I was never denied playing baseball every year, for instance, so long as my grades were good enough and I had earned the right to play.

That's how I was raised and it's how I raised Sean.

Most years, the Kidscast broadcasters have been from Fairfield and Darien. I remember speaking with a dad several years ago who said he'd get his child whatever equipment and advantages were needed. He basically shrugged his shoulders as if it was expected.

I've wondered if there is a scholarship to let underprivileged kids attend.

The camp gets a world-class collection of broadcasters, reporters, and athletes to attend and it's certainly worthwhile. A few people who I know and have worked with have gone to the camp.

But as I watch each year (like last night), I find myself wondering where the kid from the tough section of an urban area is. Where is a truly deserving kid who would be well-served by the opportunity to train with high-end people before calling a Kidscast on ESPN?

And, of course, this just sends us back down the road of training and mentoring the next generation. One thing that has also gotten under my skin about this -- again, not the fault of the camp -- is that some of their graduates only wanted to be mentored by D-I and "major league" broadcasters.

Nope, they're not interested in the help of a "nobody" like me. Needless to say, it didn't help our relationship.

Anyway, I enjoy continuing to mentor broadcasters of all ages, whether they attend CSB or connect with me on their own. Max Feifer, a student from Horace Greeley High School, is the latest to attend "The School of Robcasting."

No. I do not call it that. 

Max has joined me on "Doubleheader" several times and we'll continue to do just that. To me, it's just as important to stay in touch even if the "internship" is over. I'm still in touch with several who have worked with me and they know the door is always open for a return.

And I'd fully embrace teaching a student who deserves an opportunity. 

That's always been the idea.

I hope this is something that the camp and ESPN consider for the future.

Washed Out and Yet They Played

 

CT Route 34 near Lake Zoar (Photo: Dawn Schmedlin)

I woke up to rain.

A lot of rain.

It poured. Bad.

The yard next to us flooded to the point that there was a lake created in their backyard.

But, duty called, and we had to go.

First up was "Meet the Beatles" though walking to WGCH wasn't an option. I made the short drive and did the show.

I didn't rush home, thinking that we might not head to Dutchess County for the Renegades game.

Oh, I was quite wrong about that. We left a little after 11 a.m.

The plan was to work our way down to I-95 and then eventually to the Taconic State Parkway.

As we approached Railroad Ave, I noticed flashing lights and a police officer in the middle of the intersection. He waved me through but then I noticed the traffic.

It headed towards Hamilton Ave -- a two-lane road and it was bumper to bumper.

A moment later, I reached the entrance to I-95 South, where I found a Greenwich police cruiser blocking the entrance.

Road closed.

I adjusted and took us back past WGCH and literally back to our front door. We continued on, left Greenwich via Glenville, and jumped on I-684.

It poured as we drove. It didn't seem possible -- or even probable -- that there would be baseball at Heritage Financial Park today.

Passing Purdy's on 684, I noticed a lot of cars exiting at Exit 7. My immediate reaction was, "Oh no."

I saw the same as we approached Croton Falls and Exit 8.

That told me that the last stretch up to I-84 would be bumper to bumper and it was.

Somehow, we survived the traffic started west on 84. Coming down Stormville Mountain, as we got close to the intersection with the Taconic State Parkway, I saw flashing lights.

We were up against the clock in our effort to get to the stadium in time for our call time and it would be thwarted by a car off in the trees on the left side of the westbound lanes.

Quickly, thoughts moved from being on time to being safe. How anyone survived that accident is beyond my pay grade.

We reached the stadium literally on time for the meeting, and I snuck into the booth to catch up.

We also grabbed some lunch before the game.

Somehow there was a window for the Renegades and Crawdads to play, and they did so without a drop of rain. In fact, there were even stretches of sunshine.

I'm fascinated by such decision-making, and I'd love to sit in on the process to understand how it all works. I know everyone tries to be smart and safe about these things. 

But, in the end, there was nothing to talk about. Our drive was interesting and I had no idea what I was going back to but it had no concern whatsoever on the baseball game.

The game happened, we had fun in the booth and wrapped things up. The Renegades lost a close game and they'll back to it in the stretch run of the playoff race on Tuesday night.

As we got ready to leave, we watched as baseball and softball players from Bhutan -- yes, seriously -- started taking batting practice long after the crowd had filed out.

Once again, the great game of baseball bonds us all.

The drive home lacked much drama, and we came home to peace and quiet. Thankfully, things are dry here for us but there are many dealing with headaches all over Connecticut.

I've seen pictures and videos from Wilton, Ridgefield, Redding, Newtown, and Southbury. Part of Connecticut Route 34 -- a main thoroughfare from Newtown to New Haven -- had washed out in a few places. For reference, I used 34 on my daily drive from Mahopac to Newotown back in the HAN Network days.

There will be massive headaches as the work week begins tomorrow.

Accidents on 95 caused the road to be closed earlier today.

The biggest concern is health and I hope everyone is safe.

Old Enough to Vote

 

While this picture doesn't apply to this post, please know that
Alice Loxton is a wonderful follow for those interested in history
and this is her latest book.

A birthday is being celebrated today.

There will be no cake, no cards, nothing more than this post.

But now they're old enough to step into a polling place and go to college and begin to gain some independence.

They can drive, and we've aimed the car down the highway pretty consistently.

How we got to 18 is amazing. There were many times I thought it was over. It felt like the inevitable split with rebellion featuring diva behavior.

The time of birth was 7 a.m. on Aug 17, 2006.

And "Exit 55" came into existence. The first post was about breaking ground on the new Yankee Stadium the day before. I was gutted watching the ceremony.

Post number one

It's funny in hindsight that I called the first post "And Away We Go" because I often use that phrase during game broadcasts. The great Jackie Gleason would often say that during his legendary variety show on CBS and my father loved "The Great One." Thus "And Away We Go" is often said as a little nod to my dad.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention my mother, who read posts occasionally. That's one of the amazing things about this. I never knew -- and still don't -- who was reading. I'm often surprised and mildly embarrassed when people say they're reading.

We've seen so much in these 18 years and I'm not sure I'm prepared to try to explain everything. Obviously, we've seen life roll by. There have been births and deaths and divorces and marriages and relationships and breakups and growth and bad health and storms and triumphs and deep moments and open discussions.

And I'm mostly satisfied with what I've shared.

However, I know where I was 18 years ago and how the years have impacted me. I know the changes I've seen. 

Some things, of course, have not changed. The things I've written about have evolved.

Where I worked and what I did have evolved as well. Yes, I'm still with WGCH. I'm still with the Renegades. But there's so much around that that has changed.

I had no real social media presence at that time, with the exception of starting this blog. Now I'm on MyBookXInstaSnapTok. Or whatever.

In truth, I started the blog because several friends had one and said I should try it. However, I refused to do it until I knew I was committed to it.

Now, I'm the only one still doing it.

