Oh, Christmas Tree

 

Hop on Pop. I loved the book as a kid. This was from Sean.

One might say it is a Christmas miracle.

Mock it if you wish.

But the significance of a Christmas Tree in my home is no small thing.

The tree itself is a relic, dating back to a time when I was married, and it served as a second tree for us. As I recall, it came from a store where they were getting ready to throw it out.

So it got claimed.

After the various machinations of life -- relocation, etc -- it came to be Sean's while living at his mother's. Last year, he said he wanted to move it to Greenwich.

I couldn't say no. I wouldn't say no.

So he brought it here, well into the season, we lit it up, and it sat there until just after the first of the year. We didn't put ornaments on it, but there was a certain amount of joy regardless.

Oh, I've buried some stuff here, haven't I? Christmas and the season post-Thanksgiving have long been an issue for me. My dad loved Christmas, so I put on a happy face every year to keep Mom going after he died. It seemed like the right thing to do. Keep up appearances.

Eventually, I was blessed with Sean, and of course, I wanted all of his days to be merry and bright.

He grew up, and times changed. With Mom getting older and holiday events being anywhere but at her house, the tree tradition just stopped.

Sean still had a tree at his mother's house, and we were sort of OK with all of it. Plus, the holiday season just became this thing that we survived.

Of course, after Mom passed in 2020, neither one of us was in any great rush to put a tree up. The emotional weight of her loss made that an easy call, combined with the inevitability that we'd move and the living room being loaded with stuff.

Again, we'd keep up appearances, but the family part of it changed. Of course, our address would also change with the move to Greenwich.

I'd do little things each year, like put up a few holiday-related items, even if just for a chuckle. I'd work in our Waffle House Christmas mugs along with our WSNO radio station model.

A small tree -- Mom had one of those fiber optic ones, might also come out as a nod to her minimalist approach toward the end of her life.

The ornaments, however, stayed in a bin.

Finally, Sean brought the tree here last December. There would be no presents under it -- a result of economic realities -- but it was there.

What we would do is treat ourselves to a trip as a present. But, yeah, times were really tough. We're still not exactly on easy street either.

We put the tree back in our basement last December, and it stayed there. I didn't give it much thought until Sean reminded me.

With this year -- and maybe a renewed sense of life -- I said it was time to reach into the time capsule of ornaments.

Bugs Bunny, Derek Jeter, Mickey Mantle, Fred Flintstone, Goassamer the monster, The Beatles, and myriad sports ornaments dot the tree. The Hop on Pop ornament -- a gift from Sean to me when he was little -- is clipped in place. Other nostalgic trinkets, dating back before I was born, are in their rightful place.

There's even a WGCH ornament, from the brief era that we also owned WVIP out of Mount Kisco.

It's minimal. It's leaning slightly. It has an angel topper that was created, probably back in the mid-70s.

It's perfect for us.

Oh, please. Go ahead and call it a Charlie Brown tree. I've already said it.

But it's also like Mom and Dad are here.

And, you know what?

I'm here also.

And that's how it should be.

*****

I'm off to England tomorrow morning. For the first time since 1999, I won't be on a Greenwich football playoff game. I was on the semifinal win over Fairfield Prep as the sideline reporter (!) in '99, before John Connelly called the championship win over Southington.

I've called every playoff game since.

Monday night, Dan Murphy will be in the lead seat as the Cardinals play -- yup! -- Fairfield Prep. He'll also likely be solo, as no one on the roster is available. Chemistry matters, and I reached out to people I trust. 

I trust Dan. He'll be great.

I'll miss it. But I'll be in the UK.

Game time 6:00 on WGCH and -- yes! -- Robcasting.

Catching Up

On the Taconic Parkway north (11/22/25)

There, by the grace of Babe Ruth or whomever, I reached the anniversary of my birth last Saturday.

Honestly, the last 365 or so have been some of the toughest ones. I don't try to predict the future, and I'm glad I don't, because I couldn't foresee where life was going to take me.

And yet -- somehow -- I'm actually in a good place as this 58th year begins.

Is every part of life in harmony? Oh, good grief, no. But I'm not tossing and turning in bed, wondering how I'm going to pay the rent. That doesn't mean all of life's issues have been resolved, and I'm not here to tell you otherwise. Life is still life, and I'm a survivor.

Let's clear one thing up since we last spoke. While I acknowledged a new avenue in my career, I'm not going to tell much related to that. As you probably know, I've been around student athletes for basically half my life. Protecting them as the true amateurs that they are has always been a top priority. A bad play can be acknowledged. 

If they tell me I can talk about their favorite music or some other narrative? Cool.

But telling you what goes on behind the doors of the school? Nope.

I knew that long ago.

And so, don't expect tales of North Mianus or any other school. In short, I can't. I think most of you know my style and know that I have always used good judgment.

I mean, if you follow along, you'll learn enough.

But I'll say this: I'm doing fine.

Within the past month, things have been swinging.

Our good friend Phil has reared his head again, accusing me of taking a swipe at his child. Um, does anyone recall where I'm working? Why would I ever do that? 

So, he attacked me with a few invectives ("petulant child" and such) and tried to accuse me of other things that I still don't understand, but eventually deleted his posts. Hey, whatever helps him sleep, right?

He's sort of like Walter Peck from Ghostbusters. If you know, well, then, yeah.

