Let Me Explain

 

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I posted something on my social media accounts tonight that probably raised questions.

Whether you saw it or not, I figured I should tell the story.

This was probably around 2015 or so. I was working at HAN, or the HAN Network.

Or HAN Radio.

And there was at least one person -- well-placed -- who was out for me. I'm telling you, I could literally do nothing right. Every chance there was to throw me under a bus -- to the point of nearly losing my job -- was taken.

The goal was to make me miserable.

This one was perhaps the height of stupidity.

New Canaan High School has a nice turf field facility on its campus. It's where the Rams play football, soccer, field hockey, lacrosse, and so on. I've called many events there between HAN and WGCH.

However, one thing to note is that when events were loaded onto the CIAC website, the facility was called Dunning Stadium. I don't know if my brain is failing me, but I remember the annual previews also listing it as Dunning Stadium in the newspaper.

So if you look in my archive, that's what I called it.

However, as the years went on, there was the Stadium/Field thing, and it was something that carried onto the HAN broadcasts.

I'd call it Dunning Field/Stadium/Whatever. Heck, we were always so impressed by it that we joked that maybe they would put a roof over it and call it the Dunning Dome. No harm was literally ever intended. 

Consider the myriad changes at Cardinal Stadium since 1999. I've likely made similar comments.

Well, the thorn in my side decided it wasn't funny. Scholars one day might examine further and find there were more nefarious factors at play but let's keep the story to face value.

Plus, I'm leaving all names out of this -- except my own -- to protect the innocent.

Anyway, while driving home one evening, I glanced at my email to discover an email from, you guessed it, that person.

The tone was, honestly, harsh and obnoxious. 

The content of the email made it clear that he wanted it called Dunning FIELD and that the Dunning family would take offense to how I was handling it.

No one else got lambasted like this. Only me.

Honestly, if the Dunning family cared that much, I'd be concerned. Their name was always mentioned and never sullied. 

Normally, such an email would rattle me but this just reeked of, well, something.

Oh, it annoyed me, but it also amused me.

And befuddled me.

It also served as one of many indications that I'd need to leave HAN sadly.

And that was sad. I'm profoundly proud of it, what we all created, and the work we did.

While I look back with enormous pride, I still marvel at some of the insanity of it all.

Like this.

Look, this person attacked me several times -- online, in person, and behind my back. I came out of it a better man and broadcaster.

And it was nice to sit at Dunning Field at Hawes Plaza tonight to watch Greenwich and New Canaan in a scrimmage.

I've called it Dunning Field at Hawes Plaza ever since that night.

But, for the record, here is how it is listed on the CIAC website today.

"Stadium"

Anyway, Dan Murphy and I watched the game together. We caught up with friends and did our homework to get ready for next Friday.

In West Haven.

From Ken Strong Stadium.

Not Field.

No Celebration Necessary

 

While worth nothing, I'm here to point out that I'm going to broadcast my 1,900th game tonight.

Yeehaw.

Waterford and Stamford take the field in the Babe Ruth 13U state tournament tonight at 7 p.m. As of now, I'm flying solo for the call.

Such numbers are notable, of course. It's an achievement. But it's not about me.

I know someone in the business who was all in on noting his reaching 900 broadcasts. I applaud him. It took over 40 years to get there but we all have our stories and our reasons. In my case, I'd prefer to have much more than 1,900 since I started counting in 1999.

I'll note when 2,000 gets here, just as I did upon reaching 1,000 seven years ago.

But, especially with age and wisdom, I know hope the number -- however many it is -- has included quality broadcasts. I'm hoping they were all quality, in fact. I'm not here to be a broadcast factory. I want each game to sound nuanced and professional. So the number is just a nice feather in the cap.

The other thing to keep in mind when crowing about quantity is that there will always be the person who wants to one-up. There are also the people who will count basically any time they walk into a stadium. Now, when counting, I don't include working the PA for the Renegades, for instance. It's a totally different skill set. 

So, yes, everyone has their own system of counting. But say you've done 100 games for 2024 and immediately someone will be saying how they've done 200 or whatever. It's all such a weird and egotistical thing.

I do marvel at 1,900 games because it's been a grind. I've worked with wonderful people and have watched amazing athletes. I love that I've been able to be the one to document the games.

It took years to finally get my professional play-by-play career off the ground and there have been some really dry spots along the way. But through hard work, I've been on the call for over 1,200 games in a little over a decade. 

Again, it feels like it should be more, but it's better than nothing.

As this Babe Ruth experience gets closer to the end, I am beginning to gear up for the Cal Ripken New England Regional coming this weekend in Oxford.

That means there will be more games, new experiences, and new stories to tell.

And more athletes who will be the stars.

That's why 1,900 isn't really that big of a deal.

No cakes are needed. No banners. 

I like cheesecake, for what that's worth.

Regardless of teasing a couple of people about this "milestone," the truth is my milestone is always the next one.

So bring on 1,901 tomorrow and so on.

I'll pause and raise a glass for 2,000 to take a moment to salute the many great people I've worked with.

But we'll deal with that when it arrives, hopefully in 2025.

Playmakers Reunite

 

Thanks to Chris Erway, we got football jerseys for Christmas.
From left, Ryan Demaria, Chris Erway, Terry Bradshaw, Chris Kaelin

My phone lit up a few minutes ago as the Rangers were about to lose in Game 5 of their Eastern Conference semifinal playoff series.

We have a group chat with me, Chris Erway, Chris Kaelin, and Ryan Demaria.

Once upon a time, the four of us made up "The Playmakers," hosting "The Press Box" on WGCH. 

We did the show for roughly four years, logging an incredible amount of great guests with newsmakers from all around the northeast and beyond.

Basically, if it interested us, we had them on.

They ranged from high school and youth athletes to so many others that I can't remember them all. I recall we were actually close to having Mark Teixeira of the Yankees on at one point but we just couldn't work out the timing.

I specifically remember Steve Somers of WFAN being a particular highlight for us, as well as a night with Dave Rothenberg of ESPN, as he's a friend of mine.

Greenwich's own Steve Young was also a big highlight (thanks to Chris Hunt).

We also fought. We debated like crazy. It was a brotherhood and that was a strength. We argued. Fiercely.

Within seconds of going to break, we'd laugh.

Each one of us brought our personalities every night. The beauty of it was that we weren't all alike, save for our love of sports.

Ryan and I were Yankees fans. Kato was a Mets fan. Erway -- ErJuan to us -- a Dodgers fan.

Ryan and Kato were Giants football fans. ErJuan loves the Cowboys. I'm the Steelers.

And so on.

But the interviews were all on point. The debates were sharp and fair. They were fierce but I never felt they were vicious.

And it was all hysterical. 

We always said the best parts of the show were what wasn't on the air. We also believed in having an internet feed though we never could make it happen. But that's basically how the Facebook feed for "Doubleheader" eventually came to be.

We sat in the production studio one night to create a commercial promo for the night Steve Somers was scheduled to be on. I have the outtakes of what was probably 10 minutes of pure laughter.

It can never air. Take my word for it.

But it was also a labor of love. It was something we lost money doing every Monday night. Eventually, kids, marriage, and jobs all came to be too much.

We tried to keep it going. Oh, how we tried.

When I took the job with the Wilton Bulletin at Hersam Acorn, I was initially told that I could get to Greenwich every Monday night. Within the first few hours of my first day that Bulletin, that was rescinded by my editor.

She wanted me to cover the Board of Selectman.

So, I set up a recorder and stepped to the lobby of Wilton Town Hall, and called the show, where the boys were on the air. I'd pace the hallway, listen in where I could, and make sure the recording was still going on.

