Peace Out, 24

 

I did more game broadcasts this year than I've ever done in a year before. I'm very proud of that but I've declined to say how many the number is because I don't think it makes any difference.

I assembled a highlight reel that has its moments but given I'm my worst judge, I'll say nothing further.

Plus, more to the point, it's about quality, not quantity. And, beyond that, there's always a need to one-up and I just don't feel like playing that game.

I'll hit a milestone, likely in the spring of 2025, so we'll deal with that when we reach it.

This has been one of those years where it would be appropriate to say it was bad. But, is that fair? I suggest that it isn't. It was a year in which there was a lot of good, some bad, and a ton of stress.

There were highs and lows. But it just felt like a rut hung in the air.

I traveled some. We went to Florida. I got back to San Francisco. I went to Rhode Island.

I had experiences. We made the best of everything as always.

We also had to move unexpectedly and while we're fortunate to be where we are it hasn't been seamless. To be honest, we have a bit of a troublesome person nearby. You might remember me buying a rug a few months back and, what a shock, it did not quell the situation.

And yet, the thing is, I'm tired of that stuff. I don't want the conflicts. I'm tired of the fights.

You all know about "Toxic" and "Town Hall" and so on. I actually deleted something yesterday and, while it was there for a moment, I consider it a moment of sanity for me.

I've said several times I've wanted to move forward. But I can't guarantee something won't trigger me. I still have to defend myself.

Those issues hung over me all year. They impacted me mentally. 

I'm tired of it.

At times, I just sat on the couch. 

Or just stayed in bed.

I felt empty.

Those are clear signs of dealing with depression. Or not dealing with it.

And money. My least favorite topic. I nearly curled up in a fetal position when I had to do some banking earlier this week.

It has to change. I can't make it any clearer than that. And so, if I can't reach the number of broadcasts I did this year, it might just have to be. 

I did games. Games in Connecticut. New York. Rhode Island. Massachusetts. New Jersey. Pennsylvania. Plus shows. "Doubleheader." "The Clubhouse." "Zolz's Are You Kidding Me ... Again?." "Meet the Beatles." "Hanratty's Huddle." "Talent Talks." Plus a lot of Renegades games as a PA announcer.

The number of events covered comes to a lot. Some of them were paid. Some weren't.

And it still wasn't enough. At least, not financially.

But, so long as I loved it, had fun, and was proud of the work I did, I could accept it.

And, as I take stock of 2024, I was reminded of how I'm blessed with truly wonderful people in my life. I'm spoiled in that there are too many to name who support me on the island of misfit toys. There's no need to let the bad apples spoil things.

I know I won't wake up tomorrow feeling different. Change doesn't happen that quickly.

But I'm reaching for a better 2025.

And I'm hoping for the same for you.

For the record, this is post number 305 for 2024. Does that make me "Mr. 305?" No. No, it does not. But, in all seriousness, while I stopped doing a post-per-day, we're still here and I thank you for reading.

Wonderful Christmastime

Greetings, friends.

We send you our love and best wishes on this Christmas Eve.

Sean and I again did our low-key evening of food and movies.

I also went to five grocery stores today to look for something but that's not relevant to this story.

Our movies this year were Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me and Elf.

Despite our running joke, we did not start watching American Psycho every year on Christmas Eve. at least not tonight.

To many, this night is about gatherings that are both joyous and uncomfortable.

However you are spending it, I hope it is joyous, wonderful, and stress-free.

The picture at the top is from 2013 after Mom had open-heart surgery.

Christmas Eve was spent with her in a rehab center in Fairfield.

She was tired but even looking at the picture, she looked as happy as she could be under the circumstances. In fact, we all were pretty happy.

Being with her was what mattered. Having us all together at that moment was a bonus.

We sat in a common room, had pizza, kept Mom company, and laughed.

We got her back to her room, made sure she was comfortable and took off.

Yet, in a moment of spontaneity, we went to the Setti's Christmas Village display in Norwalk before heading for home. A snowstorm added to the images of the night, and made the drive home a little more cautious.