To that end, I wrote a lot in the early days, and cranked out over 400 posts in 2009. Eventually, I scaled back. 

Way back.

My output sadly trickled down to just 35 posts in 2018.

Obviously, I've posted quite a bit since then.

Each post is (somewhat) carefully thought out. The words are often read a few times.

Still, there are regrets. There are things I wish I hadn't written and things I wish I had. I wish there were things that I wasn't bothered by. Yet I always felt it was important to talk about, especially for those dealing with similar situations.

There are things that were tough to write but needed to be written.

There are posts that I'm proud of and a few that I'm probably not.

But what this little corner of the world allowed me to discover was that I could write a bit. I wasn't just a broadcaster. My voice could be used in different ways.

I had wondered about my writing ability probably since I was in college.

The blog has helped create friendships. It's possibly damaged a few also and that makes me sad.

But here we are.

Despite thinking I might just let the "Exit 55" fade out quietly after writing a few days in a row in 2019, we are still getting together once a day for whatever comes out of my random thought generator.

I've bled for you but have always tried to keep some mystery about it all because I never wanted to be that much of an open book. But I also tried to be honest and transparent.

To those who have read every post, thank you. To those who have read even one post, thank you.

To the kind comments, thank you. To the critics and haters, thank you for the challenge.

To my inspirations and close supporters, my unending thanks.

I will continue to try to find meaningful things to write about and hopefully do it honorably.

In general, I don't write to harm. I write, if anything, to cause thought.

Sorry for whatever hurt and/or embarrassment I've caused.

I said I wanted to make sure this would last.

I don't know that I saw this carrying on for 18 years but here we are.

Laundry in the Hood

 

Note: NOT my laundry room

It's laundry and mute night here.

Come on, who has it better than I do?

But seriously, Sean is working for the Renegades and I have the night off. So it was my night to get some things done around here, including laundry.

I also purged some clothes and I'm a big fan of cleaning things out.

But, at one point, I stepped outside to check the clothes in the dryer when I was struck by the weather. We're at the time of year when it's warmer and more uncomfortable inside as opposed to outside.

It's currently 73 degrees outside and closer to 80 inside. It's not bad as I sit on the couch and watch the Yankees.

However, it's gorgeous outside.

Boy does that make me miss my balcony. I haven't used my chair once this summer and I'm only making a note of that. Beyond that, it's hardly a big deal.

Let's face it, at this point, I'd need bug spray on and I'm just getting over a bout of bug bites from Rhode Island.

So, if you're keeping score, I dealt with a collection of mosquito bites and sunburn.

In other news, I'm an idiot for not putting either sunscreen or repellent on.

So it goes.

As for the Yankees game, well, they won and Aaron Judge hit his 301st home run. But former Renegade Oswald Peraza homered as well, and that will always make me smile.

Peraza was part of the early success of the 2021 team that I got to broadcast. He electrified then-Dutchess Stadium with his power explosion.

Those were wonderful times and it's funny how many of the crew from that year I still talk to say the same thing. 

As for tonight's Yankees broadcast, well, I had it on mute. I'm sure Ryan Ruocco is a nice guy.

And there was no "Hawk Tuah" girl. Oh, wait, that wasn't the Yankees.

But more to the point about tonight was how much I was enjoying the weather outside. With the laundry going around I couldn't afford to take a walk but that's the kind of night it felt like.

Sean and I have met a few of the neighbors and characters who populate this area and it's a nice group so far. The neighborhood is more flat and walkable than Bruce Park, but it was also nice to have the park nearby as well as the train station.

Plus Bruce Park Grill is across the street.

Conversely, the train station is a longer walk from here but we have pizza, a bank, a grocery store, and other businesses within a 20-minute walk.

I've been enjoying walking around and look forward to investigating more of the area. There are plenty of intriguing houses to stroll past.

I don't miss the hill on Bruce Park Ave. Or, as you know, the parking.

Though I miss having a washer and dryer in our apartment, along with an attic for our storage and, of course, the balcony.

But, as always, so it goes.

We're happy here.

The Elation of Emissions

 

(Photo: CTEmissions.com)

OK, let's get to the bottom line. 

The drama of the car is over (for now).

I took it to the Nissan dealer service area just across the state line on Monday morning.

It meant putting my faith in what they're doing at a huge financial cost to me. It also meant this had to be the answer to why I've had a check engine light on intermittently for years.

I told them they could have the car all day when I dropped it off just after 8 a.m. Thanks to Sean, I had a ride both to and from the service department.

By the mid-afternoon, the work was done, my credit card was swiped, and we were back home.

"Drive it," they said, telling me that I needed to reset the drive cycle because there was still an emissions test that I needed to pass.

But, for the first time in a long time, there was no check engine light. There was no light to tell me that the gas cap was loose.

Frankly, I had become immune to it. However, Connecticut's testing had an issue with it.

So, on Tuesday, feeling hopeful, I went across town to the inspection station/car wash/gas station/convenience store/oil change facility.

Seriously, that's all in one place.

The inspector took my paperwork, and didn't charge me for the test since I satisfied the requirements for a free retest and...quickly told me the drive cycle wasn't complete. As a result, the car didn't pass or fail. It was aborted.

"Keep driving," I was told.

So I drove the car to Heritage Financial Park on Tuesday night, hoping that would be enough.

I also took the car out for breakfast yesterday morning to add to the reset of the drive cycle.

Again hopeful but more nervous, I took off for the inspection station this morning.

It couldn't fail. I also didn't have much time as it needed to pass by Saturday.

As there are no reservations, you pull in and sit on a line. Twice, I've sat and waited for roughly an hour. I assumed the same this morning.

But it wasn't that bad.

I reached the bay, stepped out of the car, and went into the waiting room.

Honestly, the drama of the story ends here. The inspector -- the same one who dealt with me in June as well as on Tuesday -- handed me a sheet with "PASS" on it.

It was over.

Huzzah.

Look, I was concerned about how I'd react had it failed.

My likely first stop would have been the service department of Nissan, with the hope that I would remain calm in explaining the issue.

But the obvious worry would be about finding out what was wrong and, at that point, Connecticut isn't exactly sympathetic.

Happily, none of those concerns are necessary.

I have until 2026 before I have to deal with this test again.

*****

Did the Mets really have the "Hawk Tuah" girl throw out a ceremonial first pitch today? 

From the team that once had the Baja Men perform "Who Let the Dogs Out" before a World Series game comes this cultural touchstone moment!

Then they're fanbase wonders why #LOLMets is a thing.

Working Tonight

 

Current view as I work at "his" desk

I just finished up a job which I'm happy to have done.

It was honest work on a deposition and that's a very good thing. It also allows me to believe we'll survive another month here in Presidential Suite 2.0*.

* You know, the home of father and son, with Adams as the last name.

But it was also a highly active day with plenty to think about. Lots of meetings about lots of things.