Funny enough, that same day Phil was on the attack, I was in New York hosting another Hunt Scanlon conference. Frankly, the work was well-received, setting me up for a trip to London for two -- count 'em, TWO -- conferences in just over a week.

And that same day I received word that I could finally announce a new venture that I've wanted to talk about for some time. 

I'm going to teach a non-credit, continuing education college course on sports broadcasting, specifically play-by-play.

For such a "petulant child," I was having a good day.

And people continue to notice these things.

Also, I've had to turn down a few state broadcasting assignments due to my crazy, tight schedule. So, yes, let's damage that narrative also.

Oh, that doesn't mean I haven't worked on other things. I spent my birthday in Albany, NY, calling the regional football final between Middletown and Saratoga Springs. I would have called a state semifinal and a state championship had a different team advanced to Syracuse for the title game.

And I spent consecutive weekends in Massachusetts covering Brunswick, including a very proud day where we drove to Milton for the Bruins in their bowl game. But Gus, our trusty cameraman, wasn't available, so Sean (the Renegades' master cameraman and employee of the year) did the honors.

He was nervous and cold, but he did a great job, considering we worked the game from the parking lots at the 30-yard line.

Let's see, what else? I hosted the Greenwich Old Timer's banquet again, had a nasty cold that impacted my voice, and just kept grinding along. Oh, and there have been lots of Beatles throughout the month. More than usual, to be honest.

As we turn towards the final month of 2025, one of my biggest disappointments will be this very space. I've written an all-time number of times and I suppose that was mostly due to my own headspace. I simply elected to not write. I'm still trying to get to where I want to do more.

But, most joyously, I'm not just sitting on the couch. I'm active and feel like I can start to live again.

Get busy living or get busy dying, as Morgan Freeman once said in The Shawshank Redemption.

I've got a lot of living to do.

Back To School

 

This happened quickly.

A look at my life a few weeks back revealed that some things needed to change. In short, I needed to work more.

To that end, I've often been told that I should become a substitute teacher. Once, briefly, many years ago, I played with the idea of becoming a substitute in Mahopac. There was mutual interest and, for some reason, it never came to be.

This time, only a few weeks ago, I went to the Greenwich Public Schools website and began the process of applying.

By the next morning, I had an interview booked. For that afternoon.

A day or so later, I was offered a position. After that, it was a whirlwind of paperwork, references, background checks, and so on.

Oh, many thanks to those who served as my references. I owe you one. I likely owe you many.

There was the question of juggling other parts of my life to make sure we can make it all happen. Hunt Scanlon conferences remain important for me. Games, obviously. The Renegades, of course. And so on.

I was told that wouldn't be a problem. I'll be able to get to London in December for two conferences (yes, two). As for games and other commitments, there will be some hustling, but we're going to try to make it work.

Then, the only thing left to do was start. That is, after I went to San Francisco for Hunt Scanlon last week. I had been asked to start even sooner, but they were very understanding.

So today was my first day.

I handled the afternoon for a kindergarten class. But, before that, I was given a pretty complete tour of North Mianus School, my new home.

Every teacher and many of the students greeted me with warmth and genuine excitement.

Now, let's deal with the most obvious point of all: I'm not a teacher. I'm a substitute. There's a big difference.

And, after only one day, let me tell you: teachers are incredible. 

They're heroes.

The work they put into caring for their students is remarkable.

For me, that's a similarity to being a broadcaster: the students come first.

And that's what it will continue to be.

But how was my first day? I kept saying I was overwhelmed, and I stand by that. That's exactly why teachers are incredible.

When it was over -- when I knew each child was safely where they were supposed to be -- I packed up and went home to be a radio broadcaster.

Then I fell asleep. I had been thinking this day for a few weeks and pushing back the anxiety. It manifested into me passing out on the couch.

And now, onto the next day. 

How will this play out? Anything can happen, and that's what I keep telling myself. But this was something I had to pursue. I've often felt I should have been a teacher, while maybe broadcasting on the side. Life, of course, doesn't play out how we think.

And thus I'm here now.

So, as I ponder everything, I think about whether or not I did right by the students and by the teacher I filled in for.

I mentioned that to a colleague (is that fair to say?) who had helped me during the day, and her response was a panacea.

"You're here," she said. "We need you. Don't question yourself."

I'll move all around my new home, mindful of the responsibility of caring for these students when they're with me. They'll get my best.

Oh, one more thing. For my entire life -- as a father, baseball coach, and anything else -- I've generally avoided the title of "Mr. Adams." 

Like it or not, that's who I am now, and it's very weird.

Back at it tomorrow.

There are some other things coming that I can't quite talk about yet, but I'm excited to put all of these things together. For now, that's all I can offer.

A year ago today, I ended Project 55, my nearly six-year run of publishing one blog post per day. I had reached a point of some burnout and felt it was time to stop. To be honest, I thought I would have written more over the past year, but I opted for more of a micro approach by putting thoughts out via things like social media posts.

But, rest assured, I think about writing often. Sometimes, it's just getting me in front of the computer with an inspiration to my thoughts down.

Like today. This felt like an important day for me.

What I Did On My Summer (Non) Vacation

 

The Electric City!

There are a few times that feel like a fresh start.

Jan 1 is to many people. 

Opening Day of baseball season will always be one to me.

And I think Labor Day is one as well.

Around these parts, that means school is either about to start or has just started.

