Grayson Murray

 

Grayson Murray won in Hawaii in January
(Michael Reaves/Getty Images)

Sadly, it seemed like the answer was going to be the worst.

Thirty years old.

Admitted he had issues with alcohol and depression.

The pieces, sadly, added up for two-time PGA Tour winner Grayson Murray.

Murray withdrew from the Charles Schwab Challenge on Friday after playing 16 holes in the second round.

He said he didn't feel well.

On Saturday, he was dead at the age of 30. 

PGA Tour commissioner Jay Monaghan announced Murray's death, adding that his parents asked for the tournament in Fort Worth to continue.

Sadly, the outcome appeared obvious and, eventually, Murray's parents released a statement via the PGA Tour.

Statement on behalf of Eric and Terry Murray:

We have spent the last 24 hours trying to come to terms with the fact that our son is gone. It’s surreal that we not only have to admit it to ourselves, but that we also have to acknowledge it to the world. It’s a nightmare.

We have so many questions that have no answers.

But one.

Was Grayson loved? The answer is yes. By us, his brother Cameron, his sister Erica, all of his extended family, by his friends, by his fellow players and – it seems – by many of you who are reading this. He was loved and he will be missed.

We would like to thank the PGA TOUR and the entire world of golf for the outpouring of support. Life wasn’t always easy for Grayson, and although he took his own life, we know he rests peacefully now.

Please respect our privacy as we work through this incredible tragedy, and please honor Grayson by being kind to one another. If that becomes his legacy, we could ask for nothing else.

Thank you.

It's the worst possible nightmare. I've learned far more about Grayson Murray over the past 24 hours.

He had demons. A temper. The drinking issue. He had been in rehab. He had stopped drinking. He had made progress.

He had won his first PGA Tour event in six years when he took the Sony Open in Hawaii. From a high level, it felt like things were on the right path.

But you just never know.

And then this weekend happened.

And now he's gone.

And there are always those questions. Questions and thoughts.

"If I had done more..."

"If I had reached out..."

"If I hadn't left him alone..."

If...if...if...

None of it makes sense. Ever.

Sadly, these stories come up on occasion. 

Sadly, we write about them. We talk about them.

And we repeat the same thing every time.

Look out for each other. Encourage help wherever possible.

Remember that one can call or text 988 or chat with the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988lifeline.org.

Mental health support needs to be affordable and available.

It also needs to be destigmatized. It's OK to seek help.

So many deal with the thoughts of hopelessness. Of sleepless nights when feeling like all is lost. There's just no purpose to go on. The money issues. Loss of ... something. Desperation.

So many of us often have that feeling of wanting to run and hide.

Or worse.

But it's who is left behind that suffers.

My heart hurts for Grayson Murray's parents, siblings, extended family, and loved ones. 

And for the hockey community. I've seen the tweets. The interviews. The commentaries.

They're gutwrenching.

Seek help if you're hurting.

Please.

And be kind to each other.

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!

A Final Drive Down the Fairway

 

The view across the Anclote River from
Capt. Jack's in Tarpon Springs

Today was our last full day in Florida.

We went down swinging, even if that swing was with a golf club.

Oh, we had breakfast and it was magnificent. But we also had tickets to the Valspar Championship golf tournament final round. It's played on the Copperhead Course at Innisbrook Resort and Golf Club.

As we drove towards Palm Harbor, I pulled into Trinity Memorial Gadens to visit the grave of George M. Steinbrenner. The Yankees owner is interred in a mausoleum just inside the main gate. We quickly paid our respects and moved on to Innisbrook. 

The Boss

Originally a club, my grandparents (and the great-grandparents of Kris and Sean) were charter members. That meant we frequently visited the club for Sunday brunch when we were in Florida.

And brunch was magnificent. It had to be as we were required to dress in our best for the appearance, while virtually everyone else was in tennis and golf attire.

A nearby golf pro shop was about the only other place of interest for the teenager of the 80s could be interested once brunch was consumed and talk turned to multiple cups of coffee. But, in that pro shop, my interest in golf was piqued.

That, and I could see some of the golf course from the windows of the restaurant.

And so being able to return to Innisbrook for the first time since 1986 was quite special. So much of it looked different but the vibe was the same. 

But this time I was walking on the golf course as opposed to being that 17-year-old looking from the windows of the clubhouse.

The course, needless to say, is rather large, and the action can be somewhat mundane for the non-golf fan (I give you Sean). We all enjoyed watching Xander Schauffele drain a long putt for par on the 12th hole. 

Kris's dad (my cousin Ron) worked his magic to get us into an arena where he was watching the fourth hole. We enjoyed refreshments and a slice of pizza before resuming our walk.

But if you've ever been to a golf tournament you know it can be a long day of walking, watching, standing, and maybe sitting. 

There are certainly corporate things to gaze at, though many require special tickets. We did get pictures taken with the Snake Pit statue and, for the first time in my 55 years of visiting Florida, I spotted an alligator.

Before leaving, we looked at the merchandise but nothing really spoke to me. If anything, I wanted something that reflected the resort as opposed to either the tournament or the golf course. I'm hoping we'll come back when the tournament isn't on for that kind of stuff. I know I had an Innisbrook shirt many years ago.

Instead, the three of us packed up and took the shuttle back to the car to head to dinner in Tarpon Springs, where we sat on an open tiki bar overlooking the Anclote River with the sponge docks across the way.

It felt like the right way to begin to wrap up this wonderful adventure.

Back at our home away from home, Sean and I took a last walk around the grounds before joining Kris and Lori to talk (and pick on me). We both talked about what this trip meant to each other. Sure, I'm ready to return to Connecticut because I miss a few things there (including that silly cat) but this region of Florida means so much to me.

And I can never explain it properly.

It's nostalgic. It absolutely is. To that end, I drove by my grandparents' house in Holiday and realized just how much things had changed. The house is the same, no question, but it needs some TLC. The whole neighborhood does.

But, still, there's enormous nostalgia here. There's also family here. Family that I'm close to.

There are so many things that make me happy here. I didn't even get to Howard Park in Tarpon Springs but it's OK. We ran out of time. But that's just one of the many things that tickles me. The Sponge Docks and John's Pass and going to sporting events and walking around Tampa and driving out to Orlando.

In truth, I don't need to explain why this region produces such joy for me. You either get it or you don't.

Alas, my alarm will go off tomorrow morning and we'll pull ourselves together. We'll say our goodbyes and hit the road.

Then North Carolina awaits.

Then The Cat awaits.

Then reality strikes again.

Today was a cherished finish to a cherished trip.

Thank you, Florida.

Until next time.

The Man With One Golf Shoe

 

We were listed as "The Adams Family"
because of course, we were

So, yes, I played golf.

At this time, only my body has an issue, as I'm slightly sore from the myriad muscles that haven't been used like that in some time.

