February Made Me Shiver

The face of 2,000 games with a voice that is
hanging on by a thread

 The second month of 2025 has nearly passed by completely and I haven't written. I don't want you to forget about me!

In truth, my sojourn away from the blog has been emblematic of my needing a break more than I realized. The past few months -- if I can grab my seat on Oprah's couch -- haven't been easy.

I mean, I'm still here and so on, but telling you the stories of not making enough money or not working enough or not sleeping or worrying about paying the bills or about the entitled person downstairs complaining about how loudly we walk (seriously) or the usual social media nonsense would have been redundant and not very compelling.

So, I stopped. 

But, I also worked whenever and wherever I could. Doubleheader at the Westchester County Center? Cool. Five CYO basketball games on Long Island for no money but it beats sitting on the couch? Sweet. FCIAC's? Brunswick? Greenwich High? Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

I'm going to do softball (!) in Pennsylvania this weekend and there are other things in the pipeline.

I suppose, if anything, in the "it's always darkest before the dawn" way, (hopefully) things are turning in the right direction. There's a glimpse of a light and now I have to reach it.

Sean turned 23 last Sunday and I've written so many words about him. He remains my greatest joy. I'm so proud of him and enjoy the time we spend together. We have a wonderful relationship as father and son (and roommates and colleagues). He's also, like me, a wise ass.

On Monday night, I broadcast my 2,000th sporting event -- Fairfield Ludlowe and Staples in the FCIAC boys basketball semifinal. I realize it is an achievement but I wasn't sure I would give it much thought other than mentioning it to a few people.

But then I pondered the many people I've worked with and those who have supported me and, once in a while, I need to promote myself a bit. So I thought I'd post something publicly, mostly, and be done with it. Yes, I'd acknowledge it somehow on the air and try not to get emotional.

If I'm being completely honest, I wanted the 2,000th to be a game that meant something. In other words, a baseball game would have been great. On WGCH also would have been important. So when it became apparent that it wouldn't be a Brunswick or Greenwich game, I was really happy to have it be Ludlowe and Warde, featuring two coaches who are friends of mine and two schools I have great respect for.

Some time back, another broadcaster bought a cake in honor of a milestone of his own. As that is completely not my style, I couldn't help but laugh. Shawn Sailer -- another wise guy -- kept it in mind and presented me with a picture of a cake to congratulate me when I called my 1,900th. I laughed. Hard. I updated it Monday morning before leaving.

Fast forward to Monday night. I knew Shawn would be at the game and wondered if he had anything up his sleeve. Turning serious for a moment, as we were talking, I wanted to thank him for his loyalty and unwavering support, but knew I couldn't say the words without getting emotional. I texted him instead. 

I also touched base with Susan and Chris Erway to thank them as well. There are so many others to thank who have kept me going. This business is not for the weak and there are many wanting to bring you down. I've highlighted them before and of course neither one of them acknowledged me this week.

Obviously, I thought of my parents and hoped they were proud. I've tried to carry the values they instilled, including standing at attention for the national anthem until the last note has concluded. I did that before tipoff and thought about the pride of this moment.

Then, it was time to work. Mike Buswell did color with me and he acknowledged the 2,000th game. For the most part, it was a non-factor otherwise. We called the game as Staples advanced to the FCIAC Championship.

There was nothing ceremonial about the night otherwise. There was no need. I did my job, thanked everyone, and went home. No need for a cake.

Tuesday came and went. I did some work and taught at CSB.

I came home around 11 last night and decided I wanted a seltzer before I went to bed.

I opened the fridge and, on the bottom shelf, I saw something.

A cake. A cheesecake. With a handwritten note on the outside of the package.

My son strikes again.

See, here's the thing. He's proud of his old man, sure. He even watched the game -- he never does that. He was incredibly supportive and I think the cake was meant in kindness.

But.

He also loves cheesecake. So it's a win-win for him.

And me.

And, nose to the grindstone, I'll be back on the mic tonight. I have a break tomorrow before more games on Friday and beyond. I've called 14 games in a week. Of course, I always want quality over quantity and I hope I've lived up to those standards. I've made friends and, sadly, lost some. I'm sorry about that.

Anyway, March is full of opportunities and promises. 

We're not out of the woods yet.

But I'm starting to see daylight.

It's Cold and People Are Hot

 

This is warm compared to this morning

It was six degrees this morning outside my window.

Yikes.

I'm at work now, but have a few minutes to gather my thoughts and try to present them in a way that will be enlightening, charming, and oh whatever.

I see the world is handling things juuuusst fiiiinnne this week. No, I can not type those words with a straight face. The behavior of this country is sad. Obsessed. And so on.

For someone like me, there is nowhere to run to (Martha and the Vandellas, 1965). I can't afford to hide on an island or bury my head in the sand. So I turn my collar to the cold and damp (I'd like to think no explanation is necessary on that one, but it's Simon and Garfunkel, originally in 1964) and keep pushing forward.

I mean, I simply don't have the bandwidth to do battle. As such, I mostly ignore it all. And I try to go into my "I don't care" bubble.

Or I pick my fights.

But, for the record, stop. Please. We're all guilty of the divide.

*****

While I'm on that rant, no rule says one must engage on a topic. Any topic. You can simply keep scrolling. I do it all the time. It's not that difficult.

There is this desperation to be the smartest person in the room (even virtually). There's also an obsession with fighting and arguing. There's just no need.

And the macho "tough guy" stuff online. It's nuts, such as the witch hunt for who didn't vote for Ichiro to be in the Hall of Fame. One person -- one -- didn't vote for him, keeping Mariano Rivera as the lone unanimous inductee. 

It also happened with Derek Jeter and, well, OK. So be it. I'm not going to rescind that person's voting right nor do "I want to meet the one person that didn’t think Ichiro was a Hall of Famer," as one nitwit said.

For the record, that one voter is a fool but it's still their right.

*****

It's been a month of working. But not enough working. We're surviving. Barely.

But, still, there are games to call and I'm doing what I do.

I posted a tweet/X/whatever this morning calling for all young broadcasters to be mentored. I stand by that belief.

I've seen it. Entitlement, lack of preparation, bias, etc. Overall, forgetting how lucky they -- we -- are to be there.

I'm extremely fortunate to be moving towards 2,000 game broadcasts. I've been welcomed at so many different places to call a game and am overall grateful for every stop -- from stools on a sideline in a small gym to a heated booth at Cardinal Stadium to a two-level suite at Fenway Park.

I'm additionally grateful when schools work with me to make it all work but, at the end of the day, it's up to me. So when Harrison High School put us in an auditorium to call a football game and I had to look through a window over ten feet away with no view of the end zone to my left, we made it work. In that case, I sent Chris Erway to the field with a wireless microphone. We survived. We laughed about it.

An athletic director has enough to do without dealing with us. So we minimize any grief.

For the record, I called basketball last night at Greenwich High School. Times have changed and I no longer sit at center court to call a game like I did in 1999. Instead, athletic director Peter Georgiou and site manager Joe Urbano set me up with a folding table in the corner of the gym, near the Greenwich bench.

Perfect. No complaints.