When I was a kid (yes, way back when), Labor Day normally meant a picnic somewhere.

There would be a lot of wiffle ball and volleyball and badminton and football, and more.

There would be food and family. Or people who felt like family.

We laughed and battled and ate and listened to music and tried to live in the moment. We didn't want it to end because it was also the realization that summer was over and school was about to begin. It was important to stay in the moment.

School -- wearing that first day fit, getting reacquainted with friends, meeting the teacher or teachers, settling back into the rhythm, and buying supplies -- would wait.

School still plays a big part in my life now, as the beginning of school means the beginning of a new year of sports broadcasts for me.

When -- ahem -- Sep 1998 began, I had no idea that it would begin this long association with high school sports. I worked a few Ridgefield High School football broadcasts from the WREF Radio studio in 1996, but I had moved to WGCH by the late summer of 1998. Eventually, they needed someone to run their studio for some games, and I got that opportunity.

That also meant I got to do some on-air work as well. But it all changed when I called Port Chester/Greenwich baseball in 1999. I was now a play-by-play announcer and never looked back.

That December, I worked my first Greenwich football game, capping off the end of my first full season of calling football, doing a slate of Westchester games on WVIP.

This Saturday, I'll be at Brunswick for a scrimmage to check the equipment and have a chance to get some practice in. Next Friday, Dan Murphy and I will put the headsets on and get started on another year of Greenwich football, as the Cardinals host Fairfield Prep. The following day, I'll be at Avon Old Farms for the Brunswick opener against the Winged Beavers.

I'm blessed to be the "voice" (no matter how much I don't love that term) of two great programs. 

Labor Day weekend has been a collection of activity and inactivity. It began with Sean and me going to Scranton for a day trip to Waffle House, trains, and Sheetz. In truth, we should have stayed the night and enjoyed ourselves, but there's a little issue of paying the bills that keeps me up at night.

That, friends, needs to change even if it is at the cost of the number of games I cover.

Nevertheless, we had a great day.

I also had a bittersweet day on Saturday, when I went to see Greenwich and Newtown play a scrimmage. I stood quietly and took in the game, feeling the rush of wanting to put the headset back on.

After the game, I made the short drive to nearby Sandy Hook and briefly visited the new school that replaced the one where the unspeakable happened in December 2012. I pulled in, thinking that the memorial to the 26 lives lost was there before realizing it was up the road. 

Sheepishly, I left and found the stirring memorial, where I quietly paid my respects. I have no words, and I don't think any are needed.

The rest of the weekend was mostly quiet, which tends to be a problem. Oh, sure, I hosted "Meet the Beatles" and we went to Wegmans for groceries, but the summer of 2025 was sometimes too quiet for me.

Don't get me wrong. I called a lot of games, recorded a lot of podcasts, and attended a lot of meetings. But there's a reason I was too cheap to get a room in Scranton.

Again, it has to change.

September will reignite me. Sean and I will get to The Big E. I'll call football and maybe some soccer. Hopefully, depositions will pick back up. We have one more week of Renegades games. And we're heading into a good stretch of conferences from now until early December.

September, of course, also brings reminders of sadness with the reminder of September 11 next week. I'll likely be over at Cos Cob Park that morning for the ceremony honoring the lives lost 24 years ago.

Further, we'll remember Mom later this week, on the fifth anniversary of her passing. Time flies, and we must keep moving forward.

While the summer wasn't full of travels, it was full of ups and downs and a few adventures. And, as the nights get cool, I'm hopeful.

One of these days, the promises will come together into something beautiful.

But let's dive into September. 

A hopeful fall and winter await.

Oh, a final note. Midnight tonight -- Sep 2 -- marks my 35th anniversary in broadcasting. To that, I say thank you for listening, watching, and supporting.

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.

For Lou

 

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

Lou Gehrig knew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I'm announcing this one.

For Lou.

Here Are a Few Words About Tonight

 

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

I just got home from calling Greenwich/Trumbull football. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Night Before the Game

 

(Greenwich Football social media)

Tomorrow is game day for Greenwich Football.

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

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

The Cardinals play at Trumbull High School tomorrow night.

Trumbull. Huh. Where have I heard of them?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Day is Done

 

It's just before midnight and I'm fried.

The Yankees made us sweat through a second straight game before finally winning Game 4 of the American League Championship Series. Last night, of course, was a gutwrenching loss.

But they're now up three games to one and are a win away from their 41st league pennant.

There was also football tonight and I was at Cardinal Stadium for Wilton/Greenwich.

Final score: Wilton 20, Greenwich 17. I'm fairly stunned.

But that's why they lace them up and play. Greenwich had their struggles and the Warriors played an outstanding game.

Big Red falls to 4-1. They play again next Friday at Trumbull.

In the booth, Dan and I had a very good call. We were talking later about my assessment of things and I think he's been outstanding. He's been everything I could hope for.

With that, we call it a night.

Onto Brunswick tomorrow.

As I Write This Letter

 

I felt the need for a breakfast sandwich this morning after a long day of football on Saturday.

I pulled myself together and got out the door to head over to one of the delis that is actually open on Sunday morning.

Sandwich and coffee in hand, I moved onto the WGCH studios and set up. What might not be known is that I don't just sit down and talk. Depending on the show, I have to set up a mixer and connections (for music) and the cable to go to Mixlr for Robcasting.

