Catching Up

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I knew that long ago.

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

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

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

Within the past month, things have been swinging.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And people continue to notice these things.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I've got a lot of living to do.

Back to College

 

If there's one thing I could say about my resume, it's that it is rather diverse.

Tonight, we can add "college soccer announcer." I called the matchup between Albright College and DeSales University in Center Valley, PA on MACtv.

It was a day that wouldn't qualify as a big money maker. There was lunch, dinner, gas, tolls, and so on.

But it was a day of building relationships and enjoying experiences.

With a two-hour drive ahead of us, we got on the road to Pennsylvania a little after 10 a.m. It was just after Noon when we walked into Waffle House for our breakfast for lunch."=

We walked out happily fed and went to a nearby Sheetz to pick up drinks for the game.

We were, frankly, early for the 3:30 start of the game. Very early. Even with a road closed on our drive, we were still on site two hours before game time. That normally doesn't bother me at all, especially when it's just me, but Sean was with me and, well, there was no one at the field.

We had time to waste.

The field itself was simple. There were scoreboards in each corner and bleachers across from the benches. A small shelter served as a scorer's table. Two shelters were in place for each team. The broadcast booth was a small metal platform with a set of stairs up to it. It was stable and had a weatherproof cover on it.

There was enough room for three people, with me, a cameraman, and a person running the computer and the graphics. But, to be clear, I had to stand behind the crew to call the action, which sounds worse than it was.

In fact, I had almost no problem with the view at all. My computer, however, wouldn't be used, thus I couldn't integrate Robcasting nor could I use it for research.

Instead, I relied on my phone. A lot. I also put the rosters into my binder and just held onto that. I had no table space to work with.

It was different. But it worked really well. Or maybe I should cut myself some credit and say I made it work really well. 

As I called the game from the tower, I couldn't help but notice the baseball stadium across the street. Will I get to come back and call some DeSales University Bulldogs baseball? I would say don't count that out. I made it clear I'd be very interested in that.

It seemed the university was pleased with my work today. I likely won't do any winter sports there, which always raises the competitor in me, but calling baseball there next spring would be a blast.

Before the game, Sean and I walked into the university center and found the Campus Store where I pondered various sweatshirts and other items. I think I've decided that moving forward, any school wishing to hire me should have to throw some swag into the deal. Am I serious? Semi. What would it hurt to be given a sweatshirt, polo shirt, or a nice pullover? Heck, I'm there as your broadcaster, so why not outfit me?

Besides, like the Manning brothers, I'm a sucker for a quarter-zip.

In this case, I looked at everything and decided I would only get something once I was asked to come back. I figured, at that point, there would be a relationship. Either way, I'd be proud to wear their stuff.

For the record, I've already been asked to come back but no date has been set.

While in the University Center, we also found WDSR, the campus radio station. The small studio had a tinted window with equipment inside and, while nobody was at the controls, I just liked seeing that a station existed.

With DeSales' 2-0 victory complete, I climbed down the stairs from the tower (which wasn't that high) and headed back to the car where Sean was waiting.

A nearby Wawa was our dinner place. 

The drive took a bit longer on the return trip thanks to some ill-timed construction on I-78 in New Jersey but we made it home and considered the day a big success.

A four-hour round trip isn't necessarily ideal but I think it can be done occasionally. 

And it gets me back to doing some college sports. 

We felt like we were welcomed to their campus and the experience was good.

I'm listening to the audio right now at home and I'm mostly content with the broadcast. It was my first soccer call in roughly a year and I know there was some rust but I'd like to think the audience enjoyed it.

So, yes, let's do it again.

The "E" is For Enjoyable

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then we walk the rest of the fair.

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

And walk. 

We saw everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- Maine (the Maine potato and the whoopie pies)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's more than enough.

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

Let the Photos Only Resurrect Good Vibes

 

A small part of every day is spent with an app called Timehop.

It pulls together memories from various parts of my social media footprint and presents them in a clean, concise order.

This morning, the collection included snaps from a getaway to Maine in 2004. Sean and I drove up along with his mother and my mother.

The thing about that is life forces you to process such memories. Yes, my ex-wife was in the passenger seat for that trip and you have to assess that. In this case, I don't have anything good or bad to say. She was there. That's it.

I don't recall anything particularly positive or negative pertaining to her.

I've learned to accept the reality that who I traveled with mattered for the purposes of chemistry and, to an extent, survival, but their presence can indeed be swept aside.

It's not preferable but it's better than wishing none of it had ever happened.

Instead, it's a reminder of Sean and I hanging out.

It's also a reminder of the bond between Sean and my mother.

I always liked Maine from the very first time I visited it in 1994. It just felt comfortable. I liked driving there. I liked the shopping, especially walking around Freeport. I liked the New England charm.

I think it should say "Home of John Nash" at the state line but I digress.

I haven't been in nearly two decades and I think about driving back up there often, especially to complete that portion of Interstate 95 to the Canadian border. Our trips there didn't have much time to drive over three hours to the border, just to turn around and come back.

Now, on my own, I could do such a thing but I need the wheels and the money to allow that kind of trip.

I also need good weather as I don't recommend doing such a thing in winter. I've been trapped in Freeport a few times due to snow and it's a lovely town. I'd rather not be trapped on 95 out past, say, Bangor.

In fact, there were times when we -- yes, this is crazy -- day-tripped from Mahopac to Freeport. Admittedly, I'd be begging my ex for a hotel on the way back because I was exhausted and always got shot down. 

If you've ever driven I-495 in Massachusetts, it gets a little boring after a while.

But as I looked through these pictures this morning, I was immediately grabbed by the one at the top of the post.

