Tinkering

 

The home set up last week for hockey

I enjoy cars in that I like driving them. I like looking at them, especially vintage models.

But I'm lucky I know where the gas goes. OK, I can do menial things like changing tires and lightbulbs and such but I'm no gear head.

However, put audio equipment in my hand and I'll be good for a while.

I'm always looking for the right combination in my quest for efficiency.

I recently saw a post in a Facebook group that showed an equipment bag and my wheels began to turn. Amazon said it was a bargain and I was sold!

It was too small. Like, silly.

I'm not one to give up but no matter what I did I couldn't find the secret sauce to make it work. 

What I'm looking for is something efficient to hold the basics. The problem of course is that I have MacGyver tendencies -- meaning I want to be hyper-prepared for all circumstances.

That, of course, means I need to pack a lot.

Yet, do I really? I mean, I have to bring a mixer, headset, crowd mic, and cables for the mic and to export the audio to a camera*.

*I should mention tomorrow is my first basketball game at Brunswick. Hockey is coming.

But...wait. Do I need an extension cord? What about a power strip?

(I can never think about power strips without the story of them missing in Cooperstown. I have to hold that one for another time.)

You can obviously begin to see where the bag begins to grow, right? I like that ability to have every answer. I don't like the need to go back to the car or, worse, not having the part in question.

So I tinker with the right combination to fit in the bag. Then I keep other bags in the car. There's even more at home.

You can probably imagine the shakes I feel when I travel by bus. That means I don't have the full complement of equipment with me.

Among the many things that I laugh at is the notion that we have so much room to work with in the booths we're in.

No, literally. Ha.

(OK, Cardinal Stadium excluded.)

But the truth is, space is very limited. So that factors into what I pack and how I pack it and how much I bring.

We haven't even gotten to the potential for bad or sunny weather and if I bring my Pelican case.

There's so much to think about and so many different options.

I've packed, unpacked, gone downstairs, come back upstairs, looked for an adaptor, gone back downstairs, grabbed something, come back upstairs...and so on.

That's just for my studio setup as I continue to look for the optimal setup to run everything.

I do it every day.

I'll do it again tomorrow.

The road set up at Fairfield Prep last Sunday

Still Senseless

 

It was Tuesday, Dec 9, 1980, and I woke up to a lot of Beatles music on my sister's stereo in the room next to mine. She was getting ready to go to work and almost had a look of shock on her face. I don't know if she would even remember it if I were to ask her about it.

I don't recall if I asked what was going on or if she just offered it.

"John Lennon died," she said.

I was 12. It made no sense. It made less sense on the bus to Austin Road Elementary School or in Mrs. Colasacco's fifth-grade class.

Of course, the crime -- the murder -- happened the night before. Oh, sure, I was a football fan by that point and I probably did watch some of the Patriots and Dolphins on "Monday Night Football" but I was likely in bed when Howard Cosell announced Lennon's death. But, again, I was 12 and it was a school night.

So I found out the next morning while the world began to mourn. Rarely has a pop figure produced such an outpouring. The reaction to the deaths of Michael Jackson and Rudolph Valentino both come to mind.

This was not only worldwide mourning but it was also a New York event. Crowds gathered outside The Dakota -- where the murder took place -- and they stayed there. A vigil was held that Sunday in New York and radio stations were a shared community as music and memories flowed. 

New York had become John and Yoko's home. They sort of wanted to be average New Yorkers, but we all know that would never be possible. Still, the Big Apple meant so much to The Beatles as it's where they first landed in 1964 and performed on the "Ed Sullivan Show." That and their Shea Stadium concerts that followed.

Yet, funny thing about NYC. You can disappear among the average folks. It's the paparazzi and the fans that reminded John Lennon that he was John-freaking-Lennon.

We all went into a haze for roughly a week, culminating with the vigil. It was 1980 and these weren't the nicest of times. New York was gritty and that's putting it nicely. There were 52 Americans being held hostage in Iran. The following month, the Winter Olympics would be held in upstate New York and a group of college kids basically shattered the cold war for a moment.

But John Lennon -- he of "Give Peace a Chance" -- had died in the least peaceful way. Ironic, of course. He was murdered by a deranged fan. There's really no other way to say it.

We've had 41 years to ponder what it would have been like. "What if" John Lennon hadn't been murdered?

What would he be like? Would The Beatles have gotten back together? What did the future hold?

Who knows? I often think Live Aid would have been the landing spot since the Lads seemed to be on decent terms as the 80s began. He was 40 on that fateful night and was just beginning what felt like a fruitful part of his career.

John had been in hiding in the late 70s, being a far better dad to Sean than he was to Julian. The days of first wife Cynthia and "The Lost Weekend" with Harry Nilsson and company in Los Angeles seemed to be over. He was refined and refueled.

All we can do is speculate about John because of senselessness on a Monday night in 1980.

The 80s were such a mixed bag to the solo Beatles to begin with. McCartney was, of course, Macca, but there were also clunkers in there. The same can be said of George and Ringo (though George hit big with the Traveling Wilbury's).

The supernova that was John Lennon gave us so much in, essentially, 17 years (more or less). We wanted a revolution and he gave it to us. We still all want to change the world.

But on this night 41 years ago?

All we could do was imagine.

It's all we've done since.

12/7/41

 

The USS Arizona topples on Dec 7, 1941

Oh say can you see...

Hold up a sec. Sure, I'm a fairly patriotic type but this isn't some jingoistic post. For one thing, that's fairly gauche these days.

Still, it's Dec. 7 and that's an important -- is that the right word? -- day in our history.

Dec. 7. July 4. Nov. 22. Sept. 11. You should likely know what happened on each of those dates.

Dec. 7 of course is the date that will live in infamy. Japanese planes attacked Pearl Harbor at 7:55 that morning. The news began to percolate about a place that not everyone had ever heard of. WOR radio was airing a football game between the Brooklyn Dodgers and New York Giants when they broke in.

Over on Columbia -- CBS -- John Daly reported the news of the attack, frequently mispronouncing "Oahu" as "Ohau."

I often marvel at that. Yes, there was TV -- WNBT, Channel 4, did have coverage -- but there weren't many sets in use (less than 10,000 per estimates of the day). So everyone else was reliant on the radio (and newspapers of course) and they didn't necessarily stay live 24/7. The West Coast states were told to turn all lights out after 7pm. In fact, they were completely blacked out.

Personally, I would have been pretty freaked out.

FDR brought the world infamy the next day. The word wasn't in the original speech. He smartly added it. On the other hand, he wasn't so smart when he signed Executive Order 9066, which led to the internment of those of Japanese ancestry.

The next nearly four years carried young men to Europe and Asia. My family -- and likely yours -- went to war and, of course, many didn't come home.

My mind on this day drifts to those lost at Pearl Harbor. The astounding loss of 1,177 on the Arizona -- many of whom are forever interred there -- will forever sadden.

And, of course, produced great anger towards Japan. Thankfully we've moved past that.