I suspect that will be worse tomorrow. Mostly, I think my arms and maybe my legs will hurt.

Oh, and perhaps my back, because that hurts tonight.

Did I play well? Allow me to spare you any suspense.

No. I was terrible. But, OK, I had my moments.

My first tee shot in eight years actually was hit straight as an arrow on the 13th hole at The Powelton Club.

Yes, things started quite fine.

Kris, Ron, Danny, and I arrived together and I saw so many of the Renegades colleagues and friends.

We got our swag (a phenomenal vest) and enjoyed a quick breakfast.

We went out to our carts and we were eventually off and running.

All was going well.

Then my golf shoe came apart. On our first hole. Roughly two or three shots into the round.

Now, if you're scoring at home, you realize that golf courses are laid out in such a way that, to rectify the situation, you have to get past the 18th hole. Or the sixth hole of our round.

So, yes, I basically played six holes of golf with 1.5 golf shoes on my feet. Oh, and the ground was quite wet.

I haven't thrown them out yet but let's just say these old golf shoes -- yes, they're old -- are done.

Yes, that really happened

Ron -- my cousin -- said he had an extra pair of shoes and they were even in my size.

Then we got back to the parking lot and Ron realized the shoes were in his truck.

Which was sitting in Kris's driveway.

All wasn't lost as I grabbed the shoes I drove up wearing and played on.

Later in the round, I had a brief moment of glory. If you're familiar with scramble-syle golf, you know you play the best shots in the round and score as a group. For one hole -- one blessed par-3 -- our team of three Adams and one Danny played my shot.

I bombed my tee shot onto the green and we two-putted for a par.

My PGA membership should be official any moment now.

PGA became Danny's nickname because that's what he started calling himself. Of course, we sort of had fun with that name also.

Fun. That's what today was. Our team wasn't the best and we weren't the worst (shockingly) but we were the slowest, coming back to the clubhouse by the time everyone else had finished playing.

We had exceptional weather, with the temperature in the mid-70s and a mostly sunny sky.

So, yeah, I'd say we had a pretty good day.

It lived up to exactly what I wanted it to be: a day of fun, laughter, and activity.

Oh, I'll pay for it with pain but it will be so worth it.

The Gades made some news as general manager Tyson Jeffers is moving on to a new team in Spartanburg, SC. The Down East Wood Ducks of the Carolina League are supposed to be moving to Spartanburg in time for the 2025 season when a new stadium is expected to open.

I got to know Tyson when he was the Vice President/Assistant General Manager under Steve Gliner in 2021. He was patient with me as he taught me how to put game stories on the Renegades website during my blissful season as broadcaster.

I wish him much success in his tenure with Spartanburg. I also wish nothing but the best to the Gades' new GM, Zach Betkowski, whom I've also gotten to know over the past few seasons. I'm excited to see what Zach brings to the team in 2024.

*****

Rest in peace, Dick Butkus, and thank you for the brand of football you played from 1965 until 1973. You were a favorite of my father, who spoke of watching you play whenever we discussed the game. You became an icon to me because of that connection and I forever included you in the conversation among the all-time greats.

You will always be the embodiment of Chicago Bears football, something that only a few others -- in fact, maybe only Walter Payton -- can ascend to.

Be the Ball, Rob

 

The Powelton Club, Balmville, NY (Wikipedia)

It's been eight years.

That was the last time I attempted to play a round of golf.

It was at Putnam County Golf Course in Mahopac. Of course, I knew that course from years of looking at it from Austin Road Elementary School as well as passing it on Hill Street.

But until that day, with thanks to Chris Erway, I had never played there.

Chris is an excellent golfer and he counsels me on my (lack of a) game occasionally.

Tomorrow, for the first time since then, I'll hit the links.

Oh, I swung my clubs at a bucket of balls several months ago outside of Peekskill at Hollow Brook Golf Club for an episode of "The Clubhouse" but tomorrow will be an actual round.

One more thing: "The Clubhouse" is returning! Details to follow. We now return you to your originally schedule post.

Through a series of events, it came together for me to play with my cousins at the Gades Shoot Out at The Powelton Club in Newburgh (actually, the hamlet of Balmville), NY.

Yes, that is "Gades" as in the Hudson Valley Renegades. It will be my first time playing the event but I'm happy to do it.

I'm fully prepared to embarrass myself but I'll be doing it for the right reason. 

I can only hope the beverage cart makes frequent stops near us so I can drown my sorrows.

But my golf bag, shoes, and so on are sitting in the living room waiting for the early drive to begin to Orange County.

The thing I keep telling myself is it's going to be fun. I'll get to see my friends from the Renegades and I'll hang out with my cousin Ron and, of course, his son Kris. Plus Kris's friend Danny will round out our foursome.

Incidentally, for complete hysteria, I initially invited Chris Erway. I promise you we would have spent the day laughing. Hard. Mostly at my expense.

Chris can't make it but oh, we're still going to laugh as Danny is a great guy.

Kris and I have played together many times over the years. He got me to visit the cool little course (Fishkill Golf Course) just off U.S. 9 in Fishkill behind the abandoned shopping center. I always felt it was perfect for a schlub like me to practice.

The key for me has always been to have a playing companion who isn't hung up on the score but insists on having fun. To Chris Erway's credit, he knows I'm not good but we still had a great time. I'd let him finish the hole if my game was reaching a point of embarrassment.

It worked.

With Kris, we're similar. We'll hit. Then we'll laugh.

That will be the plan tomorrow.

It's a shame that I haven't played The Griff -- Greenwich's town-owned golf course -- since moving here. I played the course several times over the years as part of the Greenwich High football and baseball golf tournaments. I'd usually be there as part of a WGCH team that included me, Tony Savino, Bob Small, and a fourth, including Chris Erway one time.

We've sadly not done that in several years.

But we will do this tomorrow.

I apologize in advance for the likely collection of golf balls that I will lose and for the number of times that we'll yell "fore!" due to an errant shot of mine.

I'm not intentionally bad.

But I do like to have fun.

And I will.

Oh, speaking of the club, I've been warned of wearing the proper attire. I've literally spent my life being "properly attired." 

Except for that one time.

Maybe we'll tell that story in a different post.

A New Ballgame

 

The anxiety built as I cruised along I-84 in the Hudson Valley.

I hadn't been into the old hood in several weeks since there don't appear to be any future editions of the sports show I used to be a part of on Monday nights. With no sponsor, well, that ends that.

("Doubleheader" currently has no sponsors either. Inquire within.)

I pulled off at the place marked Exit 23 on the Taconic State Parkway to grab coffee and a sandwich. But that was it. There was no time -- or need -- to drive down to Longview Drive and see the updates on my parent's old house.

I was on my way to work my first Hudson Valley Renegades game of 2023.