But consider this. You're a young broadcaster. You're calling sports. You're following your classmates around, explaining their athletic exploits to a waiting audience. These are calls and moments that will live forever. Don't you want to do it the right way? Don't you want to do it where your call and behavior are both things to be proud of?

More than anything, don't you want to simply do your "job" and stay mostly out of the way?

That's my approach, I suppose, but to each their own.

Regardless, it's often the "Wild West" with young announcers. They need guidance to improve and to decide if they want to stay in the business at all. And, frankly, they need criticism -- sometimes blunt and honest. Even those who wanted to only be mentored by top-level broadcasters got treated like that by me. Not naming names.

They know. Maybe.

I'd just like to see us elevate the business, especially given how the media is viewed.

*****

One last note: last night's game broadcast was only on Robcasting. It was sadly last-minute but exists now in archival form. What it was supposed to be was the beginning of a span of winter games on WGCH (and Robcasting). 

I'm confident that WGCH will join us soon. I'm planning to call another Greenwich game very soon (possibly tomorrow or Friday).

Being back in the GHS gym brought back a flood of memories of great games and great people. 

But in the end, it produced a 57-52 upset win for Greenwich over undefeated Staples. A lot of people were smiling as they walked out.

Including me.

Turning my collar to the freezing Greenwich night.

A Few Thoughts

 

A screenshot of "Rascal's Ramblings" during today's
Renegades game on the YES Network. He was talking 
about hot dogs. Honestly.

I had this post organized differently initially but I've decided I'll unburden some stuff at the end of the post. Let's start with the good.

Today's Hudson Valley Renegades game was on the YES Network. I was happy and proud for my friends and colleagues for the opportunity.

Sean was in his usual spot on the high home camera and I was so proud to see his work on the big screen.

Sean's camera angle. That's what opened the broadcast

There were my friends -- Zolz and Davey and Joe and Jordy and Clicks and Beats and Fish and Feldman and Jason and everyone else. I'm not sure who else was working today.

Heck, even Zach Neubauer -- now working for the Red Sox affiliate in South Carolina -- was heard because he was the voice of "Rascal's Ramblings." I texted him and we laughed about it.

I don't know what the reviews online are. I know what my own thoughts are yet I really tried to not watch with a critical eye. But there's a reason I generally don't watch or listen to such things.

Still, it looked like a Renegades broadcast on TV. On the YES Network. As in, you know, a dream come true. Which means it was business as usual and there's nothing wrong with that.

And I watched it all right here.

My day, other than that, was looking at things in the attic and taking more pictures off the walls.

And continuing to look for a place to live.

And a way to pay for it.

*****

Today is Memorial Day.

Honestly, I have no deeper thoughts. I have family and friends who served in multiple conflicts.

But I did pause and remember those lost in serving our country. I see it for the somber and honorable day that it should be.

"Thank you for your service" is frankly the minimum one can offer but it's all I've got.

I'm just grateful that we have the freedom to have cookouts and go to ball games. That the day serves as the unofficial kickoff to summer.

Or watch baseball. Like the Renegades because the Yankees didn't play today.

Which is horrible and further proof of how damaged our sport is.

But we have the freedom to be upset about it.

And for that, all we can say is thank you.

Thank you, indeed.

*****

Legendary UCLA coach John Wooden hugs Bill Walton.
I'd take that duo against almost anyone in a 
single college basketball game.

Bill Wilton -- forever "Big Red" and the greatest college basketball player -- died today.

It felt like he was timeless. His energy and humor would last forever.

We're lucky to have the broadcasts archived but his voice has been silenced.

Happily, the cesspool that is social media has been overwhelmingly positive in talking about his legacy today.

Good. 

He was nearly unstoppable as a player at UCLA. Then he won a ring in Portland.

Then injuries that sapped him of the greatness he could have reached.

Yet, he never complained. He was a backup with a great Celtics team and won another ring.

But the pain he felt was incredible.

Then he became a broadcaster and found a whole new audience.

He laughed. He didn't take things seriously. But he was great.

He was a positive force.

And our world is sadder without him.

*****

OK, now to the stuff that grinds my gears.

In the aftermath of last night's Grayson Murray post, there were a couple of reactions -- directly and indirectly -- that struck me. 

All good. I'm a big boy and I laughed at one and seethed at the other.

Oh, both were inappropriate -- full stop.

But you know the deal with opinions.

To that end, victim-shaming someone who makes a decision like Grayson Murray made is pretty disgusting.

Selfish? Weak? Sad?

Yeah, it sure is sad, but in the mind of that person, ending their life is the answer and, in some cases, the only answer.

But you're so sad and judgmental that you'll sit on the sideline and say that? 

Telling you to "kick rocks" is the kindest way I can phrase it (thank you, Chris Kaelin).

I challenge you  -- challenge -- to be in that state of despair some time.

Let's say, around 1 a.m. You can't sleep. You're wide awake. You're staring into space. You're scared.

Work has dried up. Things that have been promised aren't coming to fruition.

You don't know if you're going to be able to pay your rent or, worse, have a place to live.

You feel lost. Your relationship is concerning. Life is nipping at you at every turn.

The walls are closing in.

There's an intense hopelessness.

You feel ridiculed. Scorned.

You don't feel good physically. 

You don't feel good emotionally.

You don't feel good spiritually.

You don't feel respected or wanted.

And so on.

And in that moment, you have nobody to talk to.

Try it sometime. There is no magic potion. No snapping of the fingers. You can't afford therapy.

Selfish? Weak? Sad?

That sounds like you, actually.

And while we're at it, last night's post was not some analytical mumbo jumbo. It was a reminder of support for those feeling lost.

Nor was it "too soon." 

It was reacting to a story that impacted sports and hit close to home for me.

It was also explaining how it struck me as I sat at the Greenwich Town Party.

Further, time is of the essence in such moments and it was written to remind this audience that I'm here. I'm reachable -- text and email tend to be the best ways to get me.

There is help. 

So that's why I wrote it last night.

I felt compelled.

The thing is that not every thought has to be relayed. Yes, that includes me, and I've noted many times how often I hold back.

Even now, I'm not naming names or going "all in."

My point has been made.

But I'm not the monster that the Gatekeeper on Twitter thinks that I am. I saw he tried to strike at me again with more of his passive-aggressive toxic positivity today. The thing about it is that it can also be quite negative and damaging and, frankly, have a dangerous outcome.

Thus, I remind you to not be a phony.

There are people in dark places. It's real. It's no act. It's not selfish.

Support them.

That's what I was writing about.

On Hope and Losing

 

Cosby Field from the new Tailgating Pavillion

Game 7 of the Knicks/Pacers series just ended.

So let's recap. It was Game 7. Eastern Conference Semifinals. At Madison Square Garden. A home game. At the "Mecca."

Do we need any more buildup?

And yet? 

It was a big, fat, nothingburger.

Pacers 130, Knicks 109.

The Pacers had a historic day shooting the basketball and full credit to them for sure.

The Knicks dealt with a rash of injuries, including Jalen Brunson, who left this game with a fractured hand.

But I don't play the excuse game. 

And I also don't deal with the loser mentality of "it was a great season," which I saw before the game started.

No. Screw that, to be blunt.

