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.

The Night Before the Game

 

(Greenwich Football social media)

Tomorrow is game day for Greenwich Football.

If you don't know, the Cardinals lost last week to Wilton for the first time in nearly three decades. The 20-17 win for the Warriors was definitely a shock but also well-earned. Wilton did a solid job of slowing up Greenwich's running game and capitalizing on mistakes.

To be honest, I still very much expect the Cardinals to be right in the thick of the playoffs when Thanksgiving comes around. That's hardly a stretch to say.

The Cardinals play at Trumbull High School tomorrow night.

Trumbull. Huh. Where have I heard of them?

Yes, Trumbull has become an extended broadcasting home for me, covering baseball there every year for some time now. I've also picked up some basketball, ice hockey, football, and even rugby.

That began with being asked to cover the Babe Ruth New England Regional back in 2015. The idea was for us to come in and call the semifinals and championship game with the HAN Network.

However, that wasn't enough for me. I wanted to call every pitch. So I pushed for it and called all of it in what became the last days of HAN Radio.

That has basically continued in some form on an annual basis ever since, including the Babe Ruth State Tournament in July and Little League action in August in Rhode Island.

I've been so fortunate to meet and get to know the wonderful people of the town, led by Mike Buswell. On the Trumbull football/broadcasting side, Jeff Alterman has been my main contact and friend, and I've been proud to watch as the TEN Network has grown.

TEN, in fact, will be doing their own call of tomorrow night's game just a few feet over from where Dan Murphy and I will call the action on WGCH and Robcasting. The Trumbull booth isn't big enough for us so we'll enjoy a pleasant Friday night under the stars.

Both teams have playoff aspirations for good reason. My feeling, and I alluded to this once already, is that the Cardinals will get things straightened out and be a playoff team. That's not to say they'll win tomorrow night or to minimize Trumbull at all. The Eagles' coach, Marce Petroccio, is someone I'm proud to call a friend and I know he'll have his team ready.

Once upon a time, Marce brought a Staples High School team to Cardinal Stadium to play Big Bad Greenwich.

Final score in that 2000 game? Staples 14, Greenwich 8. Yes, the Cardinals almost won on a Hail Mary at the buzzer but it was not to be. It was, instead, the official arrival of Staples as a powerhouse and Marce as a top-level coach.

Now, 24 years later, he's a legendary coach.

So we give all of the props to Trumbull while knowing the Cardinals, led by coach Anthony Morello, likely had fierce practices this week. I can't see any way Big Red won't be ready by seven tomorrow night.

From a broadcast standpoint, I've poured through both rosters, including rebuilding Greenwich's, looked back at the history of the matchup, and have set up and broken down the equipment a few times to make sure things are working.

Yes, we're as ready as we can be. We even get a small break with a later start, allowing us extra time to do the slog through Friday night traffic.

We'll be live from Trumbull tomorrow night at 6:50 p.m.

Justice for Bobby

 

Screenshot from ABC broadcast of Game 3
of the 1981 World Series

The year was 1981. 

Christopher Cross was near the top of the pop charts with "Arthur's Theme (Best That You Can Do)."

And the Yankees were playing the Dodgers in the World Series.

It's worth pausing here to note that, late last night, news broke that Fernando Valenzuela died. Fernando ties us right back to 1981 in that he was the pitching sensation in that strike-shortened year. The lefthander from Mexico went 13-7 with a 2.48 ERA and league highs in starts, complete games, shutouts, and strikeouts.

He won both the National League Cy Young Award and Rookie of the Year.

More than that, he was a cultural hero, especially to the Los Angeles Latino community, but he helped bridge the gap with people from all walks of life with a nasty screwball and a quirky windup.

He threw a no-hitter in 1990, with a double play to finish it off. In the booth at Dodger Stadium, as only he could, Vin Scully punctuated the achievement by saying, "If you have a sombrero, throw it to the sky."

Some of the magic of Fernandomania didn't last but he won 173 games with six teams over 17 seasons. That era, that supernova that he was, will never be forgotten by any baseball fan, especially those of us robbed of innocence by the strike.

But he was always a Dodger and returned to the team to be part of their Spanish-language broadcasts until late this season when he stepped away "to focus on his health."

Always an ambassador and a delight, Fernando is gone at just 63. No doubt that his passing will serve as a rallying cry for the Dodgers' faithful.

Fernando pitched a complete game in Game 3 of the 1981 World Series, beating the Yankees 5-4. 

The '81 Series was also the first time that my guy, Bobby Ray Murcer, played in the Fall Classic. As usual, said with complete bias on my part, he was misused by manager Bob Lemon, playing sparingly, including a sacrifice bunt in Game 2.

In Game 3, with two on and nobody out, Lemon went back to Bobby, this time to bunt against Fernando. Bobby, an excellent athlete, bunted a liner down the left field line that was snared by Ron Cey, who then wheeled to first to double up Larry Milbourne.