So, yeah, anxiety. I get it before the first broadcast of a season and in lots of places. "Good nerves," I call them.

Will I be stopped at the parking gate? (No)

How will I get into the stadium? (I'll walk right in)

Who will be working in the booth with me? (A great group of people)

Will I sound OK? (That's always up for debate and in the eye of the beholder)

You know, stuff like that.

So I grabbed a parking spot and walked in as if it hadn't been seven months since I was last there.

I went straight to the booth where my friend "Fish" was serving as trainer for the booth producer (Eric) and the "Click Effects" guy (Mike, or "Mikey Clicks"). Click Effects is the system that runs most of the sounds you hear in the stadium, like sound effects and music and so on.

Then we had Richard ramping up to speed on Crossfire, which is what runs the video board and the other sounds not controlled by Click Effects. Zach was training him.

In the middle -- literally -- of all of that was me.

My job -- essentially -- is to stick to the script and get the reads done. In some ways, it feels like conference moderating for Hunt Scanlon. I handle the introductions and keep things moving in a timely manner. 

Except it's sports and they can go into extra innings.

As it did today.

There were hiccups. There are things we could all do better. For many in the booth, today was their first time. For me, it was my first time since last September. There will be a learning curve and a ramping up.

Still, I'm hopeful that the patrons at Heritage Financial Park didn't notice anything other than a fun time at the old ball game.

We had plenty of fun in the booth. We laughed a lot and that will always put me at ease.

Oh, and Sean was there, a few doors down, running his camera in the empty visiting radio booth. Ironically, he was in that booth as a six-year-old when he accompanied me to broadcasts with Sean Ford back in the day. Now, he works there.

Also, the ballpark looked fantastic as the first phase of improvements have taken shape. There's more to come to really inject a shot of energy into the place.

The Gades had the lead and lost the lead and, eventually, lost the game in the 10th inning. That's baseball for ya, as a wise man frequently says.

But there were plenty of smiling faces and the Easter Bunny was there and there were dogs of all sizes strolling for "Bark at the Park" and the weather was nice. Kids ran the bases after the game was over and there was an Easter egg hunt.

Laughter, baseball, job well done. 

Along with many faces that I was so happy to see. Any anxiety quickly melted away with the hugs and handshakes of seeing friends after many months.

We'll fix whatever hiccups that occurred as the season goes along because we care about the final product.

I drove away pleased. 

Pleased to be back in the Hudson Valley.

Pleased to contribute to baseball.

Pleased to have this be my Easter Sunday.

*****

One more thing about Easter Sunday is that it was the final day of a tradition unlike any other.

Yes, of course, I mean The Masters.

Congratulations to Jon Rahm on his convincing victory and wow did Phil Mickelson show that the old boy can still play some golf?

I'm a ceremonial guy and I could do a whole extra post on this. I love lineup introductions on the baselines and the awarding of the Stanley Cup and other less-"manufactured" celebrations. The Super Bowl, for instance, is ridiculous but I digress. 

So with that in mind, I am all in on The Masters. From the moment the winner sinks the crowning shot on the 72nd hole to the small ceremony in Butler Cabin with Jim Nantz cooing about the Green Jacket to the piano music and the driving theme with the view of Magnolia Lane, I am there.

I know the underbelly. I get it. But I suspend any negativity. 

From Bobby Jones and Clifford Roberts founding the tournament to a roster of champions that includes Sarazen to Nelson to Snead to Hogan to Arnie to Jack to Seve and Tiger and Phil and Rahm, I simply enjoy the moment.

Unlike any other.

Baseball Eve

 

Brunswick, 2022

I say this in preparation.

I'm ready to be disappointed.

Tomorrow is my first scheduled baseball broadcast of 2023 as Brunswick hosts Winchendon for a doubleheader. I expect it to be rained out and thus the disappointment.

It's my first scheduled baseball call since *checks notes* July 27, 2022.

That's so sad and shameful but that's out of my control so we move forward.

Let me try to explain this if you don't know it already.

I've wanted to broadcast baseball since I was maybe 10 or 11. Maybe earlier but I can tell you that I was probably 11 when I lugged a small tape recorder and a lousy microphone to Sycamore Park in Mahopac for an all-star game. I tried to dabble in play-by-play that June afternoon.

I can assure you I was bad because, among many things, I didn't have lineups or rosters. While I've improved in surviving there's still only so much you can do if you don't know who the participants are. Oh, I knew some of the players but not everyone.

I eventually became a huge fan of the "major" pro sports of that time. So I thought broadcasting football would also be great but baseball was my focus.

I also studied so many different broadcasting styles to understand what I wanted to be.

Baseball is the storytellers' game. I wanted to leisurely tell tales from some ballpark while sipping lemonade on a hot summer night.

But I never thought I'd just do baseball. Like I said, I definitely wanted to do football and had practiced a few basketball games as well off TV. In fact, the first time I ever had to do play-by-play with an audience was in school at CSB. In front of a group of strangers, I called a Celtics/Knicks game off a TV in the classroom. 

Apparently, I scared a few of the students somehow. So began over 30 years of doing that.

I did OK -- enough so that I floated home that night. I survived.

Eventually, it was men's softball while working at Kraft General Foods in 1995 when I actually led a broadcast. It was taped and replayed on the in-house TVs at our building in White Plains. I didn't embarrass myself and had a blast doing it.

Then, finally, I called my first game for WGCH on Apr 10, 1999, when Greenwich hosted Port Chester. I've never looked back despite every glimpse of doubt that I've had.

I joined the Renegades in 2001 and, suddenly, I found that maybe I really could do this. That, I suppose, is still a point of debate but it brought me joy to do the number of games I did over the years with the Gades, no matter how sporadically. It culminated in the fun ride of 2021 and I'd be lying if I didn't say I miss it a lot.

I've had broadcasters over the years tell me that by the final game of a season they are just done. They're burned out and can't wait for it to be over. I can tell you that after all of these years and all of these games I've never experienced that feeling.

Especially not with baseball. Oh, sure, it's a grind. Each Babe Ruth tournament that I've called has me worn out by the end of each night, let alone the entire tournament. Still, come the next morning, I'm ready to do it again.

I often feel bad when I drone on about my love of broadcasting baseball. I don't want any other sport to misunderstand that I love calling your teams also. But I'm here because of baseball.

I'm very proud of the work I've done in each sport. I still love calling football for instance, especially when there's a big crowd and there's a different energy. But despite any misgivings mostly due to nerves, I've come to appreciate the nuances of soccer, field hockey, water polo, track and field, volleyball, cheerleading, wrestling, lacrosse, and of course hockey and basketball.

Oh, I've also done golf but that was just phone-in reports from the Greenwich town tournament years ago. Sadly, we haven't covered it since.

Let me repeat: sadly.