Sure, marvel at the season eventually but, right now, no shot. The Knicks were the second seed in the Eastern Conference. You would be fine to have expected more.

Instead, it ends like this.

It's a shame.

I'm glad I don't have a show tomorrow because there would be fire.

I got a text from someone at WGCH about last Monday's show, when I eviscerated "phony" fans (you know, Town Hall types who disappear when their team stinks). He told me how "on fire" I was.

Well, I would have been off the charts tomorrow because this attitude makes me nuts.

I don't stand for it with any team that I support.

I want the Jeter stare, where you watch the other team celebrate and carry that feeling into the postseason.

I loved this Knicks team. 

I wish it didn't end this way.

*****

Once again, I'm here to stand up for having the ability adjust on the fly.

I struggled with a "Meet the Beatles" topic coming into this week. Something popped into my brain late yesterday but I just wasn't sure if I liked it.

I went with it. I decided to highlight some of the lads' contemporaries.

And I loved it.

But I completely slapped the whole thing together on the fly.

Broadcasting has to be spontaneous in spaces. In this case, it worked magnificently. 

I enjoyed every moment of it and was ready for another hour.

Next week, I'll be stumbling after the Greenwich Town Party.

I better start thinking of topics now.

*****

It was Lawerenceville's day again
(From the LocalLive broadcast)

The Prep Nationals Lacrosse Championship was today.

It wasn't meant to be for Brunswick, as Lawrenceville came out and cruised to a 14-5 win at Cosby Field.

The Big Red were nasty, putting bodies on the ball constantly. The pressure was intense and they cruised to the title.

They won the Prep Nationals for the second year in a row and will be the number one team in the land.

I loved calling it and working with a great crew including Dan Arestia, David Berry, and Josh Drebsky. Great pros.

Before I head into the wasteland that can be the summer, I'm shifting over to the FCIAC baseball semifinals tomorrow, featuring No. 5 Wilton vs. No. 1 Warde in the early game and No. 7 Staples vs. No. 3 Trumbull in the nightcap. The broadcast will begin at 3:55 p.m. with the "Your Business Name Could Be Here Pregame Show."

But I do want to pause and thank everyone at Brunswick for another wonderful year of game broadcasts. I'm blessed to have these people in my corner to get me to call as much as I do. Kevin Devaney Jr at LocalLive either just puts up with me or likes me. I probably drive Wayne MacGillicuddy at Brunswick nuts as well.

But I'm truly blessed to have Kevin, Wayne, Director of Athletics Cedric Jones, Associate Director of Athletics Ron Van Belle, Head of School Tom Phillip, and so many others supporting me. I get to work with amazing coaches in McGillicuddy, Mike Kennedy, Steve Juricek, and Connor Redahan closely.

Plus the parents and students have been remarkably supportive. The kind words, the occasional tweaks, and the food delivered to the press box all mean so much. A mom introduced herself to me today and said that I nearly made her cry talking about her son in a recent game. Others have said I'm the best part of the game or that it's not a game unless I'm broadcasting it.

It's humbling and I'm beyond grateful.

Thank you, Wick. 

See you in September.

*****

Dan Arestia hands the Prep Nationals trophy
to Lawrenceville

Hope is inspiring.

Hope can make you want to run through a wall.

Hope is also dangerous.

But I suppose it's something.

So I'm hopeful.

Fang Gang Celebration

 

They are the champions

I was handling public address duties tonight for the Renegades.

Unless you're new around here, you know my first desire is always to be in a booth.

Any booth.

With a headset on calling the play-by-play of a game.

And I could have been in a couple today, but I was committed to the Gades so I worked there.

Roughly 575 miles away, the Hudson Valley Vipers hockey team played in their ultimate game.

After winning the Eastern Conference title last week in Niagara Falls, the Vipers traveled to Toledo, Ohio tonight to play the Mobsters for the APHL championship.

I always want the big call. I would have preferred to be in Niagara Falls last week and would have loved to be in Toledo tonight. However, doing road games was never in the cards so it wasn't something I pursued. 

Keep in mind, had I attempted to do it, we would have been driving and needing a place to stay. All on our own dime.

So given the many balls in the air right now, along with my commitments back here, it just wasn't in the cards to do it.

But I always want to complete the job. I was, basically, the Vipers' play-by-play announcer in 2024 having called most of their home games.

That's how I feel about Brunswick, Greenwich, and any other team I get attached to. While I don't like the term "Voice of the (insert team name here)" I do understand that there's a connection that the broadcaster represents the team to an extent.

The Renegades didn't broadcast road games in 2021, so I had to push to get the one road game that I wanted to call at Brooklyn. 

But I have called championship games many times, of course, including Greenwich's titles in football at both the conference and state level, as well as FCIAC championship wins in baseball and boys ice hockey.

With Brunswick, I've called their football bowl game wins and FAA conference titles in baseball and basketball. I've also called their lacrosse Prep Nationals title in 2022 and I'll call their attempt to win another one tomorrow. If they win that, they'll likely wrap up being the top lacrosse team in the country.

Those are just a few examples.

But, tonight, I had to watch the Vipers on my phone via the YouTube stream provided by the Toledo Mobsters.

With no announcers.

Broadcast aside, it was a happy night in the Hudson Valley. The Vipers beat the Mobsters 7-4 to win the APHL Championship in the league's first year. It's a wonderful accomplishment for the team and everyone associated with it. I texted with team president Pat Manning to congratulate him.

In the meantime, we talked it over at Heritage Financial Park and decided to make an announcement to congratulate the Vipers.

I had the honor of announcing the result to the assembled crowd of over 3,000 who reacted with a loud ovation.

A championship has come to the Hudson Valley and it deserves to be noted.

So, in some small way, I feel pride in being the broadcaster for the Vipers. But, as always, we are the smallest of parts of the story. We're the storytellers and it's not about us.

To that end, regardless of how many titles I've called for teams, I don't get a ring or a jacket or any of the spoils of winning. Generally, it doesn't work like that, at least not for me. It's a higher-level thing and I get asked about it often. In fact, someone told me that I should get a ring tonight.

I take pride in doing an honorable, professional broadcast. I don't think my place belongs in the domain of the players. 

But I was very proud of what the Vipers achieved tonight. 

*****

Sean and I went to the memorial service for our friend George Chelwick today. It was an honor to be there to support George's family. The speeches from his sons were a reminder of what a remarkable man he was.

The family was extremely touched that Greenwich football head coach Tony Morello and the 2024 Cardinals captains were in attendance at the church. I thought that was pretty great.

That's the love of the community that is well deserved for someone like George, who gave so much in his lifetime.

I don't have any particular reason to explain this to you but I wanted to honor George, Nancy, and their family one last time. 

Let it serve to remind us how good people are located everywhere.

A Quiet Mother's Day

Mother's Day, 2010: a chilly day at the beach

 

It's Mother's Day.

It's not a day about me, of course. I'm a dad, with a son and a cat, and then whatever collection of people there are who might see me in a fatherly light (I'm not sure any do).

But it's different to sit at home and do stuff. Honestly, I washed the floors, am doing laundry, etc.

Mother's Day -- for one mom or another -- normally meant keeping the calendar open for some event that I'd go to.