Among them is that barring anything weird, it is confirmed that my voice will be on Greenwich High School football for a 26th year. All but three of those have been on WGCH (the other two were on HAN). Of course, I only did 7-on-7 football in 2020 and that was on Robcasting. In fact, most of 2021 was on Robcasting.

But you get the idea.

Will Greenwich win their fifth state title with me as their broadcaster? OK, they also won one in 1999 but I was only a sideline reporter for a game. A very cold, in fact, frozen, sideline reporter.

But they've been to eight championship games since I started as lead announcer in 2000 and I've been on the call for all of them. 

So, again, will they win a title this year? You'll have to tune in beginning on Sep 13 to find out. I'm sure West Haven will be a delightful host.

They like me, for what it's worth.

I'll also soon tell you who will be next to me in the GHS booth this year, as the A-Team has officially split. Perhaps we'll discover The New A-Team?

Beyond that, I'm thinking about work and how to work, and how to stay above water. Sadly, it's time to consider moves that I don't want to consider, none of which I feel like stating publicly yet. So many carrots dangled and so many disappointments.

My headspace isn't the best tonight to try to talk about any of it.

So some parameters might change. That's all part of what I'm thinking about. I have committed to some stuff this fall. But it's best to not put the cart before the horse, cross that bridge when we get there, and all of those other lovely clichés.

Anyway, I don't have much more to babble about tonight.

Just lots to consider.

I was happy to work.

Don't Let it Destroy You

 

Burning a bridge isn't the answer (Google Image)

I'm watching a possible nervous breakdown happen in real-time.

To be clear, it's serious but not that serious that I need to call any authorities. It's more of a metaphysical thing.

I've watched comments appear on "the socials" and then get deleted.

If I gathered correctly, a broadcast outlet refused the demands of an announcer and, ultimately, decided to move on without the broadcaster in question.

The person wanted to work "SOLO" (his caps, not mine) but the channel was resistant for whatever reason.

Look, I happen to like working alone if I don't know a potential partner. I don't love to have a partner get "thrown" into a booth with me. There's no chance to create chemistry. But I've also done it many times, even with people I know.

For instance, Bob Gerbert volunteered to do Little League games with me. Quite often, Something told me to take a shot in that situation.

It worked. Quite well.

I'd say it was exceptional. There's always a question of learning cadence and when to let a game breathe but those moments can be figured out. Further to the point, Bobby's son, Jack, had a huge hit to tie last Friday's game, and Bob knew to let the call happen and let the crowd noise take over. 

There was no secret that he was rooting for his son and for Trumbull, and even high-fived people around us, but that never came across on the air. He was fair and honest at all times.

That's stuff that can be taught if necessary but I never needed to say a word.

But, yes, I'm resistant to working with just "anyone."

However, to make enough of a "stink" to get fired? No, I'd rather not do that.

Regardless of whatever "esoteric" aspect of announcing those in charge lack. Because, let's face it, the bosses get the last say.

I've dealt with too many "broadcasting executives" who thought they knew it all. One dude that I worked for earned the nickname of "Marconi" because he thought he had invented radio.

(He very much did not and tended to damage every outlet he worked at.)

But going public with all of these gripes can be a very dangerous avenue, and I say that as a writer/broadcaster. I've certainly shared quite a bit of "inside knowledge" but I've long tried to never burn a bridge.

I'm not sure our friend can say the same.

The last thing he posted included a picture of him when he was much younger, with the caption making a crack about how he was too young to be beaten down by the business.

Oof.

That has also been deleted.

Look, I get the airing of grievances. I've done it. 

But it generally doesn't go well.

I've lived it all. I've been "done dirty" many times.

Seriously, there are too many examples.

I've got the scars. I've got the stories.

And, yet, here I am.

I've had many others try to knock me out. Other sports talk show hosts have shown up with offers of money and...well...OK. They were able to do a few shows, the money dried up, and poof. They were never heard from again.

I've watched as so many young broadcasters try to take over.

And yet? Here I am.

Oh, they tried to outdo me even in youth sports. But that was me in Rhode Island last week.

I've had people literally say they wanted my job. Ultimately, they got their wish because I could see the writing on the wall. I stepped back and I watched.

For the record, they're no longer in the business.

So, before the nervous breakdown kicks in, remember to keep grinding. If all else fails, move on with your head held high.

And if that fails, post all the compliments you've received. Then repeat.

I'm sure that will work.

But, while we make some light of all of this to keep things in perspective, it's also work mentioning that I take what I'm watching seriously and hope they get whatever help is needed.

Broadcasting Bites

 

My eyes popped with horror when Mikey "Clicks" of the Renegades texted me the breaking news of the day. 

WCBS, the venerable station at 880 AM, is ending its all-news format as the owner, Audacy, enters into a local marketing agreement (LMA). Good Karma Brands will take over the 880 signal, bringing with it the sports programming of ESPN Radio.

The sports broadcasts from WEPN-FM will get a boost having a strong AM signal, as 880 is a powerhouse. The new 880 will use the call letter WHSQ, thus ending a nearly 80-year run for the WCBS calls.

It's not entirely unlike WNBC's switch to WFAN in 1988.

That was sad and so is this.

Most heinous to me is the loss of jobs for many talented people. Beyond that, it's simply a bad day for radio.

I have to hear on a fairly frequent basis that radio (like newspapers, etc) is "dead." I, of course, dispute that, though I recognize we're certainly shuffling the deck chairs in the industry. Corporate ownership, voice tracking, and the overall lack of local personality/programming have greatly damaged radio as we knew it.

There are many more reasons that I read about frequently. I don't pretend to have all of the answers but I also don't think radio -- or audio -- is dead.

We need to program it better.

But the announcement about WCBS has me thinking of the myriad times I reached for 880, especially in the car. For instance, basically, any road trip, especially those heading around the area of New York City, began with me listening to "Traffic and Weather Together on the 8s" for the complete story on the highways. 

Obviously, I also tuned in for the weather.

When I headed out the door in 2012 for Charleston, I put 880 on just as I headed toward the Taconic State Parkway. They told me, at 4:28 am, that the overnight construction on the Major Deegan Expressway was causing a delay at the Cross Bronx Expressway. That was how I was going to head south -- a remnant of road trips of yore with my parents -- and quickly realized break lights trump nostalgia.

Plans scuttled, I switched over to the Garden State Parkway and never looked back.

I was listening to Imus in the Morning at 8:46 a.m. on Sep 11, 2001, when Warner Wolf called in to say a plane had hit a tower of the World Trade Center. As we all tried to figure out the severity of the situation, Imus and company went to commercial.

Right around 9 a.m., something told me to change over to WCBS. I was listening to 880 when the second tower was hit. I heard the description live.

On the plus side, I listened to a lot of sports on WCBS, as CBS Radio carried the national feed of many of the top sports events of the day, including the World Series. I'd listen to Vin Scully call the Fall Classic and feel spoiled.