That's always been a favorite of mine. Sean was always a trooper when doing stuff but, let's be honest, he was two in this picture and he needed a break. He and I stepped away from the occasional monotony of shopping* and he sat on the rocks to watch the fish in the in-store pond. 

*Seriously, there were stores he would complain about going to, especially with his mother. The Gap was one of them. Daddy, he learned, walked in, looked around, and walked out. I'm a quick browser.

Anyway, I took his picture next to the pond and although I don't think he was actually feeling well, he was his usual smiley boy for me. His hand curled around his sippy cup in his look of a polo shirt and khaki cargo shorts. He was almost a stereotype at that moment.

But he was happy and I was relaxed. It can only be described as a nice moment as we no doubt talked about the fish, with me likely making up some story about the fish and how they were behaving.

I know I've told you the story of walking to LL Bean from a nearby inn where I was staying just a few years after this picture was taken. Oh, yeah, it was in a driving snowstorm at four in the morning and it's a favorite memory of mine. Seeing this picture of Sean reminded me of that.

In this case, it was a very warm day in August.

The other picture that stuck out to me was one of two numbered road signs.

I was most definitely taking a picture of the I-295 and US 1 signs but I liked that Mom was walking Sean in his stroller at the same time. I saw it as a slice-of-life shot.

My mother often used strollers and grocery carts to lean on as she aged, feeling that it was comfortable for her, especially in her latter years when she didn't want to use a cane. Plus this gave her a way to spend time with her grandchildren.

In this case, she's still getting around pretty well and looks good as she makes her way down the incline on Bow St. 

Sean, of course, is nonplussed, sipping away on whatever beverage has been prepared for him. He wasn't always just an orange juice man, preferring a nice 2004 milk or water or perhaps some other time of juice.

I'm sure I came away from this quest with some wares though I don't remember what. I recall I used to find some good bargains at various stores in both Freeport and Kittery but LL Bean was always the star for me. 

If we stayed anywhere on this trip, and we did, it was down near Portland as hotels and inns in Freeport were too pricey for us. I think, as I said, Sean wasn't feeling well, and, believe it or not, I was having a hard time finding the hotel I had booked in Portland.

Sean, by that point, melted down, repeatedly saying he wanted to go to the hotel. Repeatedly. That lasted for some time as I tried to figure out my mistake.

Yes, I couldn't find the blasted place. Keep in mind that our other hotel of that era was in South Portland, a few miles away and in a totally different area. I think it was sold out.

The takeaways from this post are missing the sweet memories of my son, missing the presence of my mom, and how much I love to travel. The pictures, of course, are keepsakes of the time.

And that's how you parse those memories.

And maybe it's time to get back to Maine.

Washed Out and Yet They Played

 

CT Route 34 near Lake Zoar (Photo: Dawn Schmedlin)

I woke up to rain.

A lot of rain.

It poured. Bad.

The yard next to us flooded to the point that there was a lake created in their backyard.

But, duty called, and we had to go.

First up was "Meet the Beatles" though walking to WGCH wasn't an option. I made the short drive and did the show.

I didn't rush home, thinking that we might not head to Dutchess County for the Renegades game.

Oh, I was quite wrong about that. We left a little after 11 a.m.

The plan was to work our way down to I-95 and then eventually to the Taconic State Parkway.

As we approached Railroad Ave, I noticed flashing lights and a police officer in the middle of the intersection. He waved me through but then I noticed the traffic.

It headed towards Hamilton Ave -- a two-lane road and it was bumper to bumper.

A moment later, I reached the entrance to I-95 South, where I found a Greenwich police cruiser blocking the entrance.

Road closed.

I adjusted and took us back past WGCH and literally back to our front door. We continued on, left Greenwich via Glenville, and jumped on I-684.

It poured as we drove. It didn't seem possible -- or even probable -- that there would be baseball at Heritage Financial Park today.

Passing Purdy's on 684, I noticed a lot of cars exiting at Exit 7. My immediate reaction was, "Oh no."

I saw the same as we approached Croton Falls and Exit 8.

That told me that the last stretch up to I-84 would be bumper to bumper and it was.

Somehow, we survived the traffic started west on 84. Coming down Stormville Mountain, as we got close to the intersection with the Taconic State Parkway, I saw flashing lights.

We were up against the clock in our effort to get to the stadium in time for our call time and it would be thwarted by a car off in the trees on the left side of the westbound lanes.

Quickly, thoughts moved from being on time to being safe. How anyone survived that accident is beyond my pay grade.

We reached the stadium literally on time for the meeting, and I snuck into the booth to catch up.

We also grabbed some lunch before the game.

Somehow there was a window for the Renegades and Crawdads to play, and they did so without a drop of rain. In fact, there were even stretches of sunshine.

I'm fascinated by such decision-making, and I'd love to sit in on the process to understand how it all works. I know everyone tries to be smart and safe about these things. 

But, in the end, there was nothing to talk about. Our drive was interesting and I had no idea what I was going back to but it had no concern whatsoever on the baseball game.

The game happened, we had fun in the booth and wrapped things up. The Renegades lost a close game and they'll back to it in the stretch run of the playoff race on Tuesday night.

As we got ready to leave, we watched as baseball and softball players from Bhutan -- yes, seriously -- started taking batting practice long after the crowd had filed out.

Once again, the great game of baseball bonds us all.

The drive home lacked much drama, and we came home to peace and quiet. Thankfully, things are dry here for us but there are many dealing with headaches all over Connecticut.

I've seen pictures and videos from Wilton, Ridgefield, Redding, Newtown, and Southbury. Part of Connecticut Route 34 -- a main thoroughfare from Newtown to New Haven -- had washed out in a few places. For reference, I used 34 on my daily drive from Mahopac to Newotown back in the HAN Network days.

There will be massive headaches as the work week begins tomorrow.

Accidents on 95 caused the road to be closed earlier today.