Of course, when Mom was still with us, we'd come up with something to do that would make her and the other moms in the family happy.

Later in her life, we started going to Fairfield, where my sister lived and would get us to a beach, regardless of weather. Mom just wanted to be at the beach.

Sometimes, it would be warm enough to put your hands and feet in the Sound. 

Other times, it was cold and we bundled up.

But there was always food -- likely sandwiches that we had picked up -- and the laughter of family. Especially the kids.

With Mom the queen of the gathering as always.

During the pandemic, my sister had us over to her place where we stayed in her yard to (sort of) visit with family, including my great-nephew Carson when he was a newborn.

Today, there's none of that and I'm not complaining. It's just different.

Sean went up to the Hudson Valley to see his mother and he'll be back later.

I'm apartment searching, watching the Yankees, waiting for the Knicks*, and doing house stuff.

And apartment hunting.

There's not really any sadness in any of this. I suppose I'm just babbling.

Happy Mother's Day.

*So, yeah, about the Knicks, yikes. But at least the Yankees won.

What Could Be

 

Donte DiVincenzo reacts after hitting a three-pointer to put the
Knicks ahead (Nathaniel S. Butler/NBAE via Getty Images)

The lacrosse game ended and I was ready to go home.

Thanks to the kindness of a Brunswick parent, I'd already had dinner, as she picked up a chicken quesadilla from the food truck at the game.

So I just needed to come home and enjoy some hockey.

It has the chance to be a really fun spring around New York sports. The Rangers are playing in Game 2 of their first round playoff series with the Washington Capitals. As I'm typing, the Rangers lead 4-3 so there will be some nervous time.

Last night was about as epic a night of basketball as this area has seen in years. The Knicks found themselves down late but scored six points to take the lead in a blistering pace during the last minute of play.

They hit free throws and held on for the win.

Donte DiVincenzo's three-pointer off a mad scramble brought about a rare double "BANG!" from the great Mike Breen, calling the game on MSG. 

Breen is the best basketball announcer and I won't hear otherwise (though you're certainly entitled to your opinion).

But I'll admit I yelled "BANG!" as DiVincenzo's shot went through the net.

It was an intense win and the Knicks lead 2-0. 

The Garden was rocking. I sometimes roll my eyes at the marketing of "The World's Most Famous Arena" but it's truly a special place at times like last night. The level of insanity will only grow as the Knicks and Rangers win games this spring.

Oh, it reminds me so much of 1994, which was a truly treasured time around here. The Knicks got to Game 7 of a gutwrenching NBA Finals series that they lost to Houston. There are still so many "ifs" that fans torture themselves with. After O.J. Simpson's famous van ride during Game 5 of the series, the Knicks needed just one win and it was nowhere to be found.

On the other hand, the Rangers also went to a Game 7 after a thrilling series. All anyone has to say is Mike Richter/Pavel Bure and we know the image, as Richter stopped Bure's penalty shot in Game 4.

We all gnawed away at our fingernails the night of Game 7, hoping the Rangers could erase the demons of 54 years. The euphoria at the end of the night was unforgettable.

New York is a big event town. We love the World Series and the Stanley Cup Finals and will go nuts if an NBA Finals comes here for the first time in 25 years.

The Knicks haven't won a title since 1973 so there's a hunger. Beyond that, New York hasn't had a professional championship in the four major sports since the Giants won Super Bowl Super Bowl XLVI in 2012.

So, yeah, it would be fun to have that feeling of 1994 again, especially if the two Garden teams can win. There was another team that was threatening to win a title that year but lost out due to a player's strike.

The Yankees would get back on top of the world in 1996 but they were close in '94. It would have made for an epic year in New York.

We could feel that this year. I'm not saying we will but it would be fun.

*****

A quick side note about lacrosse. Brunswick won the game after initially being in a tight battle with The Hill Academy from Canada. It was a great team effort as the Bruins continue to be the best team in the country.

However, a couple of students popped in the booth at one point for the weirdest of reasons: me.

They. Wanted. To. See. Me.

They both kind of stammered, called me "the man," shook my hand, then realized I was working and they left.

I was astounded and a bit overwhelmed. It was humbling.

I'd actually like to talk more with them if only to thank them.

I'm not deserving of the attention.

Which is the Toughest?

Al Michaels, right, and Ken Dryden called
the Miracle on Ice in 1980 on ABC

A minor debate popped up on the socials yesterday, beginning with the legendary Al Michaels.

Al, of course, has been a football broadcaster for 50 years, as well as working extensively in baseball, along with some basketball and hockey.

He has numerous legendary calls, including his work in the Super Bowl, World Series, and, of course, his "Miracle" call in the 1980 Winter Olympic Hockey tournament.

But during a recent interview with Dan Patrick, Michaels admitted that he feels hockey -- specifically, on radio -- is the hardest to broadcast.

I've asked this question to students for years, always curious what they think the most difficult sport is to call. Hockey is frequently mentioned until I demonstrate the mechanics of broadcasting baseball. That, in fact, has been an accepted answer for years.

Sure, preparation blah blah blah, but it's still knowing when to thread the information in, how to thread it in, and, most of all, how to make it sound conversational.

I find soccer to be the toughest, mostly due to still finding my voice with the sport but I think I've come a long way.

But hockey? Nah, it's literally describing. I mean, that's the first law of it, be it audio, video, or a hybrid.

As a radio call, you can't get every pass unless the game has that slow of a pace. Most games I call don't play like that, so I try to hit all that I can, but it's more important to know who and which team has the puck.

And I find baseball easy because it's so embedded in my blood. Pitch, swing, defense, and details. But, still, it's a balance of not talking too much or drifting too far between pitches.

Of course, this is all just opinion and mine is no more correct than anyone else. It's not an absolute. It's amazing how many struggle with that concept.

For me, baseball, football, hockey, and basketball are all fairly fluid for me. I don't want to say they're "easy" but I suppose there is something to that. I try to find a good rhythm to each one of them but they have so many differences. Football means calling the play and getting out of the way for the analyst (if I have one). 

Basketball and hockey play differently in having time for the analyst to talk while play is in motion but the general rule is I take over as things get close to the net or when a player takes a shot. It's hard to explain it but it works.

Years ago, WGCH decided to do a lacrosse game and, initially, I wasn't going to be on it. But, ultimately, I wound up at Greenwich High for the game, initially working the first half on the sideline before calling it in the second half.

Before the game, I had to figure out how to call it.

Ultimately, I took the lessons I learned in calling hockey and applied them to lacrosse. I've done the same with other sports as well.

That's where I figured out soccer also. As terrified as I was at first, I found my rhythm. I found my style.

So this debate really isn't one to take such a harsh stance on. Everyone has their own take.

To that end, I'll call lacrosse tomorrow and Friday before getting back to baseball on Saturday.

Thanks, Uncle Verne

 

Verne Lundquist will call his final Masters tournament tomorrow.

He's been a fixture in the tower overlooking 16 for over a quarter of a century.

But to those who know his career, there is so much more to discuss.

Go back to the 1960s when he was a sports anchor in Texas and became the radio broadcaster for the Dallas Cowboys. By the mid-70s, he began working for ABC Sports before eventually joining CBS. Save for 1995-1997 when he went to Turner, "Uncle Verne" has been with the "Tiffany Network" since 1982.