In fact, it got a bit white-knuckled when my car began to slip down a hill on Route 137 in South Salem, NY. Every fiber of my body tensed up but I tried to keep it from my 11-year-old in the passenger seat.

After I got control of the car, he reached over, massaged my shoulders, and told me I seemed tense.

He's sometimes too smart.

Eventually, we settled into the rhythm of what we do now. 

We worked up some meatballs and sauce from a "Secret Santa" with pasta and mozzarella sticks before moving to marble cheesecake for dessert. 

After we completed our movie-watching, Sean went back upstairs and I grabbed the computer. For a moment, I put It's a Wonderful Life on but I just can't watch Uncle Billy losing the money before George has his breakdown on the bridge. It's too emotional.

My Christmas wish remains the same every year. I want peace. I want joy. I want happiness. 

Selfishly, I want to live without stress and anxiety. I want to stop being on the hamster wheel.

I want us all to be honest, real, and good to each other.

We can have our differences but can agree to disagree.

It's simple respect.

Merry Christmas, friends. I'm blessed to have you all in my world.

Honestly, I write with love and admiration for all of you.

And to those who are struggling, know that better days are ahead. You might not think so, but I believe that, though it's hard to see in the darkest of moments.

May tomorrow, and the days after, be bright.

My Thankful Day

 

Two pods and a lot of rain

It's been a while.

A little over a month ago, I stopped the madness of posting every day as I headed to San Francisco for a conference.

The most recent post came after I returned from California.

Then? I stopped.

Oh, I thought about writing it but I gave myself a break.

November tends to be a busy month of work and I was somewhat occupied with another conference, a few cases in the deposition world, and a bunch of games.

If I'm being honest, I'm not working enough and it's frankly not sustainable. That causes me some sleepless nights.

Last night, however, I tossed and turned and thought about the annual Thanksgiving broadcast of high school football between Greenwich and Staples.

If the game had been at Cardinal Stadium, my concerns would have been minimal. I'd be there within five minutes. We'd have our own booth. We'd have heat and power and internet and we would be dry.

Today's game was not at Cardinal Stadium. It was at Staples where I have worked maybe three games in their press box. Ever.

Today was not one of those days. So I knew we would be out on the landing just outside of the press box door.

And it was going to rain. I had hoped the forecast would change but it did not. The chance of rain sat at 98%.

So I worried about getting internet and having working equipment. And keeping it dry.

I was up early, out the door, and on the Staples campus at 7:30. The game was scheduled to kick off at 10.

I surveyed the setup, reviewed the size of our space, and pondered what to set up.

Dan Murphy arrived a few minutes after I did and we got to work.

I opted to go with the pods that I have. One is larger than the other and I thought that was the best one to use as an anchor for our equipment. I told Dan he could use the other one.

Keeping in mind the day would be windy, we had to be mindful of anchoring the pods.

For the record, I had a canopy in my trunk that belongs to WGCH but I think it would have been too big for our space.

I ran the power from the booth. We strung the internet cable from the WWPT Radio booth. Then I promptly dropped it. So we did it again.

All was well. Until it wasn't.

The rain picked up and soaked the old MacBook that I was using. The computer began to act weird and, eventually, stopped charging.

Uh oh.

If only I was prepared. You know, like with another computer.

Like the one I'm currently typing on.

A quick text to Bob Small to make sure we could connect via a different website (yes) and we were in business.

I won't tell you it was perfect. In fact, it wasn't. We had a problem with Dan's microphone initially but he worked diligently to get that under control.

But, overall, today's game wasn't great (final: Staples 27, Greenwich 0) but the broadcast was a standout. I'm very proud of it.

Look, I stood in the rain for hours. I did everything I could to keep notes dry. At times, I just kept them tucked in my jacket. I never wrote out a scorecard because it would have been laughable.

Dan kept some stats from inside of the other pod. For the record, we never saw each other during the broadcast as we reacted to what each other said.

Dan never panicked. It's easy to overreact in these circumstances but Dan was a seasoned pro and didn't budge. He made the situation work for him and adapted as necessary. He knew we had been blessed with great weather since mid-September so, eventually, this was bound to happen.

And it did. Oh, did it ever.