The biggest concern is health and I hope everyone is safe.

Focus on the Cat

He was in the middle of a meow

I was going to write about something a bit serious.

Something that's bothering me.

But, here's the thing. Hang in there with me for a moment.

I've made the mistake -- too many times -- of coming to this space to write such things. The mistake is that I write, treating this as a safe space. 

When I've needed to blow off steam.

When I just have to yell a bit.

I'm not even necessarily writing to be seen. I'm not looking for attention. It's just that I need to say it.

And people -- well-meaning, I know -- give me the ol' "everything will be fine" when I've literally asked to not receive that.

So, this time, I'm not doing it. I'm fine. All is well. If I need to write about such things, I'll do a private diary or seek therapy.

Oh, wait. I don't have nor can I afford benefits.

Shall I tell you about the latest form letter kiss-off I received? Nah. Let it go, right?

So, instead, it's International Cat Day and I'm here in Rhode Island with the Trumbull baseball families who have welcomed me as one of their own. A mom told me last night that she thinks we'll all be spending the next few summers together.

I shouldn't make vacation plans.

And it's weird to not be broadcasting every game of the tournament but it seems only Trumbull cares about if the games have coverage. That's sort of sad but I think it's just a matter of the other teams not knowing they can have coverage. Only people from Braintree, MA inquired about us.

So, yes, International Cat Day it is. I'm sure our Rascal Squeaky is back home, chilling on my bed or on my floor as the temperature has come down from the flaming numbers we've had for a few weeks.

It's quite cool actually. I'm pleased I brought a hoodie and a windbreaker. 

We are quite grateful for The Cat, who has provided us with companionship and pet therapy since joining us nearly four years ago.

Maybe I should talk about things to him.

Anyway, Trumbull plays a team from New Hampshire today at 5 p.m. They are 3-for-3 in wins of 10+ runs or more.

I need to go find some lunch before the game.

I took a ride to Newport this morning. It was crowded and too expensive to park and their bridges can bit white-knuckling. 

And that's all I have to say about that.

Mount Hope Bridge coming out of Bristol this morning

And Right Back to RI

 

"Wait. You interrupted your trip to Rhode Island to teach?"

It was as if he was surprised. If this person truly knew me, it wouldn't be a shock.

"Yeah. I mean, I made the commitment, and I know how much we switch things around. I didn't want to do that again so I dealt with it."

Getting on the same page with me when it comes to my schedule is quite a trick. There's baseball, depositions, the Renegades, "Doubleheader," and whatever else. I wish it wasn't like that (as in having a home base, aka #HireRob) but it comes down to weighing all of the options and doing right by my commitments.

I'd already changed my dates with CSB so I honored the commitment and held classes yesterday and today. As I wrote last night, it gave me the chance to run home, see The Cat, etc.

So, yes, I have made it back to the hotel where I am happy to see my key still works.

But, wow, the temperature has dropped as the weather gets uglier. It's in the low 70s and I actually have a sweatshirt ready if necessary.

I want to like the drive from Stratford to here but it's just too much traffic on I-95 for only two lanes, especially when a lane was closed. Unfortunately, traffic doesn't flow. So, mix that together and it makes for a grind to the RI border.

Ever fascinated, I stopped by the memorial to those lost in a massive fire at the Station nightclub on Feb 20, 2003. One hundred lives were lost 230 more were injured when a pyrotechnic display ignited flammable acoustic foam in the walls and ceilings surrounding the stage. Jack Russell's Great White was getting ready to perform at the club in West Warwick.

The park was dedicated in 2017 and each victim is lovingly remembered with personal memorials. I remember when the fire occurred and I was honored to pay my respects today before moving on to the hotel. What struck me was how many of the victims were in the same age range as me.

Sad. All of it. May they rest in peace. It is said many survivors have dealt with post-traumatic stress since.

I'm back in my room now and the weather is quite gray as we keep our eye on Tropical Storm Debby, who is cruising up the east coast.

I've heard from Sean in Myrtle Beach and he is fine, if somewhat wet I suppose. Rain has been intense but, at last check, he was sending me pictures of Steelers items in stores down there. I'm happy to see each picture, serving as an indication of all being well.

I've also texted with Kristy, my niece in North Carolina, who said the rain is heavy as she had to drive to Raleigh. She said the storm was notable but they were OK.

I'll take those answers.

Of course, it's worth noting that it's supposed to eventually reach Greenwich (you know, there's a cat there) and, well, Rhode Island, where there's a baseball tournament to be played. I'm happily not in the shoes of those running the Little League tournament here who have to make decisions based on the weather.

I want what's best for the kids.

And these Trumbull kids are playing outstanding baseball. Their next game is tomorrow morning at 11* against a team from Vermont. Weather permitting the game will air on Robcasting and Gamechanger.

I have plenty of things to keep the equipment (hopefully) dry.

(*Update: Here we go with the weather. Tomorrow's game has been backed up from 11:00 am to 1:00 pm due to overnight rain)

We Interrupt This Baseball Trip to Return Home

 

Not a sign I wanted to see

I honored my commitment today.

As I usually do. 

It's sort of one of my better qualities.

I was up and out of the hotel by 7:30 and on my way from Rhode Island back to Connecticut. I probably should have left a little earlier but it didn't worry me.

The hotel breakfast didn't do it for me this morning so I hit the road hoping for something better. Good lord, people, but where do you go?

In my case, I opted for the golden arches. Short-staffed as they were, I had a suitable Egg McMuffin that was too small and a coffee. But people were getting impatient as they waited. I just look at my phone.

And I tweet about customers helping themselves to a soda cup by walking behind the counter.

Fighting the inconsistent speeds on 95, I made it to Stratford with time to spare before class began at 10.

