I Asked For This Schedule

 

The malfunctioning scoreboard

Always be ready.

Survive and advance.

Adjust as necessary.

I grabbed a cup of coffee and sat on the couch for a moment before "Meet the Beatles" this morning when my phone buzzed from one of the two people scheduled to be my first guest in the history of the show.

It turns out he wasn't feeling well and chose discretion, opting to stay home.

However, he was performing as part of a duo, so his partner was still going to come in and we'd also have him back another time.

I was fine with however it was resolved because, with the exhaustion of Saturday, I was all about having a peaceful day.

This worked out very well.

Mark Zelenz was my guest and he performed a variety of Beatles songs, as well as solo John Lennon and Paul McCartney songs, and, at the very end, even brought us part of one Billy Joel song ("Vienna"). Interspersed between songs, we chatted about influences, trivia, and more.

It was a success and I think the sound was outstanding.

As with all Robcasting audio, the show is archived on archive.org and Mixlr. Additionally, the WGCH archive page will be built soon. I happen to know the WGCH archivist in this case, as that has become one of Sean's duties.

With the show over, I stopped home for a few moments to grab some warmer layers.

My first hockey broadcast of the season was next on the agenda.

The commitment to Rockets Hockey Club means roughly a 90-minute drive to the Bridgewater Sports Arena in New Jersey.

It means the second time doing the drive down I-287, which has become one of the more boring jaunts that I deal with.

But, before I drove it, I found the new Wawa off NJ 17 in Ramsey.

I needed lunch. I also needed a cup of their coffee.

I worked my way out US 202 to cut off a bit of 287. The bigger reason to do that is because I used to have family out that way and we would drive 202 because 287 didn't exist yet. If I've never said this, my mother spent the first years of her life in Butler, NJ and we had members of her family sprinkled through that region.

So I enjoyed the few minutes of semi-nostalgia as things have changed quite a bit.

I rolled into the Bridgewater Sports Arena with plenty of time and found a full parking lot. I made my way into the red rink, where the Rockets play, to find that a game was already going on and it was being broadcast. As a result, I couldn't set up. Instead, I grabbed my notes, leaned on the top of a garbage can, and scribbled.

That game went into overtime and the Rockets won it (it was a different level than the one I'd be calling). But late in that game, I noticed the four-sided scoreboard overhead wasn't functioning.

Thus the broadcaster of that game said he'd be joining me to help with keeping an eye on the game clock (he was running the website also). So, thinking I'd be "Scullying" a hockey game, I instead wound up with an analyst I've never worked with and didn't know.

You know the drill with that. There's the whole thing of learning cadence as well as creating chemistry.

I'm not sure how smooth it sounded but we made it work. He (his name was Sean) brought a wealth of knowledge to the broadcast and that was a great advantage to have.

It was over a few hours later, completing my third call since Saturday afternoon, and I began my drive home.

Of course, Sunday night traffic slowed things up a bit in Rockland County for me but I was home by 8 p.m., in time for Steelers/Cowboys on Sunday Night Football.

Which was delayed due to a thunderstorm.

Oh, you bet there was another trip to Wawa before I got home, as Sean (son, not today's broadcaster, was happy to get a sandwich).

Things will be quiet tomorrow but don't worry. 

Things will heat up.

More hockey and more football later this week.

If only I could work in a baseball and basketball call to complete the big four.

Adjusting on the fly, of course.

Paul the Photographer

 

The credit for this one belongs to Sean.

A photography exhibit by a certain Sir Paul McCartney debuted at the National Portrait Gallery in London in June 2023.

It opened a week after I left London, where I had been for a Hunt Scanlon conference.

Figuring it was a case of "Oh, well, sucks to be me," I laughed at the tough break and moved on.

But then it turned out that the exhibit was going to tour.

In late 2023, it stopped in Norfolk, VA. I considered taking a trip in January for a weekend to visit it. Sean and I discussed a fun getaway for Waffle House and Beatles photos, knowing we also had a drive to Florida in March. So common sense and financial responsibility won out.

Then I saw a post from Macca's Instagram page.

The tour was coming to Brooklyn.

Brooklyn, NY is certainly reachable but can also be a bit of a trip. Any longtime reader of this blog knows I frequented Brooklyn quite a bit at one time. You can drive but, well, it's New York City. You can use mass transit but be prepared for changing trains.

As I said, this story belongs to Sean. He insisted that we go because "I don't want you to miss this." Once in a while, he takes a stand and, in this case, he was resolute.

Obviously, we've had some things to deal with over the past few months. We've worked for the Renegades and I've worked multiple sporting events and so on. Then, of course, the move occupied our minds and time.

Our schedules have just been crazy.

The exhibit, Paul McCartney Photographs 1963–64: Eyes of the Storm, arrived at the Brooklyn Museum on May 3. 

It closes on Aug 18.

Time was ticking away. Or, to put it another way, "Life is very short and there's no time for fussing and fighting, my friends."

I had to include a song quote, even if it's from the wrong era.

But I promised we would go. I didn't want to miss it. It would simply be a shame to have this within reach and not see it. So I marked today as the day.

In the end, it became an adventure for father and son as we made good on the promise.

With that said, the day began with "Meet the Beatles," because it's Sunday. We left immediately after I got home, walking from the new apartment to the Greenwich train station. It's a roughly 30-minute commitment for those wondering. I'll have to consider that in the wee morning hours of a September day when the next conference comes around.

It's best, however, to not worry about time in this case. The train took us from Greenwich to Grand Central and we boarded the shuttle to Times Square before taking the 3 train to the museum. 

I call this "Two Selfies." Also, I need a Beatles T-shirt

With all due respect to the Brooklyn Museum and the other fine works of art therein, we were there for Sir Paul, and we went straight to the fifth floor.

Now, Sean thought this was an art exhibit and didn't realize that it was a photography display with some artifacts. For him, that turned out to be a pleasant surprise as he is into photography.

For me, it didn't matter. It was Paul. John. George. Ringo. It was those in their world in 1963-1964.

And it was magnificent.

While it covered just a brief stretch of Beatlemania, it was a look at the insanity as the lads took over the world.

There are portraits and action shots. There are behind-the-scenes vignettes. There are views of Liverpool and London and New York and Washington and Miami. 

There are the four Beatles but also George Martin and Mal Evans and Neil Aspinall and Cilla Black and Brian Epstein and the other wonderful characters that participated in this seminal time. Also included were pictures of Jim McCartney and Mike McCartney (Paul's father and brother) as well as Jane and Peter Asher (Paul's one-time girlfriend and her brother) and George Harrison's parents as well as George's sister, who lived in the US.

There was plenty from the Plaza Hotel, where The Beatles stayed for their appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show.

There were also some glimpses of other photographers, including album covers such as With the Beatles. Of course, with some changes, it was known as, ahem, Meet the Beatles here in the US.

There was a Beatle wig.

It was truly wonderful, especially for a fan of the band.

Sean was dazzled and I was overwhelmed.