He has excelled at the NFL, college football, college basketball, golf, and figure skating, where his calm demeanor was a welcomed presence during the Nancy Kerrigan/Tonya Harding debacle at the 1994 Winter Olympics.

He was also in the movie Happy Gilmour.

Verne doesn't necessarily have a true "trademark" line. Verne is just real and that's why he's "Uncle Verne." He's the avuncular voice who isn't phony. He's playful, doesn't inject himself into the action, and honest.

His is a presence, a voice, a face that will be missed.

To a person like Verne Lundquist, you don't recite the trademark. There's no "it's outta here" or "Yes!" or "Bang!"

No, instead there are moments. Moments that aren't rehearsed. There's no yellow pad of cute lines.

When Jackie Smith of the Cowboys dropped a sure touchdown pass in Super Bowl XIII, it was Verne, calling the game for the Cowboys who exclaimed, "Bless his heart, he's got to be the sickest man in America!"

When Christian Laettner ended a gut-wrenching East Regional Final with a turnaround jumper in the 1992 NCAA Tournament, Verne stayed natural. The call was simple: "There's the pass to Laettner...puts it up...YES!"

Calling the 2005 Masters, Tiger Woods hit a chip-in on 16 that seemed improbable. Except, it went in, and Verne was on the money with his reaction: "Oh, my goodness!...OH, WOW!! IN YOUR LIFE, have you seen anything like that?"

To a new generation, Verne is known for his call of "Kick Six," the play that ended the 2013 Iron Bowl between Auburn and Alabama. A missed 57-yard field goal try was returned by Auburn's Chris Davis from the end zone. Verne, on TV, called it with the zest and shock that it deserved.

"On the way … No, returned by Chris Davis. Davis goes left. Davis gets a block. Davis has another block! Chris Davis! No flags! Touchdown, Auburn! An answered prayer!"

But no call of Verne's -- none, in my opinion -- is quite as iconic as three words spoken in 1986 at The Masters. Jack Nicklaus, who was 46 at that point, nailed his putt on 17 to take the lead for the first time as he would become the oldest winner in tournament history.

The images are iconic but, when done correctly, the call can also become iconic.

It was classic Verne. He's a witness to the whole thing and he spoke words that so many have repeated. Tony Savino and I have said it to each other countless times.

"Maybe ... Yes, SIR!"

You've seen it. You've heard it.

And, to many of us, we know it.

Uncle Verne began to back away in 2016 after the Army-Navy Game. He stepped away from college basketball after that. But he wanted to stay with The Masters.

Tomorrow will be the end of his 40th tournament and he felt this is the right time to take the headset off.

It will be emotional.

Our business will be sadder without him.

But have I relished listening to -- and learning from -- Verne Lundquist?

Yes, sir!

Two More for the Right Reasons

 

Norwalk High School gym

Two more games are in the books for me.

Tonight was the FCIAC Freshman basketball games. The girls played first and the boys followed.

It's the third time I've called these and it's a volunteer effort. Spearheaded by Glen Colello, there is a DJ spinning music all night and a three-piece band playing at various breaks in the action.

Plus me. Or, tonight, us, as Chris Kaelin joined me for the call. I haven't worked with "Kato" in a few years so it was great to see him.

These are a different kind of broadcast and, frankly, a little bit of a different kind of game. They play 20-minute halves and players can't foul out. Defense is generally minimal, especially in the boys game.

The rosters weren't put in our hands until just before game time because confirmation was needed to make sure the players all showed up and, to that end, there were a few changes.

While I do get to call the play-by-play, it's also a showcase night for the coaches, players, and the conference so we work in a lot of interviews, specifically with coaches from the FCIAC.

That took us off of the "nuts and bolts" of play-by-play details. Admittedly, that's not easy for me since these are radio play-by-play calls where details matter but it's part of the adjustment of the evening.

The coaches love talking about their players and that's coverage I'm happy to give.

I think it all works just fine even if I'm being my own worst critic as I worry about the broadcast.

"Kato" begins making his way up to our spot

If you listened then you heard the band and the DJ, who kept up a running play-by-play of his own all night. That was a bit of an adjustment for me but the crowd seemed to enjoy it.

It's a night to shine a light on all of it and I'm thrilled to do that.

Glen was kind to include a picture of me and the Robcasting logo in the program, and that's certainly good for the coverage, but it's not about us at all.

With that, save for the Hudson Valley Vipers, the winter season is over.

I know that Connecticut will wrap up the basketball season tomorrow and Sunday at Mohegan Sun, while hockey wraps up early next week in Hamden.

We would be happy to jump on those state championship calls but our talents will be utilized elsewhere.

Then, as soon as we're back from Florida, it's onto Brunswick baseball and lacrosse.

Ah, yes, baseball.

I mean no disrespect to any other sport when I say this, but I got into play-by-play because of baseball. That's what I've wanted to talk about since I was old enough to talk. The fact that I developed the skill to carry all of these other sports has been a blessing.

I love the challenge of bringing them all to you.

But baseball will always be that first love.

Soon. Very.

But, tonight, I was happy to be at Norwalk High School.

They Can't Stay Young Forever

This is "Junior"

I was looking in my memories today when I saw a reminder of some of the work I did at the HAN Network.

From time to time, I would get a hotel room out of the deal, especially if it involved a night game followed by a day game in the same area. There's no question I was grateful to not have to do the amount of driving from Shelton to Mahopac and so on.

However, in this case, it was a weekend in which I was supposed to have Sean. And, let's face it, what kid doesn't love crashing in a hotel?

Especially one with a giant indoor water slide?

That's what the Hampton Inn had in Shelton.

So I picked up Sean and drove him back to Fairfield where I called the Fairfield Ludlowe/Fairfield Prep on Friday night in a state playoff basketball game.

It was a chaotic night with a huge crowd and poor internet service inside Alumni Hall. It was just one of those nights.

Regardless, the waterslide was closed when we got back to the hotel. We'd have to get up first thing in the morning to enjoy it.

Sean was still at the age where he had a few stuffed animals to keep him company.

Though they wouldn't always travel with him, he had "Big Kitty" (a stuffed cat that was actually mine) and an Elmo at his mother's. Among the "guys" he kept with me was a small Pillow Pet that was called "Junior," named because he had a larger Pillow Pet. Both were black cats with white on his face.

It wasn't so much that he was looking for them to sleep with but they were sort of a running gag between us. Sean's inventive mind created a whole personality for Junior, including a small box that he made into an airplane.

It was "The Junior Jet."

And so I made sure to pack Junior to bring to the hotel, just as you see in the picture on the AC unit in the room.

These were the little things that made us smile and were part of the bond of this father-and-son unit.

We also bonded on the water slide early the next morning as we were down there when it opened. We did several runs on it with our laughter reverberating off the walls. We'd also jump into the adjacent pool as well.

Oh, keep in mind it was March and quite cold outside as I recall. That always adds to the joy of the situation.

We enjoyed this for a bit before getting dressed, grabbing breakfast, and heading into Bridgeport for two ice hockey games.