The Yankees called WCBS home a few times from 1939 until 2013 and I listened to a fair share of games.

That was the power -- good and bad -- of WCBS Newsradio. When there was breaking news, I leaned on 880 immediately for information. Their collection of professionals presented the information in a comfortable manner that felt trustworthy.

Craig Allen, the outstanding weatherman, Wayne Cabot, Rich Lamb, Deborah Rodriguez, Ed Ingles on sports, and Charles Osgood were just some of the names I listened to. Of course, it was local and national, with the top stories at the top of the hour.

And I'd be completely remiss if I didn't name another reporter whose name stuck out to me. In early 2002, the time was approaching for me to become a father. "Sam" had the early lead but I just couldn't have my son be "Sam Adams." At times, his code name was "Shrek."

Then inspiration hit.

"How about Sean?" I asked. "I can't think of any Seans I dislike, plus there's Sean Adams on WCBS."

Sean ... Adams. Like the guy on the radio. It worked.

That story is 100% true though I've never found a way to introduce Sean Adams to Sean Adams.

Such is the impact.

But change does happen. WCBS was an "O&O" as an owned and operated station by CBS itself. Entercom, which would rebrand as Audacy, took over WCBS in 2017.

Business-wise, this move isn't entirely shocking.

Emotionally, it stinks.

The change will happen on Aug 26.

If you don't know, this doesn't spell the end of news radio in New York. We've been spoiled to have two all-new stations, with WINS holding down the fort at 1010 AM. The one-time Top 40 station switched to all-news in 1965 and eventually picked up an FM signal at 92.3.

The big issue for WINS is that we didn't get a strong signal in the Hudson Valley. WCBS, however, always came in loud and clear.

Beginning in a few weeks, we'll be able to listen to ESPN on that clear signal.

Obviously, I love sports, and I'll adjust, but I'll miss the availability of WCBS.

It felt like an old, trusted friend.

Times change, indeed.

That doesn't mean we have to like it.

*****

I ruffled a few feathers with my lack of genuflecting at Noah Eagle, the broadcaster who called basketball during the Olympics. At the same time, the Yankees -- the New York Yankees -- had Craig Carton call their weekend series against the Texas Rangers.

I stayed quiet on that but anyone with a brain knows that it was a stunt.

And, for my money, Carton wasn't particularly good. A few people sent me highlights but I felt I needed to hear some of the details. Maybe he could get better with practice. I don't know. What I heard had him focusing on replays as opposed to live action. I also heard him not name batters or describe pitches at all. 

Was he the worst Yankees broadcaster I've ever heard? That's a loaded question. I'll say I've heard worse.

Carton brings some baggage with him but that's part of what made him appeal to WFAN, who picks the broadcaster.

Whatever. It was a weekend. Life goes on.

But Red Barber and Mel Allen are spinning in their graves. Phil Rizzuto is wondering how such a "huckleberry" was allowed to call these games.

And, sure, I can think of another (veteran) baseball broadcaster who deserves a shot.

However, I'm watching tonight's game as I write and I've got the game on mute.

That should tell you all you need to know.

I'm Wounded

 

Oh. Ouch. 

That was a comment I received on X (Twitter) a short while ago.

So this happened because I'm not bowing at the altar of St. Noah Eagle, the new patron saint of play-by-play announcers.

Is he talented? Sure.

Did he get his job due to a famous father? Absolutely, but he's hardly the first. You have to earn the gig beyond that. But it's absolutely a huge advantage. It's possible my father could have helped me become a Teamster if I wanted.

But is he also being talked up as if he's the greatest thing since the invention of the microphone? Without a doubt.

And he's the darling of the president and vice president of the Rob Adams Haters Club: Dr. Toxic and Town Hall. So I called them out without calling them out.

You know, not by name. Maybe I should, except Town Hall gets upset when I do that.

I also said that St. Noah tries too hard with little cutesy one-liners like "Cloudy, with a chance of (Steph) Curry."

Cringe.

So I get there is talent but it's just not my thing. I think it's too much of an attempt to be in the Gus Johnson Cool Kids Department.

And, yes, I'm the broadcaster for Trumbull Baseball.

And Greenwich.

And Brunswick.

And others.

And not just baseball, but football, basketball, ice hockey, and on and on and on.

I'm not sure it's the put-down that you think it is as I'm fairly proud of what I've done.

But, hey, "E" for effort. I'll buy you an ice cream. Plus you got a post out of it. Thus, here's the attention you were seeking.

However, I'm also a historian and student of the business who is mighty entitled to offer an opinion and critique.

I don't hate Noah Eagle. Heck, I might truly come to have high regard for him if I don't have to hear about him as much as I hear about Bon Jovi, Journey, or some other nauseatingly overrated outfit.

Oh, go ahead and hate away. I'm content to call out nonsense and always will be. Town Hall earns my continued wrath for being an enormously phony sports fan who only bloviates about his team when they're playing well. Plus he's generally wrong about everything. Most heinous to me recently was his dumping on Dave Dravecky, a baseball pitcher who had cancer as well as the removal of the deltoid muscle in his pitching arm.

He returned to the mound to pitch but eventually broke his arm on the mound in a ghoulishly awful moment. Dravecky had the arm amputated and became a motivational speaker.

But Town Hall's takeaway is that the story is so inspiring, but ruined by the fact that Dravecky was distributing literature for the John Birch Society.

In 1984.

People change, right?

Well, except for Town Hall, I suppose. His hangup here is that Dravecky probably has ring-wing values. I mean, God forbid!

Town Hall, who posts about only liberal/Democratic concerns but his boss is a Republican power. Sure. Makes sense. 

He'll never learn.

As for Dr. Toxic? 

Well. Let's just not. It's too easy.

But the two of them teaming up?

It's like Wonder Twins! Activate!

It's too comical.

That's where my post came from about St. Noah.

But, hey, I'm the crappy announcer.

OK, cool.

I won't bother to explain my life and story to you.

And I called Trumbull pretty well, with the help of Bob Gerbert, so thanks a lot.

But I'm sure your life is perfect.

*****

Incidentally, Robin Williams took his own life on this day ten years ago.

He battled depression and anxiety as well as diffuse Lewy body dementia.

He was a brilliant, wonderful actor and man. He produced myriad emotions with his iconic performances.

Maybe we could pause for a moment and think of Robin Williams when we want to be so mean?

We are horribly divided.

Let's do better.

Back Home

Holiday Inn Express, Warwick, RI (Photo: IHG)

People were milling around the lobby of the hotel last night when I decided to slip out.

We'd had a nice dinner of wings, nachos, and other kid-friendly finger foods, and I was tired.

Some began to head outside to play Kan Jam, while the No Fun Policeman was yelling at people.

Seriously, this dude was clearly the captain of the Holiday Inn Express & Suites Warwick-Providence (Airport) No Fun Police.