Even the famous tailgate was sadly a no-go today, as the rain scuttled those plans. Starving, Dan left to go get something to eat. He tried calling me at one point and I couldn't answer it because the phone and my hand were both soaked.

The point of all of this is we made it work. It had a chance to be a disaster for the ages and, instead, the broadcast was a triumph.

Broadcasts like that make a team grow closer, especially when you rally and don't let it ruin the effort. I think that happened today.

I warned Dan that we've experienced so many things on Thanksgiving Day. We nearly fought with a TV crew, dealt with cold weather, light snow, and bad communication that impacted the broadcast. We've had classics, tension, and a few ho-hum games. 

That led to today. Even as the forecast looked awful, Dan remained consistently excited for his first Thanksgiving call. For the record, today was my 23rd, only missing 2020 since I started working on turkey day in 2001.

It has made Thanksgiving Day almost my favorite holiday. Of course, now I wish we could just fast-forward to January, but that's a different story.

But seeing it through Dan's eyes -- and his enthusiasm -- gave me a boost, especially as my blood pressure was spiking during setup.

It took some time, but I made my way home to a very quiet afternoon. While I spent the day with only The Cat, I thank those who did invite me to spend the day with them. In truth, I was shot. 

I came home, cleaned myself up, and put all of the soaking clothes in the laundry. Then I made a turkey sandwich and watched TV. Football, of course.

And, eventually, I fell asleep.

I also discovered we accidentally put a bag of equipment in Staples High School in my car and I have to arrange to return that.

Thanksgiving 2024 was one of challenges. But it's all in context. 

The weather, as bad as it was, could have been a lot worse. It could have been snow. I can see the silver lining.

I, too, can be positive, even if my positivity is dipped in reality.

John Nash caught me working under the umbrella

But I'm thankful. You bet I am.

I have friends who cared about where I spent my Thanksgiving. I have friends who were texting and making me laugh all day.

I have love. A roof over my head. The turkey sandwich.

And though he wasn't with me until just a few minutes ago, I have a son.

You bet I'm thankful.

And Greenwich has at least one more game as the Cardinals host New Britain on Tuesday night.

That means we'll be back at Cardinal Stadium.

Bad weather won't impact us.

Back From the Bay Break

 

The view at lunch

No, I wasn't tempted.

I took three full days off from writing here. 

Yes, I went to San Francisco but, in reality, I made my decision to take a break long before the plans for this trip were firm.

So I did a 64-hour whirlwind trip to California that included an Irish Coffee at The Buena Vista with a view of the Golden Gate Bridge, visited the three sea lions who elected to be visible at Pier 39, and rode a cable car back to our hotel after an hour wait to get on it.

We got what was supposed to be the go-to pizza in San Francisco (news flash: it wasn't New York. At all.).

We had fantastic Italian food at Sodini's in North Beach.

We saw several Waymo self-driving cars but we never took one. Maybe in 2025. 

Reviewing the conference script

We rocked another Hunt Scanlon conference.

And despite my bag being plucked twice by security, my travel woes were minimal. Overall, I just don't love flying. Especially the sketchy turbulence coming home and the hard-breaking landing upon arrival at JFK yesterday.

But I also slept like a rock, passing out at 9 p.m. (midnight Eastern) on Monday night. I had given my all, up since 3 a.m. in Greenwich and never sleeping on the train. Then we remained active from the moment we got off the plane. Then we stuffed badges and ate the tasty but not New York pizza. All that while we watched Game 3 of the World Series.

No question, I'll treasure watching Game 4 and Anthony Volpe's grand slam while crushing a chicken parm dinner at Sodini's.

I'll always be proud of every conference and this trip was no exception. The team works really hard and I try to be a good face and voice for the day. 

And I keep things on time.

San Francisco is hardly a perfect town but there's a lot about it that fits me, especially their love of sports. And, overall, there were plenty of anti-Dodgers there (not a surprise) so it was nice to have that in common, given I was obviously rooting for the Yankees. 

San Francisco is also a city of hotel protests. Last year, it was our hotel (the Omni). This year, three other hotels had protests. It was pretty interesting to say the least.