Have I missed any sports that I've covered? I'll apologize in advance but I don't think I have.

That's where what we did on HAN was so wonderful. Selfishly, it made me do things that I probably would never get a chance to do, like field hockey and soccer but even unified basketball which was among the most rewarding events I've ever participated in. It was more interview-based than play-by-play but there were still elements of "calling" games and it made a lot of people happy.

And I love covering any age. I've committed to being with Boomslang basketball again, beginning Sunday afternoon, and will make whatever games I can.

But my first love will always be at a baseball field. It's where I can still hear the echoes of Frank Messer on Yankees broadcasts and, of course, Vin. 

Not Vin Diesel or Vince Lombardi, to be clear.

But both Vin (Scully) and Dick Enberg both helped me know that I should do more sports, as they each did football. Enberg was a wonderful basketball announcer while Vin apparently did Fordham hoops back in the 40s. No proof of it exists, sadly. 

Let's not forget Al Michaels, of course, who has called the four major sports, including that little hockey game in Lake Placid in 1980.

No miracles will be necessary to make baseball happen tomorrow. Just crossing of a few fingers I suppose.

I'll go with my Pelican hard-sided case (a gift a few years back from Hector) and maybe my pop-up pod tent in an effort to keep things dry if they play in the rain.

I'll bundle up for the doubleheader. A heavier jacket since the temperature is supposed to be in the 40s.

It's just part of the preparation.

To some of you, this sounds insane and not very appealing. I get it. 

To me, it's part of the story. The weather becomes a chapter in the book.

I'll be learning the 2023 Bruins on the fly tomorrow but I have a good relationship with the coaches so they'll bring me up to speed. I'll also try to ramp up some on Winchendon.

Then -- if they play -- it will be the same as ever. Balls, strikes, infield positions, pitch movement, base-running, and stories.

Somewhere, down in my soul, I still think this is something I was born to do. Somewhere I still think I'm fair at it. So many think they can do it. But there is so much that goes into being a broadcaster. It's more than just balls and strikes. It's opening, closing, transitioning, engineering, describing, analyzing, organizing, engaging, explaining, elaborating, troubleshooting, juggling, and, yes, entertaining.

It's making the broadcast happen until everything else fails and it's literally out of your control. You exhaust all options.

In the case of the weather, I can't fool Mother Nature. She (and the teams) get the final say.

Then, if allowed, I become the conduit by describing the action.

If it happens, I'll talk to you at noon tomorrow on LocalLive and Robcasting.

FORE ... Again, One Day

 

Griffith E. Harris Golf Course ("The Griff") in Greenwich, CT
(Picture: greenwichct.gov)

I believe it has been seven years since I last played golf.

Chris Erway and I teed off at Putnam National in Mahopac in fall 2015, if my memory is working. It was the first time I had played the course, which I could see from my elementary school (shout out to Austin Road) when I went to school there.

Now, like literally every athletic endeavor of mine*, I'm terrible. I could, at one time, hit the ball a ton off the tee but then watch it turn left and get lost. Oh, I was a master of that. 

*We shall not speak of my basketball shooting display with my Hunt Scanlon friends in San Francisco. It screamed exhaustion and being old and, well, sucking. Bad.

Chris, to his credit, was patient, giving me some pointers that actually helped. Yet that was the last time I played.

The key to playing golf is having a friend who will put with how you play. Chris and I handled that well. He's a good player and once I began to fall apart on a hole, I'd step away and wait for him to finish. It seemed to work.

There was a point where WGCH would participate in the Greenwich Football golf outing every year. Bob Small, Tony Savino, me, and a fourth (I know it was Chris one year) would bring golf down to its knees as we worked our way around The Griff here in Greenwich. We'd get yelled at every year -- without fail -- for slow play.

Every year, we thought the marshall was being a bit unfair but that was an opinion for another time.

But we had fun and that was the point.

Still, my clubs sit in the attic, laughing as loudly as my baseball glove does. Both haven't been used in some time.

Of course, golf is a sport that isn't cheap. Sure, I have the clubs (thank you, Michael Breed) and a bag and I've replaced or added clubs over the years. But greens fees and cart fees can be bad. Some are affordable, for sure (looking at you, The Griff) but then there's also the thing of carving out time.

So, yeah, there can always be a convenient reason.

My favorite times to play are when we're laughing and sharing a cooler while playing. In the perfect version, we might not even keep score. "We" is relative because the playing partner needs to be someone who just wants to have a good time.

But, at this point, I fear I would just embarrass myself. That won't stop me, but I know what my expectations are.

I was truly spectacular at losing golf balls. If there was a water hazard nearby, you bet I would find it. Woods? Mine. Sand traps? Well, you don't usually lose a ball in there but, yeah, you know what I mean.

I'd hit it. Then keep flailing away to try to get out.

Now, of course, that can build frustration but if everyone is laughing and enjoying things then there's no concern. I've not broken a club out of anger.

I have, however, uttered a profanity or 100.

I'll get back out there eventually and, maybe, even with a little more consistency.

And I'll curse it when I do. 

Putnam National Golf Club (now Putnam County Golf Course), Mahopac
(Photo via Facebook)

The favorite sports broadcasters bracket!

 

Vin Scully calls the 1965 World Series.
That's the criminally underrated Ray Scott behind Vin.
Ray was the anti-Gus Johnson

"Hello again, everybody..."

"Hello, friends..."

"And a very pleasant good evening to you wherever you may be..."

Joe Manniello, who has become the master of all things brackets in my life, has done it again.

Recently, I did brackets of greatest Best Pictures, and Billy Joel songs, and Beatles songs. But today (echoing "today" Lou Gehrig-style), he brings us perhaps the most fitting of them all...

THE FAVORITE SPORTS BROADCASTERS BRACKET!

Now, look, I didn't pick those in the bracket and neither did Joe. I'm told that four people did a draft of the 32 participants.

Let's dispense with a few things here:

- Gus Johnson didn't get drafted. No further comment.

- Red Barber and Mel Allen also didn't, which is largely indicative of a need for a historian in the group, but we shall not quarrel.

- Not a single Caray to be found. 

- No Ernie Harwell. 

- No Marty Glickman.

- I can keep going but you get my point (no Phil Rizzuto, Joe Garagiola, Bill White, or basically any Yankees voices...).

Lastly, and I can't stress this enough...

Who's playing to lose to Vin Scully in the final because you all know he's winning this.

We'll start in the "I Don't Believe What I Just Saw" region.

Vin/Doris Burke -- Sigh. I'm a big Doris fan, but this isn't fair. Vin.

Bob Costas/Mike Tirico -- An all-Syracuse matchup (read: sports broadcasting elitism in the non-Fordham/Arizona State/etc division). Like Tirico. Love Costas. Bob.