My parents raised me to never forget Pearl Harbor and I don't.

Thus, when I pause for two minutes for a song that plays at the beginning of a sports event, it's in honor of the parents who taught me to be respectful. That's always been my reason and I'm hardly immune to having to tend to something that keeps me from being as rigid as I'd prefer to be.

But I stay until that last note. That's my thing. Doesn't mean anything more than that. You do you, of course. I do it for my parents and for a lot of blood, sweat, and tears in this country.

When I remember Pearl Harbor Day every Dec. 7, it's in honor of my father, who felt that we didn't pay the proper respect and attention that the day deserves.

It still does.

The Wind Cries

 

"It was a dark and stormy night..."

No, really, it's dark, and the wind has just started whipping around. 

There's an image or a metaphor in there but I'm not smart enough to think of it right now.

In fact, I'm not smart enough to write at all tonight. I feel tapped out. It's probably just as well that I didn't do "Doubleheader" today because I would have likely snapped about the Hall of Fame (some good and some bad). Again, my Hall of Fame is more exclusive. I did love Buck O'Neil getting in.

Others give me hope for Don Mattingly and Thurman Munson. You just need the right baseball political push because that's part of what goes on in these committees.

On the other hand, there are too many schnooks on the interwebs to fight with about such things, so I'll pass.

I recorded a podcast later on which was fine because I had the basis of the interview written out and I ad-libbed from there.

No heavy lifting and it minimized the ways that I could get in trouble.

You know, as I always do.

So, yeah, I'm not feeling it tonight. It just feels like a good time to close up shop early and watch football until we lose power though I'm hoping that won't happen.

Sunday Night in the Town of Carmel

 

I live in Mahopac, a hamlet of Carmel.

CAR-mull.

I'd end the post right there but I'm here for more tonight.

Apparently, those calling the state championship football game involving Carmel, NY couldn't pronounce it.

Such things happen, of course, and I'm hardly immune.

But it's CAR-mull.

Moving on.

Speaking of calling football, today was probably my final call until next August or September. Fairfield Prep beat Shelton to punch their ticket into the state championship game against Darein. To be blunt (or obnoxious) I feel like it wouldn't be the worst decision ever to put Chris Erway and me on the call next Saturday because...

1) We're not bad at what we do.

2) We're familiar with both schools, fan bases, towns, and teams.

3) We're fairly well-respected among both Darien and Fairfield Prep.

4) We know how to say "Carmel" (sorry, it was there)

Alas, I'll likely be doing other things next Saturday. Brunswick will be upon me soon with hockey and basketball, and I really need to remember wrestling as well, especially since Chris is great at broadcasting that.

Look, anyone who reads this blog knows how hung up I get on quality broadcasting (or lack thereof) especially when it comes to championships.

And that's basically all I have to say about that as I continue to try to curb my wicked ways which unilaterally get me in trouble.

While I'm continuing on the sports front (sorry, JoAnn) I saw the results of the Hall of Fame veterans committee voting and congratulate the new inductees. I'll lose no sleep over it but, in my opinion, we're heading towards "Oprah" territory where everyone can get a Hall of fame plaque.

The new electees are Jim Kaat, Minnie Minoso, Gil Hodges, Tony Oliva, Bud Fowler, and Buck O’Neil. To never have to hear Mets and Dodgers fans whining about Gil Hodges again works just fine for me.

And yet? Take a look at the life and career of one John Donaldson and explain to me why he didn't earn election today.

How Dick Allen didn't make it is beyond me. I was hoping for Allie Reynolds also but wasn't holding my breath.

Also, while I'm at it, I'm going to catch a little grief here but what else is new? I love Roger Maris. Adore Roger Maris. I tear up every time I watch him hit his 61st either in old films or in the movie "61*."

Roger Maris had his number retired by the Yankees in 1984. He has a plaque in Monument Park. Many see him as the "true" single-season home run king.

Roger didn't get voted into the Hall today and, frankly, I'm OK with that. My Hall of Fame is a tough place to get into. I totally recognize Roger's contributions to baseball. I know what a good man he was. I know he died far too young. I know he caught grief from fans for approaching Babe Ruth's record in 1961 and then for not living up to the 61 homers after that.

I truly admire the man.

But my Hall of Fame is truly elite. 

My Hall of Fame tells the story of the game. I put Pete Rose and Bary Bonds and Roger Clemens and A-Rod in my Hall of Fame and I tell the truth on their plaques. I don't let Pete make a speech upon his induction. I also get Shoeless Joe Jackson in my Hall of Fame.

I tell the truth because the truth is messy and there are messy players in there already. If you don't think steroids users are already in the Hall of Fame, well, Santa will be visiting in a few weeks.

Oh, incidentally, can we finally stop spreading lies about Ty Cobb? He wasn't as bad as he was made out to be. But I digress.

Lastly, Ben Roethlisberger might retire after this season which is the least surprising thing I've heard. Big Ben can leave with his head high, having won two Super Bowls and being the second greatest quarterback in Steelers history. 

Let the haters hate. People are still innocent until proven guilty. Kobe Bryant is a fine example of that.

As we say goodnight from the Town of Carmel, play this for your own personal seventh-inning stretch. It's the great new Hall of Famer Buck O'Neil singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" from the "Baseball" documentary in 1994.

Let it bring a smile to your face.

"What Are You Going to Write About?"

I had nothing to do with that graphic

Today was...er...different.

I made a spontaneous purchase this morning after receiving the encouragement of an unnamed person who I count as rather important.

Then I broadcast a hockey game from home. I mean, I've called games remotely but this was unique. My booth was my office. No, literally. It was a few feet from my bed. It was the same place I often do "Doubleheader" from. 

I had a producer in my ear and replays running and all kinds of fun. It was a mad scramble for information but that's why I love what I do.

And that's exactly why many can't handle this career.

After that, I was on the couch watching football and thinking about dinner when my friend JoAnn messaged me. She and her husband (both of whom I've known for, ahem, a few years), my dear friend Scott and others were having dinner just a few minutes away.

"Come join us," JoAnn said. 

Sean and I grabbed our coats and ran over.

JoAnn is a reader of this little enterprise. She tells me she's often up taking in this foolishness at 5:30 in the morning.

She and Greg live near Sean's "other" home and have been together for quite a few years, but they'll always be my classmates all the way back to Mrs. Clarizio in second grade at Austin Road Elementary School.

We talked about work and life and old friends and laughs.

But she was also fascinated about...this thing. This blog that I've written for a few years. This thing that I'm usually embarrassed about when it's mentioned to me.

She wondered if I had a plan for tonight's post.

No. I didn't have an idea until I walked in the door and it hit me to write about what JoAnn was saying.

Some days, ideas hit me as I pull myself together in the morning. Or in the car. Then it takes time to marinate. My writing is normally award-winning in my brain and terrible by the time I get to the computer.

The idea sometimes stays with me; yesterday is a good example. Sometimes (many times) the idea leaves my brain or dies on the vine. Or I'm too tired or just out of time.