And I'm beyond grateful to him for making sure this happened.

I wish I could say we came away with a souvenir but, alas, the options were sort of meh and a bit overpriced. I really liked the exhibit poster but couldn't justify plunking down $35, knowing I'd want to frame it also. The idea of carrying that home wasn't appealing to me either.

I looked at a few things but, hey, it's OK. I saw it. I took a few pictures. Not everything has to have a trinket.

I'll take the memories as a souvenir.

As we walked out of the museum, a band was playing jazz and I had to remark that I loved it but I came to Brooklyn for The Beatles. We both laughed.

Shake Shack said to pick a number. How'd I do?

With the day being warm but comfortable, we enjoyed a walk through Grand Army Plaza and out Flatbush Ave to find some food. We settled for Shake Shack, though admittedly it wasn't my first choice.

But the subway was across the street and the journey to Greenwich was awaiting.

Oh, but first we had to get black and white cookies at Zaro's in Grand Central.

With minutes to spare, we found two seats and chilled out on the train.

Nearby, four teenage girls giggled and talked about clothes and whatever else teenage girls discuss. 

Despite their occasional shrieks, I laughed at them. Sean didn't find them quite as amusing.

Maybe it's the dad in me.

Our journey ended a little over a half-hour after stepping off the train in Greenwich.

Sean is upstairs talking with friends online.

I'm watching the Yankees and Red Sox, with the Bronx Bombers reminding me of the roller coaster that is a baseball season.

But today was about Sean and Paul McCartney.

A day -- an adventure -- that I will be forever grateful for.

Yeah yeah yeah.

Really Happy to Be Home

 

He's happy we're home. At least I think he is.

Let's start this post with a "Meet the Beatles" thought. I honestly loved today's show. I was inspired by what I thought was a foolish social media post from a few days back.

Look, I let a lot of stuff go. I even bit my tongue on a post about Vin Scully broadcasting the 1985 World Series.

Nope. He did not. He did the '85 NLCS on NBC but the '85 Fall Classic ran on ABC with Al Michaels in the play-by-play seat for Cardinals/Royals. Before you say, "Vinny did radio," that too would be incorrect. Jack Buck called the Series on CBS Radio.

Vin was probably home in Hidden Hills, CA with his beloved wife and family.

But, I let it go. Some people also can't handle...well...the truth, honestly.

I also don't feel the need to be that person. I see it all the time. The person who has to correct everything.

But when the same person erroneously spoke about John Lennon and his lack of emotion, well, I took that as inspiration for today's show.

John Lennon was an enormously complicated soul. He was a difficult man. He was also enormously good-hearted and deliriously funny. That didn't mean he was going to bear his soul while chatting. At least, not publicly.

That was reserved for his music.

I started with "In My Life." I included "Nowhere Man." I could have thrown in "Mother." I also used "Jealous Guy," "I'm a Loser," "Julia," "How?" "Watching the Wheels," and even "Help."

Oh, there was also "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away." Plus, I threw in George, Paul, and Ringo singing "Ain't She Sweet" from the Anthology sessions. The "Threetles," these "unfeeling types, sat together, singing and laughing and saying how wonderful it was to be together.

I mean, it was too easy. I added in things like "Eleanor Rigby" and "I Want to Tell You" and "Something" to show the sensitivity of Paul and George.

Oh, and then I went for Paul's "Here Today" and told the story of Paul and George holding hands as Harrison was ten days away from dying.

Honestly, the show should win an award. 

OK, maybe not an award but it's something I'm really proud of. I like that I gave it a lot of thought and, while there's always a spontaneous nature to my work, it came together so nicely. So fluidly.

Feel free to give it a listen.

There is no intended malice in this but there are those who are either too stubborn, stuck in their ways, or too arrogant. Sometimes it's nice to refute them a bit.

For the record, we're not talking about Toxic Positivity, whom I took the weekend off from. Yet he's still continuing to bloviate. If I go back in, expect shock and awe.

*****

OK, so I've really buried the lead here, but as the title implies, it's nice to be home. I bought a receiver for my old Sony amplifier to make it Bluetooth-compatible, thus bringing it into the 20th Century. As we speak, I'm playing a Sirius XM jazz channel though it off my phone.

Bliss, I tell you.

But I'm not kidding. I think I bought this amplifier (from Costco) in the late 90s. Probably around 1997. I added a turntable, cassette deck, and brought the TV and DVD/Blu-ray into it as well. It sounds pretty great through a pair of Polk Audio bookcase speakers that might date to the early 00s since I got them at Circuit City.

Yes. I'm that old.

But my two-plus weeks of baseball are over. As I wrote a few nights ago, that was (over*) 29 games of play-by-play. Now, three Renegades games on the public address have come to a close.

* I couldn't call a game but could see it from a field away, so I narrated that while calling the game I was at. I'm weird that way.

But I'm thrilled, relieved, and just happy to be done with everything for a moment. This was a grind, topped by a couple of stressful days and nights in the minor leagues. There were a lot of moving parts and it felt good to navigate all of it without incident.

Plus, if I may, there was supposed to be a producer in the booth both last night and today. But he was sick so that duty was left to me to do .... in addition to handling the PA announcing. It's no major hardship. It's just extra massaging of things, I suppose.

But I felt a good sense of achievement when it was over and, for the first time in a while, I'm home and can focus a bit on this place. I've hung just a few things, including the important spaghetti and meatballs recipe from my mother and my beloved Aunt Fay. One day I have to work up the guts to try to make it.

For tonight, the Adams boys had chili dogs. Tired after our day(s) at the stadium, we stopped at Wegmans and picked up dogs and rolls. Plus French fries.

And it was all delicious.

Now it's time for just relaxing, cooling down, hanging with The Cat, and getting myself ready for the week. For now, I only have Doubleheader on my mind. I will tell you that there is a pending play-by-play offer that is hanging around to be dealt with. I'm waiting to hear if we're approved to do it.

Otherwise, the equipment is all sitting in the living room a few feet from where I'm typing.

There are plenty of other things to be done, such as car work.

Oh, and back to the Bluetooth receiver. So, I ordered it on a whim yesterday (it was quite affordable) and set about my day. Later in the day, it struck me.

I had it delivered to Bruce Park. You know, as in the apartment we no longer live in.

Ah, oh well. Our old landlord would have shot me a text had he seen it, but it wasn't necessary. We ran over after stopping at Wegmans tonight and that was that.

I did love the grind of these two weeks. The hours were long and the toll was physical and mental. But I'm drained. I need ... something tonight, but for now, chili dogs and jazz will suffice.

I'll be back on the radio tomorrow.

Talking sports.

Which is what I do.

*****

I'm aware of the news of the day, with the President announcing he would step aside from running for reelection. It's sad that we simply can't discuss such things without rancor. Friendships get destroyed and blood pressures rise.

Thus, I think it's simply best for me to keep my thoughts on the topic to myself until the time I think I can compose anything coherent.