Jack Buck/Joe Buck -- We will see JACK tomorrow night! (This one is just mean)

Howard Cosell/Don Criqui -- Question: How well do you all know me? Don Criqui is an all-time great PBP voice. Cosell is an all-time great mouth who stepped on countless PBP announcers. As Don Imus called him, "The Great Don Criqui." Yes. Really.

Sweet 16:

Scully/Costas -- That's rough for the second round, Bob. You deserved better. Vin.

Jack Buck/Criqui -- Damn. Sorry, Don. Jack Buck.

Regional final:

Scully/Buck -- "I don't believe what I just saw" gets steamrolled by "In a year that has been improbable, the IMPOSSIBLE has happened." Except, it's not impossible. It's Vin. All day.

To the "Do You Believe In Miracles" region.

The team of John Madden-Pat Summerall against Leslie Visser (who wasn't a PBP voice anyway) -- Unfair. Pat and John.

Jim Nantz/Ian Eagle -- This will break over certain lines. I love Nantz. 

Curt Gowdy/Kevin Harlan -- I bet Harlan wins this one big. "The Cowboy" (Gowdy) was the voice of the big games when I was a kid. I'm taking Gowdy.

Al Michaels/Tony Romo -- Al is miraculous and one of the great PBPers of all time. He's also a Scully disciple. Al.

Sweet 16:

Madden-Summerall/Nantz -- Goodbye, friends. Pat and John.

Gowdy/Michaels -- Curt hit the back nine in the 70s. Al was on the front nine and is still swinging. Al's got a lot of great calls. Curt goes all the way back to Mel Allen in the 40s. But Al is Al.

Regional Final:

Madden-Summerall/Michaels -- two against one. Telestrator against sarcasm and gambling. Summerall did tennis and golf away from football and was an early sports reporter in New York. Al has done baseball, hockey, and basketball. It's tough. The edge -- slightly -- goes to Al Michaels.

That leaves us a Final Four matchup of Al Michaels against his idol Vin Scully and let's not kid ourselves, shall we? Vin.

The "Whoa Nellie!" region.

Doc Emrick/Charlie Jones -- An inspired call with Charlie Jones but he's no match here. He's been ladled away and shuffleboarded by Doc.

Verne Lundquist/Gary Thorne -- Great first-round matchup. I could go crazy with this one but the number of great calls in Uncle Verne's career is overwhelming. YES SIR!

Brent Musburger/Tim McCarver -- "You are looking live!" at two guys who weren't initially known for play-by-play, at least nationally. T-Mac became a World Series staple doing color, and Brent is Brent. I'll give the edge to Brent.

Keith Jackson/Bill Raftery -- Oh this is just wrong! First, I'm a play-by-play guy. But Raft is one of my favorites. But Keith IS college football (even if he called so many baseball games that sounded like he'd rather be anywhere else). Can I "send it in JEROME!?" No. I just can't. "Hello, Heisman!"

Sweet 16:

Doc/Verne -- I hate to say that you know how this one is going. Doc waffle boards Uncle Verne aside.

Brent/Keith -- I love hearing Brent tell stories but Keith is Keith.

Doc/Keith -- Remember, this is my bracket. It's not who I think will win. As I said, I always felt Keith was ambivalent at best when calling baseball (and he was on the "Bobby Murcer" game when Cosell allowed him to talk). But Doc changed how I viewed hockey and definitely how I called it. "WHAT CHAOS," indeed!

Lastly we head to the "OH MY!" region.

Marv Albert/Sam Rosen -- This had to be a local pick. Marv is a New York institution that became huge nationally. YES!

Howie Rose/Mike Breen -- I was going to "Put it in the books!" but then "BANG!" Mike Breen is one of my heroes. Love Howie (really, I do) but Breen is a different level. 

Kenny Albert/Gare-Keith-Ron -- Er...what? The Mets fans will whine. Kenny will understand. GKR. 

Dick Enberg/Dan Shulman -- This is so unfair to Shulman but Dr. Enberg has been one of the voices of my life, in fact even "BV" (Before Vin). The Renaissance Man himself, Dick Enberg.

Sweet 16:

Marv/Breen -- This was a setup. A tough one. Both can claim the hand of Marty Glickman as guidance. Both worked with the irascible Imus. Both are hysterically funny. Both did local sports (Breen on WFAN and Marv on Channel 4). Breen did football at one time in addition to basketball while Marv did the NFL, Knicks, and Rangers. Plus he anchored the World Series on NBC at one time. But I've met Breen and love his style. That's literally the only edge. Breen.

G-K-R/Enberg -- Dick Enberg. Next.

Breen/Enberg -- I love you, Mike. I really do. But Dick Enberg helped me love tennis from Wimbledon. He helped me get more entrenched into the NFL with Merlin Olsen. He nudged me along with college basketball. Plus he hosted the "Sports Challenge" TV show. He goes to the Final Four with Doc Emrick, Al Michaels, and Vin Scully.

I've already moved Scully into the championship.

Now it's Doc versus Dr.

I hate that it's come to this. Each man has impacted me profoundly. I never had a chance to talk to Dr. Enberg but I did talk to Doc Emrick last year. I've made it clear how both helped guide me as a broadcaster. Dick Enberg's two edges are that he has a longer impact on me and that he did more sports, though some forget all the different things Doc Emrick called.

You know how this is going to turn out anyway, and I'd love to call a draw but I can't. Dick Enberg sashays into the final by a whisker.

I told you from the beginning who would win this all along and everyone else was fighting for second place.

Vin Scully over Dick Enberg.

Which is no crime.

Oh my!

A little rain must fall

Pour your misery down (Garbage -- the band)

It's a rainy, rather miserable night in New York.

Some are only happy when it rains.

With that said, there's enough gloom, so why add to it?

I just feel like I don't have a huge agenda to write about tonight. I've created (or helped create) three podcasts today. I sat and waited for a radio show that never happened and another podcast got postponed.

In the meantime, I turned down work (for the podcast that postponed) but will pick some more up tomorrow. It all evens out, right.

Have I mentioned I'm not a fan of last-minute things?

And the Renegades will be ramping up further (that's good, to be clear). Think about it. It's April 12th. There are 18 precious days left in this month and the season starts on May 4th. Regardless of whether I'm calling a game that night or not I'll be working as I will be writing game summaries beginning with game number one.

Game number one, in New Jersey, is 22 days away, or three weeks from tomorrow.

That first week will give me time to get to know the players, even from 120 miles away.

But there's much more to come in Gades Talk. Or Tales From the Gades Booth?

Huh.

So, with no radio show today, I couldn't talk about...

The Masters (overall boring)

The Yankees (until late yesterday they were struggling in a lot of troubling ways)

The Mets (why start that game yesterday? Conversely, maybe Stroman could not tweet everything? I mean, you didn't want Bauer due to some of his behavior but Stroman is OK?)