And many days -- heck, most days -- I sit down, say, "What the *bleep* am I going to write about," and write anything that comes to mind.

Sixty percent of the time that works every time.

Some days I take a picture and post it on the social webs and then realize that it should be the basis of the post -- meaning I'm going to repost the picture (I've done that tonight).

Sometimes I want to bleed. Like I want to go all-in and tell the truth about whatever. I want to tell all of the hurt, heartache, anger, disappointment, and resentment that I feel. But that also comes with a price tag.

Sometimes I want to write about every triumph but that can also cause an issue. I still remember posting a picture (not on the blog) that brought me great joy only to get grief as a result. We can't win them all.

So I pick things judiciously. When I think it's important to discuss mental health again, I give it a shot. Reminder: the holidays suck for a lot of people. Please keep an eye on them and make sure they know that they're loved and respected and understood. But there's no formula. It's mostly based on feel.

Mostly, I just want to tell stories.

I also appreciated JoAnn's perspective. Some of you like the sports posts. Some...don't. They're just not interested.

And believe me, there are nights I start writing and tell myself to expect a minimal audience. Those are the posts I probably write for myself or do to keep the daily habit alive. Usually, those posts get very few eyeballs on it and I have to remind myself that I don't do this for clicks.

I don't even do it for "the streak" but it is nice to honor this habit on a daily basis. 

So that's what I'm going to write about.

Tomorrow? Maybe I'll write about the football broadcast (Shelton/Fairfield Prep at 12:30 p.m.). Maybe I'll write about something deep and personal. Maybe I'll write about the cat (another popular topic).

It also might be completely nonsensical.

You never know.

I rarely know.

The Legend of 55

I'm often asked about my fascination with the number 55.

I've explained the basic version -- that I learned I couldn't wear number five if I played for the Yankees when I was five years old. I was encouraged to switch to 55.

But it was more than that and I was reminded of it today as I drove to Poughkeepsie, NY to co-host Rick Zolzer's Sunday sports talk show. With Zolz away, Frank Pomarico and I recorded the show late this afternoon.

I got ahead of things on my route so, being me, I decided to go a different way. Starting from Brewster, NY after grabbing a cup of coffee, I proceeded north on NY Route 22 to Pawling where I picked up -- yup -- NY Route 55 west.

Route 55 starts its journey as Connecticut Route 55 where it connects with US 7 in Gaylordsville. The road meanders for not quite three miles until it enters the Empire State and proceeds west, ending near the Pennsylvania state line at Barryville, some 122 miles away.

This of course makes it a favorite of mine and has been one of a few signs I'd actually like to own. It's also a road I'd like to drive from end to end, much like my drive of NY Route 52 back in 2009.

But back to the connection to me. Sure, I frequently use it to get to and from Poughkeepsie and other points. It has an interchange with the Taconic Parkway.

That's where my dad comes in.

You see, Dad worked for a place in Poughkeepsie and I got to visit him a few times over the years. How did he get there? He took the Taconic north to 55 west.

A five-year-old in his skull, fascinated with roads and baseball, needs nothing further than his own father driving that double-nickel road every day to create a bond.

Still, my father's job wasn't on 55. 

Upon reaching Poughkeepsie, he drove no more than a mile off 55 to find the plumbing supply warehouse and showroom. 

Which was located on US 44.

I'm not a Reggie Jackson fan.

So when you see Double 5 on Twitter and Dble 5 on Instagram and, of course, "Exit 55," you know how it came to be.

The quick and easy story is the uniform number I always wanted in baseball.

The longer answer involves the route number.

The true answer is the fascinating mind of a five-year-old in the early 1970s.

We've Learned Nothing

 

Rob Manfred and Tony Clark

It would be a comedy act if it wasn't so sad.

Rob Manfred (MLB commissioner) and Tony Clark (MLB Player's Association boss) are today's Laurel and Hardy. Or Abbott and Costello.

Or add another dolt and you'd have the Stooges.

Nyuck nyuck nyuck.

Soitanly...ahem...certainly you've read the sad state of affairs by now. We're once again in a baseball work stoppage.

The first time was a strike in 1972 and 86 games were lost. Lockouts followed in 1973 and 1976 but no games were lost. A brief strike in 1980 was resolved with no loss of contests.

Sadly, 1981 hurt badly and tore the sport apart to the tune of 713 games being lost. A split season threw things into chaos.

There was a hiccup strike in 1985 and another lockout in 1990 but both kept things on schedule.

Then came 1994. The carnage was bad as 938 contests went down the tubes along with the post-season. The World Series wasn't played for the first time since 1904.

Baseball finally returned in 1995 but severe damage was done. We couldn't be that arrogant to do this again, right?

Well, partially right. Threats abounded here and there but things were resolved before the deadline. Late last night, Stan Laurel Manfred collected the votes from owners who unanimously elected to lockout the players.

Olver Hardy Clark no doubt said, "This is another nice mess you've gotten me into."

Or maybe he didn't.

What he -- and Laurel/Manfred -- didn't do was reach an agreement.

At the end of the day, fans don't care. They want baseball. They want action. Right now, they want to see player moves. They want to know exactly what the heck the Yankees are doing (they're about as inactive as the Marx brothers at this point).

I see people (you know, twidiots) being pro player, and isn't that all la-di-da super. 

But, frankly, they're wrong. I know, people are allowed opinions and all but I'm going all-in on this one.

Just as in 1994, I am one thing: pro-fan.

I love the players. Don't get me wrong. I've met and gotten to know some minor leaguers who can and will be great in MLB.

But, that being said, I'm not playing Switzerland here either. I'm pro-fan. I'm pro-baseball. I'm pro-save this damn sport.

A bunch of billionaires and athletes and lawyers squabbling over money doesn't exactly make anyone want to embrace the grand ol' game.

It's only day one, of course, so I supposed the good news is we don't need to panic yet. 

Still, as of the last check, no new meetings were scheduled, and, for the layman, one can't help but wonder why they don't just lock themselves out of leaving the bargaining room. Get in there, throw away the key, and don't come out until you have a resolution.

Naive, I know, and yes they'd need restroom breaks but still, work with me here.

Soon, conveniently, the holidays will interrupt things and we'll be into January. Pitchers and catchers would like to show up in February with the full squads not far behind.

In other words, time flies. 

Figure it out, boys. Make it so.

We've had 27 years of labor peace in part because we all knew we couldn't afford another disaster like 1994. We literally couldn't afford any work stoppage.

And yet? Here we are.

But don't worry, we have the comedy gold of Manfred and Clark.

Another nice mess.

Nyuck nyuck

A Response Isn't Necessary But I'll Explain

 

Looking up at the press box at Rafferty Stadium

The Greenwich football season came to an end last night. For me, that meant the end of my 23rd season associated with Big Red.

I was their sideline reporter for one game in 1999. I was with HAN in 2014 and 2015. Other than that I've been the play-by-play announcer for the Greenwich Cardinals.