Teaching is the usual. It's a new group so the stories, videos, and sound bites are fresh to them. I tell them all, doing my best to assure them that I'm not a brag or a name-dropper. The idea is to recognize that you too can interview the players you've admired and broadcast their games.

It takes a lot of things. Fate, hard work, connections, some luck, and other factors help achieve those goals. Talent? It's overrated!

Honestly, does talent win out? I don't think it does.

But it also takes trust in the people who are guiding you along that road.

And making sure you're not being taken advantage of by "mentors."

Class was over shortly after 1:30 and I buzzed from Stratford to Fairfield to make keys for my sister to visit Rascal later in the week. I also grabbed lunch.

Then I came home, emptied the car out, and got to work on a small load of laundry before I hosted "Doubleheader." Oh, yeah, and The Cat was waiting.

With laundry done, I took it mostly easy.

The great shame is that Trumbull played back in Rhode Island tonight, and the game was on the Gamechanger app. The problem -- thus, the shame -- is that you can't watch it if you don't have a subscription. 

I was tempted -- yes, indeed -- to try calling the game from home off the Gamechanger feed. I mean, why not?

But, alas, I do not have a subscription, so I got scoring updates and that was it. The final was a 17-4 for Trumbull over the team from North Providence, RI.

This Trumbull is scary good. They play smart, fundamental baseball.

Tomorrow is their off day so they can enjoy themselves. The hotel has a pool and there are some things to do in the Providence area. The beaches are nearby, Newport is a great town, and a day trip to Boston is possible.

Me?

Oh, I'll be teaching again. The students are good and they're nice and that matters. It gets my grumbling quickly into the background. They deserve my best regardless of whatever circumstances in life so I gave them my all today and I'll do the same tomorrow.

As soon as class is over, I'll get right back in the car and return to Rhode Island, perhaps stopping for lunch if I can find anything to eat.

The next broadcast is Wednesday morning at 11 a.m.

Today is the 103rd anniversary of the first baseball broadcast as Harold Arlin called the Pirates/Phillies game on KDKA. The Pirates won 8-5 and the broadcast was rudimentary but successful. Arlin called tennis the next day and college football that fall before doing boxing.

Sports play-by-play was officially underway, beginning on Aug 5, 1921.

As always, a tip of the headset to Mr. Arlin.

Host With a Certain Level of Most

 

On the field in the 94 jersey
(Photo: Mike "Clicks" Newell)

WARWICK, RI -- Sometimes, crazy plans turn out just fine.

Yes, first of all, I made it to Rhode Island, after Mother Nature (remember, it's not nice to fool her) did her best to thwart all efforts.

Let's return to yesterday, shall we? 

I was packed, and ready, said farewell to Rascal (The Cat), and hit the road to work with Rascal (The Mascot). I stopped and picked up water and seltzer for the hotel room (and, let's face it, I'll drink it at home). I grabbed lunch and then went to Heritage Financial Park.

In the end, was I nervous for my first time as the on-field host? Sure, but it wasn't paralyzing. I probably looked more anxious than I actually was. I'm certain I looked clueless, especially to the group of interns on the Fun Team that I'd be around all night.

Jamie Goerke, Manager, Game Day Promotions & Programming, was the rock star for me. She was supportive and patient with me all night, and I couldn't have asked for more. 

But, as I said, Mother Nature did some damage to the evening, bringing us a delay that resulted in the first pitch being thrown two hours later than scheduled.

So, I hung out. I walked to the PA booth. I walked down and talked to Lori. I stepped onto the field a few times, including making a brief opening statement that, for some reason, brought applause.

I chatted with fans. 

I walked. Walked. And Walked.

Call it a form of pacing.

I was mixed about playing as the rain fell. If we didn't, I'd lose that first try at hosting but could head to Rhode Island at a reasonable hour.

And Mike Buswell was asking for my ETA (Narrator: it would be late).

But, alas, the decision was made to play. I asked if I should make an announcement, headed to the field, and ... play-by-play announcer (and fill-in on PA) Joe Vasile did the honors. OK. There's that.

I grumbled about communication and carried on.

Oh, and keep in mind that Sean (aka "Junior") wasn't there.

Screenshot from the game broadcast

Eventually, we got down to the real business of the night. I just had to be me. I was passionate and energetic and excited. At times, I worked in some sarcasm.

I made sure to shout out Joe and Clicks and Anthony and Rass.

I chatted with contestants for the games.

I talked with fans.

What can I do better? I screwed up one of the intros, skipping a name on the lineup card (Lori said I made up for it well). I was too slow on a few games and I'll get better timing down.

I'll also learn how to shoot a T-shirt gun eventually.

But, more than anything, I'll continue to relax and let more of the sarcasm come out.

Energy in a crowd dissipates on a night of weather delays. People leave and things thin out. But those who stay are the troopers and are fantastic. Those are the fans I played to. I've learned from years of conference and event hosting to find friendly faces in the crowd and work with them.

When it was over, I walked back out to the field and said a final goodnight. As always, I shouted out the team I worked with, especially the crew in the PA booth.

First, I made sure the crowd cheered the Renegades for their win and, always promoted, reminded fans to come back for Sunday's game.

"For, Anthony, Clicks, Joe, and Rass, I'm Rob Adams. Get home safe everyone, and good night!"

With that, there was applause. Cheers. People calling my name.

And, from what I heard, there might be a second chance to do this again.

I got to see things from a different angle. I was able to watch the faces of the fans, the throwing of the T-shirts, the interaction with the mascots, and occasionally, the game itself. I was even able to break into some goofy play-by-play of the on-field games, like Tic-Tac-Toe.

(Photo: Clicks)

As opposed to what I usually do, this is pure entertainment, and more than anything, it's about making people smile and be happy they're there.