Spring sports in Connecticut (they've officially started and good!)

Replay trouble in Major League Baseball (I mean, the bottom line is to get it right, isn't it?)

Phil Mushnick (making racist, putrid statements about Gary Sanchez needing an interpreter. Isn't it interesting we can criticize others in the industry when it's for this but when it's for other performance issues then it's considered a no-no?)

Perhaps my thoughts would have been a hair more in-depth than that.

Anyway, I have to finish up editing a podcast that John Nash and I just recorded. Anytime I chat with anyone from the Tampa Bay area -- especially someone who was there during the years I was visiting my grandparents -- it takes me to a happy place.

That will be published sometime tomorrow.

So, I'll resume editing.

The Admin

Preparing game notes and my scorebook last August at Dutchess Stadium

I've belonged to -- and grumbled about -- the Play-by-Play group on Facebook before.

Now I get a say in it.

Mike Hirn and I were both named admins today.

It has, frankly, gotten stale. Good conversations have mostly given way to promotions of talk shows and podcasts. In a lot of ways, the pandemic damaged the page as none of us had games to broadcast so topics dried up.

While self-promotion is against the group rules, I get it, and there are ways around it. But every post has become either that or "Hey! So (insert name here) says I'm the best broadcaster ever!" Obviously a lot of things fall under the heading of self-promotion.

I've even seen posts intended to get members to buy one thing or another, and frankly, some of them were useful (I mean, we'd all be happy with some well-priced equipment).

For the record, I have two talk shows, a (seldom done) podcast, a blog, and my own little radio channel. I have plenty of things to promote and never have. To each their own.

When I was named "voice" of the Renegades (I'm still getting used to that title), Mike posted it in the group. He'll back me up on this -- I had nothing to do with it. He did that.

In fact, I was a lurker in the group (as I am in most groups). I like to read and maybe chime in when necessary. Despite my love of roads and road photography, there are too many rules and I just don't feel like getting yelled at for crappy road snaps.

But Mike and I need to liven up the PBP group. Keep in mind the full name is "Play by Play Announcers, Sideline Reporters, Color Analysts, Studio Hosts." There's a lot of room for members and good conversations.

In my opinion, you need be nothing more than interested or dabbling in any of those to be admitted. I'll use Harold as an example. He's done color on -- maybe -- 25 games total in the 25 years I've known him. That's 26 more than enough for me.

We -- including Channing Ewing, who started the group -- just want people to talk.

To that end, we ask that you follow the rules, which aren't rocket science.

From there, I'd like to see it spiced up and prefer that I don't have to delete posts and get involved in sorting out nonsense.

Mike and I (and a few others) were having fun one day on a particular topic one day. There was no harsh criticism. In fact, it was pretty benign. I'll politely say a "holier than thou" type spanked the hands of those doing such.

No more. Criticism is fair game. I've seen countless "I hate Joe Buck" posts but having an open conversation about a broadcaster whose style has come under scrutiny isn't OK?

I'm going to allow it. If it turns personal then it will be dealt with.

It's supposed to be a community. It's supposed to be a place for understanding of styles and giving advice. Jeff Alterman is still new to the play-by-play world, for instance. He can use some support and advice.

Some history and philosophy of this craft would be welcome.

Hopefully, I won't have to play babysitter.

Welcome to the new members.

Incidentally, it's a sacred day around these parts, as the New York Rangers won the Stanley Cup on this day in 1994.

I watched it at Scott's house. It could have been a magical year, as the Knicks could have won the NBA Final a week later and the Yankees were denied by the MLB strike.

But, we have the Rangers. It has lasted a lifetime, hasn't it?


(Oh, by the way, looks like that Yankees stuff from yesterday was nothing. To paraphrase Elmer Fudd, "It's vewy vewy quiet for the Yankees hunters. Hahahahahaha")

SPORTS!

So the charity golf match with Tiger Woods, Phil Mickelson, Peyton Manning and Tom Brady happened today.

It was fantastic and I'll be interested in the ratings.

There was smack talk and big shots and laughter and some drama. There were even celebrity cameos and lots of fun on Twitter.

This sports thing is pretty cool.

Add in auto racing coming back along with some tennis and we're getting there slowly.

We now await the official decisions on the team sports in the US (soccer is back in other parts of the world).

I have no profound words otherwise. I watched golf today and it was great.

I can listen to Peyton Manning talk for hours. The guy makes me laugh. His pre-match crack about having Eli, Nick Foles or Bill Belichick caddy for him was hysterical.

Tom Brady was funny and approachable but also grumpy at times. He also took good-natured ribbing and hit the shot of the day.

Phil Mickelson is the consummate riverboat gambler. That's why we love him. But he was also brilliant in breaking down the golf course.

And Tiger? He was great also. His personality was on display. We don't always get the more charming side.

This was all good, with the Turner group broadcasting it. Brian Anderson was a tremendous anchor, while Trevor Immelman and Charles Barkley provided fun and solid analysis. Amanda Balionis handled the interviews. Justin Thomas stole the show as the on-course analyst.

Oh, and speaking of stealing the show, take a few minutes and find the video of of Ernie Johnson explaining why he wasn't on the broadcast. There might be tears.

Kudos all around.

(Photo: Getty Images)

Let's do more of this.

*****
Day 23: A song you think everybody should listen to

I'm going back to Huey Lewis.

The band was obviously a hit machine at one point but there were other songs that either weren't hits of weren't released as singles.

So I thought I'd highlight something else.

The song is called "So Little Kindness." The lyrics, admittedly, are pointed. They're about a relationship that is over but the woman in this case can't seem to find it in her heart to be cordial.

It features a fierce lead guitar performance by Chris Hayes, who co-wrote the song with Lewis and saxophonist Rob Sudduth. Curiously, it initially appeared on the Time Flies compilation album -- one of four new tracks tacked on at the end. Lewis felt that they could do it better so they re-cut it for 2001's Plan B album*.

* It's funny the things you remember. I recall buying Time Flies at the Borders in White Plains, NY and Plan B at a Wal Mart on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Go figure.

Unfortunately I can't find the Plan B version, so here's the Time Flies one.

"Now I don't deny it's over but why must you be so cold..."

So, Now What?

The familiar stance of Bobby Murcer on TV tonight (YES Network)

Today is Friday the 13th, and it's probably fitting because what a weird week it has been.

Yesterday was the day sports stopped.

We've documented it all week. By this morning, basketball, hockey, baseball, all college championships, golf (including The Masters), soccer, NASCAR and just about everything else had been either postponed or canceled.

The size of the event didn't matter, be it March Madness or Dodge For a Cause (at the Greenwich Boys and Girls Club).

Honestly, it should go without saying that sports is not everything, even to me.

But, it will be a unique stretch of undetermined time. We don't know when anything will be "normal."