I knew last night was one of those "can't win" type of nights for me. I know people at Fairfield Prep and the game was at their stadium. Of course, emotions were high.

Thus I was accused of auditioning for being Prep's announcer.

It's a ridiculous notion; one that doesn't need to be addressed yet here we are.

Admittedly I made a vague note of it last night when I posted from the Stop & Shop parking lot. I needed a quick post and that was it.

Criticism is part of the gig. Coaches deal with it. Players (in high school) to a lesser, more passive/aggressive extent. 

In my case, if I wasn't waving Greenwich pom-poms, I was going to be considered pro-Prep. This is exactly what the Joe Bucks of the world hear on a daily basis.

OFF WITH HIS HEAD! He dared to be excited for a score by the other squad!

No. He dared to do his job as he always has.

Another thing to remember is that Chris and I were there not as the Greenwich broadcasters but as the state broadcasters on the NFHS/CIAC broadcast produced by Fairfield Prep. That broadcast also happened to air on WGCH radio (in Greenwich). Of course, it was our job to be prepared to give Prep their due as we literally always do.

"Nobody can call you a homer," someone said to me after we got off the air (it might have been Shawn Sailer...OK, it was). 

Of course, they will.

Let me be clear though. The reviews were 99.5% kind.

It's easy to blame us or Pete Paguaga or Sean Patrick Bowley or Dave Fierro or literally any media member. We're frequently the villains these days.

I've protected all athletes -- Greenwich included -- since I became a studio host for game broadcasts in late 1998. I report honestly but also know they're high school students.

Late in the game, I addressed the fact that Greenwich had lost their quarterback, Jack Wilson, to a head injury and that the Cardinals -- and maybe I could have phrased it better -- needed to maintain their composure. Of course, they did keep said composure, given they have excellent coaches who drill that into their brains.

Folks, these aren't professional athletes and each broadcast has been carefully cultivated to that extent. Frankly, I know what I'm doing.

Still, it was a playoff game and tensions were high. I figured the losing squad wouldn't be happy and, for once, it spilled marginally onto the interwebs.

So now you basically know what I was saying last night.

As for my "audition," I passed that a long time ago when I began calling some Prep basketball games. There's a solid chance that I'll be back at Prep on Sunday for the game against Shelton and I'll call that game the exact same way.

You know the drill with me by now. I love calling games. Any game. I also potentially picked up a remote hockey broadcast this Saturday.

Have headset...no need to travel!

If I do those two games this weekend it will surpass my record for most games in a year. Not bad, given I didn't call my first game of 2021 until Feb. 3, snapping a 74-day break between game broadcasts.

The winter schedule is already coming together and one game actually began to formulate on Facebook tonight. Two friends -- John Dailey of Ludlowe and Garrett Hickey of Norwalk -- will face off on Jan 13, 2022. That seemed like a perfect excuse to offer a broadcast. Nothing is in stone but it feels like it could happen.

Oh, I love it when a plan comes together. John and Garrett have both advocated for me broadcasting games for their teams at one time or another and this is a perfect fit.

I suspect I'll be heavily into a Brunswick schedule again very soon so my dance card will begin to fill up again. While I'm no fan of winter weather or the shorter days, I do enjoy hockey and basketball calls. 

Plus that moment of sticking my toe into wrestling -- especially if I'm with Chris since he loves it. I'm more of a lead broadcaster in terms of guiding things for those calls.

I guess the big takeaway is that, despite a few critics, our work is well-received and I'm truly grateful. 

No rest for the weary. Onto the next call. Onto the next parking lot for a late-night post!

At the Stop & Shop

 

I'm on my way home from calling Greenwich/Fairfield Prep and I've stopped in a parking lot in North White Plains.

And, honestly, at 11:18 p.m., I have nothing to say.

I thought Chris Erway and I called a good game and, for once, I actually sat with Chris and Shawn Sailer at dinner and remarked that I thought our broadcast was good under unique circumstances.

Not everyone thinks so.

And that's fine.

Chris and I gave it our all.

I was really happy to have WGCH with us and work with a phenomenal setup at Prep that involved me juggling and creating answers.

You can't please everyone. So be it.

Maybe I'll address it tomorrow. Maybe I won't.

But this is all I have for tonight.

Playoff Panic

 

Rafferty Stadium (fairfieldstags.com)

Thomas Foster of Greenwich ran into the end zone and I blurted the words.

"On first down...Foster...IT'S OVER. TOUCHDOWN, GREENWICH!"

With that Chris Erway and I began to peruse the CIAC football website. Did the Cardinals actually make it into the playoffs?

Yes. Yes, they did.

So it began. Who would they play? For a brief moment, it appeared they were heading to New Canaan, a school that I've called many games from. That could be a safe landing for us.

Within minutes I found out that the landing spot would actually be at Fairfield Prep. The good (nah, great) news is that I know some people there. I thought that would work.

Still, it's a dance to make these postseason broadcasts happen.

First, of course, is the consideration that it's a four-day weekend. Nobody -- justifiably -- wants to talk about playoff coverage on Thanksgiving day or even that Friday.

So other than a quick text to Bob Small at WGCH I let the topic mostly go.

I did connect with my friend Eric Wuchiski who had me speak with Dave Houghton at Fairfield Prep. But Dave admitted that he was sort of waiting for guidance.

You see, in Connecticut, we just sort of call the school and say, "We'll be there if that's OK" during the regular season. The postseason is a little more of a crapshoot. The CIAC might not be OK with us being there and then there's NFHS, of course.

NFHS Network is the controlling factor in postseason broadcasts and they're not big fans of small-time audio streaming broadcasters (aka, Robcasting).

So as this morning hit, I knew I needed to strike. I shot an email to Tom Curran, the athletic director at Fairfield Prep.

Soon, I had a text from Dave Houghton, telling me we were a go. We arranged a quick phone call to go over some specifics, including space for Chris and me to call the game at Rafferty Stadium.

This, of course, is generally much easier when the broadcast is on friendly turf, such as Cardinal Stadium but we were at least safe given my relationship with Fairfield Prep.

It all worked out perfectly. Fairfield Prep will produce the broadcast (their first one featuring broadcasters) and Chris and I will send the audio to them. Audio will go to Robcasting and...WGCH. The game will be streamed live on NFHS.

Sadly, there can often be a clash of egos on days like this and even more so on championship days. As I recall, five broadcast outlets did the call of Shelton/Xavier in 2014, for instance. Four of us were in corners of the West Haven High School booth (with one broadcaster not using his inside voice) while the other one was out in the cold conditions.

There were three at the "Yale Whale" in 2018 for Greenwich and Fairfield Prep in the hockey state championship. Oh yeah, these schools have a history.

It's a lot of jumping through hoops to make it happen. 

I do love calling the games, of course.

It's just never that easy.

Thankfully, everyone at Prep is making this one be great.

We're live tomorrow before 6 p.m.

Oh and the last surprise is WGCH is returning for this game. We can at least say we've covered one game every year since 1964.

The winner plays either Hall or Shelton on Sunday.