He only needed a badge.

Let's see, beers needed to be consumed in a cup.

Kids were constantly being lectured about the furniture. OK, granted, they shouldn't be climbing on it, but one would think he'd have some better things to do.

I'm sure there was a judgment on our having food in the area in which people tend to, you know, eat.

In short, his constant presence and observation of us got exhausting. If I didn't just leave and head for home, I figured the best I could do was to go to bed.

I knew if I continued to sit there, I'd say something to him, either causing embarrassment or getting thrown out. Or both.

Given we almost got thrown out of the baseball game earlier, I opted to remain silent. To be clear, the umpires ultimately didn't have a problem with me or our broadcast but they objected to fans complaining about ball-strike calls (which were frankly bad). Incidentally, develop some rabbit ears and let it go. Ejecting people in the first inning wouldn't be necessary. In any event, it calmed down.

So, with sunburned arms and neck from yesterday, I disappeared and went to bed.

Saying goodbye to everyone is difficult when the season ends and people disperse kind of quickly. To that end, I was in the lobby before 7 a.m. The NFP were thankfully nowhere to be found. 

I'm also terrible at goodbyes.

So I grabbed a quick breakfast and departed Rhode Island.

I simply can't thank everyone enough. Heck, Mike Buswell and Bob Gerbert were trying to convince me to join them on vacation to say thank you for the broadcasts. In truth, I thank them for everything.

No, I don't get rich doing these games, but I feel loved and appreciated. Thus the honor is mine.

They gave me a place to stay, fed me, and fully supported the broadcasts.

While I can't root on the air, my heart always hurts when a season comes to an end, as it did with Trumbull falling to Rhode Island yesterday. It breaks my heart to watch the players and parents cry. I feel for the coaches who agonize over the decisions. 

But sports is winning and losing. And there are wonderful lessons to be learned. Trumbull is too good. They'll be back (and maybe I'll be there with them).

Today's East Regional Championship was moved to Noon and I decided I was just going home. In truth, had anyone asked me to stay and call the championship, you can bet that I would have.

Instead, I was home by 9:30. I had laundry running by 10.

The Cat has been next to me the entire time since I walked in.

Sean is on the way home from South Carolina so I'll have to go meet him and his friends in a bit.

With that, travel is over for now. I've pondered a day trip before high school football season but we'll see how realistic that is.

A lot of things are on my plate this week, so I'll be busy here. Of course, the week begins with a very expensive fuel pump replacement on Monday morning.

Then it's back to the Renegades, "Doubleheader," and so on. 

I didn't expect this journey to happen.

I'm glad it did.

And I'm already looking forward to 2025.

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.

Focus on the Cat

He was in the middle of a meow

I was going to write about something a bit serious.

Something that's bothering me.

But, here's the thing. Hang in there with me for a moment.

I've made the mistake -- too many times -- of coming to this space to write such things. The mistake is that I write, treating this as a safe space. 

When I've needed to blow off steam.

When I just have to yell a bit.

I'm not even necessarily writing to be seen. I'm not looking for attention. It's just that I need to say it.

And people -- well-meaning, I know -- give me the ol' "everything will be fine" when I've literally asked to not receive that.

So, this time, I'm not doing it. I'm fine. All is well. If I need to write about such things, I'll do a private diary or seek therapy.

Oh, wait. I don't have nor can I afford benefits.

Shall I tell you about the latest form letter kiss-off I received? Nah. Let it go, right?

So, instead, it's International Cat Day and I'm here in Rhode Island with the Trumbull baseball families who have welcomed me as one of their own. A mom told me last night that she thinks we'll all be spending the next few summers together.

I shouldn't make vacation plans.

And it's weird to not be broadcasting every game of the tournament but it seems only Trumbull cares about if the games have coverage. That's sort of sad but I think it's just a matter of the other teams not knowing they can have coverage. Only people from Braintree, MA inquired about us.

So, yes, International Cat Day it is. I'm sure our Rascal Squeaky is back home, chilling on my bed or on my floor as the temperature has come down from the flaming numbers we've had for a few weeks.

It's quite cool actually. I'm pleased I brought a hoodie and a windbreaker. 

We are quite grateful for The Cat, who has provided us with companionship and pet therapy since joining us nearly four years ago.

Maybe I should talk about things to him.

Anyway, Trumbull plays a team from New Hampshire today at 5 p.m. They are 3-for-3 in wins of 10+ runs or more.

I need to go find some lunch before the game.

I took a ride to Newport this morning. It was crowded and too expensive to park and their bridges can bit white-knuckling. 

And that's all I have to say about that.

Mount Hope Bridge coming out of Bristol this morning

Trumbull Wins ... I Lose

 

See the blue poncho? That was today's "booth."

We try.

Oh, we try hard every time.

And I go through the safety checks.

Is this plugged into that? Is the whatchamacallit connected to the doohickey?

In truth, is the mixer making the connection with the computer? Does the computer have enough battery strength? Are the microphones loud enough? Are we on the air?

Most of the time, it is. And it all works.

But a little bad weather can impact everything.

On the plus side of this tale, Trumbull is now 3-0 in the Little League 10U East Regional. They roared past Colchester, VT today 10-0. I was happy to be back on the call in Cranston, RI.

OK, first things first. I missed breakfast at the hotel and, well, I wound up at McDonald's. I'm not proud of that fact, to be clear. I'll try to do better tomorrow, but Sean and I texted each other about this. He's in the land of Waffle House and I'm not.

There's an IHOP near our hotel. So there's that.

But, breakfast procured, I took a walk around the Warwick Mall to stretch my legs and get a little exercise.

Then, it was onto the field.

We're going to battle rain all week, and the game that was supposed to be played at 11 this morning was moved to 1 p.m. due to heavy rain last night.

The crew at the park was still mowing and preparing the field as I walked over.

Soon, I was set up, using the Apache hard-sided case to keep the equipment dry.

Bob Gerbert was a surprise at the field and was able to join me for the broadcast. Only minutes earlier, I thought I'd be "Scullying" the call (aka working solo).

All seemed set. I passed our audio to Chris Anderson for the Gamechanger broadcast feed.

Yes, all was well. The internet signal was good and Mixlr had our audio.

A steady rain fell so I had to close the case to keep things dry. We went live as I played the opening music and aired the live feed of the lineup introductions.

Following the national anthem, I adjusted the volume, began talking, and closed the Apache case.

And, in the process, I must have closed the computer, thus taking us off the air on Robcasting.

I had no idea.

Of course, Gamechanger had the audience and I gather we could be heard loud and clear. But it took me reopening the case to check on things to make the discovery and get back on Robcasting.

The audio -- now archived -- has some of our audio but then there's a short gap before it picks up again later on.

I'll own the mistake and live and learn from it. I don't have an engineer to monitor the feed.

The weather and the setup of the fields don't make using the pod possible. It would block the view of someone and people don't take too kindly to that.