For now, I'll stay out of it except to say I worry about this great country.

We Built this Awfulness

Just...why?

 

I've admitted to being a sucker for lists.

That also makes me a sucker for clickbait, such as the Culture Sonar item that I found randomly on social media recently.

It's a list of Nine of the Worst Songs of the 80s. 

I'm not going to argue that some of them aren't my taste.

I mean, "Kokomo" is a crime against music, especially against Brian Wilson.

Thirty years have not changed my thoughts on New Kids on the Block either.

It's probably best that I don't go on an anti-Lionel Richie rant (save his stuff with The Commodores) but "Say You Say Me" cost Huey Lewis an Oscar, so you can probably guess my feelings there.

"I've Never Been to Me" is a rough listen.

We've addressed "We Built This City" many times of course.

"Lady in Red" is just cringe.

I don't agree with hating on either "9 to 5 (Morning Train)" or "Eye of the Tiger."

And then there's the stain on J. Paul McCartney's career in "The Girl is Mine" with Michael Jackson. I clearly remember making fun of that dreck back then. All I could think then -- and now -- was "What was Paul thinking?"

Truly only "Ebony and Ivory" is worse.

Yet, at the same time, what can never be forgotten is that all of these songs were popular. "The Girl is Mine," for instance, was a number two hit on the Billboard Hot 100 on Jan 8, 1983. Only "Maneater" by Hall and/or Oates kept Jackson and Macca out of the top slot.

Don't ask about the "and/or." 

Still, I feel like some of us knew these songs weren't our thing at the time. And popularity doesn't determine quality. Shall we revisit the horror of "Pac-Man Fever?"

But are these truly the worst of the 80s? For instance, "Red Red Wine" by UB40 deserves whatever form of hatred it gets and would be on my list if I had one.

It's all just so subjective and can change from day to day for me so I don't feel an urge to create a list.

Yet I'm sure the Exit 55 hive mind -- if one exists -- can come up with some 80s songs that just drive them up a wall.

There are plenty of other '80s songs that are pretty awful. 

Keep all sharp objects away from me when Billy Idol's version of "Mony Mony" comes on.

And give me a year (or more) off from any songs by Bon Jovi, Journey, and Bob Seger.

Of course, Mr. Mellencamp sits in a special place all by himself.

On the other hand, and finishing on a positive note, listen to this cover of a little ditty called "The Power of Love." 

Ho...lee...wow.

GTP 2024

 

Looking towards the Main Stage

Dear Mumford & Sons: It's not your fault.

As I write, you're down at Roger Sherman Baldwin Park, rocking the crowd.

Don't worry. I see the videos being posted on social media. You guys are doing great.

But we're not there.

Sean is in his room, talking with his friends, and winding down.

I'm sitting on the couch, waiting for the Yankees game to start.

The thing is, the Greenwich Town Party is a long day of great bands, all of whom put on wonderful performances.

We're there from the very beginning, walking in right around when the gates open.

Then we're setting up, looking for power and, most of all, an audio feed from the sound tent.

I mean these are the same things that we look for every year.

I kid you not. Every. Year.

We rarely have what we need when we show up.

Today, the tent was set up. We had tables and chairs and even power. A sign hung atop saying "WGCH.com 1490 am"

Once again, we were shoved off to the side of the park, a result of the year the Eagles were the headline act. My only conclusion was that Don Henley was afraid of us. I mean, what else could it be?

(Mr. Henley didn't want some small-town radio station around. I'm sure he somehow felt we'd take money from his pocket and one does not do that to him. Maybe Mojo Nixon was right years ago.)

In any event, we've been there ever since, and despite our protests, nothing will change.

Look, fair enough, We can't see anything in terms of either stage but we're sort of used to it. The staff in the area we work is awesome, allowing us access to food and drinks all day.

But it's the audio cable fiasco that warps my vinyl every year.

It's no secret that we are there to broadcast the event. Every year. Thus, we need access to the direct audio from the stages. Every year.

And yet, we have to basically beg for an audio cable. Every year.

We were escorted to our tent after initially being told we weren't allowed to walk down that path. But we were quickly helped out.

Then we were told the audio cable was in our tent when we arrived. It wasn't. Then we were told it was on the way. 

We were also given different badges so that we could have a little more access around the grounds. To that end, we didn't take advantage of what we were given. We make sure to not overstep our boundaries.

The first band was scheduled to take the stage at 11:40 a.m.

11 a.m. No cable. We went on the air a few minutes later to do a brief scene-setter and announced we'd be back around 11:30.

Not long after this, "The Star-Spangled Banner" and "God Bless America" were performed. A band performed after that but they weren't on our schedule. Still, I would have liked to get that on the air. But, OK, we were still on schedule.

11:15 a.m. No cable. I grabbed a bottle of water and stalked around looking for help.

11:30 a.m. No cable. Bob Small is now going on the air to say he thought he'd hear from us.

11:35 a.m. No cable. Sean and I have to hunt down Quincy, the man who runs the area we're stationed in. It's not his thing to get the cable but he rattled a few cages. He went above and beyond.

As that conversation happens, we watch Fashionably Late take the stage and they were fashionably early. We were the ones who were now late.

I'm calm overall, telling myself there's nothing I can do.

Sean is actually annoyed. Very. 

"This is disrespectful to the band and us," he said.

He's right, and I recognize that energy. I think I know where he inherited it.

Fashionably Late is on stage and crushing it. These kids -- seniors from Greenwich Country Day School -- are rocking through a great set of covers.

Yes, we really did that

Finally, we made a decision, which was to set up a wireless microphone near one of the speakers.

That's how we'd broadcast the band.

Bob interrupted the repeat of "Meet the Beatles" that was airing to throw it to me at the park.

We made it work.

As they played, members of the audio staff told us that they didn't know we were supposed to have the audio.

I mean, we've only done this for every GTP but what do I know?

In the end, we got the cables and, eventually, everything worked. Shortly after Noon, it all sounded like it should.

From there, it was as it should be. Sean and I guided the day, airing each band and having conversations to fill the gaps. 

We stepped away to grab food, including Sean's traditional Chipwich.

Drew Angus plays Pop-a-Shot while being interviewed
by the GTP social media crew

It wasn't the same as every year but it wasn't all that different either. In fact, a new wrinkle was that I was twice whisked away to speak with performers. I talked with Drew Angus and members of The Cameroons and then ran the interviews during breaks from the music.

We were off the air not long before 6 p.m. as Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats began a fantastic set.

But this was also our time to bail. We weren't allowed to run bands after approximately 5:50 p.m.

If you've done this, you know that it's a long day. So I got a taste of Rateliff and his band and was content to listen as we walked home.

So, Mumford and Sons, it's not your fault. The Greenwich Town Party is a commitment.

I got fried in the sun the year Eric Clapton played and took off.

Steely Dan and Lynyrd Skynyrd couldn't get me to stay either.

The Eagles? Nah. I was pretty turned off by getting shoved to the side of the park due to them.