Then, I'd review the recording in full and write my story. I also made friends in the right places.

For the record, I was in on starting what became the HAN Network a few months later and was off the Bulletin in roughly a year.

In fact, Ryan, Chris, and Kato each made their way to HAN in one way or another.

But, as I said, time moved on and the show ended.

There was still a bond, initially beginning with a raucous Facebook message group that carried the name "The World's Greatest Facebook Group" or something like that. Admittedly, we'd each get fired up in there also.

In fact, those guys were essential in getting through the awful day of the horror at Sandy Hook Elementary School. It was that Facebook group that first alerted me to the news and stayed in close touch all day. A few days later, we did a very somber edition of "The Press Box" and discussed what happened.

Like the show, the Facebook group eventually shut down.

So we text each other occasionally and, admittedly, we haven't all been together in some time.

With Chris Erway's time in Connecticut coming to a close, who knows when we'll all see each other again?

Like so many other things in life, we get to laugh at the memories and I suppose that has to be sufficient.

The four of us, in fact, made for one heck of a broadcast team, whether it was "The Press Box" or game broadcasts. 

We all had nicknames, besides "ErJuan." Kato had several, with "Tox" and "Tako" ultimately sticking. Ryan was "Kid" or "Demer." I was "Captain" and "Ron" for some reason.

Lives get busy but they're still brothers to me.

As always, all good things must come to an end but the memories are solid.

They Can't Stay Young Forever

This is "Junior"

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

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

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

Especially one with a giant indoor water slide?

That's what the Hampton Inn had in Shelton.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was "The Junior Jet."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He and Rascal will be our guard cats.

Old Timers and Sideline Reporters

 

Chris Erway and Sean Adams in the Hilton Stamford Ballroom

The Greenwich Old Timers Awards Dinner has come and gone.

Congratulations to the honorees and may we do it again next year.

Despite the hustle at the last minute to pull everything together, I think -- think -- it went well.

My first time as master of ceremonies went sort of smoothly, but perhaps I'm just having a foggy memory.

I considered it a huge honor to stand there and I was reminded more than a few times about the shoes I was stepping into.

The goal for me is to make everyone happy, especially those who put me in this position. Based on the reactions I received, I think we did OK.

Having Sean and Chris Erway there was a nice touch, with Chris sitting on the dais and Sean in the audience.

I enjoyed meeting new faces and reconnecting with faces I hadn't seen in weeks, months, years, or even days.

Reviews were kind and I'm grateful.

The one thing that I think helps me is that I'm hellbent on keeping an event moving. Attendees appreciate that. I'm mindful that people begin to squirm and get uncomfortable and I've been to some marathon Old Timers dinners.

Another thing that needs to be done is to get the crowd to quiet down. Whether it's business people in San Francisco or townies in Greenwich, it's essentially all the same. In those moments, I get to be a bit of a wise guy as I try to subdue the noise.

In the case of opening the ceremonies, I did something subtle. After several efforts to silence everyone, I simply introduced the color guard. Nothing like marching policemen carrying the American flag to get a crowd to pipe down.

Seconds later, we had peace, followed by the Melody Men singers performing the National Anthem.

From there, the night went about as well as it could.

At least I still think so.

It was a huge honor and I was still buzzing a bit when Chris, Sean, and I stopped by a Stamford watering hole to toast a successful night.

I think I earned another shot next year.

*****

What was Charissa Thompson thinking?

Was she just trying to be funny?

You see, it's 2023 and the media is pretty heavy scrutiny, if you haven't heard.

The past several years have seen a collection of heavily biased reporting. Those calling themselves journalists are often too focused on being first versus being accurate.

Combine those things and it's a nightmare for those of us who still try to maintain dignity and integrity.

But then there's Charissa telling a podcast that, as a sideline reporter, she would make things up.

Here's the quote: "I would make up the report sometimes because the coach wouldn’t come out at halftime, or it was too late and I didn’t want to screw up the report. So I was like, ‘I’m just gonna make this up.’

A simple Google search of Thompson's will not only produce a list of stories about this but also the level of vitriol she is receiving today.

It's extremely damaging to the sports reporting business but it's especially damning to women broadcasters for reasons that shouldn't need explaining.

But, especially as sideline reporters, women are looked at (unfairly) as "eye candy" producing reports to little value. Look, I think in-game reports are largely useless but they're not going away. Coaches tend to loathe them. We've even done them on WGCH and HAN back in the day.

Returning to the women in the business who have done sideline reporting, I can name quite a few who are actually fantastic. Holly Rowe, Doris Burke (who used to do sideline hits), Pam Oliver, Meredith Marakovits, and Michele Tafoya (before she quit to jump into political commentary) are among those I think of, but there are so many more.

And I'll put Suzyn Waldman's reporting instincts right up there as well.

Erin Andrews was once at the top of the profession and has returned to a high standard, working on the top team with FOX Sports.

There are others, of course, and I'm certainly not trying to diminish anyone.

Look, I know part of Thompson's thing is being quirky and funny. She does a humorous podcast with Andrews that humanizes both of them. That can be a good thing.

But, in this case, it was bad because it hurt the industry.

There are enough people in this industry with low standards and zero integrity. Thankfully we occasionally weed a few of them out.

Thompson will do some kind of damage control (and likely so will her employers) but the blowback has been fierce.

It's bad for women.

It's sad for all of us.

*****

Maintaining whatever shred of integrity I can maintain, I'm going back to Mahopac today, on the call for two New York State Regionals.

- Haldane and Burke Catholic at 4 p.m. in Class D.

- Somers and Averill Park at 7 p.m. in Class A.

It will be nice to be back at my old high school. The video broadcasts will be on the NFHS Network.

And the audio only will be where you expect to find it.

The Pizza Had to be Just Right

 

I mean, wow

I want to tell you a story.

About pizza.

It was Nov 1, 2014, and I was going to have some of the best pizza I've ever had in my life.

That's what I was promised.

But first, there was work to be done.

I don't do a lot well but I can broadcast some sports to a certain degree of satisfaction. I've often felt that, whenever I can, I like to give that to those who might not get such coverage. Thus, having gotten to know Susan over the previous year, she had told me about her brother, who was the coach of St. Peter's Boys High School on her native Staten Island.

At the time, we were just about a year into what was now known as HAN Radio. I thought it would be cool if we could find an open slot and go call one of her brother Mark's games.

We agreed on an end-of-the-regular-season matchup between St. Peter's (aka "Peetahs" in a Staten Island accent) and St. Joseph-by-the-Sea (aka "Sea"). In return, Susan promised us the pizza to end all pizzas.

Initially, it was a running gag. This Staten Island pizza was going to top all of my beloved pizzas?

Better than Sal's in Mamaroneck or L&B in Brooklyn or Patsy's in Harlem or the Connecticut pizzas that I constantly hear about?

Susan believed it would hold its own. Thus I trusted her and the gag ended.

But there was another gag: joking about her father. I half-joked that if I didn't bring an excellent broadcast or -- worse -- if Peetahs lost, would I be sleeping with the fishes?

I was told that Susan and Mark's dad was nothing like that. He wouldn't be intimidating me or the crew at all.

However, her mother might have something to say.

The night before the game, Chris Erway and I called Darien and Wilton football in Wilton, CT. In honor of Craig Sager, the longtime sports reporter known for his garish suits, Chris and I dressed like him for Halloween. Susan and her daughters stopped by the booth to say hello as they went around town to trick or treat.