That's when it hit me.

Look, I would have enjoyed being at home, chilling out with coffee there, especially after another night of questionable sleep. Instead, I was sitting in a (too warm) radio studio preparing to do "Meet the Beatles."

And that was the point.

I get to host a radio show -- one that I came up with* -- about the greatest band in music history.

OK, I actually get to host at least three shows ("Doubleheader," "Meet the Beatles," and "The Clubhouse").

* I realize that, conceptually, "Meet the Beatles" doesn't break new ground. But it's a show that was in my mind for several years, and the idea was to see what I could do with a Beatles show of my own. Overall, I wanted it to be about the discovery and enjoyment of the music. If we can find some different avenues we will.

For the first seven months of the show, I made it my own personal journey, picking different themes each week. Sometimes, I'd go with a "dealer's choice" show that allowed me to just play music. Some weeks, I'd highlight a single member of the band or an album.

I'm sure some weeks have been better than others.

Bennie Rose will be on this month

As October began, I had my first guest on as Mark Zelenz was on last week. This week was just me, so I honored John Lennon's birthday. Sun Kings will join me next Sunday, and Bennie Rose will be on the following week.

We're talking about more guests -- singers, historians, authors, and fans -- that I hope you'll enjoy. I'm still trying to convince Sean to come in for a show, for instance. He doesn't quite understand why but I want him to explain his journey with the music, and it's an example of how it gets passed through generations.

But that's where my mind was this morning as I was sitting there. A lot of radio stations wouldn't embrace this idea.

WGCH did and those in charge like it.

I mentioned it in passing to Bob Small, and he was all in. It took a few months to get it on the schedule but it's now anchored at 9 a.m. on Sunday morning. Will it stay there forever? Who knows?

But there's been no interference. From time to time, I've had a few headaches about "Doubleheader" but that sound and fury has only come from one place, and, beyond that, it has gone away. 

I suppose what I'm saying is that, despite the lack of money the shows have been a joy to do overall. I'm not sure I can afford to do them much longer but I'm content to keep going while there is still the flexibility and hands-off approach. It fits in my schedule and that matters a lot.

WGCH is a gem. It's a gem that we need to make shine more. The website didn't work this morning but that's why Robcasting is always available as a backup. 

I want to make WGCH even better and shows like "Meet the Beatles" helps because it's locally produced.

That needs to be the approach.

We need to make more of that happen.

No Football Tonight

 

Greenwich football has a bye week and, as a result, it's a quiet Friday night.

Brunswick plays tomorrow at Suffield Academy and I plan on being at that one. However, I'm told the setup is a little wonky. I'm going to see it for myself unless I'm told to not go.

I don't do well with byes. For whatever reason, other games are otherwise quiet with the exception of last night's Newburgh/Middletown game. Last year, I picked up a few games at Stepinac but, alas, that's not the case this year.

Instead, today was a day for "Doubleheader" and laundry.

Otherwise, I'm trying to just relax and watch baseball.

And write, of course.

Oh, and catch up on the very little TV/streaming I commit to.

There are other games going on around the region and a night like this reminds me of how I've thought about doing my own "Game of the Week" concept that would be a true one. 

The CIAC, working with WELI Radio and the NFHS Network, has a "Game" in name only. It goes to what appears to be the best option for the crew, which tends to keep everything centered around the New Haven area. This is fair enough, but for the state to have a "Game of the Week" then it needs to go everywhere.

Back in the HAN Network days, I crawled through all of the FCIAC schedules to make sure we were being fair to the entire region. I tried hard to schedule a game involving every FCIAC team because we were the "voice" of the FCIAC at that time. Some games would get postponed or canceled and the goal would be difficult to achieve but we tried hard. I realize we couldn't make everyone happy.

So, in a state like Connecticut, a true "Game of the Week" needs to go Norwich and Danbury and Torrington. It needs to move around. I suppose it could come to Greenwich as well, although GHS does get what I think is sufficient coverage for every game. I'm legally required to say that.

In fact, Greenwich has been on the CIAC "Game of the Week" just once, at Maloney in Meriden last year. That, of course, is in the regional "sweet spot" off I-91 not far from New Haven.

For the record, that was a true "game of the week" ending on a field goal as time expired. NFHS/WELI and WGCH/Robcasting each called it.

So, just saying, if the CIAC wants another "Game of the Week," I know a guy who is willing to drive.

Let's think about it, in fact. In the last 10 days alone I've called games in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Connecticut, and New York. Before the season is over I will likely call one in Massachusetts as well. Let's not forget working in Rhode Island back in August.

Oh, yes, I'll travel.

Since I'm on that path, I still want to call a game at my niece's high school in North Carolina. Plus Chris Erway and I have discussed the same in his new homeland of "New ErJuania."

Heck, I've even pondered a game in Florida.

As a road enthusiast, I think that would be pretty fun. It also supports my mantra of "Have headset, will travel."

Not everyone thinks that way.

But these are the random things that roll through my mind during a bye week on a (too) quiet Friday night while watching Padres/Dodgers.

Oh, hey, I'm not sure if you know but the Yankees are heading into the American League Championship Series. The past five appearances have not gone well for the Yankees, losing the ALCS in 2010, 2012, 2017, 2019, and 2022. I'm hoping it leads to a World Series appearance this time.

There are, of course, other teams that have that same dream.