Then again, I've seen Clapton and the Eagles.

Only Billy Joel could get us to stay and even that year it was a long night.

Oh, but it was worth it. So, so worth it.

You've got a great crowd there tonight.

You'll put on a great show.

Admittedly, if Sean had been interested, it might have talked me into staying.

But I'm content to beat the crowd and not walk out among them with a heavy case of radio equipment.

Have a great show, guys.

Thank you, Greenwich Town Party. See you in 2025.

But I'm begging you: electricity and an audio cable.

We use it.

Every.

Year.

Why Am I a Sucker For a List?

 

Apple Music recently revealed a list of what they called the 100 best albums.

It's mind-numbingly awful.

I don't quite know where to start, except to say when The Beatles' Revolver is at 21, you've failed.

Or when Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band isn't on the list at all.

Or the obsession -- the insane obsession -- with Prince.

I mean, here's the top 10.

Number	Album	Artist
1	The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill	Lauryn Hill
2	Thriller	Michael Jackson
3	Abbey Road	The Beatles
4	Purple Rain	Prince & The Revolution
5	Blonde	Frank Ocean
6	Songs in the Key of Life	Stevie Wonder
7	Good Kid, M.A.A.D City	Kendrick Lamar
8	Back to Black	Amy Winehouse
9	Nevermind	Nirvana
10	Lemonade	Beyoncé

I'll just go with "wow" and it doesn't get much better beyond that.

I'm of course still flummoxed at Revolver being 21st.

Look, this is as always subjective. You can't convince me that basically, seven out of those 10 albums belong in my top 10, though I can see Thriller in a fair light. But Abbey Road, Nevermind, and Songs in the Key of Life are all incredible, of course. Those three are deserving.

But -- as a Beatles soul -- I don't have Abbey Road landing that high, so what do I know?

The greater point to me is to wonder why I get wound up about this stuff, given they're all opinions, and silly ones at that?

You want to think Barry Bonds is better than G.H. "Babe" Ruth?

Hahahahahaha, I mean, OK, enjoy that. I'll vehemently disagree but so be it.

Think "Seinfeld" is the best TV show ever? Again, so be it.

But why do I look at all of these things?

Almost to soothe my soul, I then got sucked into looking at Rolling Stone's top Country Songs.

Look, I'm no expert on country music, but will offer that I lean heavily toward older school country (and Western, of course).

"Jolene" by Dolly Parton got top honors in this version, while "I Walk the Line" by Johnny Cash was second. Cash's classic was number one when they did a similar list back in 2014.

I was otherwise satisfied as I read because of the respect for Hank Williams, George Jones, Merle Haggard, Loretta Lynn, the Carter Family, and Glen Campbell, whose "Wichita Lineman" was slotted too low for my taste at 12.

That song is a stone-cold classic and a textbook example of gorgeous songwriting by Jimmy Webb.

But, yeah, I suppose I have a list problem. Throw a top 100 together of some kind and chances are I'll look at it.

The Apple Music top 10 was sent to me before I saw the rest of it and I sincerely wondered if those doing the voting were on drugs, quite frankly.

Thus I had to see the rest of it.

Yeah, something is out of sorts there.

The takeaway here ultimately is that people will keep doing these things and I'll keep reading them.

And rolling my eyes at them.

In the end, it seems that I like them. I like analyzing them and talking about them.

Even if they make me nuts.

Sunday, Pizza

 

I had an epiphany about "Meet the Beatles" this week.

After several episodes of different themes, I told myself to chill out.

"Stop thinking," I said.

This show, as I've said before, is supposed to be a labor of love, much like "Doubleheader." Oh, sure, there's still a business side to it all and it needs to be compelling radio, much as I try to make my "talk show/podcast."

And, for sure, I'll have guests on. In fact, we're at the point where I'm ready to do that.

I asked someone if they'd like to come on and the answer I got was, essentially, "Why?"

I'll get that guest to come on one morning but I didn't feel like pushing it today. His feeling was that he wouldn't be a compelling guest before I reminded him that his parents RAISED him on The Beatles and perhaps he'd like to talk about the songs he liked and what about them appealed to him.

I'd love to get family and friends to come on and talk about the lads and play their favorite songs. All of this will keep the show fresh.

Yet, once in a while, I need to play songs that make me happy.

So instead of overthinking, I decided to have a show that I called "Dealer's Choice." Thus, I'd play whatever I wanted to play.

I played "Magical Mystery Tour" and "I'm Down" and "Happiness is a Warm Gun" and "It Don't Come Easy" and "We Can Work It Out" because I could. 

Instead of worrying about what I was going to play next, or what fact I'd present, I simply sat back and enjoyed the music. Oh, I prepared for each song but I didn't worry about doing intros to each song.

The goal was to just enjoy the songs.

The only common theme was that I picked songs that were upbeat. They didn't have to be happy messages. They just needed to rock a bit.

The guests will happen. Then again, I'll also take a few shows off I suppose. 

But a show like this was a reminder that I could stay fresh by just enjoying it.

There have often been attempts to take the fun out of "Doubleheader" by those who simply don't understand. 

Well, this was my attempt to make "Meet the Beatles" low-stress, especially useful when tired and worn out on Sunday morning.

In that way, it was perhaps my favorite show yet.

I learned that I-95 had reopened completely in Norwalk while doing the show and thought it might be nice to go grab a later lunch/early dinner.

We had said we'd like to get Frank Pepe's pizza in Fairfield. We do this as a way of honoring Mom, who loved it. We couldn't get there for her birthday so opted to do it today as a late birthday/early Mother's Day gathering. Making it nicer was that my sister and niece could both join us, thus adding to the Mother's Day vibe. 

It was relaxing and it's nice when family time is like that.

It's also nice when traffic moves.

We were home in time to watch most of the Rangers game and were pretty pleased with the result.

A big week awaits.

It Takes Time

This is what (or who) I'm dreading moving the most

Patience is necessary.

A virtue even.

As many of you have read, we have to find a new place to live.

We don't have a definitive move date so we're not panicking. We're being proactive but that's all we can do.

We have a real estate agent sending me listings as they come up.

We're looking for (preferably) a two-bedroom place that allows a cat. In a perfect world, it has a washer/dryer and storage and a deck.

Oh, wait. That's what we had here.

And parking would be nice.

And affordable.

So far, we have found nibbles and not much sustenance. 

Clearly, we need some things to fall our way but, so far, nothing has yet.

It's been just over a week.

I look at things every day. I've spread the word among friends and here on this thing.

Remember, we got our current home out of the blue just around this time two years ago.

Actually, I was heading to London two years ago right about now and the apartment came my way just after I came back.

That was pressure. That was stressful.

I'm not feeling that this time and I'm not in any rush to feel that.

Oh, and to be clear, Sean will almost certainly be moving with me, thus "we." Overall, he has moved in with me though he's still legally at his mother's.