We finished the game and I went back to the HAN Radio studio, then situated in Ridgefield. Having been stressed out a bit that day, I enjoyed the peace of a Friday night in the office editing audio for the opening and closing of Saturday's game. It would be a New York-centric broadcast featuring music and references that made Staten Island so wonderful and so misunderstood.

On Saturday, I began driving in heavy rain. I was also way ahead of schedule as I crossed the Goethals Bridge.

A short time later, I was at St. Peter's and began nosing around the locked press box. Chris Erway and John Kovach would be along later to round out our broadcast team.

Eventually, of all things, I was invited inside the Christian Brothers' 1859 house to have coffee with the priests. They were all intrigued by the stranger from the northern New York suburbs who was there to broadcast their football game.

I can't stress enough, of all the things for me to do, but I was way ahead of Chris and John. For Chris, this was also a personal trip as his in-laws, as his father-in-law was a St. Peter's alum. They were coming in from New Jersey for the game.

I was given a tour of the school and eventually connected with St. Peter's head coach Mark DeCristoforo. Soon, Mark, Chris, John, and I were sitting at a table discussing strategy and game plans. Few coaches had ever been so open and accommodating.

We set up in the booth, did a long pregame show to review football back in Connecticut, and then opened the Peetahs/Sea game broadcast.

The people in the booth seemed fascinated by us and the way Chris and I -- with John on the field -- bounced off each other.

I got to meet Susan's dad -- "The Godfather" -- when she brought him up to the booth and joined us on the air.

The broadcast was, frankly, about as good as possible. St. Peter's won 35-28 and the postgame pizza was on.

I felt great about what we had done. Even now, I feel tremendous pride when reminded of that day.

Chris and John both passed on the pizza invitation, which was to take place around the corner at Susan's aunt's house.

Nervously, I drove there, parked, and knocked on the door that, apparently, was never used.

Susan's Aunt Kathy greeted me. Within minutes I realized I wished that this wonderful woman was my aunt.

Received warmly by all, I finally met Susan's mom.

Jane.

Lovely and radiant, especially thanks to the St. Peter's victory, she made sure I was welcomed and comfortable.

Eventually, The Godfather came in with the pizza.

Finally, I would have my chance to enjoy Joe & Pat's, one of the definitive Staten Island pizza experiences.

But, despite my hunger, the pizza would not be coming my way just yet.

Jane spoke up.

Apparently buoyed by the win and the stranger who had brought radio fame to her son, she accounted that I -- this broadcaster dude -- could not have Joe & Pat's in its current state.

You see, friends, it took a few minutes to get the pizza to the house, and it wasn't the right temperature.

Immediately, the oven was opened, the pizza went in, and I was instructed to be patient.

Not long after that, it was food time. 

Jane, her sister Aunt Kathy (and Susan) wouldn't dream of me doing what I normally do, which is linger behind and let others get food. I was pushed forward to grab the heavenly slice.

Rarely -- and I mean this -- have I ever anticipated a bite so much. What could it possibly be like?

I put my faith in Susan, who knew what she was talking about.

It was phenomenal. It stands among the best I've ever had.

I pondered eating the entire pie.

I thought Chris and John were nuts for bailing.

I questioned most of the decisions I've ever made in my life.

I ate while sitting at a kitchen table with various members of Susan's family, sitting near her father as well, who I got to know as the night went along.

Everyone there asked about me, the broadcasts, and so on but, eventually, I faded into the fabric of the evening. It was like being among family and that's as special a feeling as I know.

The rest of the night featured laughter, more aunts, cousins, and uncles, and a selfie with Susan's oldest daughter, Lucy. 

I made the long drive home feeling overjoyed for the new friends I'd made and the pizza that had to be just right.

While somewhat embarrassed I was very touched that Jane cared so much about the pizza for me. Susan told me that was special treatment and like I said, I was slightly embarrassed but also honored.

I tell you this story for the sad reason that the world lost Jane DeCrisoforo on Saturday morning. A beautiful and fascinating woman, she married Chris ("The Godfather") and raised Susan, Amy, Mark, and Megan.

They're a wonderful family who are devastated.

As I've said many times, some stories aren't mine to tell. Susan wrote an eloquent obituary and I'm sure many more words will flow from her.

This is the one story I can share -- my one encounter with Jane.

Susan was a rock to me when Nancy died three years ago.

I'm here for the DeCristoforo family. So is Sean.

We raise a pint to a true Irish beauty who, like my own mother, will always remembered by me for pizza.

I'm so glad I had that one meeting with Jane (no, I didn't call her that to her face).

And that she'd welcome me back to cover St. Peter's sports.

So long as they didn't lose.

Two Games? You Don't Say

 

3/24/14 -- Hockey setup in New Haven

I saw a member of the Play-by-Play group on Facebook post a video blog taking viewers along on his long day of broadcasting two football games.

Intrigued, I watched.

I'm not here to knock him at all. It was important to him so he broke down the whole thing, which was in addition to another post he put in the group before he did the two games.

To many of us, this is called "another day."

It got me thinking about the number of times that I've done something similar.

As in, oh, last Saturday.

Westhill/Greenwich at 1 p.m.

Trinity-Pawling/Brunswick at 6 p.m.

Eight quarters of football with a combined score of 67-8. I called the games alone. Of course, it's helpful that I had time to dash from Stamford to Greenwich to make a cup of coffee at home before heading to Brunswick (also in Greenwich, of course).

Not all days have been that easy-peasy.

3/24/14 -- Fairfield Prep won. Time to head to Mohegan Sun

There was the hockey and basketball weekend of 2014 that began on Friday night with a state championship hockey game between Daniel Hand and Amity in New Haven.

After going back to a hotel room in Shelton, I returned to New Haven the following more for Newtown/Smith-Tolland at 10 a.m. and Fairfield Pre/Darien at 2 p.m. Both were blistering state championship hockey games, with Newtown winning their title in overtime.

Exhausted but committed, I then packed up, jumped in my car, and drove to Mohegan Sun where I hurried into the arena to join my HAN Radio colleagues. They were already calling another game that I was going to jump on as a reporter but I got thrown out. 

By them. Not by security. Just wanted to clear that up.

So I cooled my heels with some Imus Bros. coffee and a Krispy Kreme donut before going back into the arena to call Bridgeport Central/Fairfield Prep at 8 p.m. Central was down 19 early in the second half before coming all the way back to win.

3/24/14 -- Bridgeport Central players climb into the stands
to celebrate their basketball championship

So, if you're keeping track, that was five games in 24 hours, and four on that Saturday alone. Plus I was there in time for the second half of a sixth if needed in any way.

Now, there are no medals to be handed out for this. There are occasional kind pats on the back and yes, sometimes I get a cookie.

But I love the process and the ability to present these games.

That's why I'm calling hockey tomorrow morning before heading to football tomorrow night.

Then football on Saturday afternoon.

Then four youth football games on Sunday.

That's why we do it what we do.

The video was an intriguing behind-the-scenes view of how this user conducted his day. That's his thing and he seemed satisfied.

3/24/14 -- Me, loving the chaos

I just have so many other stories. Let's see.

Greenwich football at Westhill before heading to Heritage Financial Park for Renegades baseball. Chris Erway finished the broadcast.

Greenwich football at Stamford High School heading to Heritage Financial Park for Renegades baseball. Chris Erway finished the broadcast.

Greenwich basketball at Greenwich High School before driving to Ridgefield for a Greenwich hockey game.

Trumbull hockey with Jeff Alterman before I had to leave him to join Chris Erway for the FCIAC wrestling championship in New Canaan.

Greenwich football before heading to Bridgeport for a Bluefish baseball game in the Atlantic League Championship.