That's a whole different thing.

Chrissie Hynde

 

Chambers, Farndon, Honeyman-Scott, Hynde

"...nobody cares about age if you dress cool."

Chrissie Hynde is a boss. 

First, she was the powerhouse lead vocalist, primary songwriter, and guitarist for the Pretenders. Then she basically became the Pretenders, holding the name close as members came and went, with two original members dying due to drugs. Original drummer Martin Chambers was in, then out, and is back in whenever the band gets together.

But, still, it's Chrissie, and she's a boss. She didn't fit the mold. She didn't care what you said or how you said it and she'd tell you that. She married Jim Kerr of Simple Minds, had a child, and divorced him.

She's lived a fascinating life, including being on the scene of the Kent State Massacre in 1970. Her friend's boyfriend was one of the victims.

Of course, the bigger thing with Hynde is the music. Simply "Pretenders" -- their first album -- would be enough to secure legendary status, with the thrash of opening track "Precious" hitting you right between the eyes. The album has landed on numerous "greatest" lists for good reason.

Their second album might not be the big classic the first one is but still holds up pretty well, with "Message of Love" being a personal favorite.

Then bassist Pete Farndon was fired in 1982. Two days later, lead guitarist James Honeyman-Scott was found dead. Less than a year later, Farndon also died.

Hynde and Chambers regrouped and did "Back on the Chain Gang" in honor of Honeyman-Scott. The band continued in the manner of a revolving door of members after that.

But Chrissie is still Chrissie.

Anyway, I'm babbling about all of this today because I saw Hynde posted on Facebook* a few hours ago with a message of love, titled "Reasons to be Cheerful." 

I love how one of her posts says that "I just send these ramblings to my office to try and do my bit. I write ‘em / they post ‘em. You read ‘em. Unless you’re like me that is."

*That's a link to her Facebook page. The post is dated 11/28/21 if you can't read the embedded link below.

I guess I just liked the positivity of the message, the little glimpses of her not caring and sense of humor, and her just being...as I said...a boss.

And I love that line about not caring about age if you dress cool. It's so true. I'm tired of the tropes of acting one's age. I'm 53 and sitting in a football jersey currently. 

To be clear, that doesn't mean I agree with everything she says and does and it's truly sad that I have to even add that caveat. What a world we live in.

Rock on, Chrissie Hynde, and thank you.

And They Went "We" "We" We" All The Way Home

 

I saw where Kate Feldman, a reporter for the New York Daily News, tweeted the following:

"I try so hard not to judge but it's always very telling when fans refer to teams as 'we.'"

I agree.

We've dealt with that word before.

"We."

So several fans -- especially of the Mets, who believe the media hates them -- were outraged by Ms. Feldman's tweet.

The thing is, if anything, the media is amused. I'm amused by that subset (it's always the same people).

I understand there are some exceptions but, as a broadcaster, I feel the word "we" is a huge no-no in the booth. But "we go to Chicago," as uttered by Vin Scully in 1959 doesn't imply he plays for the team. It states -- plainly -- that, as the broadcaster, he is indeed joining the Dodgers in their World Series broadcast in the Second City.

However, using "we" as if you'rea part of the team just isn't something I believe in.

Say you opine on the interwebs that "If we don't land (insert player) it won't be for lack of trying." So, based on that, if "we" do land that player will you be signing his checks?

Now say if you're talking about a player leaving and it "broke our hearts," well now that's different because fans can indeed be sad.

For what it's worth, I never liked it when I heard Phil Rizzuto say "we." I didn't like it when any colleague of mine uttered it. Again, I got it, but that didn't mean I liked it. Both are allowed to be true.

Personally, I think it's insulting to the team. The players are "we." They play for the team. The front office and team broadcasters are "we" but in a different way. They don't play for the team and that's where I struggle with the term in the booth.

In the case of Greenwich or Brunswick or the Renegades, the "team name" is on the field. They're the players and coaches and staff. They do the workouts and practices. They're in the locker room and the trenches. They're the brotherhood/sisterhood.

I show up and talk, even when I'm invited to be a part of the extended family in one form or another.

"We" is used in how I will participate, overall as a broadcaster. "We'll be at Fairfield Prep Tuesdsay night for Greenwich/Prep" is an accurate statement if I'm going to be there.

So from the comfort of my living room or in the car or on Twitter, even as a fan, I simply don't believe in "we."

Again, there are exceptions.

But "we" can agree to disagree.

It's Too Quiet

Yesterday was controlled chaos.

The sounds, the cheers, the overtime, the touchdown.

Then? Chris Erway had to get to New Jersey and Greenwich athletic director Gus Lindine locked up my booth and I stood there.

I finished packing and left Greenwich High School.

There's another game to come -- on Tuesday night at Fairfield Prep. I'm planning (hoping) to be on that call.

But I drove home in silence.

Then I walked upstairs.

The house was full. There was laughter and food and conversation and deep thoughts and jokes (some at my expense).

Then everyone was gone and it was down to Sean, Rascal, and me.

Then I wrote about it and probably got too personal.

Thanks for the responses and to the one person who thought yesterday's game-winning call was "iconic." I wasn't actually looking for the pick-me-up from anyone but I can't say I didn't appreciate it.

Now? It's silent. Rascal is quietly at my feet as I type in a cold house with one of my grandmother's famous blankets providing warmth.

I'm waiting for a pizza to arrive.

The scene is pretty glum, chum.

I wanted today to be more than it's been.

I wanted to do more cleaning of the house than I did. Not to say I didn't. The vacuum came out (again) and I wiped down the dining room and put things back to where they were before Wednesday.

All in all, Thanksgiving here was a rousing success.

Still, I didn't get to clean the basement or the attic or the office or anything else. I wanted today to be my own "Black Friday" by beginning what I think will be a cathartic purge of a lot of "stuff."

It didn't happen.

So, OK! Let's make different use of the day! The Lads will help!

I bought Disney + and have since canceled it because they can't make things easy. I will likely go back to it eventually but I have it for a month.

I'll get it back.

Get...Back.

Get Back.

Yeah. I kill me.

Obviously, I got it for one reason. Or four. Or five with Yoko. Maybe six with Linda. But, really, four (and Yoko).

It's an intense watching process that I've taken multiple breaks from. It's not something to live tweet during or treat as background noise. For me, at least, it requires paying attention.

It's a roller coaster of stuff going on.

With the TV off, it's incredibly silent in here, save for the sound of my typing.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I don't mind being alone. Really, I don't, and the presence of the squeaky cat keeps me company.

I don't like being alone in this way.

So I'll get back to The Beatles.

Where I once belonged.

Thanksgiving Leftovers

 

Postgame

I can't quite process today and, frankly, I'm too tired to try.

Greenwich beat Staples in overtime (to my knowledge, the first GHS game to go OT) in a game that's already being called an instant classic.

While I'll let that marinate it's hard to argue.

The Cardinals couldn't seem to take a lead and, as soon as they finally did, the Wreckers answered. It took a late drive for a touchdown and a two-point conversion to even things up at 28.