I'd like to think I did that. It's a level of customer service, such as assuaging concerns over the rain.

I walked with Lori to her car after the game, said goodnight, and began the trip to Rhode Island. More than anything, I tried to not think about it too much. The only thing that occurred to me was that I was hungry.

I just drove, focusing on the road and the still-falling rain.

And I found an open McDonald's in Middletown, CT that I ran into near 11:30.

From there, the race was on. All along, Waze told me I'd get to the hotel at 12:45 a.m.

Yup. I pulled off I-95, into the parking lot of this Holiday In Express, and joined Mike and company.

Beverages were waiting. I didn't even go to my room until nearly 2 a.m.

With that, I've shifted right back into broadcaster mode. People from Braintree, MA -- Trumbull's opponent today -- are excited that I'm here.

Oh, my body is sore and I know I could use some sleep. And for the last 28 weeks, I've created new episodes of "Meet the Beatles." Today, for the first time, I let a show rerun. It's summer, people are away, and I gave myself a break. A new episode will air next week. I already know the topic.

But for today, it's time to play ball and put the headset back on. I'm told other teams are interested in hearing me.

Bring it on.

Truly In the Booth

 

Greetings from the Unity Park press box. I am currently typing away while on the air.

Yes. That is correct.

Waterford has already beaten Trumbull tonight and Wolcott and Ridgefield are two hours into a goofy game that has the score at 15-10 in the bottom of the sixth.

Again, that is correct.

It is now heading into the seventh inning. Incidentally, this is the eighth game of the tournament and the scoreboard just started working. Why? Because Mike Buswell's son Bryce grabbed the remote control and pressed the power button.

Yes. It has been that kind of night.

Maybe it's the ghost of Babe Ruth.

OK, I'm now off the air and sitting in a rest area at the side of the Merritt Parkway.

Or CT State Route 15. 

Your call.

Ridgefield won that game and they will play Waterford tomorrow at 5:30, followed by Easton and Stamford at 8 pm.

The second broadcast tonight was admittedly goofy and had a bite to it. Apologies to those who caught strays from me as I was having fun.

It was mostly harmless. 

The danger in such a thing is that it becomes too much of "inside jokes" though I do try to explain things as possible.

Anyway, it was all in good fun tonight because that's what sports broadcasting should be.

Of course, there are still games to report and we did that.

Mission accomplished.

Now, I'm going home.

At Least I'll Get Wawa

 

I think I'm working here on Saturday (Google Maps)

It has been confirmed that I am heading to New Jersey this weekend to call four lacrosse championship games. 

The coverage will be via LocalLive on NJ.com.

The teams and details aren't confirmed yet but I'll be out in Flemington this Saturday.

That means learning the ins and outs of a new facility, which is at least something to take into account. Based on the setup, that often means no press box or there isn't room for me in the press box. In 2022, for instance, I worked on top of a press box on a considerably warm day with the sun baking on me.

Foolishly, I had no cover of any kind. Including a hat.

So this time I have to be more prepared in that regard. I'll need one of my pods in the car, a hat, and sunscreen. All just in case there's no indoor access.

And food. Yes, you need food. You can't rely on a concession stand for several reasons, including trying to get to it in between games. There isn't always enough time. Simply making a restroom run can be a challenge.

Oh, Wawa, my sweet Wawa. I'll be visiting you for sure in the morning.

Of course, that also means staying hydrated and taking care of my voice. The adjustment there is that I'll likely have a videographer with me which means I don't have to be completely detailed on the minutiae of the game. Thus that cuts down on some words.

The audience can see the game so it's not an audio/radio call.

But I still have to bring the energy and attention. These teams have earned a professional broadcast.

As for Connecticut, well, that's not my problem, is it?

They have what they have and I have to go where I'm wanted.

New Jersey will get me for what appears to be my 20th championship call there between baseball, wrestling, soccer, and lacrosse. I've also called some regional basketball and hockey championship games also.

I'm hardly "The Voice of New Jersey Sports" (cringe) but I've come to do quite a few events there.

I don't quite have the respect in NJ (shocked, right?) to have a larger say in which games I call and I try to be flexible. So it goes and, in this case, it's lacrosse.

Unfortunately, it's not playing out like last year, when I got to do a six-game swing of lacrosse and baseball spread out through a Friday and Saturday, with a hotel room included.

I'm happy to be working. I'm happy to take my talents somewhere.

After that, it will likely be a few weeks before the next calls, as Cal Ripken and Babe Ruth baseball will be heating up. I've come to love this being a summer tradition for me and am looking forward to those games.

For those asking, we have not found an apartment yet. Yes, it's nerve-wracking but there are people working with us on some ideas. 

We're staying upbeat and believing it will all be OK.

In the middle of this week is also a Hunt Scanlon conference, our last before a summer break. So I have to stay on my game for that also. But, hey, I handled the Renegades double-dip of PA and booth producer on Saturday and I likened that to being a conference moderator.

I'll be ready to go on Thursday morning.

And I'll be ready for lacrosse on Saturday from New Jersey.

Where I'm wanted.

Drive My Car

 

A 1932 Packard at the Greenwich Concours d'Elegance

Late May and early June bring two events to Greenwich.

First up is the Greenwich Town Party, and we've highlighted that many times.

The following weekend at the same site is the Greenwich Concours d'Elegance, a car show featuring world-class vehicles from across the years.

Sean noted to me how much he'd like to go last year but we were too late to do anything about it. It made us keep our eyes on the event for this year. I remember we walked over and looked around, leaning against the chain link fence to see what it was like.

Working in the media gives us some perks and one of them is the ability to ask an event if we can cover it for WGCH or any other outlet. So, I looked into it and pulled together credentials for us, including one for Sean's friend Chris. 