However, I'm also keeping an eye on any one-bedroom options with a living room that could be a bedroom. I don't love that option -- not even slightly -- but I did the same thing when I was looking around in 2022.

Then again, I thought it was going to be just me and occasionally Sean in the apartment. In the end, that was not the case. I'll leave it to you to connect the dots.

So, this post is to update you, my friends. We don't have an answer yet but it's important that we're keeping our heads about us, thus allowing us to sleep.

And I've started looking at things for the cleaning and packing process. 

We're OK. I suppose that's the message here.

But we're still looking.

*****

Watching the lads with Yoko dead-center

We head to Beatlesland. Or Pepperland, if you will.

With the news that Let It Be (the movie) is getting a proper release (finally), I felt it was time to rewatch Get Back.

The Let It Be news is pretty great in that The Beatles once again prove that, like it or not, they won't be going away anytime soon. 

But, assuming Peter Jackson is only cleaning up and restoring the film and otherwise leaving it alone, I'll warn you that Let It Be is dark. It deals with the harsh reality of the supernova known as The Beatles is coming to an end.

Get Back, on the other hand, shows the good and the bad times of the hectic month of writing, recording, and performing the album that became known as Let It Be. There's no question the time they spend rehearsing at Twickenham Studios isn't great, though there are some pleasant moments.

Moving to Savile Row changes the mood, especially as Billy Preston comes aboard to play keyboards. There's actually plenty of laughter.

By the time the "Rooftop Concert" rolls around in Get Back, there's an obvious joy to it. First-time viewers of Let It Be likely won't be as quick to recognize the joy.

So be it. I'm fired up to see it remastered.

The more Beatles, the better for me, and the better for "Meet the Beatles," Sunday mornings at 9 on WGCH.

Sunday Morning

 

A center field view of Greenwich Baseball 
from their temporary home at Havemeyer Field

This morning, 7:45 a.m.

Thanks to The Cat, The Beatles, and WGCH, I was out of the house early.

The Cat helped with a not-so great night of sleep. Well, first it was people talking loudly across the street out of Bruce Park Grill at 1:30 a.m.

Then Rascal announced his presence around 5:00. 

There would be no more sleep after that. I fed him, read, and got ready for "Meet the Beatles" at WGCH.

But first, breakfast, and since we had no milk in the place I went out.

As I've mentioned before, finding a breakfast sandwich on Sunday morning isn't easy. Plaza Restaurant, within walking distance on Railroad Ave, isn't open. So the options change and, as a result, I went to Firehouse Deli over in Byram.

They know how to create a ham, egg, cheese, and hashbrown patty masterpiece.

Parking isn't great there, but it's not terrible. It normally means going across the street and parking near Byram Shubert Library. At that hour of the day, nobody is too mindful of meters and parking permits. It's the sort of area where you do your business and get back on the road.

As I walked from the car, it struck me.

I love Sunday morning.

Sunday morning is breakfast.

It's Charles Kuralt and Charles Osgood and Jane Pauley, each one eloquently presiding over the events on CBS Sunday Morning each week since 1979. You knew you were watching a show with class and grace each week.

Sunday morning is jazz, led by Miles Davis and "Kind of Blue" but if you go with Dave Brubeck and "Time Out," well who am I to argue?

Oh, Sunday morning is also "Meet the Beatles," thank you very much.

Sunday morning is a book. A good book. A great book.

Sunday morning is a great movie and it would be perfectly acceptable if that movie was in black and white.

To that end, Sunday morning is Laurel and Hardy or Abbott and Costello or the Bowery Boys. Heck even The Little Rascals though I'm sure we'd have some kind of discussion about political correctness.

But that's just it. Sunday morning -- while full of political chat shows -- shouldn't be about politics. At least not fighting about politics. Sunday morning should be about a cup of coffee -- and whatever kind of blessed coffee you want -- and smart conversation.

If you can make that conversation remain civil and still discuss politics, then you're my kind of people. If you can stir up debate about anything -- yes, even sports -- and keep voices in respectful tones, then you've mastered something.

That's what Sunday morning should be.

Sunday morning should be a fuzzy robe, slippers, and snuggled up on the couch. I mean, sitting in bed is also an option but I'm keeping this family friendly.

Sunday morning is also for listening to the birds or traffic going by. Without horns, please.

Seriously. I beg of you. No horns.

Sunday mornings are for activities and family time and personal thought. 

Sunday mornings are for taking that cup of coffee and heading off to a baseball game. Or softball. Or soccer. Or basketball. Yes, even football, hockey, and any other sport.

Sunday mornings are for driving. Oh, I love an early Sunday drive. You see, people don't want to be out of bed yet. They don't want to be on the road before probably 11 a.m. So that allows for a nice head start to be in the car. 

That, friends, would have been the approach for our drive to Cooperstown but it wasn't meant to be this morning. It will happen some other time but I can tell you it's quite possible we likely would have been on the road and parked on Church Street behind the Hall of Fame by 11 a.m. today. 

Instead, I was crossing Mill St. in Byram before 8 a.m. and walking back out a few minutes later with my breakfast sandwich.

Quite drowsy, I went to WGCH, ate my breakfast, drank my coffee, and tried to steer my brain towards The Beatles.

Then I went back home ... and promptly fell asleep.

With The Cat next to me.

Before taking a walk to Havemeyer Field to watch Greenwich baseball against Immaculate. The lack of a scoreboard makes the experience interesting but, then again, the lack of a broadcast makes it difficult for me.

After that, I got to take Sean back to Firehouse for lunch.

Then "The A-Team" reunited to watch golf at Chris Erway's house. Gotta enjoy those times.

I'm hoping I sleep better tonight.

But, first, Billy Joel on CBS. It still boggles my mind that Billy Joel played a concert within walking distance of our apartment two years ago. 

A priceless memory I will cherish forever.

Hearing him play "Vienna" is something I will hold next to McCartney doing "Day Tripper" and any Huey Lewis show.

Special. Very.

My Drive

 

We slapped this day together.

Breakfast? OK, we did that. There's an outstanding local place across the street that we ate at last year. Not everything has to be Waffle House.

After pulling ourselves together, the three guys (me, Sean, and Kris) grabbed three tickets to the Tampa Bay Rays/Philadelphia Phillies game at BayCare Ballpark in Clearwater. We bought the tickets as we drove, pulled into the parking lot, and were waiting for our tickets to be scanned as the national anthem sounded out.

Oh, we had "berm" tickets, meaning on the grass beyond the outfield fence, but we never sat down. We stood and leaned.

What a ballpark. Honestly, that might be the best of the spring training offerings.

And it was packed. 

The Phillie Phanatic. Pound-for-pound, he's as 
good as mascots come

And it was a pretty good game, as the Phillies rallied to take the lead before the Rays tied it in the top of the eighth and won it in the top of the ninth.

We also had a treat, grabbing Krispy Kreme donuts in Tampa on the way home.

And dinner. Oh, my. Steak, fries, salad.