Me, Walker, Jack, Leo at dinner

And the team I worked with was the best. Walker, Leo, Sam, and Jack are great colleagues and friends. It was hard work and many laughs. 

As for the World Series, last night was horrific. Horrible. Unacceptable. Arguably the worst Yankees World Series game ever. 

The better team won. Let's be clear. But the errors, missed coverage of first base, catchers interference, etc were just bad. And there's a legion of trolls out there doing their damndest to inflict more pain, led by Mr. Toxic Positivity himself. I'm pretty much ready to just write his name and be done with it but, overall, his followers ignore him.

There reaches a point where you just say "Oh, screw it" and get it all out. I'm there with a few things.

But now it's back to the grind here in Greenwich. Another conference awaits next week and there are games to broadcast and hoops to jump through. 

Lastly, I will say that my reflexes tingled a few times during my break. There were times that I thought, "Oh, that would be a good topic" but didn't give it a second thought. There were also a few times that I needed to remind myself that I didn't need to carve in a window to write.

I'd have to say that. I didn't really miss writing. But, alas, here I am so what does that tell you?

Overall, I didn't miss my computer and was content with my iPad and iPhone for any communication. 

I'm grateful to all of you for your support and kindness about the break and the content here. 

It's nice to be back.

For Lou

 

Lou Gehrig, ca. 1925
(Charles M. Conlon / National Baseball Hall of Fame Library)

Lou Gehrig knew.

It was Sunday, Apr 30, 1939 at Yankee Stadium. Lou, a noted slow starter, was off to a particularly bad beginning. He was hitting just .143 as that Sunday ended in New York. He had only four hits in 28 at-bats. 

Of note, he had no extra base hits and there was no pop as bat hit ball. No power. Nothing.

Throughout the winter of 1938-39, Gehrig was having physical issues. The incredible biography of Lou, Luckiest Man: the Life and Death of Lou Gehrig, written by Jonathan Eig, notes that he had trouble ice skating at Playland Ice Casino in Rye, NY. Gehrig was quite a good skater.

As spring training began, the Iron Horse looked finished. The writers resisted the urge but the whispers had been prevalent. Joe McCarthy protected his star first basemen, focusing on just that: focus.

Gehrig was 35 that spring, coming off a season in which he hit .295 with 29 HRs and 107 RBIs. And those numbers, to be blunt, were pedestrian for Lou, who averaged .340/37/149. To add to that, he had just four hits in fourteen at-bats in the 1938 World Series sweep of the Cubs. He had no extra base hits.

So, eight games into 1939, Lou Gehrig knew it was time.

His streak of consecutive games had become its own thing and while Lou was a man of pride, he was about team first. He played in game number 2,130 that Sunday -- a standard that stood until Sep 1995 -- and went 0-for-4. He lifted a fly ball to center field off of Washington Senators right-hander Pete Appleton and George Case caught it. 

That was his last at-bat in the Major Leagues.

Equally concerning, but perhaps more galling to the Iron Horse, Buddy Myer hit a grounder to the right side in the top of the ninth inning. Gehrig played it but couldn't move with the speed, agility, and grace that he had demonstrated since 1925. Instead, he flipped it to pitcher Johnny Murphy, who recorded the out. Gehrig's teammates offered support that made him note that he was receiving pity.

Following an off day, the Yankees checked into the Book-Cadillac Hotel in Detroit. Gehrig asked to meet with Yankees manager Joe McCarthy in private. Gehrig told the skipper that he wanted to be taken out of the lineup. He said he was doing it for the good of the team.

McCarthy made sure that was what Gehrig wanted and Lou confirmed it.

The streak, his career, and in some ways, Lou Gehrig's life, came to an end on May 2, 1939, in Detroit. Gehrig, of course, would be diagnosed with ALS -- Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis -- in June at the Mayo Clinic. He would receive his "day" and offer baseball's Gettysburg Address on July 4, telling the world he was "the luckiest man on the face of the earth."

Gehrig would stay as a part of the Yankees through their World Series run in 1939 and later became a New York City parole commissioner under Mayor Fiorello La Guardia. He died on June 2, 1941, at 10:10 p.m. He was just 17 days shy of his 38th birthday.