We also took a shot at making a show broadcast happen from the event but we couldn't quite cobble that together. So, again, we hope for next year.

Otherwise, the organizers we worked with were fantastic and we had a great time.

Chris showed up yesterday, and the sight of a Tesla in our driveway was pretty incredible. He's a great guy who refers to me as "The Big Man."

Well, Sean, Chris, and "The Big Man" walked from our place to Roger Sherman Baldwin Park for the Saturday edition of the Greenwich Concours. A collection of gorgeous cars stretched across different styles was in place. Some food trucks and vendors were on hand as well, and a show area presented conversations and interviews about some of the vehicles.

Sean and Chris both got to experience media check-in, which went without concern. We each had an email with a code to be spanned in exchange for a lanyard with our pass on it.

We also had access to a tent with sandwiches, snacks, and drinks.

Chris and Sean (in Red) 

We enjoyed ourselves, including meeting up with a family friend of Chris's who regaled us with stories and made us feel like family.

I had to head out to be the booth producer and PA announcer for the Renegades, which turned out to be a great experience. Sean and Chris hung out in Greenwich as the day came to an end.

The Greenwich Concours continued today and even though Chris didn't return to join in the fun, Sean and I walked back to the park to check things out, as we were told things would be different.

True to that, many of the cars on display on Saturday had been moved out and a new group was in place.

Saturday's cars were a delightful collection that dazzled me.

1927 Rolls Royce

Today's hit more on the older and more classic edge and that was down the right highway for me.

My father was a huge classic car fan. He was never a "gearhead" in that he didn't break down engines and parts. He talked about looks and styles and features and what they might be like to drive more than anything. As an amateur car fan, that's closer to how I am.

And, truly breathtaking to me, Sean is like that.

Ford Model A. My father would have flipped.

I was touched by this.

I imagined what it would be like for three generations of Adams men to walk to around this fun event.

Of course, in this "what if" scenario, I'm reminded that my father would be 94 years old.

But just knowing the three of us have this connection made me so happy. It's not sports -- at least not the kind of team sports that I've blabbered about for my entire life.

Instead, it's about the 1932 Packard and the 1957 Cadillac Eldorado, and the Ford Model A.

It was about the 1927 Rolls Royce that it looked like Babe Ruth would be driving on Riverside Drive.

Or the Lincoln Continental that I heard a few people refer to as "the JFK car" from Dallas when the president was assassinated. While that wasn't entirely true, the comparison was accurate.

Exterior and interview views of a 1957 Cadillac Eldorado

There were plenty of Porsche's, Mercedes Benz's, McClaren's, and Lamborghini's to be found along with other classics. There were Dodge Chargers and Ford Mustangs roaring around.

We got to take it all in. We talked to some people and plotted where our show would be at the 2025 event.

In fact, Sean will be on "Doubleheader" tomorrow to share his experience with me.

And we enjoyed a food truck since the free media food had been picked over. But, hey, that meant we each got to crush a phenomenal Dough Girls pizza.

I didn't mention the connection to his grandfather, probably because I just wanted him to enjoy it and not worry about the tears in his father's eyes.

OK, so I can change that. We ran to the grocery store before I posted this and I brought it up. He thought about it as well. It was a sweet moment.

Sean photographs a McLaren

I wanted him to just enjoy every car and every moment. He brought his camera with him today, and I really enjoyed watching him be a photographer.

That meant more to me. 

And I'm already looking forward to next year.

Easter 2024

 

(Photo: AP)

Happy Easter to those who celebrate.

Ultimately, things didn't quite work out as expected for me but it's fine.

Sadly, holidays just don't hold a lot for me for a bunch of reasons.

So, in taking stock of the day, I note the 4-0 start that the Yankees are off to. Winning, it has been said, is better than losing. It's hard to argue with that logic. 

Sweeping the Houston Astros -- no introduction necessary -- is certainly sweet.

But, without splashing cold water on this, allow me to at least be realistic.

It's four games -- four -- in March.

Can we hold the celebration until it really counts? 

Context matters a lot to me. Four games in March are wonderful but there are 158 to play still. Obviously, the games will mean more as the season goes along but a four game sweep in October would be best.

You know, like the Astros did to the Yankees in the 2022 ALCS.

But, weeding through everything, it's great to see this team showing heart. One of the hallmarks of the championship teams was their ability to never give up when down. Just consider the teams of the 90s and 2000s. I mean, think about the 2001 World Series alone, when they tied games on consecutive nights with dramatic home runs from Tino Martinez and Scott Brosius.

This team found themselves down or tied in each game and used a late rally to get the win. They also had two-out hits, such as today's clutch single from Juan Soto in the ninth inning.

Oh, I know it's just four games, but these are signs that are greatly appreciated. Pitching has been decent and the offense has threatened more than they did last year.

Still, health is a concern. Gerrit Cole is injured and so is DJ LeMahieu. 

But this is a fanbase who is hungry for a World Series, having last been to one in 2009.

I know, fans are spoiled. Mets fans have no pity for Yankees fans, nor should they.

But in Yankees Universe, 2009 to 2024 is a long time, up there with 1903 to 1921, 1964 to 1976, and 1978 to 1995.

Across town, there's a different emotion in play. The Mets lost all three games to the Brewers this weekend and looked lifeless at times, though they rallied before losing 7-6.

They also had a few skirmishes with Milwaukee, the result of a slide that second basemen Jeff McNeil found disagreeable.

I thought the slide was fine for what it's worth (not much).

The Mets will figure things out but they seem to understand it might be a long year.

As always, it will be an interesting summer around New York baseball and we're just getting started.

As for Shohei Ohtani, I still have questions and am very suspicious.