Little League baseball in Trumbull in the morning. Then onto Babe Ruth baseball in Stamford and two more games there later. Or Babe Ruth baseball in Norwalk, packing up and going to Stamford for a Little League game before hustling back to Stamford for more Babe Ruth baseball.

A state football playoff game in West Haven before I drove down I-95 and changed in a rest area. Then I headed to Bridgeport to do a then-Bridgeport Sound Tigers hockey game.

The Sound Tigers required a more professional look for their broadcast.

I mean, these are the ones I'm thinking of off the top of my head. None of this includes the number of times I've done four Babe Ruth baseball games in a day or youth hockey before going back to my hotel and then returning later for the rest of the docket -- five games total.

I love telling these stories. No question about that. It's great fun to do this and the video in question inspired this post.

We all have these stories so I'm nothing special.

Despite writing a blog, that's where I leave it. I don't post it in groups for the attention.

It's not about me.

It's simply doing the job.

Because that's what I do.

I talk.

The Devil Wore Blue Jeans

 

(Photo: Outdoor Gear Lab)

I promised you a story the other night.

I pride myself on always being put together. As I felt my father was a man of style, I also tried to be that way.

Yes, my style has always leaned towards classic and rarely daring. There are moments that will lean toward a trend but, overall, I try to have things in my closet that I can wear for years. 

OK, sure, I'm not against popping on a sports jersey but, overall, moments like that are outliers. I can be seen in a hoodie or a t-shirt but even those aren't as common as my usual standbys.

And spotting me in track pants or sweatpants? Rare, as in I'm running to pick up dinner at the nearby Italian restaurant.

So, with all of that in mind, we return to a tale from the HAN Network days. For reasons I don't recall, we were booked to host our programming from a country club.

Woodway Country Club, on the lines of Darien, Stamford, and New Canaan, opened in 1916 and we were to broadcast from their clubhouse. As I recall, we were to host our morning news program, "Coffee Break" from there, along with a special to interview people at the club. At that time, HAN was using our appearances as an advertising opportunity. Places could pay to have us there though I don't recall if that's what this was.

There's no question that visibility in situations like this, sidewalk sales, and other community events were good for us and for businesses.

Generally speaking, we didn't have much of a dress code at HAN, and on warmer days, I tended to lean towards shorts and a golf shirt to always look appropriate.

We'd eventually insist on a jacket and tie for those on the air (you know, "to look professional") but I never quite agreed with it. I don't think we needed that on this day but, even then, I'd never wear a full suit because the tie and jacket would quickly be gone once we were off the air.

This, as I recall, was a cooler day turning towards fall (I just checked and it was Sep 16, 2015) and, well, I'm sure I grabbed a golf shirt or I still had the jacket and tie with a dress shirt. Whatever it was, I don't have total recall.

But oh I remember the bottom half of my ensemble.

Jeans.

Always appropriate, I think these were Old Navy or Gap jeans in a darker blue. If I had the type of jeans that were older and "well-worn" they wouldn't come out on a day like this. 

And off I went, making the drive from Mahopac, through Westchester County, into New Canaan. I was thrilled to not have to go to the office in Shelton on this morning. Shelton was a drive that moved towards 90 minutes on a daily basis each way.

I turned off Hope St into the club driveway, well ahead of the rest of the team. I recall women were setting up for the event on the sidewalk near the parking lot.

Suddenly, I had a thought. Oh, no. This is a country club and there is probably a dress code.

My stomach turned. As I often felt I could do nothing right at HAN (or, worse, simply wore a "kick me" as a target), I wondered if I had just committed a fashion faux pas.

Me. The one who is often overdressed.

Me. The one who once worked a broadcast at New York Fashion Week.

Me. The one who helped interview a women's boutique store employee about clothes and fashion.

Me. 

In jeans.

At a country club.

I sat in my car and the sweat began to bubble.

Do I ask someone? 

Do I see if the Gap still has a location in New Canaan and buy a pair of khakis?

Do I just go home?

Indeed I was the first one there. 

Eventually, I walked into the clubhouse to find someone to inquire about where we should set up. While trying to play it cool, I felt like the eyes of the country club fashion world were on me with complete and utter dismay.

The horror of the shame I had brought upon the denizens of Woodway on this Wednesday morning.

I was like Rodney Dangerfield in "Caddyshack" except he had more money and he still wasn't wearing jeans.

Eventually, as I began to set up, and others from HAN arrived, I received the bad news. Yes, you bet there was a dress code and there was shock, I tell you, shock!

Everything was fine. Except me.

A bag over my head would have been desirable

I was mortified. Shorts, I was told, would have been OK, but not nasty denim!

I actually did offer to leave or go buy something, lest the fashion world deal with looking at me in such a state.

I was told, in the end, to keep my object of dissatisfaction hidden behind and underneath a table. They'd put a tablecloth on to hide my ugliness.

Shockingly, my colleagues gently chided me but there was no further retribution.

Even now I can tell you that it was most honest of mistakes. I actually considered not wearing shorts that morning because I thought that might be inappropriate but, in the end, I simply goofed.

I think I was completely red-faced for the entire time we were there, including when we ate lunch after the broadcast. It was humiliating and I felt awful. I also felt like I was due to be glued to the side of the HAN RV and beaten.

Beyond that, I did my job, running audio and doing any on-screen appearances.

I don't recall the broadcast bringing us much in the way of business, but that could also be my fuzzy memory. For sure, we laughed that it was my fault. I do recall that.

And so, in a lifetime of always trying to look appropriate and, dare I say, nice, here is the prime example of a colossal eff up.

The jeans are long gone, for the record.

I'm also quite sure my picture is on file in the offices of the lovely Woodway Country Club, to never allow that scoundrel back onto their pristine grounds.

You can bet I remembered all of that as I donned my proper shorts and golf shirt to play in the tournament yesterday.

A memory that still embarrasses me but lives in the "oh well" portion of my brain.

When 'What's in a Name?' Goes Wrong

 

Before Darien/New Canaan field hockey, Sep 22, 2015

I was flipping through memories on Timehop this morning when I came across this photo.

I described it as being "my game face. Or something" as a way to drive some engagement. I noted I was at New Canaan High School.

Who knows what was rolling through my brain as I took the picture but I can tell you going to NCHS kicks up numerous memories of games that involved and didn't involve the Rams. For instance, the FCIAC Football Championship was once played there as Greenwich beat Bridgeport Central.

I have a distinct memory of not being in that booth one night after I had left HAN. Greenwich was there to play New Canaan and HAN was there to broadcast it (trust me, this was not shocking at that time). So they -- and New Canaan's broadcasters got the booth.

Chris Erway and I stood on chairs above a student cheering section and called the game on WGCH. As always, we made it work.

But, looking at that picture of me, I'm reminded of the name of the facility at New Canaan.

Thanks to AJ, I learned that it is known to many as Dunning Field at Hawes Plaza. Eventually, I'd come to call it that.

But, prior to that, I'd go by what both the newspapers and the CIAC called it: Dunning Stadium.

However, there was the Dunning Field factor. It appeared there was no consistency with the name.

From the CIAC itself, as entered by the school, look at this screenshot:

So, silly me, I thought it was Dunning Stadium. You know, as in the state calls it that so it feels official. Plus I felt the school had input the schedule. So...stadium.

The inconsistency led me to have some fun with it on the air during the HAN days, as I would say "Dunning Stadium, Field, or whatever they want to call it." Literally, anyone with a clue and, perhaps, a correct-sized ego didn't think twice about it.

It was one of those running things. No offense was ever intended and it seemed no one ever thought anything about it.