Two weeks, baseball says? Hopeful, but I feel it's not likely.

A month, per the NBA? Maybe, but six weeks feels more probable.

We will move forward. We will figure it all out. We have to.

The rhetoric has to stop. But, we know it won't.

We'll watch TV and movies and we'll read and write and do projects around the house.

Life will continue without sports. Temporarily.

I called the Brunswick/Episcopal lacrosse game late yesterday afternoon and stuck to my game plan of allowing people to watch a sporting event (the only one, and the last one, involving a Connecticut team to my knowledge). What I mean by that is I made no reference to COVID-19 or Coronavirus.

I referred to "the elephant in the room" once and mentioned the upcoming schedule. The Bruins have already had a game canceled -- at Deerfield on Mar 28. Beyond that, I wanted people to feel what sports is supposed to be: a release. A form of entertainment.

Stamford, CT at 6:00 p.m. on Thursday, 3/12/20

The drive was eerie. While this can't be compared to Sep 11, 2001, there was still that ominous feeling of one story breaking after another, along with much less traffic as I drove.

Yes, it's a scary time. You bet it is. It's scary for health but it's also scary for the economy.

Still, folks have found plenty of ways to make it all about themselves.

That's not to say I'm not concerned but, as with all of this, there are priorities.

So, it stinks that all sports are gone. We'll be OK though. But, in any industry, it's the part-timers and freelancers who can get hurt. There's no guarantee of pay at all.

This situation is so fluid. Things are changing and will continue to do so.

One day at a time will have to be the rule.

Tiger's Time

(Phot: CBSSports.com)

Unless you live under a rock, you know Tiger Woods won The Masters today.

Well done, sir.

Truth: I was rooting against him. I've basically always rooted against him, or just not cared.

It's not a question of not liking him. He and the hype surrounding him have never been my thing.

But it was appointment TV. Starting with a rare 9 a.m. "Hello, friends" on TV, I was off and running, watching with amazement.

The simple fact was Tiger had never done this before. Never played from behind and won. Oh, but once he smelled blood, it was on.

Jack Nicklaus, watching while fishing in the Bahamas, told the Golf Channel that he thought the tournament was over that when he saw occasional leader Francesco Molinari sink his shot in the water on 12.

I thought the same.

Is Tiger similar to other dynasties? Obviously, I'm a pretty big fan of two of them (Steelers and Yankees, naturally) so I don't know if that's where I get turned off. I know that, unless you're invested in said dynasty, it can be easy to root against them (HELLO, Patriots!).

Still, never let it be lost that Tiger hasn't exactly been the most wonderful person at times. His behavior caused ex-wife Elin Nordegren to go all "9 iron" on him back in 2009, for instance.

The post-win reaction has been predictable, as Madison Ave (looking at you, Nike) is falling all over itself.

There were moments of humanity in it all, and well-framed by CBS. Jim Nantz gave the winning moment a simple call ("The return to glory"), then got out of the way for shots of Tiger hugging everyone, especially sharing a sweet moment with his son, which was then compared to Tiger hugging his own dad at Augusta back in 1997.

Nantz had a moment of schmaltz as well, telling viewers that we all needed to feel similar emotions, especially fathers.

Sorry, Jim. I did not.

But keep in mind Augusta National isn't always the most charming place in the world. Broadcaster Jack Whitaker was banished from Masters coverage (only ... on CBS) after referring to the crowd (or, as Augusta National MAKES you say, "The patrons") for using the term "mob scene." No, seriously.

Then there's Gary McCord. Let's just not go there.

But I have to admit: I thought he was done. I didn't think it would happen. So I'm more than willing to admit that I was wrong.

So now begins Eldrick Overkill (which sounds one of an enormous collection of band names). If you're not already sick of him, you will be. Soon.

Still, before you think that I was in full Clint Eastwood mode ("Get off my lawn"), let me assure you that my emotions bounced between straight-up apathy and wonder. It was a great sports moment, punctuated by many calling it the greatest comeback EVER.

Let's let it sink in first.

For today, enjoy that it was a great Masters Moment. A great golf moment.

A great sports moment.

*****

Thanks, Mike (Mike Hirn photo)

I meant to give a shoutout to Mike Hirn for sending this picture along from Ohio. He was listening to me caterwaul through a portion of 23 innings yesterday at Yale. I really appreciated that. I'm aware that there was a little ol' technical snafu, especially with the second game, so unless you knew where to listen (and some of you do), then you likely didn't hear it.

All I can say it I knew that the game likely wasn't being heard and as I'm not really in charge of the engineering of the broadcast, there wasn't much I could do. So I continued to stay professional and call the game, given basically the press box at Yale was likely the only audience I had. Check out last nights post if you want to listen to it.

Or not. Chances are you didn't miss much.

Those Who Can't, Teach

I'm getting this post in under the deadline before midnight, so time is tight if I want to do a post-per-day.

I was back teaching at Connecticut School of Broadcasting this evening, where I'm the night instructor for sports reporting, play-by-pay, and so on.

It was one of the largest classes I've had in a long time -- and that stretches now some 14 years.

I worried. But I always do.

There are those who don't like sports, have no interest in sports, are intimidated by sports, or are flat-out sports haters.

There are myriad personalities to address.

I thought for sure this group might push me to the limit.

I didn't think I was reaching them.

I didn't think I inspired them.

Yet they reminded me why I love to teach.

I worked with the esteemed Andy Madison of WEBE 108, who has become a favorite to work with, as we share the same passion for war stories, music, sports, and laughter.

As for the group, those who were completely perplexed by writing sports found their voice. I've been known, in a pinch, to write their reports for them. In this case, they all made sure they did it, with one girl telling me that she wanted (paraphrasing) a nudge to get on the right path and then she would write it.

Not only did she write it, but voiced it. So did the other students.

It was one of the best groups I've dealt with. They were fun and challenging, with great voices and deliveries. Their performances were terrific.

They took the coaching and criticizing (aka "nitpicking") that Andy and I had to offer.

I taught them how to conduct interviews, and had barely scratched the surface, only brushing the top of play-by-play.

They walked out feeling entertained and that they had learned a new skill. Once they got past the notion of it being about sports, they realized it was something useful.

It was a joy, and I'm pleased that I'll be back with them again in February.

I was proud of them.

I was proud of me.

Dick Enberg (1935-2017)

From left: Dick Enberg and Merlin Olsen, 1988

I woke up to the news that we lost one of our pillars of sports broadcasting.

One of my heroes in this business.

Dick Enberg has died at 82.

Oh, my indeed.

Over a nearly 60-year career, Enberg (who held a doctorate in health sciences) truly "touched 'em all" (paraphrasing one of his catch phrases).

He called eight Super Bowls, and would have called a ninth, but ceded the job to outgoing Curt Gowdy in Super Bowl XIII. Enberg chose to anchor the pre-game show instead, allowing Gowdy one last call on NBC.