*****

Larry Desantis (ABC News)

I've continued to watch the news about the collapse of the Francis Scott Key Bridge near Baltimore and have been amused (to keep me from getting annoyed) by the amount of conjecture. Conspiracy theories and overreactions have abounded.

Everyone is an expert. Except me.

That aside, I've been expecting the human interest side of the story to emerge and I saw a brilliant one today. One topic I wondered about was drivers on the bridge before it collapsed.

Wonder no more. Abby Zimmardi and Jessica Gallagher of The Baltimore Banner wrote the story of Larry Desantis, who used the bridge to commute between two jobs. He finished crossing at 1:27 a.m.

The Francis Scott Key Bridge collapsed roughly a minute later.

Zimmardi and Gallagher showed the best of local journalism, developing the idea and doing diligent research before writing a compelling story.

It's the very thing that I used to watch Susan and my friends at HAN do. Heck, I tried to do it myself.

Local journalism -- good local journalists -- still matter and still exist. They're the ones who still have some integrity. 

Zimmardi and Gallagher told us all about Mr. Desantis, who will forever live with the knowledge of his drive between his two jobs.

The story -- read it here -- is wonderful.

Baltimore (Heading Home, Part Two)

 

(Photo: Tasos Katopodis | Getty Images)

Most mornings, I look at one of my devices to get a sense of what's going on in the world.

This morning, the alarm went off at 5 a.m. and I sprung to action, heading into the bathroom at my niece's house to get ready to drive home.

When I returned to the bedroom that we used, Sean was sitting up and looking at his phone.

He went into the bathroom to get ready and I packed up. I folded sheets and the comforter that he used and made the bed I slept on look presentable. Then I folded up the air mattress that he used.

Then I looked at my phone. Kourtney (Kris's sister) had texted me. That's not entirely unusual since she's an early riser and heads to the gym. I figured she might be wishing me a safe drive home.

Yes, true. But there was more. She was checking on us as well.

A bridge had collapsed in Baltimore. A bridge that isn't normally part of my route but, still, I've been over it.

Grateful for the heads-up, my mind began to swirl. But, come on, collapse? What does that even mean? Did a portion of it collapse? A piece of concrete?

Then I looked online. Wow.

The Francis Scott Key Bridge -- opened in 1977 -- had been hit by a container ship.

It was gone.

Calmly, I began searching for more. Maybe WBAL -- Baltimore's news/talk radio station -- might have information.

It did but, at that point, I needed reporting. I didn't need talk about where the money for a new bridge would come from.

I told Sean and we were both horrified. Saddened. Shocked.

In the middle of all of that was the reality that we had to decide how to address driving near Baltimore on our way home from North Carolina.

Honestly, our driving inconvenience (if there was one) would be a small price to pay.

Petting a few cats and a dog, we ducked out of Kristy's as everyone in the house slept.

It was just after 6 a.m.

The important thing was to remind myself that we had all day and, at worst, until tomorrow to return the rental car. 

That's always the place I need to get to. That everything will be OK.

Still, the silicon chip inside my head was bordering on overload.

Do I head east towards Norfolk and run up the Delmarva? Do I head west and north through Gettysburg, PA? Do I clip West Virginia and use I-81? How do I avoid Baltimore?

In the meantime, both Waze and Google said the same thing: take the normal route. But that seemed silly.

So after having our last breakfast (at an empty Waffle House just to the north of Fayetteville), we began the drive up I-95.

By the way, the Waffle House really was empty. The waitress and cook were just sitting and talking when we walked in. Honestly, I felt a little guilty for making them work. But, in reality, they both couldn't have been any nicer, and the food was simply up to and beyond the usual standard.

But to the drive. We struggled to make time on 95, up to taking a break after crossing into Virginia. Then we hit typical DMV traffic between Fredericksburg and Springfield.

We moved along the Capital Beltway, crossing the Potomac into Maryland. For the most part, I was all about the bridge collapse, beginning with listening to CNN on SiriusXM before switching over to WTOP radio and, eventually, back to WBAL.

A note on CNN. Oof. I mean, I've done breaking news. It's not easy. You have to adjust and stay on your toes. But, again, oof. And, dammit, the journalism world weeps as one of the anchors turned into an almost-shouting exaggerator of a mess.

The speculation and the gloom-and-doom were just bad. I tried FOX and, for the record, that was only moderately better, but it was the audio of what Mr. Imus used to call "FOX and Fiends." 

Credit to the radio people at WTOP and WBAL for a much more measured and accurate approach. My faith in journalism was restored.

In the meantime, through the 200+ miles since Fayetteville, nothing had changed. The suggested route was to go through Baltimore. My alternate route -- U.S. 50 (secret I-595) to U.S. 301 to Delaware -- wouldn't be necessary.

We snagged lunch at a Wawa just off the Baltimore-Washington Parkway. We took our time and then I took a deep breath.

I didn't know what we were getting into but it was time to find out.

By that time, reports were that six people were missing. That was far more important and I remained glued to the coverage.

Something else had come to light by this time. Thanks to a warning issued by the ship, officials were able to stop traffic from crossing the bridge before impact. Even at 1:28 a.m., the loss of life would have been far worse.

But, sadly, construction workers fixing potholes were still on the bridge. While two people were reported as found alive in the water, six remain missing as of this writing. At this point, they are presumed dead. Of the two people found alive, one had injuries while the other walked away unscathed and declined treatment. Still, the one who went to the hospital had been released later in the day, according to the New York Times.

The impacts on the economy and infrastructure were among the hot topics burning up the radio. One topic I had zero patience for was the conspiracy theories and I saw plenty of that, including among just a few of those in the road enthusiast community.

Nope. I don't have the bandwidth for that. 

As for the drive, I have no drama for you. Waze and Google were correct. Whether I picked the Harbor Tunnel (Interstate 895) or the Fort McHenry Tunnel (Interstate 95) I would have been fine. We breezed through the Harbor Tunnel but there was an eerie feeling in the air.