Except when you're living rent-free, and I don't mean at Dunning...er....you know.

While driving home from a game in New Canaan one day -- lacrosse, soccer, field hockey, football, I really don't remember what it was -- I got an email.

Oh, I remember. I was approaching the Byram River on I-95 when I saw it.

In short, it was a commentary on how the Dunning Family wouldn't appreciate my being so loose with the name of the facility. It was terse, obnoxious, and even perhaps unprofessional.

It was also, perhaps, the dumbest email or interaction in a lifetime of dumb interactions. Let's put it this way: if we were ranking such things, it would be pretty high up. In this case, it came from, well, why dedicate any time to that?

Maybe I'll do that in the book that Shawn Sailer wants me to write.

After initial anger/horror at the email, I began to laugh. I considered the source.

I even forwarded it to a few key people so that they could see the utter ridiculousness. I mean, seriously, does anyone think I had any malicious intent?

I don't remember my response. I didn't give into the sender's desire to do whatever he could to destroy every last fiber of my soul, much as were attempted with social media nonsense down the road. I didn't argue with the screenshot of the state's website. I mostly responded with "OK."

To the point of the facility name, the Dunning Family probably wants nothing more than to simply hear their name attached to it. At least that's what I would think. Beyond that, why would they ever care so long as I wasn't doing anything to besmirch their name?

This is one of the many ticky-tack things that have gone on over the years and you can figure out why my frustration has either boiled over or I've simply walked away from things.

Please note I left HAN in mid-2016, mostly because my colleagues told me I needed to go for my health. Please further note that I have a STADIUM full of wonderful memories.

But this is the stuff that I warn prospective broadcasters about.

These are the stories.

After a while, you learn to pick your battles and laugh a lot of stuff off.

Like this.

But all efforts to run me out of broadcasting haven't succeeded. Yet.

Greenwich/Maloney.

Tonight.

6:20 p.m. pregame show.

1490 AM.

wgch.com

robcasting.mixlr.com

Pre-Season Football Follies

 

Our "booth" at Choate Rosemary Hall last November

The buildup to high school football season always includes certain benchmarks and hiccups.

There's the anticipation of the sponsors and waiting for the team rosters and gathering the notes. There's the creation of game promos on the radio side and any in-game elements as well as the opening and closing reads.

There are plenty of details to dive into. Will we need space in the booth? What are the financial terms? Who's doing what games?

There's also the equipment. Are we using the stuff from WGCH or will we go with mine? Or both?

By next Saturday at 2 p.m. (preferably much earlier) I'm hoping everything is wrapped up and we're ready to go.

But there are roadblocks. Always.

Unfortunately, we can't just show up and talk.

When those issues get big enough, it's human nature to pause and wonder why I continue to go through it.

Oh, sure, I love it. You bet. Twelve hours earlier I was completely fired up and ready for the collection of broadcasts that await between now and December. I wanted it to begin tonight.

But, yeah.

I tweeted yesterday in a half-hearted way that I would be open to anyone needing a broadcast tonight. Obviously, I would have very seriously considered any offer.

We don't often get preseason broadcasts so it would have been a good warmup as well, since there are some games in New York tonight.

But I'm home with some of the previously mentioned items still to produce and addressing lingering frustrations.

I suppose one thing worth noting is that there are plenty who simply don't understand what we do. They don't quite get our value (if we have any). So we're easy to discard or even ignore.

So decisions don't always sit right. Then there's cleaning everything up.

And, sure, it produces some difficult feelings but I'd like to believe that a good night's sleep will start to fire me back up again.

In the end, the joy is in working with friends and telling stories on the air while laughing and continuing the experience that I've been a part of since 1999.

This feeling tonight will pass but it's annoying.

*****

A quick note on the passing of V. Donald "Chief" Hersam. Chief was the patriarch of the Hersam Acorn Newspaper empire and the father of my boss, Marty. He was a wonderful man of grace, humor, and class. A true gentleman and New Canaan legend, he told the best stories. He was also very supportive when we created what became the HAN Network.

My condolences to Marty and the Hersam family along with Chief's many friends and loved ones.

You're a Grand Old Flag

It's Independence Day.

Fourth of July.

It's also Lou Gehrig Appreciation Day, or the anniversary of his speech in 1939.

It's George Steinbrenner's birthday. 

It's John Sterling's birthday.

It's the 40th anniversary of Dave Righetti's no-hitter (we didn't have cable so I couldn't watch it. I learned it happened after it was over).

I remembered taking the photo that tops this post in April 2015 in Cooperstown. 

That scene struck me as I walked around Doubleday Field that Saturday morning.

I was there to scout and prepare for our HAN Radio/Network broadcast of Brien McMahon and Norwalk the next day. Once I was certain cell service was strong enough, I began to walk around the stadium to learn more for the broadcast (that's called "preparation" and doesn't involve charts and notes) and made my way to the outfield stands.

Stretching from the right field corner to nearly dead center field, I walked through every section, noting the outfield wall panels and the various angles along with the condition of the field. I wanted to check the view from the outfield.

Eventually, I noticed the flag pole.

I was taken by the scene immediately. The clouds. The blue sky peeking through the clouds. The bright light of the sun. 

And, of course, Old Glory, flapping in the breeze.

Take all of that and add in being in a place so sacred to me and it just screamed "MURICA!"

America, indeed.

I won't try to overwhelm you with jingoistic drivel that sounds like I've just walked out of some political rally.

At the same time, I will tell you I was raised by parents that taught me to honor the flag and our country.

When "The Star Spangled Banner" is played, I was taught to stand at attention as rigid as possible* until the last note is completed.

*With exceptions, of course, such as having to guide a broadcast.

It's how I was raised and I'm good with it.

So I'm proud to display that picture on July 4th.

With all of the patriotism and myriad baseball notes, I'm also reminded of countless picnics and gatherings every year, often ending with fireworks that would raise my father's blood pressure. My dad -- as most know -- was injured when a firecracker landed on his lips in the 1930s. He was afraid of fireworks for the rest of his life but never stopped us from doing anything with them.

He did, however, give us the usual "you be DAMN careful" speech if we were setting any off. We knew if we did get injured we'd never hear the end of it.

Please note I did have a small firecracker pop in my hand one night in the 80s. As opposed to flicking the thing aside as I lit it, I cranked my arm and paid the price for being too slow in my delivery.

It shocked me more than anything else. No fingers were lost in my stupidity.

Be safe tonight if that's your thing. 

We're taking it easy.

No hot dog eating contests. Please note I saw some genius compare Joey Chestnut to Aaron Judge.

Seriously.

And on that note, I wish you a happy Fourth.

Happy birthday to this wonderful, yet horribly conflicted country.

We didn't have the POWER!

The setup at the Otesaga Hotel...sans power strips

The first thing to know is that Sean wasn't there but he'll never forget it.

The story begins on a stormy Monday morning in April 2015 in Herkimer, NY. Nine years ago today, in fact.

We were completing a long weekend in the stretch as we transitioned from HAN Radio to the HAN Network. Video was becoming our thing but we weren't on our own platform yet. We were still -- GASP! -- on NFHS but I digress.

But we still did audio-only as an internet radio station.

So why was a group of coworkers based out of Shelton, CT all the way up at a motel off Exit 30 of the New York State Thruway?

One word: Cooperstown.

In an effort that began with Paul Silverfarb and moved to me, we were flexing our broadcasting muscle by driving to upstate NY to call the Norwalk/Brien McMahon baseball game played at Doubleday Field. We bounced the idea off of Marty Hersam and he was all in.

To Marty, any idea was "just crazy enough to work" as he'd say. He shot very little down.