There is simply no opportunity to be in the "press" (ha ha ha) box.

So we'll adjust. We'll live and learn.

If you want to hear the full broadcast from today, you'll need to go to Gamechanger. 

If you want what we were able to record, it's in the Robcasting archive.

Tomorrow is another day.

And Right Back to RI

 

"Wait. You interrupted your trip to Rhode Island to teach?"

It was as if he was surprised. If this person truly knew me, it wouldn't be a shock.

"Yeah. I mean, I made the commitment, and I know how much we switch things around. I didn't want to do that again so I dealt with it."

Getting on the same page with me when it comes to my schedule is quite a trick. There's baseball, depositions, the Renegades, "Doubleheader," and whatever else. I wish it wasn't like that (as in having a home base, aka #HireRob) but it comes down to weighing all of the options and doing right by my commitments.

I'd already changed my dates with CSB so I honored the commitment and held classes yesterday and today. As I wrote last night, it gave me the chance to run home, see The Cat, etc.

So, yes, I have made it back to the hotel where I am happy to see my key still works.

But, wow, the temperature has dropped as the weather gets uglier. It's in the low 70s and I actually have a sweatshirt ready if necessary.

I want to like the drive from Stratford to here but it's just too much traffic on I-95 for only two lanes, especially when a lane was closed. Unfortunately, traffic doesn't flow. So, mix that together and it makes for a grind to the RI border.

Ever fascinated, I stopped by the memorial to those lost in a massive fire at the Station nightclub on Feb 20, 2003. One hundred lives were lost 230 more were injured when a pyrotechnic display ignited flammable acoustic foam in the walls and ceilings surrounding the stage. Jack Russell's Great White was getting ready to perform at the club in West Warwick.

The park was dedicated in 2017 and each victim is lovingly remembered with personal memorials. I remember when the fire occurred and I was honored to pay my respects today before moving on to the hotel. What struck me was how many of the victims were in the same age range as me.

Sad. All of it. May they rest in peace. It is said many survivors have dealt with post-traumatic stress since.

I'm back in my room now and the weather is quite gray as we keep our eye on Tropical Storm Debby, who is cruising up the east coast.

I've heard from Sean in Myrtle Beach and he is fine, if somewhat wet I suppose. Rain has been intense but, at last check, he was sending me pictures of Steelers items in stores down there. I'm happy to see each picture, serving as an indication of all being well.

I've also texted with Kristy, my niece in North Carolina, who said the rain is heavy as she had to drive to Raleigh. She said the storm was notable but they were OK.

I'll take those answers.

Of course, it's worth noting that it's supposed to eventually reach Greenwich (you know, there's a cat there) and, well, Rhode Island, where there's a baseball tournament to be played. I'm happily not in the shoes of those running the Little League tournament here who have to make decisions based on the weather.

I want what's best for the kids.

And these Trumbull kids are playing outstanding baseball. Their next game is tomorrow morning at 11* against a team from Vermont. Weather permitting the game will air on Robcasting and Gamechanger.

I have plenty of things to keep the equipment (hopefully) dry.

(*Update: Here we go with the weather. Tomorrow's game has been backed up from 11:00 am to 1:00 pm due to overnight rain)

We Interrupt This Baseball Trip to Return Home

 

Not a sign I wanted to see

I honored my commitment today.

As I usually do. 

It's sort of one of my better qualities.

I was up and out of the hotel by 7:30 and on my way from Rhode Island back to Connecticut. I probably should have left a little earlier but it didn't worry me.

The hotel breakfast didn't do it for me this morning so I hit the road hoping for something better. Good lord, people, but where do you go?

In my case, I opted for the golden arches. Short-staffed as they were, I had a suitable Egg McMuffin that was too small and a coffee. But people were getting impatient as they waited. I just look at my phone.

And I tweet about customers helping themselves to a soda cup by walking behind the counter.

Fighting the inconsistent speeds on 95, I made it to Stratford with time to spare before class began at 10.

Teaching is the usual. It's a new group so the stories, videos, and sound bites are fresh to them. I tell them all, doing my best to assure them that I'm not a brag or a name-dropper. The idea is to recognize that you too can interview the players you've admired and broadcast their games.

It takes a lot of things. Fate, hard work, connections, some luck, and other factors help achieve those goals. Talent? It's overrated!

Honestly, does talent win out? I don't think it does.

But it also takes trust in the people who are guiding you along that road.

And making sure you're not being taken advantage of by "mentors."

Class was over shortly after 1:30 and I buzzed from Stratford to Fairfield to make keys for my sister to visit Rascal later in the week. I also grabbed lunch.

Then I came home, emptied the car out, and got to work on a small load of laundry before I hosted "Doubleheader." Oh, yeah, and The Cat was waiting.

With laundry done, I took it mostly easy.

The great shame is that Trumbull played back in Rhode Island tonight, and the game was on the Gamechanger app. The problem -- thus, the shame -- is that you can't watch it if you don't have a subscription. 

I was tempted -- yes, indeed -- to try calling the game from home off the Gamechanger feed. I mean, why not?

But, alas, I do not have a subscription, so I got scoring updates and that was it. The final was a 17-4 for Trumbull over the team from North Providence, RI.

This Trumbull is scary good. They play smart, fundamental baseball.

Tomorrow is their off day so they can enjoy themselves. The hotel has a pool and there are some things to do in the Providence area. The beaches are nearby, Newport is a great town, and a day trip to Boston is possible.

Me?

Oh, I'll be teaching again. The students are good and they're nice and that matters. It gets my grumbling quickly into the background. They deserve my best regardless of whatever circumstances in life so I gave them my all today and I'll do the same tomorrow.

As soon as class is over, I'll get right back in the car and return to Rhode Island, perhaps stopping for lunch if I can find anything to eat.

The next broadcast is Wednesday morning at 11 a.m.

Today is the 103rd anniversary of the first baseball broadcast as Harold Arlin called the Pirates/Phillies game on KDKA. The Pirates won 8-5 and the broadcast was rudimentary but successful. Arlin called tennis the next day and college football that fall before doing boxing.

Sports play-by-play was officially underway, beginning on Aug 5, 1921.

As always, a tip of the headset to Mr. Arlin.

Host With a Certain Level of Most

 

On the field in the 94 jersey
(Photo: Mike "Clicks" Newell)

WARWICK, RI -- Sometimes, crazy plans turn out just fine.

Yes, first of all, I made it to Rhode Island, after Mother Nature (remember, it's not nice to fool her) did her best to thwart all efforts.

Let's return to yesterday, shall we? 

I was packed, and ready, said farewell to Rascal (The Cat), and hit the road to work with Rascal (The Mascot). I stopped and picked up water and seltzer for the hotel room (and, let's face it, I'll drink it at home). I grabbed lunch and then went to Heritage Financial Park.