But it's worth mentioning again that the Yankees -- considered bereft of humor, whimsy, and joy -- made the ALCS.

It's funny, I think the Yankees have all of that. 

Winning creates that.

*****

Last thing tonight. I saw a recent tweet asking about how long broadcasters take to prepare for a game. To me, there is no set answer. My first concern is rosters and a space to broadcast from. Then it's looking for stats as a way to identify key players and storylines. Then I try to find players who have committed or are being looked at.

It's fun detective work.

Of course, our friend Msgr. Toxic had to weigh in via his sanctimonious, heavy-handed away after he took a break from his obsession with hating Bob Costas. Pretty amazing, given his "positive" nonsense.

Anyway, another responder wrote: "Print up the rosters and let’s go. Preparation destroys improvisation. I would tell younglings to prepare way less and trust their ability to tell the story way more. We’re not broadcasters we’re narrators, we’re hosts. I strongly advise against it."

Read that again: "Preparation destroys improvisation." That's perhaps the most ridiculous thing I've read. Thus that's a broadcaster that's hard to take seriously.

Again, I have the ability to get rosters and go because sometimes it's all I can do, especially when the game comes to me at the last minute. Others can't do that.

I'll be prepared tomorrow. With notes and equipment. And I'll be thinking about it as I drive to Suffield.

Hopefully, it doesn't destroy my improvisation. 

Because it never has.

Today's Project in Manhattan

 

I feel the sense to be somewhat short tonight. 

Expedient even.

Oh, I alluded to buying a rug in last night's post. Well, that was waiting for me when I got home tonight. Let's say it was a suggested purchase as a way of muffling sound here in my bedroom.

Sean and I are pretty quiet but 1930s floorboards are not.

But to the starring event of the day. I was asked yesterday if I was available to work.

I mean ... work? Money? Feeling useful?

So I was told to be in the office at 8 a.m.

And my body elected to wake up at 5 a.m. I mean, alarm? What alarm?

I ate a bowl of cereal, put myself together, and got ready to leave.

The job was back in the world of depositions, though it wasn't specifically that. I was asked to help set some things up. Nothing I couldn't handle, especially with a little guidance.

I was in the office before 8 a.m. That's when I started hearing talk of the number of cars we might need.

I figured we might be doing a job in Westchester County. I questioned that as we packed and got ready to leave.

Then I looked at my notes again.

Manhattan.

Look, we can moan about traffic, and, believe me, I sat in plenty of it.

On the Hutch. The Cross County. The Henry Hudson. The West Side Highway.

And I dealt with it all on the way home also. 

But you know that is going to be part of the deal. 

I found a place to park near the job site and we went about setting up.

After we waited. And waited. These things take time.

From there, it became a methodical process of setting up equipment, stringing cables, testing things, and making it all look as neat as possible.

Eventually, we began to deal with the reality of hunger.

I was so hungry that I was sleepy. Oh, wait, that was the 5 a.m. wakeup.

But it was an impressive setup when it was all over. 

And it was work. Good, honorable work.

And then I had a well-earned burger before driving home.

The day also meant spending time in a New York high-rise office building and all of the trimmings that come with that. At one point, I passed two women pushing mail carts.

I was immediately taken back to 1988, General Foods, Rye, in the "Taj Mahal" building to the side of I-287.

That was the very beginning of my corporate career.

The mail room.

And treasured times with people, most of whom I've lost touch with. I was a wee lad of 19 when I took the job, which ended my time as a full-time college student. I'd still get my degree years later by going part-time, but working there was the beginning of eye-opening years for me.

But there was something so innocent about those days in the mail room (and also the office supply stock room) in Rye Brook, NY.

And I was reminded of that as I walked around 55th Street today. It had to be 55th Street, right?

Stories that perhaps will be told at some other time.

But hockey awaits tomorrow and football follows in New York on Thursday.

And I'm prepping for them tonight.

Lastly, I send my love and best wishes to the people of Florida. If you've read this space enough times you know I have loved ones there and that the Tampa Bay area specifically means a lot to me.

Be safe and smart.

Please.

Sweet Success

 

I decided to go out after I finished "Doubleheader" tonight.

Oh, it was nothing fancy. I decided to walk around Marshalls in Port Chester, NY, and grab a frozen pizza at the adjacent Stop & Shop.

As excitement goes, it doesn't get much better.

But, overall, it's a fairly peaceful walk around. With the weather changing, I'm assessing what I have for fall, especially given I have a trip to San Francisco coming up later in the month.

No, I'm not packed yet, but I do think about such things.

But Marshalls has a decent cross-section of stuff, even for me. I thought, for one thing, I'd look for comfortable pants to travel in, especially if I don't have to deal with a belt for TSA purposes.

The same goes for shoes and I nosed around that stuff also.

Alas, my purchases were small and inconsequential.

To be honest, the worst thing about it is the aisles are small, thus crowded if multiple people are there. Oh, and the line to check out is often long.

But, I was out the door with ease and saw ideas in case I decided to go back.

Then it was across the street to grab a frozen pizza.

Stop & Shop was our grocery store of choice back in Mahopac but we're Wegmans boys in Greenwich. Or we've started using the ShopRite in Stamford. We do, however, have a small Stop & Shop and a small Acme that we can walk to.

But the Stop & Shop in Port Chester is a little bigger. Thus, a bigger selection. I grabbed an old favorite of ours -- the store-brand buffalo chicken pizza -- and carried on.