So, in typical exhausting HAN style, we would call a baseball game in Bridgeport, CT late Friday night, then slog to Cooperstown the next day. We'd check the setup and head to our rooms before the game on Sunday. Then sleep again and head home on Monday.

Bridgeport went as planned. We packed up Marty's vehicle with the video equipment while I loaded the audio with me. For once I had an advantage in that I drove back to Mahopac that night so I'd have a head start. I actually thought we'd caravan but that wouldn't be the case.

I left early Saturday, stopped in Kingston for a quick breakfast, and moved along to Cooperstown, arriving by late morning. I went straight to Doubleday Field to check cell service where I thought we'd have a place to setup and walked the entire ballpark. Everything was in order and I could breathe a little easier. I was even able to visit the Chamber of Commerce to see if they had any interesting facts or notes to present about the town. Shockingly they did not but maybe they didn't know what I was asking for.

Paul arrived not long after and we walked around.

Marty would be next to arrive and others would follow. Let me add that Marty was also sick and probably shouldn't have driven but I know I wouldn't have been talked out of going either. 

I caught everyone up on my due diligence before we went to the Hall of Fame for a few minutes. We had tickets thanks to having interviewed people from there on the air.

Lunch and conversations took place before we drove to Herkimer, with me leading the way. I'm not going to lie. It was a proud moment as I watched the headlights trailing behind me up Route 28. Not that I necessarily knew where I was going either. Yet everyone knew I'd get us there.

Me, heading into my room (Paul Silverfarb photo)

So, why Herkimer? That's all Marty could find for us. We'd drive 45 minutes each way for three days. At first glance, the Red Roof Inn near the Thruway wasn't necessarily the style I'd stay in but, truthfully, I liked it a lot. A Denny's next door allowed for a bigger meal if so desired and I ate breakfast there on Sunday morning.

But we wanted dinner, a beverage, and a place to watch some sports on Saturday night. The only option, we were told, was Applebee's in Herkimer.

Piling into my car we made a five-minute drive to Applebee's on Route 5.

It's also where we went on Sunday night after the baseball game. The broadcast went off mostly without a hitch (McMahon 7, Norwalk 3). We found a hard line jack to plug into for the internet and called the game from behind home plate.

The experience was truly one of my favorite things ever and I'd very much like to go back to do another game (Brunswick? Greenwich?). I was so overjoyed that I closed the broadcast by reading a passage from Walt Whitman:

I see great things in baseball. It's our game - the American game. It will take our people out-of-doors, fill them with oxygen, give them a larger physical stoicism. Tend to relieve us from being a nervous, dyspeptic set. Repair these losses, and be a blessing to us.

Considering the various tensions of the day, I floated back to Herkimer for dinner. In fact, as I look back, this might have been our last stand where the entire HAN crew got along and laughed. That's not to say there weren't good times ahead but things would change and tensions would grow.

The first change was following the end of the baseball broadcast.

Our traveling party would get smaller as that broadcast would mark Paul's departure. He left us to get back home and wasn't staying with us that night. He also would resign not long after.

The rest of us headed back to Herkimer. We had dinner, laughed, and called it a night. 

The storm clouds would do their thing.

By Monday morning, in the small continental breakfast area of the Red Roof Inn, we'd face new realities.

I had hoped we'd have the day to ourselves but Marty wanted us to remain consistent and do our morning news show, "Coffee Break." He also wanted "Nutmeg Sports," the show I hosted to air as well.

And he wanted them from Cooperstown. Or Herkimer.

But.

We lost power in Herkimer. The hotel and town went dark.

We called around Cooperstown. Who would want us? We tried a few places. I remember calling the library. It was as if I'd called Mars.

Not liking where we were, I took a stand and said I was heading to Cooperstown and I'd figure something out. I was going to look into doing the shows back at Doubleday Field.

One thing I'll add: it was April 20 and it was raw. Cold and rainy.

Still, I sped back down 28 toward Cooperstown before I got a call from Tracey Iaizzi. She told me to go to Ommegang Brewery just outside of the village. We'd do "Coffee Break" from there. They would get free advertising and an interview, we'd get to try some of their beer, and we'd get to air the show. It was a win for all.

We did all of that and then drove back to Doubleday Field. We'd do "Nutmeg Sports" from there.

Or not. Marty told us to wait.

He went over to the nearby Otesaga Resort Hotel. This beautiful place was where the Hall of Famers stayed when they came to town. Now, they'd host a radio program on their back patio.

We moved over there.

Setup began. We went about putting the cables down and setting up the cameras. I worked on setting up the audio. All seemed to be going well. Sticking with the theme of the weekend we were in a talkative, jovial mood, considering we had taken some lemons and hit them out of the park (mixing metaphors but, hey).

Then, finally, Marty had heard enough. He'd been rummaging through bags and equipment cases. He'd been looking at the floor. He was a man on a mission.

Finally, he spoke.

"OK (soooo), EVERYBODY STOP. WHERE ARE THE POWER STRIPS?"

Seriously, we didn't have that many. It was as if they'd dissolved. We, sadly, had a way of misplacing some things and having such equipment hiccups. Let's not get started on the adapter we needed for the Thanksgiving football game later on in 2015.

I almost sprinted out to my car to check any bags out there. Nothing.

Then we discovered that we were having other technical issues. In the end, we did "Nutmeg Sports" as an audio-only program on the patio, with John Kovach and me sitting in a couple of Adirondack Chairs looking like two country gents talking about farm equipment.

After the brief explosion of the "POWER STRIPS" moment, we seemed to take it all in stride.

It was an extremely enjoyable conversation about sports and the weekend. My kind of radio.

We packed up, returned to town for an early dinner, and everyone began to drive home.

I took one last moment after John drove away, to just walk around town once more. I think I hoped some spirit would grab me (or maybe a souvenir). Alas, nothing did as the town began to shut down.

Still, it's a baseball town. Heaven. Americana. My kind of place.

Then I made the 3+ hour drive back home.

But, as I said at the top of this, Sean wasn't there. He was 13 at the time and had school. The shame is he probably would have loved it but there would be other trips for him. 

Eventually, I told him the story of the power strips and he thought it was hysterical.

In the ensuing nine years, I've heard randomly about power strips whenever he feels like it. When we went to Cooperstown last August, we drove over to the Otesaga. The parking lot was crowded and he asked me what we were doing there. Though we couldn't walk inside, I told him where we were.

"The scene of the crime!" we both laughed.

No power strips were to be found, though we both glanced around.

We, too, drove home afterward.

The memories of baseball, laughter, and power strips jangled the brains toward the aforementioned Catskills.

The Team Photo

 

From left: Chris Kaelin, Sean Kilkelly, Nick Angotto, me, Chris Erway, Ryan Demaria

I saw that picture this morning in my memories on Timehop. The date says it was 2011.

Oh, what a time it was.

It was taken on the access road at Staples High School where the annual tailgate was taking place before the Thanksgiving Day game.

Back then we had a much bigger crew and, while all six of us might not have been on that broadcast, it wouldn't surprise me if we were.

We used sideline reporters and statisticians who also doubled as spotters in case I missed anything.

It also meant a larger array of equipment, including wireless microphones for the sideline reporters and whatever means we had to communicate with them. You see, I could hear them but they couldn't hear us without some kind of a system.

We tried walkie-talkies and hand signals before, eventually, switching to a small transmitter which allowed them to hear me via radio.

It was quite a production and it was quite a team.

It was Kato and Sean and Nick and Demer and ErJuan and me. But there were others. Nick Fox and Max Barefoot and Paul Silverfarb and Mark Rosen and Matt Hamilton and Tom Kane and Ricky Fritsch and still more.