After a three and out by the Wreckers to start OT, Thomas Foster busted up the middle for a 10-yard score and the game. The Cardinals won 34-28.

With the victory and some other things going the right way, Greenwich now heads to the state playoffs where they will take on Fairfield Prep. Those two met at Cardinal Stadium in October with GHS getting the win. This time, the scene shifts to Rafferty Stadium in Fairfield on Tuesday.

Chris Erway and I plan to be on the call.

As usual, I'm beating myself up over the winning touchdown call and other things. Like I said, I can't process it.

But that aside it's hard to argue that this wasn't one to remember.

The rest of the day was basically like anyone else's Thanksgiving shindig. Family, food, etc.

I ate, I laughed, I talked, I smiled for pictures. Overall I can't complain.

I guess if there's anything I can offer (or repeat) it's that the holidays are tough for many and mental health needs to be monitored. I've been up since 3 a.m. because of demons dancing in my own brain and I expect to sleep tonight simply out of pure exhaustion.

Personally, I battle with telling you these things because I fear it's seen as a "Peter and the Wolf" case or "he's just making it all about himself." No, I'm explaining where I'm coming from while reaffirming that the holidays are very difficult.

People have losses or are lonely or can't afford to buy gifts or simply have anxiety or whatever reason and, you know what? You don't get to decide if it's valid or not. Some people just simply didn't want to see Al Roker on their TVs this morning or hear Mariah Carey caterwauling.

And some sure as hell don't want to hear about Grandma and reindeer.

Many will have a stiff upper lip and, sadly, it's simply too much for others. Putting on the brave face is the thing but they can easily cry the tears of the clown. I worry for my friends who have lost loved ones this year as this is their first holiday season without that person.

So that's my message: be kind and look out for each other.

I'm thankful to be sitting here tonight to relay that message to you.

Turkeys

"The A-Team" at the Thanksgiving tailgate in 2009

It's Thanksgiving Eve and I've finished up the game prep for tomorrow when Greenwich hosts Staples.

I've thought about a lot of things going into tomorrow.

Stuff that I wanted to talk about on "Doubleheader" today.

Oh, wait, you didn't know "Doubleheader" was on today? Good. It wasn't. At least, it was supposed to be. But then I -- the sports director of WGCH -- was alerted that a UConn basketball game was going to air starting around 2:30 p.m.

Despite the fact that I really didn't expect to get on the air, I sat ready to do an abbreviated show. Then UConn went to overtime around 4:45 and that was that.

No show.

Just as well because I had an annihilation planned for today. Mets owner Steve Cohen decided to air dirty laundry (and, basically, whine) on Twitter this morning. Now, if ol' George Steinbrenner had done the same, wow. Just wow.

So, being consistent, I called Cohen out. I never wanted to air dirty laundry publicly (something I still struggle with). I was horrified each time Steinbrenner did that as it embarrassed the team.

The Mets should be embarrassed today and, of course, you can probably guess the twisted little subset of Metsland (population: insanity) that defended Cohen. Sad people. Just sad.

But enough about them.

Tomorrow will be the 20th Thanksgiving football broadcast for me, having called a game every year from 2001-2019 before COVID put everyone on their couches last year. It was so weird. It was just bizarre.

Tomorrow, for better or worse (and both apply) we're back to a form of normal. It will be my 18th Greenwich football call on Thanksgiving, having spent the other two years (2014-2015) with Darien and New Canaan in Stamford. Both were remarkable games.

Greenwich and Staples have given us some thrills also and tomorrow should be a good one as well.

Still, I think back to the first Thanksgiving call -- the 21st one. Except it was on Thanksgiving Eve.

Prior to Greenwich playing the Wreckers from Westport (Staples) they played the Danbury Hatters and my first call was -- in 2000 -- in Hat City.

The stadium was entirely different than it is now. It was a wooden press box with a small side room that I recall was unlit or maybe dimly lit. I was told to go in there because that's where WLAD (Danbury's AM radio station) had done games from in the past.

One problem I'll never forget for both Sean Kilkelly and me was that the room had a sealed glass window that created two issues: 1) it held the chill of the night in that room and 2) I couldn't run a crowd mic out the window.

We did our best, got through the Greenwich victory, which put them into the state tournament, and got back to our cars to warm up.

There was really no Thanksgiving pomp and circumstance of tailgates or anything. It was show up, freeze, call the game, and go home. My toes defrosted somewhere between Danbury and Mahopac.

Tomorrow, of course, we won't have that issue, between the comfort of the new booth and the fact that the temperature will be in the 50s.

So many other memories come to mind for Thanksgiving. How can I forget that 2001 game at Cardinal Stadium -- the first FCIAC Championship game to also be a regular-season contest -- as Steve Longo and the Cards ran all over Danbury?

Or the epic battles of the early 2010s as Staples broke the hearts of Greenwich, with field goals and other nail biters?

The streak of shutouts that each team ran up in the last 2000s?

And, of course, the Darien/New Canaan games. What an intense honor that was to call. While the 2015 game was on video and was expertly produced by our HAN Network crew, I might feel something a little more special for the 2014 game.

Not only was it an overtime thriller, with the Trifone brothers helping to seal the title for the Blue Wave, but pre-video, HAN Radio was maybe -- I don't know -- more innocent. Though we missed John Kovach's sideline reporting, we had the duo of Eric Gendron and Chris Kaelin. Plus Chris Erway and I were on our game in the booth.

That 2015 game was a high wire act, as we went to video and, at one point early that morning, found a piece of equipment had failed and the backup was in our Shelton office. Kate Czaplinski roared to Shelton, got the saving part, flew down the Merritt Parkway, and we were up and running just in time.

I kept saying to be calm but I was holding my breath. It all worked out.

I have other memories of that broadcast but what stands out the most is our call of Hudson Hamill's leaping touchdown grab in the fourth quarter.

I know that was a game that -- because of the pressure -- I was too amped at first but it all turned out ok.

I'm hoping there's a great tailgate tomorrow more -- a Greenwich tradition*.

Except for 2013 when I showed up at Staples High School three hours before kickoff to find...nobody. I texted everyone I could think of to prepare them (and find food). Chris Kaelin arrived with a bag of Egg McMuffin's that saved the morning.

Otherwise, Greenwich won 27-7.

So we turn to tomorrow and see what awaits. Hopefully a lot of fun, food, and football, with a possible playoff appearance in play for the winning team.

Chris and I will go live sometime around 9:50 tomorrow morning. The game will not air for the first time ever on WGCH but will be on Robcasting and Local Live.

Plus Sean Adams will be in the house!

New memories will be created.

The Lonely Person

 

It's a big Beatles week. Bigger than normal.

The documentary "Get Back" is coming out this week on Disney + and of course, I will be all over it.

Paul McCartney also released a collection called "The Lyrics" in which he breaks down so many of his songs. Sir Macca went to the BBC (the Beeb) and read passages from the books for a short-form podcast.