Maybe it was just me.

I seriously can not imagine the horror for those workers on the bridge. According to the New York Times, they were migrants trying to support their families.

They were out for what should have been a typical job. 

The ramifications are just so tragic.

We got home just before 5 p.m. In fact, after our lunch at Wawa south of Baltimore, we didn't stop again. We were heading towards nearly five hours without a stop but we were both OK with that decision.

We've been home almost three hours and The Cat is back to his normal self while two loads of laundry are rolling around. And, for the first time in nearly 10 days, I'm in a room of my own, alone in my thoughts, while Sean has some privacy in his room.

After a night of sleep, we'll return the car and I'll get ready to call lacrosse at Brunswick.

It's time to climb right back on the wheel of real life.

Many thanks to everyone who texted to make sure we were safe this morning, especially concerned about what happened in Baltimore. It serves as a great reminder of what a wonderful collection of love and support we have.

And, well, after a break, I'll be ready to hit the road again.

Heading Home, Part One

 

All hail the mighty beaver!

Greetings from Stedman, North Carolina.

This is exactly where we were one week ago, heading south.

Today, we're heading north.

Tomorrow, the final 600 miles will speed by and we'll be back in Greenwich.

Back to life. Back to reality.

We got an early start out of Florida this morning and crossed into Georgia at 9:19 a.m.

I tried my best to savor every moment of the drive, just as I've tried to savor as much of the trip as possible.

We cruised through Georgia and were soon into South Carolina.

Probably our favorite town name (koo-saw-HATCH-ee)

Stops were kept to a minimum. After breakfast just a few minutes from Kris and Lori's, we went until I put gas in the car. We didn't stop again until 49 miles into Georgia. Then we went three hours until we pulled off at Buc-ee's in Florence, SC, where Sean and I both grabbed brisket sandwiches.

They were outstanding. We bow to our beaver overlord.

We were at my niece's by 3 p.m. and are now winding down, knowing an early alarm and a long road home await in the morning.

The emotions will be strong. I want to get home and there's no doubt about that. But there's the "end of vacation blues" that comes with the grind of those final miles. There will be traffic for sure. It was heavy today but it never stopped. Tomorrow I'm sure we'll hit some stops if we go anywhere near Washington, D.C.

Still, we'll try to continue to savor.

We know we're going to hit the ground running come Wednesday. I'll dive back into broadcasting games, with Brunswick lacrosse in action. Baseball and more will follow as the week goes along.

But it's important to live life. That's what I keep taking from these experiences. It's simply too short.

So I'm trying. I really am.

We've already begun talking about next year. Because, believe me, it's so tempting to go jump in the car and drive the final approximately nine hours.

I mentioned that in passing to Sean and he told me I was nuts.

That being said, we both talked about trying to do the whole drive in one shot next year. Will we? Who knows?

Let's get home first.

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.

Καλός (Translation: Good, as in "A Good Day")

 

The view from the Courtney Campbell Causeway (Fl SR 60)
between Clearwater and Tampa

Today was a happy day.

Aren't those nice words to read?

They're nice to write as well.

Family, food, laughter, walking, great views, shopping, nostalgia.

Does that hit everything? Perhaps.

Waffle House started the day because you bet it did.

I mean, today was day three of our trip and it was the first time we had strolled into the place more commonly known as heaven.

Breakfast on the first two days was spoken for and we just didn't go at any other time of day. I suspected we wouldn't go until this morning and I wasn't bothered by it.

The All-Star Special was as spectacular as always, even as we juggled the plates on the table for space.

We pulled ourselves together and went to Tarpon Springs too.

I've written about Tarpon numerous times. Founded in 1876, it saw the rise of sponge diving and became the home to the largest percentage of Greek Americans in the U.S. for a single city.

The St. Nicholas Boat Line began offering tours as a chance to learn about the sponge industry in 1924. As the 20th Century moved along, shops opened along Dodecanese Blvd. offering sponges and more.

Eventually, that grew into myriad gift shops with plenty of Tarpon Springs-related items.

Junk? Sure. I mean, I'm not naive about these things. But great also.

Last year, I came away with a hoodie. I added a long-sleeve t-shirt today. I mean, how could I say no to a $5 shirt?

But more than trinkets and other bric-a-brac, Tarpon Springs is alive with other shops of interest as well as restaurants and bars. Sean specifically wanted to go to Hellas Restaurant and Bakery, with emphasis on the "bakery."

Opened in 1985, Hellas offers authentic Greek dishes as well as plenty of baked goods. In my case, it was caramel cheesecake and it was delicious.

The time in Tarpon Springs at the Sponge Docks can stretch from minutes to hours depending on interest and pace. For us, it was a few hours.

For me, it's always a return to being a little kid, looking for goodies while walking around with my parents. There's the nostalgic part of all of this.

However, for those who wondered, we did not go to the statue of the Greek fisherman outside of the restaurant that used to be outside of Pappas' Riverside at the corner of Dodecanese Blvd. and Alt. U.S. 19. Well, let me amend that. We did walk by the statue, but we did not update the picture that Sean and I took there last year, which itself was an update of a picture of my father and me from 1980. We don't need to take a new picture every year.

This day was in my wheelhouse, and we had dinner plans that allowed me to watch as we drove past areas that I'm quite familiar with as well along U.S. 19.

Oh, things have changed, no question, but there's still a familiarity to all of it, conjuring memories of vacations from a generation ago.

A happy day ended with dinner next to the Manatee River with more family before we made our way back to our accommodations for the week.

With any luck, it will lead to a good night's sleep.

Back in Connecticut, we know our home and Rascal are in good hands. That means a lot to both of us.

More happy days await.