It was Sean's patience in those situations that were recorded with things like staying in a hotel, with him learning that Daddy's job was different than the average 9-to-5, even though I also did that at the time.

They were crazy days, nights, and weekends that produced wonderful memories.

They're long over now as HAN is gone and Sean is 22.

Oh, he still has his guys but he doesn't travel with them anymore.

No, I don't have to keep space in the backseat for them when we drive to Florida.

Junior, in fact, will stay put in Sean's bedroom while we're gone.

He and Rascal will be our guard cats.

We Now Pause For This

 

Current situation

Whether it's a gymnasium in Yorktown Heights, NY, or a hockey rink in Bridgewater, NJ, the games keep coming and I have to be dressed appropriately.

In other words, I need to be bundled up in an ice rink.

Today began at Yorktown High School.

I called two girls basketball games in the New York State playoffs with the winners advancing to the state semis in Troy.

Shout outs to Putnam Valley and Our Lady of Lourdes for getting the victories.

I jumped on those because I was needed and I can't deny that's a nice feeling. Then I turned the equipment over to someone else after my two were over.

There were two more games there but I needed to get to New Jersey.

That's where I am now.

When I first walked into Yorktown, nothing was set up and, honestly, I didn't expect it to be.

Dutifully, I got to work setting up tripods, getting internet, and carrying everything out of the nearby closet.

As I was stringing wires, Kevin Devaney Jr -- unaware I'd be setting up -- came in and relieved me.

And I do mean relieved. He knew what he was doing and I stopped worrying about things falling apart. All I had to focus on was my audio and the call.

To top that off, I had AJ Szymanowski on controls, and that helped even more. His steady hand will chide me as needed or we'll just talk via text.

With the games done, I packed up, got in my car, and began driving.

I grabbed dinner and a much-needed coffee and came to the rink.

These can be funny places. My game is coming up in a little more than an hour but there's another game going on. In this case, it's a youth hockey game.

Thus, there are parents standing where I need to set up.

We're going to have to boot them eventually but I'm trying to be patient for now. I don't like being "that media guy."

So, here I am. Ready to call the third game of the day with a voice that's OK but a throat that's a bit sore.

I have my throat drops and can get a drink if needed.

Other than the coffee, of course.

Tonight's game comes with a broadcast partner, whom I only met a few minutes ago. There's always an awkwardness to that and the fear that chemistry won't come naturally but we'll give it a try and see how it goes.

As the saying goes, this is not my first rodeo.

Or hockey game.

Of course, I'll look forward to the drive back up 287 to get back to Greenwich and a solid night of sleep.

Which we'll lose an hour of tonight.

That's fine. I'll take the tradeoff of longer daylight for being a bit bleary-eyed when doing "Meet the Beatles" tomorrow morning.

So long as I don't get stuck on any highway in traffic for an hour like last night.

It's true, I got hung up on the Hutchinson River Parkway due to what appeared to be a pretty serious accident. Fire engines and other emergency vehicles roared past all of us.

Eventually, I put my car in park and hoped I didn't fall asleep.

That happened on Interstate 684 one time before Sean was born.

In this case, we were eventually permitted to move and head on our way.

The slight inconvenience of traffic woes is nothing compared to whatever happened to the car that looked pretty destroyed when I saw it on the back of a flatbed tow truck. Their lives were likely changed.

Compassion doesn't cost much.

Rockets Hockey Club and the Connecticut Junior Rangers -- yes, ironically enough -- are coming up at 7:30 on FloHockey and wherever you get your Robcasting.

Scully Land

 

Short of broadcasting from Dodger Stadium, this is walking among the gods.

Or, in my case, my hero, mentor, and, basically, a male adult figure who wasn't my father.

I never met Vin Scully. Never spoke to him.

But I've followed him. I've studied his whole career.

Blah blah blah. You know this.

But I'm currently sitting inside Rose Hill Gymnasium at Fordham University.

Vin Scully started his career here.

Heck, he went to high school here also, as Fordham Prep is just steps away.

Much like I did when I stood outside where The Beatles had the Rooftop Concert, I walked around and tried to hear the master calling a basketball game here back in the 1940s.

Wake up the echos, as they say at Notre Dame.

Vin never called basketball professionally so we don't have the melodious voice describing set shots and four corners defense.

But we have so many examples of baseball, football, and golf, along with talk shows, a game show, and so on.

So to walk the campus where he went to college and high school, it's a lot for me to take in. 

The man taught me so much about play-by-play. He taught me the style I wanted to mostly abide by, while remaining true to myself. That's what Red Barber taught him.

I stopped at the baseball stadium, where I was greeted by a plaque that I could see from the street. Up to the right was the Vin Scully Press Box.

I realize there's one in Los Angeles that others can tell me they've worked at and I'd love to do that also, but this will have to do from an east coast perspective.

I even worked up the nerve to visit the lobby of Fordham Prep where a kind guard allowed me to look around. He told me there had been a few artifacts there but I couldn't find any. Just his kindness to be allowed in was enough for me.

Now I sit in Rose Hill Gym -- built in 1925 -- basking in the footsteps of Scully, Mike Breen, Michael Kay, Chris Carrino, John Andariese ("Johnny Hoops"), Bob Papa, Connell McShane, Justin Shackill, John Giannone, and other sports broadcasters as well as Vince Lombardi, Charles Osgood, Denzel Washington, Alan Alda, Patricia Clarkson, and so many other well-known Fordham alums.

To some, I don't deserve to walk in these footsteps.

To me, I'm beyond thankful and I'd like to think I belong.

I'm sitting above the court, waiting for Bishop Timon/St. Jude and Msgr. McClancy start.

The tipoff is at 6pm on LocalLive (and, yes, on Robcasting).

Pull up a chair, everyone, and let's have a very good evening wherever you may be.

The Homer Homer

 

Not this Homer (Photo: FOX)

* First, I appreciate the kind words from yesterday's post. I don't believe in announcing my departure a la an airplane but the grind of the posts and, sometimes, lack of response makes me wonder if this exercise has run its course. I didn't plan to leave completely but wondered if maybe it was time to just take a day off. I'm grateful for the words but it wasn't a plea for attention either. Many thanks.

I saw a post in one of the groups I belong to with a video of a broadcaster calling a home run.

I've done the in-booth camera thing and I'm cautious about it. To me, it's a way to get the audio of the call to another audience without violating any video agreements. But it's not about me.

The broadcaster in this case was doing fist pumps and high-fiving people in the next booth.

That's his style and that's great. He's broadcasting for a particular team, school, or group and he prefers to go the full bias route. He knows what his employers and audience want.

They're not wrong, of course.

Stylistically, it's not for me. It's not beneath me but I'm very careful about that. It's a fine line and, believe me, I've been to many postgame events with fans in my career. Even then I avoid having a rooting interest.

But high-fiving people in the booth when the team does well? Fist-pumping? 

Generally, no. 

For those who want to say that I'm *clears throat* "AP Style" (that is to say: boring) I hardly think I'm that.

I love, love, love scoring plays, regardless of whom. 

I bring passion and energy. At least, I hope I do.

And I understand context. I remember the last game of the 2021 Renegades season, I called a home run for the Greensboro Grasshoppers and I remember it was completely flat.