In September 1995, Cal Ripken Jr broke Lou's consecutive game record. It was celebrated around the world justifiably though I admittedly struggled with it as a Lou Gehrig fan. Only life and death stopped Gehrig and I always wished Cal would stop at 2,129 games or tie the record. Unrealistic as that sounds, I still watched it and appreciated Ripken.

Today -- Oct 27, 2024 -- is the two-thousand, one-hundred twenty-ninth consecutive post in my own streak, "#Project365." It is a day that I have marked, privately, for over a year. 

Today is the final day of that streak. As fate would have it, I'm flying to San Francisco tomorrow for a Hunt Scanlon Conference. For the first time in years, my computer is staying home. I'll have an iPad and iPhone with me but I have no intention of writing.

It's time. I need a break. I feel incredibly guilty keeping this from my closest supporters, especially Susan, who kept pushing me to keep this going every time I struggled with a topic or the energy to create one more mundane post.

And that's just it. The words stopped having the meaning I wanted them to have. The comments -- the supporters -- became the same. I'm beyond grateful for Susan and Shawn and every person who backed me on this journey, and it's not over. I'm not ending "Exit 55" today. I'm just going back to writing when I want, as opposed to it being something I had to do.

I had thought about doing a daily post for years and, with the blog hovering on extinction, wrote two posts to wrap up 2018. Then John Nash said he was going to do a post-per-day and challenged me to keep up. I didn't stop for nearly six years. I wrote in London, San Francisco, Florida, Buffalo, Pittsburgh, North Carolina, and basically everywhere in between. I wrote most of it in New York and Connecticut.

I wrote in parking lots and arenas and libraries and houses. I wrote in trailers and hotel rooms and lobbies. 

I wrote while stuck in traffic on my phone, afraid I wouldn't get home in time to publish the post.

I adjusted as necessary to the clock, writing after midnight in the east but physically in California, and thus within the boundaries of writing every day. 

I gave my all. I laughed, cried, grieved, yelled, and offered as much as I could in the hope of not crossing a line.

And, sometimes, I crossed the line. I detest how much a few situations bled into this page. Damn me for letting the bastards get me down. But I suppose that's simply who I am and all I can do is live and learn.

I feel at a crossroads. A bit depleted. A bit broken. And yet hopeful but knowing I also need change.

And I need to take better care of myself. Physically and mentally.

This post has been rolling in my brain for a year. I knew the picture I would use -- Charles Conlon's fabulous shot of Gehrig taken circa 1925. It shows his innocence, his intensity, hit eyes wide-open view.

I'm not Lou Gehrig. I'm not Cal Ripken Jr. 

I'm a junior, sure. Named after my beloved father. But I'm not an athlete or anyone special. I'm a guy who talks and decided to try writing one day. Those words are all here, via thousands of posts since 2006.

It didn't take over a decade to compile a streak. It took almost six years of setting time aside. There was nothing physical -- I'm in no shape at all compared to Gehrig and Ripken -- save for the fingers to type.  It was more mental than anything.

The better posts hit me in my soul. They might cause me a hint of emotion. There hasn't been enough of that lately or, frankly, the statistics to convince me that the quality was worth continuing.

So give me tomorrow. Maybe until I get home on Wednesday. Maybe I'll have thoughts about San Francisco.

And don't think -- for a second -- that this is me hiding from the World Series. It happens. Baseball has been at the forefront of my life but it's not all that I am. I'm very proud of being called a Renaissance Man, meaning I have a varied and diverse life. 

That's what I've tried to reflect here.

After 2,129 posts, I'm doing what Cal Ripken didn't do. 

I'm taking a break. In good conscience, I couldn't pass the Iron Horse.

Tomorrow is Rob Adams's Day Off, though Cameron and Sloane won't be piling into the 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California drive around Chicago. Instead, I'm leaving Greenwich to fly from JFK to San Francisco. I'll be free of the pressure to write.

I stuck to my belief that I would stop today. I had it marked on my calendar. It's just time. ALS isn't stopping me. I'm stopping me.