And that was just on WGCH.

Ian Barto was our last sideline reporter and once he stepped away, we backed down to just the "A-Team" duo of Chris and me. Of course, Sean Kilkelly still anchors us in the studio. I can't stress enough that his role is so important to simply keep us on the air and to handle whatever issues come up on his end. When it flows well, it's a simple babysitting job. 

When it doesn't then it's a hellacious babysitting job.

The big broadcast crews were great. We'd often have three or four and that seemed like the magic number. We'd ride together in the station van (we don't have one any longer) and have meals and really be a team. But, we also ran the risk of egos and simply getting tired of each other.

Still, we even traveled a few times, like Sean, Mark Rosen, and me in a hotel in Syracuse for a New York state championship. Oh yeah, and a lot of snow. 

On the opposite end was Nick Angotto, Jason Intrieri, and me in Naples, FL.

Now, frequently, games just have me on them. That's how life evolves.

But there's also something about the simplicity of just the two broadcasters. Chris Erway and I have had a season to remember with trips to Massachusetts and Wallingford and Cheshire and Pawling, New York.

For all of our "A-Team" goofy bluster, we're a pretty decent broadcast duo.

And the season isn't done yet. That's not the point of this post. There is at least one playoff game -- at Cardinal Stadium on Tuesday night.

In fact, I called the GYFL Graduation Bowl solo at Cardinal Stadium this morning.

But the picture reminded me of those earlier days.

If it was 2011, it was the days of being a single dad to a nine-year-old. It was also in the days of beginning to rediscover myself and that's a process that is still going on. But it was also a season of just 21 game broadcasts. That was the lowest since my first year doing play-by-play, in 1999.

That would only change once I helped start HAN Radio and the HAN Network and, eventually, Robcasting.

Listeners and fans deserve better. They deserve more games. Admittedly, quantity isn't the answer. Quality is, and I sometimes have to remind myself of that. In 2011, we hopefully produced 21 quality broadcasts. In 2022, we hopefully produced well over 120 quality broadcasts with WGCH, LocalLive, Robcasting, NJ.com, WALL, WDLC, WYNY, and Fairfield Prep. I hope I didn't miss anyone.

I suppose that picture stirred memories of laughs. We did plenty of that. I actually think that was the day that MSG Varsity was on-hand for the TV broadcast of that game and they were filming "B roll" of the tailgate for their pregame opening package.

What they didn't know was a few of the faces that they were filming came from WGCH Radio. You know, as in "the competition." Considering how they often bullied themselves around FCIAC games (while not really knowing the FCIAC that well), we got a good laugh out of it.

Oh, stories. Such stories. I don't mean to hate on MSG. Most of the people there were solid, both on the air and behind the scenes. We all tried to work together.

Consider this growth on my part.

The faces in the picture now are older. More girth. Less hair. More kids. Different responsibilities. Our schedules all got a little crazier. I try to keep in touch with all of them.

Yet, in truth, only Sean Kilkelly, Chris Erway, and I are still in broadcasting.

WGCH still isn't covering enough games. I keep trying to change that.

The HAN Network is long gone.

Pictures say so much.

Time brings understanding and wisdom.

Has It Been Eight Years?

Rob, Bill Bloxsom, and Dave Stewart

I almost forgot about it but memories are splashed all over the socials these days.

Eight years ago this morning, I nervously got in my car and drove to New Canaan, CT. Though I still worked as a (s*itty) reporter for the Wilton Bulletin, I had quietly been involved in a project and this was to be the soft opening.

Prior to that morning, I'd had a conversation at a softball game, seen equipment get purchased, and practiced in a closet at the Wilton Bulletin office in Ridgefield. That, of course, brought questions and scrutiny and even straight-up nosiness* about what I was up to. In fact, I was under instructions to not even tell my editor at the Bulletin, which also brought my grief.

*My former co-worker Patty Gay just somehow opened the door to the closet one day and played dumb. Sorry, Patty. I knew it then and I know it now. People were talking and you decided to just stroll in to see what I was up to. All good.

Ah, but back to the morning of 11/21/13. In truth, I was heading up what was to be a company-changing venture. Me and my dumb idea would galvanize, divide, exhilarate, and frustrate everyone. Me included. 

I'm still blamed for things, sadly.

I was ushered into a conference room in the New Canaan Advertiser offices that day. I organized the equipment, tested everything, and got ready for a huge broadcast. Huge to me, that's for sure. The big idea -- Hersam Acorn Radio -- was ready for its debut.

Up until that point, our broadcasts had consisted of going live from that closet in Ridgefield and one football game at Brunswick that almost nobody knew about. Each broadcast was heard by maybe five people. In the case of the Ridgefield shows, it was just me talking to make sure people could hear me and that the quality was good. At Brunswick, Paul Silverfarb -- instrumental in helping guide me to make this happen -- joined me for a true football broadcast that I've since published and has been heard for real.

Now it was time to go live. Dave Stewart and Bill Bloxsom joined me as we broke down the upcoming FCIAC football championship between New Canaan and St Joseph. That game would be played the next night at Trumbull High School and was the true grand opening. Paul, Chris Kaelin, and I called it and we held on for dear life as the internet gave us issues and we received a few harsh reviews for that.

I thought for sure I was destined for a life of board of education meetings in Wilton. To be sure, I could do those and report them well but, let's face it, this broadcasting thing -- especially sports -- was supposed to be my strong suit.

Our show on Nov. 21 is otherwise unmemorable and I mean that in the best way humanly possible. I nervously posed for pictures that ran in some of the papers and online as we began to promote the new radio station.

I have other memories of the day, but most memorably was the end of the show. I wrapped up and turned the microphones off when applause broke out in the office. 

Bill and Dave stood up and left the room.

I sat there, almost anchored in my seat as the adrenaline drained from me. I think I hugged Tracey Iaizzi when I finally emerged from the room. I remember watching Marty Hersam -- the namesake of the company -- pacing nervously as the broadcast went on as he listened.

In short, it was a success and, internet issues aside, Hersam Acorn Radio -- later HAN Radio and the HAN Network -- was a reality. It became my full-time job roughly six weeks later. Around the same time, I also slept in the Ridgefield office for coverage of a big snowstorm that we carried.

The stories are plentiful through my departure in July 2016. I feel sad for the way it ended and the things that happened over roughly the ensuing year. For my part, I'd love to go back and fix that. I'm sad that it all ended by 2018 as Hersam Acorn was purchased by Hearst.

But like with any story, there were lots of good and bad. 

For a stretch, I'd rarely, if ever, been happier.

So tonight isn't about whatever nonsense happened. Tonight is about those great early moments of the first show, which led to the first game, which led to doing a show on the night before Thanksgiving and looking Susan in the eye for the first time (all of our previous conversations had been over chat). Then came the football playoffs and hockey and basketball and this whole thing became a reality.

That's what I want to bask in tonight. It's part of whatever legacy I have and I helped start it.

To be honest, it was my idea. I lament what could have been. I marvel at what was.

It became real eight years ago today.

The "A-Team" eventually became the go-to duo for football

The necessities of the booth

 

Currently, everything I need to call a game fits in there. 

Normally around this time of year, I begin thinking about opening up the equipment bags and getting ready for football season. I've used the equipment a lot more in the summer the last few years, especially last summer when I was handling faux-American Legion games and Little League games.

You know, COVID games.

In other years, August had been fairly quiet for games. This year, of course, is not like that, given I have a schedule that keeps me buzzing with the Gades.