To top it all off, Sean and I decided to make a late run to John's Pass in Madeira Beach. Kris and Lori elected to hang back, giving us some father/son time.

While I would have been pleased had they joined us, we still enjoyed ourselves.

The first stop -- after getting ripped off for parking -- was the beach. Sadly, any hint of daylight was behind clouds so we stepped into the Gulf of Mexico with no sign of sunset.

No matter. The water was chilly but we adjusted, simply talking and laughing and watching the nearby drawbridge lift up for a passing sailboat.

Then we walked around the shops and took in the evening. We did what we do -- telling stories and laughing. Even serious topics are mostly handled with honesty and humor.

In the end, neither one of us spent a dime, even passing on ice cream (Sean decided the lines were too long). 

That's when I decided to treat myself by just driving.

I drove closer to the water at first, coming up along US 19 Alt through Seminole and Largo and Clearwater before branching off at Dunedin.

Using SR 580, I connected with US 19 to roll up through Palm Harbor and Tarpon Springs into Holiday, where my grandparents lived for many years.

Dripping with nostalgia, I fought the urge to go any further as I veered toward our home away from home, passing the two cemeteries where my father and George Steinbrenner (!) are buried.

Two separate cemeteries. Just in case that wasn't clear.

Sean was content to do his thing as I fussed with the radio, listening mostly to Q-105, which I've listened to here for roughly 40 years. Even if I was less than pleased with their musical choices. Then again, that's sort of how I was when I was sitting in the passenger seat, hoping they'd play Huey Lewis and the News back in 1986.

Some things never change.

Rain is supposed to really dampen things (yeah, I know, bad pun) tomorrow but we're considering our options about how to spend the day before moving into the weekend.

Monday -- and the road home -- will be here soon enough.

There's Always Next Week

 

Rudy Gobert touches microphones as a "joke"
four years ago this week

I was looking forward to today.

The games were over, the clocks were changed, and the Beatles were the only thing on the agenda.

I got home around midnight -- or 1 a.m., given the eventual time change -- and actually passed out.

I slept. Legitimately slept, at least for a few hours.

Then I dragged myself out of the apartment and went to WGCH.

The theme of today's "Meet the Beatles" was underappreciated songs.

Now, hold up. I realize there is basically nothing about the Beatles that is underrated. I've read the myriad comments over the years that called them overrated, overplayed, etc.

I get it. Believe me.

Yet, my idea on the theme was to highlight songs that perhaps don't get the attention that others do.

You've heard "Hey Jude" and "Here Comes the Sun" and "Yesterday" so many times.

I played "She Said She Said" and "I'm Only Sleeping" and others.

I felt this was a show that was a little easier on my brain in that I didn't need to stress it. I could also play a few songs together, giving my voice a break.

Oh, I put my usual all into it.

But it just didn't feel like it connected.

I don't know how to explain it but there's a feeling.

I didn't sense a buzz. I didn't get many comments.

I mean, it happens. 

I've written posts that I've poured my heart into and the readership or reactions were minimal.

I've told jokes -- I'm not a comedian nor am I funny -- that I had to explain.

And, of course, the old "it was a joke," which is so uncomfortable.

I thought I put together a good show this morning. I liked the topic in that I knew it would take a little effort to pull songs that might be a touch off the radar.

I found some song suggestions online that worked.

Yet, sometimes, you just know when it doesn't quite jell.

I have that feeling today was that day.

I don't expect to explore too much new ground with this show. I know that. The Beatles are the most dissected act in the history of music. 

So much of their music exists and has been played and examined.

I'm hoping people might  -- might -- discover something they've never heard or haven't heard in a long time. As always, I hope to inspire.

Of course, I know the possibility exists that I'm overthinking it. I understand it.

But I also know my gut on these things.

And it's fine. I'm not disappointed or down about it.

I have other topics to try out as the show grows. I'll get right back to it next Sunday.

*****

I saw in my memories that today is the fourth anniversary of one of the strangest times I've ever experienced.

Heck, we've ever experienced.

It was four years ago on March 7 that I called Brunswick's last game of the 2019-2020 hockey season. It was a playoff loss to Loomis Chaffee.

That day, people milled about in the lobby of the Hartong Rink as normally. 

Mostly normal.

A dad I ran into gave me an elbow to tap when I offered him a handshake.

Two nights later, I did a basketball doubleheader at Trumbull High School. There was a hint of concern in the air about this thing -- this virus -- that was getting talked about.

I had a text from my mother telling me to get her from the nursing home she had been staying in since February. She was coming home.

That Tuesday morning, March 10, I drove to the home and sat in the lobby. I wasn't allowed to go to her room -- a new rule given the concern over the virus.

As I sat there, the CIAC announced that the Connecticut state playoffs -- the same ones I broadcast just the night before -- were over. An abundance of concern for the virus was the cause.

There would be no championships. No quarterfinals or semifinals either. It was all just ... over.

I'll always feel the kids got screwed but of course, it was also the beginning of a long road. The Class of 2020 got a raw deal in so many ways, including graduations that were virtual or in a parking lot, such as Sean.

The good news was that Mom was out of the hellacious nursing home, though she would face many challenges over the next six months. It's easy now to look back and see she was sent home to die.

Healthcare in this country. That's a whole different, disgusting post. Many thanks to Big Pharma and our government. If you don't have health insurance you're screwed and Babe Ruth forbid you need mental health care.

But I got Mom out of the nursing home, drove her to get an egg and cheese sandwich, took her back to Mahopac, and picked some stuff up at the grocery store or the house.

And I continued to rage over the CIAC situation and, worse, the way some journalists in Connecticut openly mocked the athletes who were angry at what had transpired.

Even now I feel my blood pressure spike. 

I did "Doubleheader" from home and do it almost exclusively from my home studio now.

A day later, I hosted "The Clubhouse" and "Doubleheader" from Mount Kisco.

That night, while eating dinner with "The Clubhouse" team, the world effectively stopped.

NBA player Rudy Gobert tested positive for this thing called Coronavirus or COVID-19. Games were immediately halted.

Soon after, Tom Hanks and his wife Rita Wilson announced they had the virus.

Eventually, it would hit my family, as my nephew fought it. In those early days, there was something quite scary about that news. He's fine now.

That Thursday -- Thursday, March 12 -- I called a Brunswick lacrosse game from the LocalLive offices in Stamford while the Bruins played in Pennsylvania. I confidently said I'd talked to everyone for the next game -- the home opener -- in early April.

Yet, as I prepared to start that broadcast, the Big East basketball tournament at Madison Square Garden closed after the first half of the first game.

When I walked out of LocalLive that night, downtown Stamford was eerily quiet.

There would be no lacrosse game that April. No baseball either.

I wouldn't broadcast another game until July. That lacrosse game was the last sports event broadcast from Connecticut as COVID-19 grabbed on.

"The Clubhouse" and "Doubleheader" were broadcast from home.

Yet, we never completely shut down. We couldn't. Mom had dialysis appointments and doctor visits. She needed me to get her to the grocery store or do the shopping for her.