It was with the Peacock Network where Enberg would make his name nationally, but prior to that, he was renowned in Los Angeles for his coverage of UCLA, as well as the Angels and Rams.

It was Enberg who called the UCLA/Houston "Game of the Century" to a national audience in 1968. That was the first time a regular season college basketball game was seen across the country.

He hosted a couple of game shows, as well as Sports Challenge, a trivia show that brought out some of the most famous athletes ever. Imagine the likes of Mickey Mantle and Joe DiMaggio on a game show? You didn't have to. They were on Sports Challenge.

Upon his move to NBC in 1975, Enberg became among the most familiar voices in the business. The Renaissance Man truly did it all. The eight Super Bowls. The 1982 World Series. The Rose Bowl. Wimbledon (which he and Bud Collins made into appointment TV with Breakfast at Wimbledon). The French Open. The Breeders' Cup. Boxing. The US Open (and, later, The Masters on CBS). The Olympics. The NBA. College basketball.

He was absolute brilliance with Billy Packer and Al McGuire on college hoops, including the famed Magic/Bird National Championship of 1979. Here they are in 1981, calling Notre Dame/Virginia.



He even a couple of Canadian Football League Games during the 1982 NFL strike.

Here's Dr. Enberg, chatting with another broadcaster named Scully. The two retired in 2016.



For me, Enberg will always be the NFL. He'll always be a Sunday afternoon with the great Merlin Olsen -- my favorite NFL broadcasting duo. It was a big event when Dick Enberg was on, and he and Olsen were the perfect combination of broadcasting finesse.

Here are the two opening a 1988 AFC Divisional Playoff Game.


There are so many standout moments, and others will hit me as the day goes on, but here's a classic: John Elway and the Broncos on "The Drive" in 1987.



He had just started doing a podcast, and tweeted this yesterday:

From the #Beatles to David Letterman - James Cagney to George Clooney - TV Producer and Executive, Andy Friendly, has rubbed shoulders with the biggest names in entertainment. He takes us behind the scenes today on #SoundofSuccess! https://t.co/NrPPnduTEo

— Dick Enberg (@Deohmy) December 21, 2017

Oh yeah, and he was one of the broadcasters in The Naked Gun (with Mel Allen, of course).


The only way to finish this is to present you with his most famous phrase of all. Thank you, Dick Enberg, for everything. Oh, my.

Thank You, Vin

We're beginning to say our farewells in the final inning of Vin Scully's career. Tonight, the Dodgers held a ceremony to honor our hero in the fading twilight of the 67th year. We are now faced with oncoming reality of 1 A.V. (After Vin, of course).

For one thing, I won't be watching Dodgers games anymore, but I digress.

He's been everything. Mentor to too many broadcasters to count (that's me raising my hand). He's been friend to fans everywhere -- most of whom will never so much as be in the same room as him. He's been dad to those who have lost. Or grandfather. Or uncle.

We think he belongs to us, and we're not entirely wrong. From Brooklyn to Los Angeles and the transistor radios, he's been a part of the world of the Dodgers.

We nearly brought him back to New York in 1965 as a replacement for Mel Allen, but we were able to hear him on each of the major networks at one point or another. He showed up on NBC for a few World Series before becoming the lead baseball voice in the 1980s.

He was on CBS for golf (including the Masters). Check out this funkalicious bit from 1978.



He also did tennis on CBS (yes, tennis). Of course, he called football, including a little something called "The Catch." Incidentally, he's brilliant (duh) and has the great Hank Stram alongside of him.



It all turned out well, but his road nearly changed. If CBS didn't pair Pat Summerall with John Madden, it would have been Vin. Oh my indeed. But we were the lucky ones, and Vinny moved onto NBC.

The icon and legend grew.

Vin and I were once in the same ballpark. It was Old Timer's Day at Yankee Stadium in 1983, and wouldn't you know it - I found video of the opening of that broadcast!


Yes, young Rob was in there, in the right field seats, for Bobby Murcer's first Old Timer's Day (my first also), and for the Yankees and Rangers to meet in the regular game.

We didn't meet that day, though I did take a picture of the booth (yup, even then).

Joe Garagiola, Vin, Phil Rizzuto, Frank Messer, Bobby Murcer, John Gordon, and Bill White (RA photo).

Anyway, at this point I don't ever expect to meet him or interview him, but I am grateful to him. Grateful for everything he has taught me. In a time when we need heroes (however insignificant), this red-headed kid originally from The Bronx and then Washington Heights taught me the most about sculpting the narrative of a whole lot of sporting events for listeners and viewers.

But there's more to Vin.

He hosted a game show in the 1970s. Yes. A game show.


There was also a talk show. And later, on ABC (this was in the 90s) he was back to doing golf.

Oh wait. Did I mention the Tournament of Roses Parade?



Of course the top calls are being ranked. Shall we rank the work Oscar Wilde or Emily Dickinson or Stephen King? I suppose that's what we do. Most are going to say number one is the Kirk Gibson home run, and I don't blame them.



Oh it's brilliant, of course. Heck, the back story is that Scully himself unknowingly propelled Gibson to hit because the latter heard the former say that Gibson wouldn't play. There are a litany of great lines in it "Not a bad opening act," "You talk about a roll of the dice," and the best of all: "In a year that has been so improbable, the impossible has happened."

I love it. But for me, technically, it's simply not the best ever.

That, of course, is saved for "Twenty-nine thousand and a million butterflies."



"You can almost taste the pressure."

I've explained it to students. It's been reprinted verbatim. It's not a single moment like the Miacle on Ice or the The Shot Heard Round the World. But it is everything. It's perfect. Vin and Sandy - forever intertwined in that regard.

Oh my there are others. Hank Aaron's 715th. Fernando's no-hitter. The Twins walking off against the Braves in 1991. Larsen in '56. The comments following September 11th. Mookie Wilson in '86.

Countless moments -- big and small. The narration of a brawl or an argument with an umpire. The little moments of watching children in the stands. The meticulous preparation and the use of such things like explaining Socrates (the philosopher) while Socrates (Brito, the Diamondback) was at home plate.

Yet sometimes it's the brilliant subtlety, where nothing needs to be said. Until tonight, I've never heard his call of Joe Carter's World Series-winner in 1993.


"Home run!" Then silence. Wonderful.

Perhaps my favorite, past Koufax, is the last out of the 1996 World Series. The crowd noise. The utterly insane euphoria. Vin's inner-child saying "Is this something? I mean do you loooooove baseball? There's not a thing the Yankees can do. They can't the quarterback kneel down on the ground. They can't freeze the ball. Sooner or later, they've gotta throw it."

That's on my collection of highlights that I put on my archive page several years ago. That's how we'll finish here. Thanks, Vin.