Back in New York, I listened to the radio with sheer terror in my blood. Bobby wound up 0-for-3 in the Series, including a warning track fly ball that I thought had a chance to go out at Yankee Stadium in Game 6. It was another questionable decision by Lemon, having Bobby pinch hit for Tommy John in the fourth inning with the game tied at one. The Yankees went on to lose 9-2.

I was crestfallen.

Bobby, traded from the Yankees to the Giants in Oct 1974, missed the late '70s glory years in New York, returned in time for the passing of Thurman Munson, played in the postseason in 1980-81, and never got back. He retired in Jun 1983 and immediately became a broadcaster. He did get to cover the Yankees through the 90s dynasty, but I've never quite gotten over the 1981 World Series.

I even saw that 1981 American League Championship ring that he wore in person but that's hardly the big prize.

And beginning with that October, I loathed the Dodgers in a way that I reserved for the 76 Reds and a few others of the era.

It took a certain broadcaster to help those feelings melt a little when it came to Los Angeles. By the late 80s, it no longer mattered. Chris Erway being a fan of the Chavez Ravine team didn't hurt either. I suppose the dashed dreams of a kid simply weren't worth the energy of maintaining such disdain.

But I never forgot 1981.

And so, with all due respect to Fernando Valenzuela, the 2024 World Series is "Justice for Bobby Murcer" to me.

I'm trying to remind myself that, somewhere, Vin Scully will smile if the Dodgers bring this one home. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm just preparing myself to be gracious if that's the case, and Vin is one of the few things that will make me get there.

But screw it.

Go win this thing, Yankees.

With a tip of the cap to Bobby Ray, who was robbed of his chance in 1981.

My 1981 baseball card

Sick Day

 

I felt it Friday night. Pain in my nose.

I decided to be proactive and take something for it. It's time for some seasonal allergies for me.

Then, on Saturday, as I mentioned I just felt "off" while calling the Brunswick game. Yet, I'm glad to say the highlight package that Brunswick's social media puts online made me sound OK. To that, I say thank you.

By Sunday, yeah, it felt pretty obvious that this was some kind of sinus infection (or, in my case, the common cold).

Moving to last night, I kept having to go off the microphone to cough or blow my nose during "Zolz's Are You Kidding Me ... Again (co-starring Sheriff Kirk Imperati and, oh yeah, me)." 

As I drove home from the studios near Fishkill, my head was on fire. Upon coming home, I took meds, and even added a sleeping pill, and went into a decent night of sleep.

And I'm probably dealing with the back end of feeling like garbage today. You know the drill: stuffy nose, stuffed ears, sore throat, etc.

It's purely in my head (yes, I know), and the rest of my body is fine. I'm also fortunate (though I don't know if that's the right word) to have a light schedule today. 

I have been out because a quick grocery store trip was needed this morning. So that means I pulled myself together and got dressed. I'm not a complete slug today. But, mostly, I've been able to confine myself to the living room a limited amount of time in the bedroom.

OK, about my bedroom. Who knew that a building erected in 1930 might creek a bit. Apparently, that's the issue with the person below us who complained to the landlord. Thus the reason I needed to put a black carpet down in there in the hope of muting some noise. For what it's worth, it camouflages the cat very well.

And, in the "good neighbor" category, she scowls at me every time she sees me. I mean, I didn't have "bad neighbor" on my bingo card and I'm hoping the situation will simply go away.

Because, let's face it, we're not going away anytime soon.

We've met many people in the neighborhood otherwise and we all just kind of say hello, pass the time, admire various dogs, and make limited small talk.

But loud? Despite my love of music, I don't play it loud. I don't think the TV is loud either. Is it that this person isn't used to someone being upstairs during the daytime hours? I'm honestly not sure. In fact, the neighbor hasn't said a word to us, which I find kind of disappointing. We're pretty reasonable, despite anything you hear to the contrary.

Anyway, I shouldn't feel weird going into my own bedroom. 

As for being sick, it's hard to imagine there was once a time when one was careful to admit that. I mean, I look back at the chaos of 2020-2021 and just marvel at it. I mean, that really happened. If you ever sneezed or coughed you thought were had a scarlet letter on you.

It was truly a time, wasn't it?

In this case, I'm happy to write not (roughly 2:30 in the afternoon) and still do "Doubleheader" at 4:00. Then I can just chill after that.

The rest of the week will be busy enough and I'll need the energy.

For the record, if I had to be somewhere, I'd be there. It's pretty rare that I actually call out like that. That reliability is one of my better points.

Fear not for me, and please know I'm otherwise fine. It's a cold. It's not that big of a deal. I've just been writing for over 2,100 consecutive days and I needed a topic.

*sneeze*

And this was that topic.