I was mad at myself. I played off the crowd, who were down, and allowed that to impact me. In that moment, I feared I sounded like a homer for the Renegades.

And, look, I was working for them, so fair enough. But I still shouldn't sound like it personally offended me. It didn't.

The player, the Grasshoppers, and their fans deserved better in that moment. Then again, they clinched a playoff spot the night before and I thought I took pretty good care of them. In fact, I expected Renegades fans to be mad at me for that call.

Maybe they were.

But that's the integrity I put into this.

Look, I don't have the answers. I think I know what it takes to do a professional broadcast but that doesn't mean I'm right. I certainly have no high horse or pulpit on this stuff.

I have an opinion. At times, a strong one.

But I don't consider myself to be lord and ruler of this stuff. I also accept and embrace conversation on it.

I don't just delete years of conversations and recommendations before blocking on all accounts. I think I'm better than that, actually.

My feeling as a team broadcaster is to respect the other team's fans (as in that example with the Grasshoppers) and give every call energy.

The only time you'll catch people high-fiving in a booth of mine is before airtime as a sign of encouragement. Maybe, after a call that someone liked or after we get off the air.

Again, there are exceptions.

But there's a professionalism and integrity that I believe in. It's a personal thing for me.

It's not being some old fossil but it is honoring those who came before me in this business.

Remember, I've never had a true mentor. My mentors were those I grew up watching. Especially Vin Scully. 

So I learned from him and gleaned what I felt worked for me.

Then, as he learned from Red Barber, I made sure that I was myself.

High-fiving and fist-pumping because someone made a good play isn't me bring me.

Then again, like Scully, I work alone a lot. Thus I'd look pretty weird high-fiving myself.

Speaking of working, I'm back in the saddle again today. I needed a few days to not do the grind of a game broadcast as my throat felt a little raw on Sunday. It even sounded a little off yesterday during a podcast recording session. 

Ultimately, I passed on two broadcasts in New Jersey to rest up and honor a commitment to go out last night. 

Now, I'm back with a challenge.

First is a New York state playoff game in Yorktown Heights. Admittedly, I thought my face might be plastered in the post office as I once spent too much time there. If you don't know, my ex is from there.

But I have a 3:30 game on NFHS calling Haldane and Millbrook basketball in a playoff contest.

Then, ready?

I have to get to Trumbull High School by 6:30 for Fairfield Warde and the Eagles in a Connecticut first round game.

The odds are meh but I'll take the chance because I have support. Jeff Alterman will have his TEN Network ready to go and Mike Buswell will be along as well. The two of them will start the broadcast if I'm not there on time.

As soon I show up, I'll plug in and get Robcasting cooking. I'll take over play-by-play and Jeff is going to rove to do interviews.

It should be a good production all around.

But first, I have to record an interview in a few minutes.

Then a podcast tomorrow.

Then two games in the Bronx on Friday.

Then hockey in New Jersey on Saturday.

There will be no fist-pumping.

Vacation is coming.

Honest.

The Late Post Before the Drive

 

Game 2: The Vipers win.
Team president Pat Manning applauds near the open doors.

From the parking lot of McDonald's on NY Route 55 in Freedom Plains, NY, it's Late at Night Blogging with Rob!

I did two more games today. I wrestled with the second one but hanging out with family and still doing a game seems like a plus.

We were out the door at 9:30 this morning. The first stop was at WGCH where Sean works doing production every Saturday.

He didn't need much time, so I did some game prep while he worked.

Then we were back at it, dealing with rain as we drove into New Jersey.

Yes, of course, we had Wawa.

Twice.

Breakfast before the game and lunch after.

Colonia High School was the game site the home team got the win today.

The not-so-easy part was getting into the high school as I had to speak to three different people and promise them my next of kin before they would allow me in.

Game 1: Colonia High School, NJ

Oh, they were fine. Really polite and triple-checking that we belonged since the game was a sellout.

That it was. It got crowded.

We were shoulder-to-shoulder in the crowd but there were no issues. We worked. They cheered.

We packed up and left.

We dealt with heavy rain as we made our way home. In fact, we wound up on the Palisades Interstate Parkway and the fog rolled in to add to the challenge of the drive.

The next stop was back to Greenwich to drop Sean off. I made a late effort to see if he'd like to take a drive to Poughkeepsie and he elected to pass. He'd had enough sports broadcasts for one day.

My cousin Kris and grandson Logan were heading to the Vipers game against the Norfolk Mallards, so I'd see them there.

The rain remained steady and heavy as I climbed I-684.

And I-84.

And the Taconic State Parkway.

Normally I wouldn't be comfortable with showing up 33 minutes before game time but the Vipers knew these were the terms for me today.

I went to the parking garage I normally park in ... and it was full.

I mean, stuffed.

So I worked my way around the phalanx of streets (not really) to get to the larger garage across the street. Parking was free which was nice.

I calmly walked across the hell known as Market Street (the Family Court I visited many times was on that street) and made it into the arena.

I tracked down team president Pat Manning who quickly found someone to tell me where to set up as it had changed slightly.

I mean, literally. Like six feet to the left of where I used to sit.

A few hours later, the game ended with the Vipers picking up a 4-1 win.

Now, I'm sitting in a McDonald's parking lot to keep a ridiculous streak alive before I drive home.

Why do I do it? Well, family, sure. Opportunity, sure. Even making sure nobody jumps in my place.

But it's also to fight the loneliness and whatever other demons that circle the drain.

And so I keep plugging away, starting March just as chaotic as February was.

It will calm down. I promise.

Another day is over. Almost.

The Vipers play again tomorrow.

I'm not planning on going.

For now.

It's time to drive.

March On

 

Coach Buddy Bray is surrounded by his team as he holds the 
FCIAC Championship plaque last night in Wilton.
Ryan Johnston (2) was named MVP
(Photo from Trumbull Diamond Club Facebook Page)

Hello, March.

We have a complicated relationship. I appreciate your annual visit providing glimpses of the promise of spring with warmer temperatures and the departure of winter.

But I hate the reminders that you carry, led by my tolerate/hate relationship with March 17.

Last year, March also included a trip to Florida that reignited the desire to do so again. That will also happen this month. That's a good thing.

But there's so much sadness and, frankly, without being dramatic I'm about at the end of my theoretical rope with that.

Instead, I'll start the month by talking about how blessed I felt watching the FCIAC basketball championship last night.

First, from the technical side. Could I work with anyone better than Ben Talbott, whose steady hand on the camera and producer's intuition made the last three broadcasts happen? His style meshes with mine very well and I think -- hope! -- it made for a good experience for the audience.

Then, while Chris Kaelin couldn't make it to call last night with me, Mike Buswell did. I know he's a Trumbull guy but he has experience with Staples as well. Thus I thought he'd do a good job helping to break it all down and be fair. He'll be the first to tell you what an explosive personality he has and that can lead to flying past the philosophy of "brevity is the soul of broadcasting."

Still, it worked. We tweaked something at halftime and got even better. I told him I'd be happy to work with him again.