In the end, was I nervous for my first time as the on-field host? Sure, but it wasn't paralyzing. I probably looked more anxious than I actually was. I'm certain I looked clueless, especially to the group of interns on the Fun Team that I'd be around all night.

Jamie Goerke, Manager, Game Day Promotions & Programming, was the rock star for me. She was supportive and patient with me all night, and I couldn't have asked for more. 

But, as I said, Mother Nature did some damage to the evening, bringing us a delay that resulted in the first pitch being thrown two hours later than scheduled.

So, I hung out. I walked to the PA booth. I walked down and talked to Lori. I stepped onto the field a few times, including making a brief opening statement that, for some reason, brought applause.

I chatted with fans. 

I walked. Walked. And Walked.

Call it a form of pacing.

I was mixed about playing as the rain fell. If we didn't, I'd lose that first try at hosting but could head to Rhode Island at a reasonable hour.

And Mike Buswell was asking for my ETA (Narrator: it would be late).

But, alas, the decision was made to play. I asked if I should make an announcement, headed to the field, and ... play-by-play announcer (and fill-in on PA) Joe Vasile did the honors. OK. There's that.

I grumbled about communication and carried on.

Oh, and keep in mind that Sean (aka "Junior") wasn't there.

Screenshot from the game broadcast

Eventually, we got down to the real business of the night. I just had to be me. I was passionate and energetic and excited. At times, I worked in some sarcasm.

I made sure to shout out Joe and Clicks and Anthony and Rass.

I chatted with contestants for the games.

I talked with fans.

What can I do better? I screwed up one of the intros, skipping a name on the lineup card (Lori said I made up for it well). I was too slow on a few games and I'll get better timing down.

I'll also learn how to shoot a T-shirt gun eventually.

But, more than anything, I'll continue to relax and let more of the sarcasm come out.

Energy in a crowd dissipates on a night of weather delays. People leave and things thin out. But those who stay are the troopers and are fantastic. Those are the fans I played to. I've learned from years of conference and event hosting to find friendly faces in the crowd and work with them.

When it was over, I walked back out to the field and said a final goodnight. As always, I shouted out the team I worked with, especially the crew in the PA booth.

First, I made sure the crowd cheered the Renegades for their win and, always promoted, reminded fans to come back for Sunday's game.

"For, Anthony, Clicks, Joe, and Rass, I'm Rob Adams. Get home safe everyone, and good night!"

With that, there was applause. Cheers. People calling my name.

And, from what I heard, there might be a second chance to do this again.

I got to see things from a different angle. I was able to watch the faces of the fans, the throwing of the T-shirts, the interaction with the mascots, and occasionally, the game itself. I was even able to break into some goofy play-by-play of the on-field games, like Tic-Tac-Toe.

(Photo: Clicks)

As opposed to what I usually do, this is pure entertainment, and more than anything, it's about making people smile and be happy they're there.

I'd like to think I did that. It's a level of customer service, such as assuaging concerns over the rain.

I walked with Lori to her car after the game, said goodnight, and began the trip to Rhode Island. More than anything, I tried to not think about it too much. The only thing that occurred to me was that I was hungry.

I just drove, focusing on the road and the still-falling rain.

And I found an open McDonald's in Middletown, CT that I ran into near 11:30.

From there, the race was on. All along, Waze told me I'd get to the hotel at 12:45 a.m.

Yup. I pulled off I-95, into the parking lot of this Holiday In Express, and joined Mike and company.

Beverages were waiting. I didn't even go to my room until nearly 2 a.m.

With that, I've shifted right back into broadcaster mode. People from Braintree, MA -- Trumbull's opponent today -- are excited that I'm here.

Oh, my body is sore and I know I could use some sleep. And for the last 28 weeks, I've created new episodes of "Meet the Beatles." Today, for the first time, I let a show rerun. It's summer, people are away, and I gave myself a break. A new episode will air next week. I already know the topic.

But for today, it's time to play ball and put the headset back on. I'm told other teams are interested in hearing me.

Bring it on.

Quite a Day Ahead

 

It's a quiet Saturday morning.

Really quiet, in fact. 

Sean is somewhere in the wilds of North Carolina as I write, bound for Myrtle Beach.

For the record, he got Waffle House after being told the first one they stopped at was close. He was asleep when they stopped as they drove all night.

Further for the record, Dad (that's me) called BS on it being closed because, unless it's out of business, it can't be closed. They're open 24/7 barring truly deadly weather.

But, alas, all was well in Sean World. He sent me a picture of his All-Star Special and I was happy for him. 

Except...he told me the car he was in had exited I-95 before reaching South of the Border and, thus, they were not heading to Buc-ee's.

He was bummed.

Guess he and Dad (again, me) will need to make that trip once we can afford to do so.

Also, I got the honor of driving him up to Dutchess County to drop him off at his friend's house for the trip. Not that, you know, he could have left his car there (as I said he could).

So, I'm here in the quiet of Greenwich before heading to the stadium (again, in Dutchess County) and on to Rhode Island for part one of that adventure.

Oh yeah, the car, the teaching, and The Cat will be in play this week.

There is, of course, something glorious to be said about being home alone and I'm enjoying that. Nobody knows how to party like me and Rascal Squeaky Beast.

He's currently asleep and I have YouTubers Trent & Allie on as I sip coffee and write.

And this, friends, is my window to write. I have to pull myself together after this and head to the stadium for today's adventure.

If you haven't been following along, tonight is the first time I will serve as the on-field host for a Renegades game.

Only a select few have served this role. Rick Zolzer did it the most from 1994 until under a month ago. In fact, at one time, he was on-field host and public address announcer. The team changed that in 2022 and that's when I shifted over to PA.

Zolz, in my opinion, perfected it, and I learned a ton from watching him. 

"Fish," as literally everyone knows him (I've never called him by his given name) has done a wonderful job over the past month, again working with me as the PA voice from above.

I should mention that there are other PA announcers, including Stephen Colvin, who have been that "voice from the booth." In some ways, that role is the straight man to the on-field host though I definitely tried to play more of a sarcastic wise guy. But we tended to know that the on-field person was the star.

I was always cautious about knowing my lane and giving Zolz and Fish the space to do their thing.

So, overall, I stuck to announcing names and sponsor reads, with an occasional rejoinder where possible. 

I also worked Zach Neubauer as the on-field host and the reviews were really strong for us.

But time and circumstances change things. Zach, for instance, is now down in Greenville, SC. 

Oh, and Saturdays are big nights for DJs and MCs, which Fish, Colvin, Mikey Beats, and other Renegades "voices" are.

I, however, am not. I'm just a sad, out-of-work play-by-play announcer.

And so Jamie Goerke, Manager, Game Day Promotions & Programming, texted me to see if I wanted to be the on-field host.

I was calling Trumbull's Little League state championship win at the moment so I let the game finish and took a deep breath before I replied that I'd give it a try.