Mom was still alive when this started and Chico was our cat. They're both gone but Rascal is here and Sean, of course, is Sean.

I'll be back and I know that, unlike an airport, I don't need to announce my departure.

But I'm announcing this one.

For Lou.

The Broadcast Brings Peace

 

In the booth at Brunswick. Any booth is my sanctuary.

Let's start with the good news.

Today's broadcast went much better. Working solo isn't easy but I find it works for me. Oh, I'm probably best with a partner, but it has to be a good partner. Obviously, Dan Murphy and I have that chemistry, for instance.

I felt like I saw the action better today at Cosby Field for Brunswick's home game against Phillips Exeter Academy. That's not easy to do as the press box there is set lower, making the field somewhat tougher to see to the right.

So despite feeling exhausted, I felt a bit better about the broadcast. As always, the booth is my comfort zone and I can generally leave any troubles behind there.

Oh, and before the game, I walked into Cosby Field and took note of the assembled families as they waited for the Senior Day ceremony to begin. As I walked, I noticed a certain feeling in the air before I heard someone say "Oh!"

My gut took note and wondered. Sure enough, as I said hello entering the booth, I was asked if I could be the announcer for the ceremony. In other words, I became the host, introducing each senior player and interpreting the notes that I was handed literally before I began the ceremony.

I've hosted several of these ceremonies so I know the drill. Enunciate. Allow each player to have their moment. Keep it moving.

As far as I know, it went off without a hitch and I'm happy. The ceremony is really for the parents as coaches and players are anxious to get to game time and play.

With that all said, on the downside, the Bruins lost 36-27.

As I've often said, I can't allow myself to be emotionally involved too much. I'll always feel for players and coaches and families but I have to withdraw from that. It's not about me. If anything, in a loss, the words are even more magnified on the air than usual, in that criticism can be difficult for the audience to accept. Tensions are frayed.

I came home after the final whistle, leaving quietly, other than chatting briefly with someone I know who got me a copy of Brunswick's hockey schedule. I'm not looking to get to winter sports yet but it's nice to be thought of.

Not everyone thinks so kindly of me and I'm pretty bummed about that. I wrote not too long ago about being exhausted playing the bad guy.

Or the perceived bad guy.

In truth, I think I'm fairly easy to get along with. I have my opinions -- oh, you bet -- but I also listen when spoken to and have a good respect for others. That doesn't mean I'm going to blankly agree with things. However, I might just politely nod and that will be the end of it. Yet if I truly respect you and the topic at play, I'll debate things.

But I also pick my battles, believe it or not.

However, not everyone feels that way and, in the process, I become persona non grata. 

But I'll never have patience for phonies. And enablers. Among other things.

I hate this kind of middle-school nonsense. That's the word. "Hate."

And I have a disdain for conflict.

I also don't like cutting people out of my life but it has become a necessity in recent times.

Thus, I simply have to move on.

And I am.

I know who my friends are and have to reduce the toxicity.

I'll get a break from Connecticut Junior High School after tomorrow when I head to California for a few days. That will maybe do some good. Hope they have fun in study hall back here. Maybe they can pass notes to each other.

Bennie Rose will be my guest on "Meet the Beatles" tomorrow morning at 9. Join us on WGCH and Robcasting.

Here Are a Few Words About Tonight

 

One of us was great tonight. The other one is me.

I just got home from calling Greenwich/Trumbull football. 

I've spoken about my affection for both towns, with Greenwich obviously being my home base.

 But I'm home after a game that was interesting and a broadcast that was underwhelming.

It's me. I was OK at best. I made mistakes, blah blah blah.

Once again, I find myself wondering about if I'm not feeling well (I'm pretty much recovered from the cold earlier this week), overtired, or something else.

So it's a "shake it off" feeling as I look into calling Phillips Exeter/Brunswick tomorrow afternoon.

Dan was great. I'm sure the TEN Network's broadcast was great. 

I did my best but maybe I just didn't have my fastball tonight. I thought my descriptions were tight and detailed and my energy was good

Yes, I know I'll get told that I'm too hard at myself, but that's not going to change.

So, in lieu of saying anything more than I should here tonight, I'll leave this post right here as is.