For some reason, the candy aisle called my name.

And there, on a hook, sat packages of an old friend.

Root Beet barrels.

Vin Scully kept Jolly Ranchers handy during broadcasts as a way to keep his mouth lubricated and I love root beer barrels.

My father got me hooked on Life Savers cryst-o-mint hard candies when I was little because he always had them in his car. But good luck finding those anywhere.

But root beer barrels also take me back to being a kid. It always felt like candy to be found in places where "classic" candy is sold.

For some reason, it immediately reminds me of The Farmers' Museum in Cooperstown where I feel like they were available in the shop there.

I became so known for them at HAN that AJ would buy me a bag as a birthday/gag gift. Or maybe it was just a pick-me-up gift when times weren't so great.

But then they disappeared from Stop & Shop and I hadn't seen them for several years.

However, perhaps Stop & Shop found a new candy provider, and the root beer barrels are back!

And, yes, I bought two packs.

With two games tomorrow, I'll either be needing them or honey lemon throat drops.

Greenwich and Danbury start the day at 3 p.m. Dan and I will have the pregame show at 2:50. You can listen on WGCH (1490), wgch.com, and robcasting.mixlr.com. We'll carry you for the game though it's possible Dan might finish up on play-by-play depending on how the Homecoming broadcast goes.

I'll need to run out and head across town to Cosby Field for a 6 p.m. kickoff between Brunswick and Avon Old Farms. Watch that game on LocalLive or listen on Robcasting.

Then I'll get home and watch what I can of the Yankees as the wild times begin.

Four Games

 

Don't worry.

The post is here.

You're not worried. I can tell.

But, in the process of preparing for four games -- Danbury/Greenwich, Avon Old Farms/Brunswick, Elmira Impact/Rockets Hockey Club, Providence Capitals/Connecticut Roughriders -- I simply didn't get this on social media.

I suppose, to some, this breaks the streak but if a post fails to post and nobody notices, does it really matter?

So, yes, I'm here. Thanks for asking.

Thursday was (indeed) a day of preparing for four games. That, after recording and editing a new "Hanratty's Huddle" in the morning. We did the podcast from Norwalk Community College, ahem, except it's not NCC anymore.

it's CT State Norwalk. Marketing, I suppose.

But that meant Terry Hanratty, Dave Torromeo, and I got to sit in a nice podcast lab, working with shiny equipment.

And, for a moment, I thought we might not have any of the 38 minutes we recorded. My computer -- for some reason -- recorded roughly seven minutes and stopped on two different recording programs.

Fortunately, the internal SD drive of the RØDECaster Pro II saved it and, with a little figuring out of the process to get the audio on my computer, the day was saved.

One thing I often really like about most of the podcasts that I do is that there isn't much editing. What I mean by that is I work in a "live to tape" style. We do the show as if we're live. If I wanted to go to another level, I could have the theme music play as well, but I normally add that in the post-production process.

On rare occasions do I actually need to edit anything out. In those cases, it's usually someone has coughed or an audio level is too low or some other minor edit. On "Talent Talks," which I do for Hunt Scanlon, occasionally a client nitpicks a bit more and I have to see if I can work some magic. In that case, the option becomes that we leave it alone or we do it over.

When it comes to "Talent Talks" I always explain that I want the client to be happy with what they've said. Any big stumbles of mine can be fixed after the fact by me, and I've done that also, rereading statements and questions that I wasn't happy with.

But, in this case, "Hanratty's Huddle" was done without incident, despite my slightly raised blood pressure. It's posted online and can be found wherever you get your podcasts. Like anything I do, we would very much appreciate a little love. Spread the word as we're still trying to grow.

And many thanks to CT State Norwalk for having us in as we try to build a relationship with them.

Oh, but back to the four games. It's standard operating procedure at first, by creating a scoresheet for four games (two football, two hockey) with relevant information (records, last game, next game, etc) and then searching for rosters.

Four games means eight rosters. Two I have at my disposal (Greenwich and Brunswick). Five were found without too much headache.

And then there's one. I'll let you figure out which one it is.

Finding them is one thing. 

Making them look the way I want is another. I don't go crazy on the appearance but I do often copy and paste into an Excel spreadsheet. In the case of some, the copying doesn't go as planned, so there needs to be some manipulation.

I did plenty of that for games that will take place on Saturday, Sunday, and next Wednesday.

As always, I'll be ready. I'll have stats, storylines, and other items as game time approaches.

I'm calling three of these games solo, with Dan Murphy on Greenwich/Danbury joining me. He might, in fact, wind up calling part of that one but that's a different story. Lots of hurdles to jump.

And blog posts will likely follow.

The Adrenaline is Gone

 

From the booth at Cardinal Stadium

Some games just wear me out.

Today's Bishop Hendricken/Greenwich football game was outstanding.

That, simply put, can be exhausting.

That's the post right there.

I learned many years ago that a nail-biting game can drain adrenaline after it's over. That's how I feel tonight.

It's exhausting because it was a wonderful battle between two excellent programs.

Hendricken scored the first time they touched the ball, but Greenwich responded in kind.

It was 7-7 right through the end of the first half. Greenwich had the ball at the end of the second quarter and missed a field goal at the buzzer.

Again, each team put seven on the board in the third quarter to keep things tied at 14.