For a Beatlesophile like myself and, generally, a lover of most things McCartney, I felt I got to get this into my life.

Sorry. I had to.

As with the McCartney 3,2,1 series that he did with Rick Rubin, I'm simply the rapt audience listening to the GOAT. Funny thing about that term -- Greatest of All Time. In short, we overuse it. but, honestly (and be fair) if we can't apply to Mssrs McCartney, Lennon, Harrison, and Starkey, then exactly who can we apply it to?

Yes. Vin Scully, naturally, but I digress.

A highlight for me was the background of the dramatic sounds of "Eleanor Rigby." There has often been confusion over exactly who Eleanor Rigby was. Was she inspired by Eleanor Bron, the actress who appeared with the Lads in "Help!"?

Sort of, at least in the name. Initially "Eleanor" was going to be "Daisy Hawkins."

Equally fascinating is how he mentions Jane Asher, the actress who has dated when The Beatles exploded. He wrote many songs in the Asher's house at 57 Wimpole Street. Asher's brother, Peter, became part of the duo of Peter & Gordon and had the advantage of McCartney writing songs for them.

But I've rarely heard Paul speak of Jane Asher in any form -- and she of him -- so this was a bit of a revelation for me. Many of the early Beatle's songs that Paul wrote had to do with his relationship with Asher until he met Linda Eastman.

But McCartney and Asher were in Bristol, where she was performing. He spotted a shop sign with the name Rigby on it.

So, yeah. That happened. Paul admitted he liked the name Eleanor -- that's where Bron comes in -- and it stuck. While there is a real headstone in Liverpool with the name Eleanor Rigby on it, that's just a pure coincidence.

But the real inspiration for Eleanor Rigby was a woman who Macca knew when he was much younger. You'll have to listen to learn more.

For me, "Eleanor Rigby" holds a special place. Sean, when he was just maybe three or four, had a dream that involved the song. Plus he always loved the cat-petting scene as the song played in the "Yellow Submarine" animated movie. Additionally, I have a great-niece whose name is Eleanor and the poor thing has had to deal with me asking her where the lonely people are.

Wisely, she makes up an answer or ignores me.

Incidentally, Father McKenzie was initially "Father McCartney" but Paul -- uncomfortable with that -- found McKenzie in the phone book.

So it's fun to hear Paul throwing tidbits around in this series. For instance, he throws a bit of shade at John and Yoko, while breaking down the "diss track" called "Too Many People."

"The thing is," he says, "so much of what they held to be truth was crap. 'War is over,' well no it isn't. 

"'If enough people want war to be over it will be over?' I'm not sure that's entirely true."

"Too Many People" was an attempt -- halfhearted and almost upbeat, in pure McCartney fashion -- to respond to the digs John had taken at Paul. The most notorious version was "How Do You Sleep" in which John sings the lines 

"The only thing you done was yesterday

"And since you've gone you're just another day"

Ouch.

"F*ck you, John," McCartney blurts. It hurts to hear that but given their Northern blunt honesty that comes through it makes a lot more sense if you listen to the whole thing.

A later episode on the song "Here, Today" deals with John being gone. Having heard McCartney perform that one live -- steps from where they played at Shea Stadium in 1965, the emotion of the song is powerful.

He also gives a dig in at Bob Dylan, who he says he likes a lot but it still gave me a good laugh.

The audio series -- as well as the books -- includes passages on his solo work as well, which I've truly come to love more as time has gone by.

I don't read or listen to everything on The Beatles -- honestly, there's simply way too much -- but when Paul or Ringo speak or when Peter Jackson produces "Get Back" then I'm all ears.

And all my troubles seem so far away.

Again. I had to.

On This Day

 

Something else happened on Nov 22

I blew out the most unique birthday candle today at lunch and I loved it.

I'm not really one for being sung to like that but Sean likes seeing me be embarrassed in that moment so it is a small price to pay.

Earlier this month, co-conspirator John Nash began writing about things that he is thankful for. I took it up a few times this month but didn't really carry the ball much more than that.

Still, at this time, when an outrageous amount of people took the time to text, call or write, how can I feel anything other than gratitude?

And for those who didn't get in touch? I'm not bothered at all. In truth, I miss a lot of birthdays and I've always tried to be that person to wish one well. But life gets complicated.

So, in short, thank you all. 

Every year, around this time, I try to respond to each note on social media. It's something I believe in and I'll try to continue to do it as it's a small gesture to thank everyone.

Now, while I try, I'm bound to miss someone or commit a spelling error or make some kind of unintentional boneheaded mistake. I don't leave people out of things or ignore anyone maliciously.

That's why -- if you're familiar with me -- you know I'm not a big fan of listing people. Inevitably I'll forget someone for whatever reason. My best intentions  -- truly well-meaning -- somehow get me in trouble.

The amazing thing is that I'm capable of getting myself in trouble without even trying! I can be sharing happy and honest thoughts and, somehow, I wind up wearing the black hat.

It's not my intention.

*****

Nov 22 is known of course for being the day that President Kennedy was assassinated. Because of that it's an event that I've paid close attention to. I've studied it, especially from a media standpoint.

It's fair to say that there are probably three events that have changed how we disseminate information: Pearl Harbor, JFK's assassination, and Sep 11, 2001.

But, to me, it's 11/22/63 that seemed to be the dawn of a new world. 

Pearl Harbor was a radio event and there was a lot of scrambling.

September 11, 2001, was, basically, our last "pre-social media" event. While we saw some things change (the beginning of the "bottom line" that is now on basically every information program) it didn't reinvent the wheel.

The JFK assassination reinvented everything and you could basically see it all happening if you were watching (and listening on the radio).  Reporters scrambled to phone booths and programmers grappled with the best way to report what was going on.

The NFL famously went on and played that weekend -- a decision that commissioner Pete Rozell regretted for the rest of his life.

From the very first report -- on WFAA TV in Dallas -- it was clear this was like nothing we'd ever seen. Just watching everyone fumble their way through information gathering is fascinating. Watching as they try to relay what is being said on the telephone is merely a hint of how far we have come.

 

The networks would all soon come aboard, most famously with Walter Cronkite choking up as he reported that the President had died.

A YouTube user -- David Von Pein -- has a channel dedicated to the radio and television coverage of the event as it happened. It's an intense amount of items to watch and listen to. If you want to see news coverage literally change on the fly, I encourage you to go visit his page.

We've obviously come a long way since then. 

For better and for worse.

Has It Been Eight Years?

Rob, Bill Bloxsom, and Dave Stewart

I almost forgot about it but memories are splashed all over the socials these days.

Eight years ago this morning, I nervously got in my car and drove to New Canaan, CT. Though I still worked as a (s*itty) reporter for the Wilton Bulletin, I had quietly been involved in a project and this was to be the soft opening.

Prior to that morning, I'd had a conversation at a softball game, seen equipment get purchased, and practiced in a closet at the Wilton Bulletin office in Ridgefield. That, of course, brought questions and scrutiny and even straight-up nosiness* about what I was up to. In fact, I was under instructions to not even tell my editor at the Bulletin, which also brought my grief.