And then Trumbull head coach Buddy Bray. In full disclosure, I've covered his teams going back to 1999 but he doesn't know me that well. But I know enough people who know him and who have had him as a teacher and coach. He's been the Trumbull head coach for 34 years and the conference title has always eluded him.

There were years when his team was the number one seed and even got to a championship game in 2018 but just couldn't get to the top.

Yet, on the other side was Staples head coach Dave Goldshore. I do know Dave, having met him while covering Little League Baseball in 2019. He eventually asked me if he could do a broadcast with me and my sense told me he'd be good.

He was.

But he knows basketball, having worked around -- wait for it -- Trumbull and Staples. He learned from former Wreckers head coach Colin Devine, and got the job when Devine stepped away after 15 seasons.

Dave walked into the Wilton High School fieldhouse yesterday, put his stuff down, and worked his way across the floor to where I had set up. What I thought was going to be talk about a game and good luck instead turned into the sadness of talking about his father's passing.

Dave had just found out. Now he had to coach a huge game with that on his mind.

For the record, I'm only writing this after seeing it has been printed in the game stories from last night. I made the decision to not discuss it on the air. I didn't want to take the risk of family members and loved ones hearing it from me or Mike. My only reference to anything was to say that Dave's heart was in a million places. It was news I didn't need to break though it did add to the drama of the night.

I've been in that spot and I was protective of it for him.

Believe me, I watched both coaches' body language all night. Given what was at stake, how could I not?

In the end, ah, sports. A game in which Staples opened up a double-digit lead. Staples grabbed every rebound, especially at the offensive end. They had kids playing out of their minds.

Trumbull wouldn't go away, led by Ryan Johnston.

The lead dwindled.

Then it was tied.

The see-saw teetered over the final few minutes until Staples Sam Clatchko -- he of the 40-point effort on Tuesday night -- found an opening on the right wing.

He sidestepped a defender deftly and then, suddenly, had a clean look at the basket. There was one second remaining.

"For the championship," I said, anticipating a moment where you simply do not want to blow the call.

The shot missed, hitting off the back iron.

Overtime.

In the extra session, the tension and noise reached a crescendo. The teams continued to battle but now it felt like Trumbull had an edge. Thirty-four years of a cauldron bubbling were about to end. Staples lost players as they fouled out.

Still, nothing is ever easy. The Eagles went to the line to shoot free throws. Two would have effectively iced the game. 

They made one. It was still a three point game but there were only four seconds left.

As Staples worked the ball toward midcourt, it was punched away and turned over.

The stands to our left emptied in jubilation.

Pandemonium began.

And the cauldron exploded.

Buddy Bray, beloved in Trumbull and around the FCIAC, finally had a conference championship. I actually said his name as I announced the final seconds, which isn't something I'd normally do.

Yet this wasn't normal. I knew Coach Bray was a big part of the story.

Yes, I felt gratitude for watching all of this happen and for being allowed to relay it. Describe it. Present it.

It had twists and turns and drama. Honestly, nobody knew who was going to win. Everyone was split.

That's beautiful.

In the aftermath, I talked with Dave Goldshore. That's a good man. He's hurting. For his players and his family. For himself. He runs on emotion. He was devoid of it when we spoke. His day is coming for a championship. He's been to two title games now in his first two seasons. It will happen.

I also saw Coach Bray later on, just long enough to congratulate and say the same things that everyone else is saying. 

It's long overdue.

You can't take this away, March. You can't dampen it.

Yes, it happened on Feb 29 but it will be celebrated for years to come around Trumbull. 

Being a leap year day doesn't erase it. It happened. 

We're all witnesses.

In fact, it will likely be celebrated every March 1 in non-leap years.

Take that.

Let's have a good day.

And a good month.

Retirement and Reality

 

Pittsburgh Steelers radio history display at the
Hall of Honor Museum, July 2023

Bill Hilgrove announced his retirement this morning.

Unless you're a Pittsburgh Steelers fan, a University of Pittsburgh fan, or, in general, a Pittsburgher, you might not know who that is.

Bill has been a staple in Pittsburgh for over 50 years, calling a variety of sports for Pitt and, eventually, doing Steelers for 30 years. He was also the sports director at WTAE-TV at one point.

He has done a schedule that would make me jealous but, mostly, I admire it.

Sometimes he's done Pitt basketball, football, and the Steelers all in the same weekend. Beyond that, he rarely missed covering anything. He made it work.

Yes. I very much admire that. It's right up my alley.

Personally, he has kept me company on many game days when I couldn't get the Steelers on TV and, actually, sometimes even when they were.

Before the satellite and internet radio days, I remember working the radio dial to pick up a far-off Steelers radio affiliate, which was normally WWVA 1170 AM out of Wheeling, WV. Of course, it needed to be a night game to do that to have the proper atmospheric conditions.

Then, eventually, along came SiriusXM and I would listen to Bill call the action. Of course, the inimitable Myron Cope was alongside with his "Hmm hahs," "yoi's," and so on. Former Steelers Tunch Ilkin and, eventually, current partner Craig Wolfley joined Hillgove. The outstanding reporter Missi Matthews and former Steeler Max Starks rounded out the on-air squad.

Now, they'll need a new play-by-play announcer.

NFL radio crews can be quite biased and the Steelers aren't immune to that. Most of the time, it was Hillgrove who kept things close to the middle, letting his excitement come out on big plays. That's when you knew who paid his check.

But listening to the highlights of Bill calling iconic Steelers moments brought me chills. He was on for the run to Super Bowl XXX, Troy Polamalu's AFC Championship-clinching interception, the James Harrison return in Super Bowl XLIII, and the Santonio Holmes sideline catch to win that game.

As I tweeted this morning, it was through his broadcasts that I picked up a term that I've used and have given him credit for it.

The term is "habeas grabus," and I use it in relation to penalties or even any fracas. In reality, it's for holding calls but I have a little fun with it.

Chris Erway always noted that one, along with my use of stanza for quarter and spinorama for, well, spinning plays.

But habeas grabus came from Hillgove and Cope.

The Steelers Broadcast Booth in the Hall of Honor Museum

When I posted about Hillgrove's stepping down from the Steelers' booth, I joked about keeping the seat warm.

Would I love to be the Steelers' radio broadcaster? Um...hello?!

But, realistically, there's a better chance of the Art Rooney statue outside Acrisure Stadium coming to life and singing the Steelers' fight song while recreating the Immaculate Reception.

Still, that's the very thing about this business or any business for that matter. I think I must always "dare to dream" but also live in reality.

It's one thing to dream of an opportunity opening up or someone reaching out with an offer because they like your work.

It's another thing to keep up a Pollyanna-ish fable of how I'm going to make the big leagues!

I have no illusions.

I like to daydream.

But when your work has achieved a level of respect wherever you are, that matters. And it matters a lot to me.

Sure, there's every solid reason that I can offer about why I'd be a great Steelers radio broadcaster. But you need to find the right way to bust open that door to have that conversation. Conversely, there are plenty of others thinking the same thing today and they are preparing their audio and résumé.

I'm fortunate and realistic about what I have.

Right now, I'm preparing to call the FCIAC basketball championship for the 15th time -- both boys and girls. That matters to someone.

Trumbull and Staples await at 7 p.m. at the Snake Shack in Wilton.