With three minutes to play in what had been mostly a defensive battle, a six-yard touchdown pass gave the Hawks from Warwick, RI a 20-14 lead.

But never take the extra point for granted. Greenwich's Richie McMurray blocked it and we were set for a fantastic finish.

The Cardinals had thrown the ball with some success but they went back to the run to work the clock down. They had all three time outs so destiny was mostly in their hands. They needed a touchdown to tie the game. The extra point would put them ahead.

In the booth, it's important to convey the drama without overselling it. It's also important to stay in control but feel the passion.

You live for calls like this. People remember calls like this.

But the words all matter. Don't exaggerate. Stay calm but let the emotion flow. Don't be a cheerleader. Remain professional. React but also watch the officials because it's their call that you can react to.

Next to me once again was Dan Murphy. Dan has understood every element of this position. To some color commentators, the instinct is to react, often stepping on the call of the game. That, as my guy Anthony Conover would say, "is not what you want."

Dan has exhibited excellent timing and a sense of humor as well as an understanding of the moment. For someone still so new he has meshed so well with me.

Greenwich, leaning on junior running back Hector Lopez and senior quarterback MJ D'Angelo, ran the ball up the field. D'Angelo scampered to the end zone to tie the game at 20 with 1:15 remaining.

It was now on the foot of Julian Ravina, and the senior didn't disappoint, tacking on the extra point to give the Cardinals a 21-20 lead.

The defense needed to do their thing against the Hawks offense.

They did.

A desperation heave was intercepted by Noah Steele and the Cardinals ran out the clock.

And so, you're reading the words of an exhausted broadcaster. 

Home games often mean being "on." The door opens with visitors and there are questions to answer and hellos to exchange.

Also, this was the first home game since last December and do I need to explain that? To that end, Cardinal Stadium now does not allow backpacks among other things. I don't like feeling that I was involved with anything like that. People bring it up to me jokingly and I mostly laugh about it.

But it sits in the back of my mind.

To that end, I was glad to be back at Cardinal Stadium and have a great game to cherish and move on. I've only waited nine months for that moment.

The Cardinals are home next Saturday as I do the two-school shuffle, calling the Greenwich homecoming game before running to Brunswick to call their Saturday night affair.

But, at this point, I'm shutting down and shutting up.

I've had enough excitement.

A Roster on Monday

 

It's an active week but tonight is my lone quiet evening.

It's a perfect night for doing laundry and stuff around the house.

I realize that doesn't make for a compelling post, but sometimes we take what we have.

It's all we can do.

Oh, I'll be busy the rest of the week in a variety of ways before Greenwich hosts Bishop Hendricken on Friday afternoon.

The process of preparing for a high school game is generally the same. I go about securing space to work and getting team rosters before digging for other nuggets. Of course, I'm always monitoring weather conditions, equipment, and whatever adjustments I need to make regarding that.

Since Friday's game is at Cardinal Stadium, space is all set. Weather will only be an issue to get the equipment to and from my car. Otherwise, Dan and I will be indoors with air conditioning and heating as necessary.

I'm sure I've alluded to the process of securing rosters being often brutal. My email to a contact at Salisbury went unanswered last week but I was able to get their roster via Brunswick. Eventually, I discovered Salisbury had a program that they created with both team rosters and other information.

It was heavenly.

But, as you know, I've scuffled to get rosters in other situations, such as West Haven in week one of this season. As always, I eventually got it but it doesn't make for appropriate preparation.

And that happens. A lot. There were so many times I was told I could get a basketball roster "out of the scorebook" at the game site. Not ideal, of course.

I got a nice gift today when I was searching for information on Bishop Hendricken, who is frequently known just as "Hendricken."

I discovered that I didn't need to rely on MaxPreps (dangerous) or hope that someone at the school would respond to me.

A website maintained by the Rhode Island Interscholastic League had the roster on it.

Euphoria.

This now leads me down the path of identifying their skill players, who are the names that I will call more than anyone else. Who is their quarterback, running backs, receivers, leading defenders, kicker, punter, and so on?

Oh, there's more, such as looking for statistics, and you need to know that not everyone makes those available. 

It's a lot of detective work.

Literally, everything begins with a roster and I know that, at worst, I can call a game with just that. That is not my preference of course, but sometimes it's all you have in the process or when time is an issue. From there, I have to trust my instinct and hopefully get online.

It happens a lot to me. Can I pull a rabbit out of my hat and do a game at the last minute? Sure, I can. That's part of the fun. Part of the challenge.

So, in the case of Bishop Henricken in Rhode Island, it's nice to see that I could download their roster and format it the way I like it four days before kickoff.

It shouldn't be a luxury. It should be an expectation.

The "E" is For Enjoyable

 

Vermont building at The Big E (@TheBigEFair on X)

I chose to honor tradition and be good to myself today.

While we're watching costs during this time, I'm being very cautious about everything.

That being said, Sean and I went to The Big E today. The event is a large fair that I went to annually for roughly 20 years. But as life changed I backed away from it. Every fall I'd glance towards it, decide it wasn't something I needed to do, and figured that part of my life might be over.

Then Sean and I went a few years ago and the magic was still there. Plus, Sean and I do things our way.

We go, do what we want, and leave. We don't tend to linger.

While the fair is huge, we were in and out in just over three hours. 