Even though she bought a car after she got home (yes, true story), she only drove it a few times. She had me drive her the rest of the time.

One night I drove her to a parking lot in Danbury just so she could see my sister. We shared a pizza outside of the closed movie theater.

Thus began the long, strange trip of COVID-19.

Stories we will tell for a long time.

In so many ways, it began four years ago today.

*****

I don't think I have it in me to watch the 96th Academy Awards tonight and that's sad.

Searching For Some Thing to Say

 

Thursday.

I don't know why but that's how I wanted to lead this off.

Just Thursday.

Then again, I could never get the hang of Thursdays, as Arthur Dent said in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

I woke up not feeling my best, which tracks with my voice feeling a bit off. Save for recording "Hanratty's Huddle" with Terry Hanratty, and "Doubleheader," I rested my voice.

In the case of "Doubleheader," I had an 18-minute interview that I recorded yesterday so that gave me even more time to rest.

With the show over, we grabbed dinner and I settled into continuing to prepare for tomorrow's basketball doubleheader (not the show) at Fordham University.

It's an honor to call two high-leverage games in New York Catholic high school basketball. One game is a semifinal while the other is a state championship.

If you're keeping score, that's a state championship call in New York to go with the New Jersey state championship calls that I'm offered and there was a chance I was going to call one in Pennsylvania also (that one isn't happening this year). 

I appreciate that.

But Fordham? The Bronx? Near the Vin Scully Pressbox? 

The same borough that produced Harold? This is hallowed ground tomorrow night.

Oh, and a baseball team plays there also. I've heard of them.

Saturday would have been a bigger monster but I'd already committed to one Rockets hockey game in New Jersey. I was offered four basketball games in Yorktown on Saturday but the timing didn't work.

These are all things to prepare for.

And now, maybe a few more games are coming to light for next week. I'll probably be able to confirm that one tomorrow.

*****

The night belonged to a music documentary, which I am a sucker for.

Tonight, I watched one about Chicago. 

So, what did I learn? 

I learned producer and songwriter David Foster is sort of an arrogant clown.

“I know I’m great,” he said. “You don’t get 16 Grammys without being great.”

Oh, OK, McCartney.

I also learned that Peter Cetera, along with Foster, began to act like the rest of the talented musicians in the band were simply Cetera's backing band in the 1980s. 

Let's just say Cetera -- who didn't participate in the documentary -- didn't come off well. Talented? Sure. Great singer? Yes. Insecure? you bet.

But the big truth -- and this is no surprise at all -- is that Chicago changed entirely after their insanely talented guitarist Terry Kath accidentally killed himself in Jan 1978.

Please note that Jimi Hendrix once said Kath was better than him.

Music was in the process of changing in the late 70s and Chicago's art/jazz rock sound was becoming passé as disco was the thing of the moment and punk was on the rise. In fact, Chicago tried to embrace disco and it didn't take.

With Foster and Cetera in charge, they found multiplatinum success in the 80s and hung on to that. They didn't emphasize the horns -- the very thing that made Chicago different -- and pushed an adult contemporary sound that was based on ballads.

Some of the songs hold up well. Others? Well...

In some ways, I find Chicago's path to be similar to that of Genesis, who worked hard to perfect prog rock up through the departure of Peter Gabriel. Hits weren't really their priority until Phil Collins took them to bigger heights.

For Chicago, they didn't worry about the hits but wow were they a machine with Kath in the 70s as a touring and hit-making band.

It's not a perfect comparison but I'm going with it.

So if you need something to watch, give Now More Than Ever: The History of Chicago a view.

You'll enjoy it for 25...or 6...to 4.

I hate myself for finishing on that line.

It did not make me smile.

That's better.

Let Me Take You Down

 

Abbey Road, 2022

We're now through five episodes of "Meet the Beatles," my Sunday morning passion project to examine the universe of the Fab Four on WGCH and Robcasting.

Through the first five, we've played a lot of music, have generally not repeated any songs, and gone through a sort of "Beatles 101" history lesson.

I completed that part this morning, with the band's breakup and a look into what the 70s were like concluding with John Lennon's death in 1980. I followed that up with George Harrison's tribute to him, "All Those Years Ago" which included Ringo, Paul, Linda, and Denny Laine.

To be honest, and I'll get there, but I couldn't bring myself to play "Here Today," Paul's gutwrenching tribute to John. Thankfully I ran out of time. "All Those Years Ago" speaks to George's personality, where he didn't mourn as much, though I find the line "I always looked up to you" to be quite poignant.

"Here Today," on the other hand, is the emotional journey of two brothers, and Paul wears his heart on his sleeve.

With "Beatles 101" completed, now begins the fun. The show will evolve and, I promise I'll get around to guests. I'll also get towards making it more interactive. To that end, I try to post on social media every week, and that can be a forum for comments. So long as I'm in the studio, the phone number will be active and it's 203-661-5051.

But, selfishly, this is my journey right now. I asked for an opinion about this the other day. The question was, to paraphrase, what do you want to hear? Should I have guests, etc?

The answer was, for now, a resounding no.

I need to keep building this. At the moment, I want the audience to just sit back and enjoy my take on this band that has been a part of my life from the day I was born, as "Hey Jude" was the number one song that day.

I've already laid out next week's show in my mind because I realized next Sunday is a Beatlesque date (check the calendar or just wait until next Sunday at 9 a.m.)

There will be other shows that might take on a particular theme and I'm up to hearing what others want to hear for sure.

I also asked my muse if the audience will be OK if some weeks you don't hear any Beatles tunes, but are things related to the lads. The answer was yes to this and I hope that's true.

This is my magical mystery tour and I'm the bus driver, I suppose.

There will be a show related to artists that were on Apple, the Beatles' label. There might be episodes dedicated to bands like that or those who were inspired by The Beatles. It's all a work in progress.

But I want to feel free right now.

Eventually, I know Dan Murphy, for instance, will join me. Dan and I have talked about a couple of Beatles-related projects as a podcast, so it's only natural that I'd want home to come on.

Maybe Sean will come in one morning since he's been hearing their music for his entire nearly 22 years.

And there are others. Many others. One of the exciting things about this is that it is a very wide world and there are so many who can talk about their impact. Their staying power remains just breathtaking. Consider there is an entire satellite radio channel dedicated to them and their width of programming is inspiring. I often wonder if I can have some of their hosts on for interviews.

Most of all, I want this to be fun. I wouldn't volunteer (yes, that's a keyword in this) to do this show otherwise. I wouldn't volunteer (there's that word again) if I thought this was going to be overwhelming. 

Eventually, I can also prerecord shows in my home studio or even at the station and I suspect that could happen as soon as next month when I'll be away. Then again we could just run a repeat. That's all to be determined.

So much of what I do at WGCH is about keeping the station active, alive, and fresh. Thus, it has to be enjoyable, otherwise it's "work." When I'm cranking myself out of bed on Sunday morning to go deal with shoddy equipment it doesn't seem like much fun.