Look, I've said a few times that the opportunity intrigued me. To say it is decidedly different from 34 years of journalism and reporting is an understatement.

Sean, Susan, Fish, Mikey "Clicks," and even Zolz himself have been among those to pass along encouragement.

I won't be Zolz. I won't be Fish. I won't be Zach or Colvin.

Red Barber once told Vin Scully that the most important thing he could bring to the booth was himself. I'll do the same.

It will happen naturally. It won't be forced. If I'm "on," I'll bring the sarcasm and snark.

I'm still not 100% sure who the PA announcer will be but that will all work itself out. I also know Mikey "Clicks" and Anthony will be in the booth for audio and video, respectively, so I've got a pro team that I'm working with.

I'll draw on the lessons learned from the others. I'll draw on my experiences as a conference moderator and banquet host. And, sure, I can draw on my ability to ad-libe from my years of broadcasting.

That doesn't mean it will be a hit but I'm going to give it my best.

If I feel OK about it when I drive away, then I consider it a win.

But, then again, I'm proud of myself for trying.

Now, it's time to go crush it.

Then I hope to ride that wave of energy to Rhode Island.

I get to be a play-by-play announcer again tomorrow as Trumbull plays Braintree, MA at 2:30 p.m. Bobby Gerbert will join me for the call on Robcasting and Gamechanger. People from Braintree have actually asked if I'll be calling the game and that's such a huge compliment.

I've also been asked to take on a few extra football games along with some hockey (!) in October and that brightens my spirits.

Of course, it would be nice if one of the scenarios of a full-time gig were to play out.

But that's for another day. 

It's time to be an on-field host.

Fuel Pumped

 

You didn't think the car was fixed, did you?

No, it's really effing not fixed.

I got in the car this morning and, sure, enough the same warning that has haunted me for years reappeared.

So I went back to the service center in Port Chester. I was taken in quickly and sat back down in the same place I did yesterday.

I'll spare you the details.

The car needs a fuel pump. That, of course, is not cheap.

Oh, I know. "Cry me a river." Well, allow me a few paragraphs to self loathe, please.

Oh, I guess it can get me to the stadium tomorrow and to Rhode Island -- TWICE -- over the next week.

But it won't pass the Connecticut emissions test.

And, to add to it, the service center could do the work on Monday.  Great, right? 

Except I have to teach Monday. In Stratford. Eventually, I have to drive back to Rhode Island.

No, I can't get the work done until the following Monday.

Sean will be away, for instance. Not his fault. He even offered me his car but there's no way to make that happen without jumping through hoops that simply don't work.

It's a perfect storm, if you will, of issues, led by money, of course.

I'm currently irrationally pissed off if you want the truth.

And I simply have to stop this post here because I can feel a long boiling rage creeping to my fingers as I type.

So, there's that.

Happy Friday.

*****

I wrote the bulk of this hours ago and am going to leave it as is.

As is always the case the wisdom of time and the love of people who you talk to helped to cool me down a bit.

I'm still annoyed, of course, but I'm not seeing as much red as I did earlier.

The sun, of course, will come out tomorrow and I'll go about my business.

The thing is that you can't just tell me things are going to be OK. That doesn't work. I generally need a reason to believe that.

*****

Most of the takes on the Olympic boxing controversy involving Imane Khelif of Algeria have proven that people prefer hot takes and don't like to read.

She was born a woman. Her passport says so as well. That's enough for the Olympics.

Yet people just react.

And that's pretty much all I have to say about that.

*****

Aug 2 was the day we lost both Thuman Munson (1979) and Vin Scully (2022).

Both are missed tremendously.

Car Work and Broadcast Schedule

 

Today's waiting room did not look like this

Back in June, I took my car to the nearby emissions testing location.

It failed. A code -- one that has hovered over the car for years -- finally bit me.

It was never a straightforward problem though. I once tried to have it fixed, since there was a report of a small fuel leak. The recommendation? A new gas cap.

It was laughable then and now. 

But with the test failure, it had to be done. In fact, it needs to be done by mid-August so that I can retake the test and hopefully pass it.

Thus, it was time to visit a mechanic.

I do not trust anyone when it comes to autowork.

OK, I trust my cousin Kris, but that's about it. He doesn't steer me wrong (I crack myself up).

But I knew I had to try and I booked an appointment with a Nissan dealer in Port Chester.

I went over this morning, arriving before my scheduled 8:15 appointment.

I pulled in to find a temporary shelter serving as the waiting room for the service department. The good news is that the air conditioning worked.

The bad news was the air conditioning worked, it was actually cold,  and I sat there for nearly six hours.

But, in the end, they think it is fixed.

It also cost more to have them run a test on the code than it was to resolve it.

Yet, a little over $200 later, I drove away. To be honest, I'm still not sure what they did.

If I haven't mentioned it, going to have car work is an angst-filled experience for me. It's like going to the doctor. I had to sit in that waiting room and convince myself that I could absorb a bill for "X" number of dollars and that it was going to be OK.

It's a horrible feeling.

Keep in mind that my ability to go to Rhode Island for the Little League regional hinges on this. I couldn't go if it was too expensive as I couldn't justify the cost of food and gas and incidentals. As it is, thanks to my teaching at CSB, I have to make the drive to and from Greenwich twice.

But, with this, I think we can safely say that we'll be on the call of Trumbull's games except for one when I have to teach.

So, here's the broadcast schedule:

Sunday 8/4 - 2:30pm vs MA

Monday 8/5 - 5pm vs RI (Not on Robcasting)

Wednesday 8/7 - 11am vs VT

Thursday 8/8 - 5pm vs NH 

Friday 8/9 - 5pm -- Mid-Atlantic Championship

                   7:30pm -- New England Championship 

Saturday 8/10 - 10am -- East Region Championship

Please note all of Trumbull's games will be carried via their Gamechanger. If I'm there, it will be on Robcasting also.

To pull this off, I'll be driving from Greenwich to Wappingers Falls Saturday night for my on-field hosting debut between the Renegades and BlueClaws. I'll then drive from Wappingers to Rhode Island for Saturday night and be up and smiling in time for the Sunday game at 2:30. I'll remain in RI that night before coming down to Stratford early Monday morning to teach.

Oh, lucky students, getting to deal with Grumpy Rob. 

I'll go home that night so I can visit with our friend The Cat and sleep in my own bed before getting up again Tuesday morning to go back and teach in Stratford.

From there, I'll return to Rhode Island.

Sound nuts? It is.

Will I have fun? I'm sure I will.

But, yeah, I wish this could all be a bit easier if you know what I mean.

*****

I'm back home from tonight's Renegades game. We were on the YES Network tonight and I have no idea if you could actually hear me.

Then again, I don't think I had anyone who could tell me if they heard me. 

So, I guess it doesn't matter, as it's not about me.

But worrying about this kept me from worrying about being the on-field host on Saturday night.

And I'll be nervous.

Oh, you bet I will be.