Still, I decided it was time to look things over (and I'll likely do so again soon). Armed with a new adidas duffle bag I got at Marshall's today, I began checking things to see what HAS* to go into a stadium with me.

*The thing is, what has to go can be somewhat negligible. For instance, there's already a mixer and headsets that I leave at Dutchess Stadium. There's also a headphone amp and mics and so on. That will (likely) get broken down in September but we haven't crossed that bridge yet (though I'd love to leave most of it intact and visit it during the offseason!).

But, OK, without being pedantic, what does one really need? 

- Mixer. It starts with a mixer, in my opinion, because even if you're going straight into a computer, you need to somehow mix multiple sounds together. It's just a question of which mixer. Lately, I'm all about my Zoom PodTrak P4, which allows me at least two mic inputs, a phone input (or another mic), and a computer connection (or still another mic). Plus it's really small. A backup mixer can come into play to expand the setup or I can go to a bigger mixer as needed.

- Headsets. This helps in terms of how many inputs you need on the mixer. Four mic inputs is always a nice sweet spot but you can always go with more. Still, my way of thinking is there's one for me (or whoever the lead broadcaster is), one for the lead analyst, and then input for a handheld crowd mic. From there, add as needed. Of course, given I've come to "Scully" so many games (work alone) I often need fewer inputs. At Dutchess Stadium, I have me, a second headset (if necessary), a handheld crowd mic, and a "shotgun" mic for the crack of the bat. I bring an extra headset in just in case (such as when Mark Jeffers and Dave Torromeo visited).

Storing the mixer and headsets is always a headache. To put them into a better case creates more to carry so that's also a consideration in all of this. Crushing either one can obviously damage them.

- Microphones. I sort of broke that down above. I try to carry two handheld mics. While I'd love to own a shotgun mic, I normally rely on trusty Shure mics and the like. Basically, just quality handheld vocal mics that will hopefully catch the buzz of the crowd. It's not perfect but it's fairly affordable.

- Cables. Can't have mics without them (unless they're wireless). So I try to carry a couple of different lengths. Maybe three. If necessary, I have extras that I keep in my car.

- A headphone amp. While my Zoom PodTrak P4 has headphone inputs I still like having an amp available. My preference is one that has both 1/4 inch and 3.5mm inputs but that's not always easy to have. I have an amp from Behringer that has 1/4 inputs and that works nicely.

- An extension cord. I keep a few available in case I have to string them together to reach an outlet but I normally keep one in the bag. I also have a long run of cord for certain situations (such as being 50-100 feet from where I'm calling the game). Don't laugh. It's all happened. However, I've also gotten better at certain circumstances where I can run off battery or computer battery. That is definitely not ideal.

- A power strip. Sean and I still laugh about an old HAN Network story where we couldn't find any power stripes in Cooperstown back in 2015. He wasn't even there but I guess the way I told the story brought it into being its own meme. "Everyone STOP. Where are the power strips?" Anyway, one that allows for several inputs is nice. Again, just if necessary.

- Tape. Preferably some kind of a "gray" or "gaffers" tape but also painter's tape is good for hanging notes.

- Now, how do you get all of this to the outlet broadcasting the game? Well if I'm putting it on Robcasting then I need a USB cable to go from the mixer to the computer. However sometimes it's not that simple, so I have a converter that will take audio from the mixer and convert it to USB as needed. In other cases, I need a 1/4 inch cable to convert over to XLR (mic cable) with a male end. Or it might need to be 3/5mm to XLR male.

What I'm saying here is I have a collection of various cables and adaptors, which is where I tend to become "MacGyver" with my ability to (hopefully) make sure the show still goes off without a hitch.

I'm sure I should probably give you even more detail than I have already but I'm hoping you get the idea. Sure, I can walk in with minimal items and make it work but I like to have a bit more in my bag of tricks (#Preparation, amirite?). Yet that being said, I've really tried to back down on just how much I carry due to it not truly being necessary. I've hurt my back enough dragging so much into various facilities.

It's nice -- especially with Local Live -- to make sure I have the right mixer, headset, and adaptors to do a minimal setup for the ease of everything. Yet, given how I am, you can probably see why I like to do my own setup and breakdown. It's a time of peace for me and I've gotten pretty proficient at wrapping up and getting out of the facility. I know where everything goes.

It's from this point that the kit can expand. For instance, what about the weather? To that end, I keep a few towels in the bag for spills and anything else. Those also come in handy when it's super hot and I'm roasting. I mop my face with them. Additionally, I've added a small tarp for when I need coverage. Now that's not as necessary if I'm using my pod or if I'm indoors. Also, I can utilize my Pelican case as necessary. But those are all considerations.

Of course, there are also banners if I'm hanging one for either WGCH or Robcasting or someone else. But now we're expanding the limits of what we need.

So what did I miss? There's probably something I forgot to mention or perhaps you have a better idea. I'm always looking to get better at this but, at the same time, I like my system also. Still, my system constantly evolves and I guarantee I will unpack and examine it all next month when baseball season is over.

A deep dive

 

Is Dropbox the answer?

I'm in the process of trying to figure out the best way to archive old digital files.

You might recall I had a bit of a scare when I couldn't access files on an old external hard drive. Well, I finally bought a device to help me and, today, got around to emptying the hard drive off (thanks, Marc Ducret!).

Now it's a question of where and how I store all of these old game broadcasts and other files. Sure, Dropbox is nice but it's also not cheap. But is another external drive the answer? Or some other service?

As always, I've been reading and researching and overwhelming my brain.

But this process meant diving into the rabbit hole of broadcasts from the Gades, HAN, WGCH, Local Live, and more.

Remember the Georgian Court basketball games I called in a snowstorm and wound up stranded at Post University? Those broadcasts are there.

The long, hot summer baseball tourneys? Got 'em.

The first lacrosse game I called -- back in 2005? Yes.

And all kinds of wacky Hersam Acorn audio when I was literally the only person who knew what we were doing (thus...Robcasting). 

Some of the files might be bad or weren't complete for one reason or another. That highlights a huge bummer for me. When HAN went primarily to video, we initially talked about keeping the audio element.

Then, we didn't and the audio came to an end so it was on me to create an audio recording if I wanted one.

Eventually, HAN made a business decision to put many of the game broadcasts -- including games that I called -- behind a paywall.

So, at this point, I don't have access to them and that's a shame. I recorded the audio of some but not all.

There are certainly a few I'm quite proud of, such as the 50th FCIAC Championship football game. Chris Erway and I were on fire for that one. I mean, there are so many others.

Hopefully, I'll get that audio one day (even if it's video).

Of course in those files are stories -- good and bad. There's blood and sweat and tears. There are a lot of long nights and exhausting drives home. There are a lot of late-night conversations to give me the energy to make those exhausting drives home.

This is true of every stop I've made along the way.

There are a lot of great memories.

And yet...

My eye drifted to Sep 11, 2015. John Jay of Cross River at Yorktown football. The internet was terrible. We struggled all night. The broadcast felt like a complete disaster on multiple levels. I had to go to the athletic director's office to sign a waiver for us to broadcast the game.

The next day we held our breath at Notre Dame of West Haven for football as we lost power a few times and nerves were raw.

Those are just a couple of the horror stories.

But the triumphs. That 2015 FCIAC Championship. The Cooperstown game between McMahon and Norwalk. The long stretches of hockey and basketball championship runs.

Broadcasting at Webster Bank Arena and Ingalls Rink and Mohegan Sun.

I could go on but I sense you're getting the idea.

These are files that are important to me so I have to find the right place to keep them safe. With those files comes even more memories.

It really could be a book but I don't know that anyone would ever care to read it.