We are fairly predictable in our routine. We go to the state houses, pick up maple cream cones in Vermont, look at everything, and think about what we want to come back to.

Then we walk the rest of the fair.

Some years, things grab us. Some years, they just don't. This was a year where we were content to just walk.

And walk. 

We saw everything.

We grabbed food here and there, with a bacon cheeseburger on a waffle being a big winner outside the Massachusetts house. We grabbed cider donuts in Vermont and he had a whoopie pie in Maine.

And, of course, the maple cones in Vermont. This is when Sean normally makes fun of my love of maple. He also makes fun of my habit of picking up road maps and other literature, which I had traditionally put in a backpack I carried all day.

Today, I did not carry one. I allowed myself exactly one map, from Maine. Because I do love that state.

Each New England state has its own state house and they are, in fact, extensions of their state or commonwealth. In Connecticut, for instance, the beer stand couldn't open until 11 a.m.

So, if we were ranking each of the houses for the content of each, I'm guessing we'd go like this:

- Vermont (maple, Ben & Jerry's, though points lost because the wood-fired pizza we used to eat is gone)

- Massachusetts (good cross-section of items, though points deducted for Boston sports)

- Maine (the Maine potato and the whoopie pies)

- Rhode Island (a solid selection of seafood items, Del's lemonade, and a candy stand)

- New Hampshire (it's sort of a house of "meh")

- Connecticut (it's a train wreck, quite honestly, plus their desperate need for attention -- see picture)

Yeah. This.
Maybe spend money on fixing roads and not on pithy signs?

They're all great to walk through but it's certainly a variety of wares to purchase, some displays to look at, and a whole lot of foot traffic.

We did nothing extravagant. We gassed up the car, paid for parking and admission, got our food, and made a grocery store stop on the way home.

So, for what it's worth, it was a reasonable day. But it also gave us a chance to walk around and just talk. He is always playing his Pokémon GO game and I'm a willing participant in helping him however possible, even if normally by walking to a certain place. I understand none of it but I try to help.

The day also allowed me some time to check out and think a bit. It will be a busy week.

And, as for the ride home, allow me to once again say that Connecticut can afford signs that trumpet things unnecessarily, but can't do anything about the roads in the state. It should not have taken us nearly three hours to get home from just outside Springfield, MA.

I-95. Merritt Parkway. Wilbur Cross Parkway. I-84. I-91. It doesn't matter. All had some form of slowdown.

This is in addition to the 45 minutes to drive the last mile to where we parked for the fair.

That's more than enough.

But if the fates allow, we'll do it all over again next year.

Professional Courtesy

 

Mahopac High School. It all started here.

I got to go home last night.

I was back in Mahopac at the annual Jimmy Buffett party with the same core of friends that has attended every year since the early 90s.

Save for a few years during COVID and a rare time when I couldn't get there, I've been there for all of them.

Last night was no different, save for the reality of age. Where I might have once stayed until 4 a.m. I was yawning by 10:30.

The food was great, the beverages were cold, and the laughs were raucous.

Debauchery? That's an annual thing to an extent, though it does get tempered by the presence of young children. After all, most of us are parents now.

In fact, a couple of the kids were there last night, except they're of age now.

To be honest, you wouldn't necessarily peg us all for being friends. Yes, there is sports talk, especially hockey, among that group, but there's plenty of other stuff to talk about. But, mostly, the commonality is that we went to high school together and that's the bond.

Regardless, our differences aren't a big deal. 

As I joked with a friend, "I'm boring and I always have been."

"Sometimes boring is great," came the response.

Maybe I don't know why they like me but I feel loved when I'm among them.

It also means a chance to drive past my parent's house to see how things are progressing. It was pretty dark when I drove by but it's looking great.

It's all nostalgic and familiar.

But, mostly, the night is about a certain level of ritual. The fire-breathing routine. The toast. The jokes -- not for the sensitive types. The ribbing, which could be about literally anything.

We're friends. There's loyalty. And whatever differences there are, the friendship overrides everything.

Contrast that with petty relationships. Earlier this week, Sean and I attended the 9/11 memorial ceremony at Cos Cob Park. Also in attendance was a former colleague and, at times, a friend. 

But I guess not. 

Not only does he not acknowledge my existence but, as someone who works for the town, never shares any of my work. For instance, you'd think someone who works for the first selectman and, thus, the town would share the information that WGCH -- the town's radio station -- was broadcasting the memorial event.

Or ever noting our coverage of high school football, "Meet the Beatles," "Doubleheader," etc. In fact, he'll post the work of others writing about Greenwich and Brunswick football -- games that I call.

In other words, anything I do, he wants nothing to do with.

Which, OK, so be it. He doesn't like me because, unlike many others, I don't just pat him on the head.

The term "That's just (insert name here)" doesn't really fly with me. It's generally a cop-out but I know that's how people act when it comes to him.

I laughed at his avoidance of me, telling Sean about it when we were in the car. He took note of the person also.

"Yeah. That's weird," was Sean's reaction.

But I guess it just seems petty the more I think about it.

You can't please everyone. Part of being a friend is understanding differences and, admittedly, he and I are quite different. And yet, not entirely.

But so be it.

Like Sean said, it's weird.

We could just agree to disagree.

Incidentally, this guy has been spotted being friendly online with a certain toxic fellow.

So, yeah. I've made my enemies over the years I guess.

But I know who my friends are.