*My former co-worker Patty Gay just somehow opened the door to the closet one day and played dumb. Sorry, Patty. I knew it then and I know it now. People were talking and you decided to just stroll in to see what I was up to. All good.

Ah, but back to the morning of 11/21/13. In truth, I was heading up what was to be a company-changing venture. Me and my dumb idea would galvanize, divide, exhilarate, and frustrate everyone. Me included. 

I'm still blamed for things, sadly.

I was ushered into a conference room in the New Canaan Advertiser offices that day. I organized the equipment, tested everything, and got ready for a huge broadcast. Huge to me, that's for sure. The big idea -- Hersam Acorn Radio -- was ready for its debut.

Up until that point, our broadcasts had consisted of going live from that closet in Ridgefield and one football game at Brunswick that almost nobody knew about. Each broadcast was heard by maybe five people. In the case of the Ridgefield shows, it was just me talking to make sure people could hear me and that the quality was good. At Brunswick, Paul Silverfarb -- instrumental in helping guide me to make this happen -- joined me for a true football broadcast that I've since published and has been heard for real.

Now it was time to go live. Dave Stewart and Bill Bloxsom joined me as we broke down the upcoming FCIAC football championship between New Canaan and St Joseph. That game would be played the next night at Trumbull High School and was the true grand opening. Paul, Chris Kaelin, and I called it and we held on for dear life as the internet gave us issues and we received a few harsh reviews for that.

I thought for sure I was destined for a life of board of education meetings in Wilton. To be sure, I could do those and report them well but, let's face it, this broadcasting thing -- especially sports -- was supposed to be my strong suit.

Our show on Nov. 21 is otherwise unmemorable and I mean that in the best way humanly possible. I nervously posed for pictures that ran in some of the papers and online as we began to promote the new radio station.

I have other memories of the day, but most memorably was the end of the show. I wrapped up and turned the microphones off when applause broke out in the office. 

Bill and Dave stood up and left the room.

I sat there, almost anchored in my seat as the adrenaline drained from me. I think I hugged Tracey Iaizzi when I finally emerged from the room. I remember watching Marty Hersam -- the namesake of the company -- pacing nervously as the broadcast went on as he listened.

In short, it was a success and, internet issues aside, Hersam Acorn Radio -- later HAN Radio and the HAN Network -- was a reality. It became my full-time job roughly six weeks later. Around the same time, I also slept in the Ridgefield office for coverage of a big snowstorm that we carried.

The stories are plentiful through my departure in July 2016. I feel sad for the way it ended and the things that happened over roughly the ensuing year. For my part, I'd love to go back and fix that. I'm sad that it all ended by 2018 as Hersam Acorn was purchased by Hearst.

But like with any story, there were lots of good and bad. 

For a stretch, I'd rarely, if ever, been happier.

So tonight isn't about whatever nonsense happened. Tonight is about those great early moments of the first show, which led to the first game, which led to doing a show on the night before Thanksgiving and looking Susan in the eye for the first time (all of our previous conversations had been over chat). Then came the football playoffs and hockey and basketball and this whole thing became a reality.

That's what I want to bask in tonight. It's part of whatever legacy I have and I helped start it.

To be honest, it was my idea. I lament what could have been. I marvel at what was.

It became real eight years ago today.

The "A-Team" eventually became the go-to duo for football

What (or Where) is Home?

 

In the booth: Mahopac (top); Brunswick (bottom)

The hometown voice had returned. It's just that nobody knew it.

I was in the booth at Mahopac High School's football field last night for the New York Class A Regional Final. It's the booth I guess I wanted to work in nearly 40 years ago but such opportunities didn't exist at the time.

I last worked there in 2004 (not including baseball, which is played down the hill at Mahopac Falls School). The bleachers and press box were different back then. They were much closer to what they were when I went to school there.

I got a room to myself with heat, though I left the windows open for the natural sound as Somers throttled Burnt Hills-Ballston Lake. Despite having to frequently open the door to let people in and hearing about how the broadcast wasn't on the air, it was a pleasant situation to be in.

Funny thing about those games in 2004 was that we recorded broadcasts on cassettes on WGCH at the time. On that night, we had no cassettes and thus I don't have any audio. 

I'm happy to say that I have last night's broadcast.

Those 2004 games (there were two) are lost to history.

It was on that site that I graduated from high school. I played pickup football games there and did various activities on the track. I probably rode my bike around it also but don't tell anyone.

Behind that press box was where I'd climb on the bus to go home. The field where I played a lot of baseball also sat quietly, closer to what used to be known as Mahopac Junior High School. Now it's Mahopac Middle School.

I was treated well by everyone.

Still, I was a stranger in my own town. The commute home took -- no exaggeration -- five minutes.

I'd love to call more events from there. It's my hometown but, at this point, it's where I sleep.

*****

I went to Brunswick today. If you don't know, the Brunswick football field is in Greenwich, CT, right next to Westchester County Airport.

Mike Harris -- the man, myth, legend, and, in this case, PA announcer, welcomed me with a hug and a combination of strange, funny, and bizarre things. There was plenty of laughter even in the result wasn't to the liking of the Brunswick fan base as Deerfield Academy beat the Bruins, 35-28 in the Mike Silipo Bowl.

Oh, for the record: I have some of today's broadcast. For whatever reason, roughly an hour didn't air on the audio side and I was completely unaware of it. So, yeah, I'm pretty unhappy about that. But I digress.

With that, the season is over. I have at least one other football game -- on Thanksgiving morning -- Greenwich hosts Staples. I might have a second on Friday morning if things come together.

It's been an odd season. I'm truly crestfallen about WGCH not covering football or any other sports for that matter. I feel like, somehow, I've let the town down as sports director.

And, as such, I find myself feeling like I'm in a true transition period. Being nomadic -- personally and professionally -- gets tiring I suppose.

I've said it before: I'm going to go where I'm wanted and I mean that in literally every facet of my life. Oh, I'm not trying to say that Mahopac was some horrible experience. It was anything but. Everyone couldn't have been nicer. Same goes for Brunswick.

In reality, not many know me in Mahopac. 

As for Greenwich, I can assure you that many people said, "Who?" when I was introduced at the Greenwich Old Timer's Dinner on Thursday night.

I guess what I'm talking about is that I want to settle down. Not a bit. A LOT. I don't mind being the freelancer and hired gun. I love being able to adjust to calling literally any game at any time. Someone asked me how I do it the other night. I don't know how I do. I just do it. I wake up, collect notes, and go.

I'd just like a more permanent base.

I don't enjoy uncertainty.

I've long thought I'm patient to a fault but also quite impatient. It's hard to explain.

Who am I? Where do I belong? Who's going to be there with me?

I'm tired of waiting.

I'd like to find out.

It's time for me to take charge where I can.

Some things I can control. Some things I can't.

In those cases, it's time to know when to walk away.