Then I get there, the coffee hits me, and the music inspires me.

Oh, and the equipment works. And it worked especially great this morning as I figured out how to have two devices available to crossfade between songs, which I'm guessing no one picked up on. I moved from "My Sweet Lord" to "Photograph" without talking between the two.

A small thing to you. A big thing to me. 

The show is coming along. Hope you enjoy this ticket to ride.

Huzzah, Beatle Buddies.

The Game

 

OK, kick it off and let's go.

San Francisco (I've been there) and Kansas City (I have not).

Huey Lewis versus Taylor Swift.

So you'd think -- if that were true -- I'd be rooting for the 49ers.

But I've sort of never been a fan of them. I guess it's because they would tie the Steelers for the most Super Bowl wins with six. 

Oh yeah, the Patriots also. If you think those are legit.

But I don't know that I'm rooting for KC either. Sure, I like Patrick Mahomes and Andy Reid and I even like Travis Kelce.

And I have nothing against Ms. Swift. As I've said.

But, meh to the whole thing.

So I'd rather just not care. I'd rather root for drama. I'd rather sit here, eat pizza and wings, and enjoy the game. 

I'd rather it be close -- mighty close -- with a dramatic finish.

Oh, and I couldn't possibly care less about the halftime show. I'm a Beatles guy (this just in) and I loved McCartney's show. I don't care how "safe" it was. It had to be at that time. That's why they picked him.

I still think Prince was and is overrated. Yes. Sorry.

I'll be watching because I've watched them all since 1978.

I saw the days of the Cowboys and Giants and Washington (known by another name back then) and some little ol' squad from Pittsburgh.

I saw Buffalo deservedly make four straight. Then they lost each one.

I saw dominance from Montana and Bradshaw and Mannings and Brady and Mahomes and Timmy Smith (204 yards in SB XXII).

I saw incredible defense. The 85 Bears. The Ravens. The Buccaneers, who probably just intercepted Rich Gannon again.

And, of course, the Steel Curtain.

So let's just enjoy the game.

*****

Well, obviously, I didn't post this when I wrote it hours ago.

It's now overtime -- only the second time ever -- and it's been quite a night.

It's been sloppy and sleepy at times.

And Usher was boring.

But the food was great and so was the company.

I'm going to go back to watching the game.

Sick Of Everything (Or "Are You Ready For It?)

 

I don't have it in me to tell you the same story that I've told you before.

And, frankly, you don't want to read that.

You know: Go to Brunswick and call basketball. But, before that, I also set up for hockey.

Then call the basketball game, break down quickly, go upstairs, and call hockey.

Five hours or whatever on the air, break down again, drive home, pick up cat food on the food.

I mean, you get it.

You're also quite right to be sick of it.

No wonder reads are way down on this page. I suck.

So, instead, we can talk about an act so famous that people got sick of them! It's a case of being constantly on TV and other media.

Charming, yes, but also tiring.

So, am I talking about Taylor Swift or The Beatles?

Sixty years ago tonight

The Beatles made their U.S. debut on The Ed Sullivan Show 60 years ago tonight. A whopping, ridiculous 73 million people watched, which was a monstrous audience for 1964. We can prattle on about how they changed literally everything of course.

Music. Fashion. Marketing. Movies. Merchandise. It was a total pop culture explosion and started The British Invasion.

But, inevitably, there was pushback. People got tired. Certainly, there was the "more popular than Jesus" stuff of 1966 and that might have been a breaking point. 

One had to exist.

If they had attended a soccer (football) game to watch their loved one, it would have attracted attention. TV directors would have had their camerapeople zooming in on the Beatle in question.

Does any of this ring a bell?

Let's flash forward to 2024.

(Found online)

You might know a certain T.A. Swift, formerly of Wyomissing, PA has taken a stronger interest in football due to her dating one Travis Kelce of the Kansas City Chiefs.

Mass hysteria has of course ensued and any director worth their time has covered it with a few reaction shots.

Frankly, it's been no worse than shots of Dallas Cowboys owner Jerry Jones or New England Patriots owner Robert Kraft. 

The reaction shot has existed for years, dating back to the likes of player's wives and families. I mean, for what it's worth, I saw countless reaction shots of Derek Jeter's parents.

But, as it often happens, a certain exhaustion creeps in and then the complaining begins. 

I've heard the moaning about basically all of the above reaction shots I just mentioned and so I wasn't the least bit surprised when Taylor Swift found herself in the target.

If you want to believe it's some "MAGA/Trump/Conservative/White Man" thing, rock on. That's your business. If you think it's "white men afraid of powerful women," have at it. Who am I to say otherwise?

Seems kind of sad and petty if that's your take but so be it. That's how this all works.

But, perhaps, just maybe, you know, it's people are just tired of seeing Taylor Swift -- even for 30 seconds -- because they're just tired of seeing Taylor Swift? That it isn't some GRAND conspiracy or hatred of women or whatever else? 

That maybe posting a picture of her every day is 1) unnecessary and 2) pandering to your trusty collection of social media enablers who pat you on the head?

Look, I don't want to listen to Taylor Swift's music. I have nothing against it necessarily. "Shake it Off" is fine and there are a few other things that I've heard that I appreciate. I own one album because my niece gave me her music collection and that was in it. I've never played it.

Go see her in concert? Politely, let me just say no. It would require certain incentives. I'll leave it at that.

But she's charming and harmless and funny and kind and wonderful to her fans and seems -- what do I know? -- pretty down to Earth (as much as one can be in her shoes). Seems like she'd be fun to just talk to.

She sort of seems like a female Paul McCartney.

(Rolling Stone)

Honestly, if she somehow makes it to Las Vegas for super-duper whatever on Sunday, who is being harmed? 

It will be covered on social media and TV and it might seem insufferable. But a lot of people will enjoy it and it has brought new eyes to the screen. I mean, can we get her involved with baseball (preferably, the Yankees)?

Frankly, I'll get a laugh out of it all. 

But I also might roll my eyes.

It's OK to suffer from Taylor exhaustion. Nobody gets to be the gatekeeper of that. Given I'm the home office for being tired of overplayed songs (looking at you, "Jack and Diane"), I totally get that.

When Taylor announced at the Grammy's that another new album was coming out, I asked to be put out of my misery. Not because I have anything against her. Far from it.

I'm just tired of it. 

And that's sort of what I feel detractors of the Liverpool lads must have felt. Whether they were putting two or three albums out per year or some record company was releasing compilations, Beatlemania was very much a supernova.

And, in some ways, still is. After all, they won a Grammy last Sunday and two members are dead.

So is it really that hard to just watch the game Sunday and ignore her? Root for the 49ers if that brings you peace.

Maybe make it a drinking game or an eating game every time she's on the screen?

Or maybe just embrace it as these two people are on whatever journey they're on, leading to the possible breakup song one day?

My advice would be that you're on your own, kid.

Don't be a hater.

Shake it off.